New Beginnings, page 6
*
Tristan’s team had a little less than a two-mile hike on a slightly uphill slope through the woods, skirting a dirt road that supposedly led to a clearing where the house was located according to the cartoon map the command center had given them. The sky was dark with barely a sliver of a moon. The weight of her vest rested more on her hips than her shoulders, but she still felt the additional forty pounds on her legs as she trudged through the thick woods. Beads of sweat wet her hair line and ran down the middle of her back. In all her time spent in South America, she still hadn’t gotten used to the tropical, humid climate. She literally felt like she was wet all the time. It was worse than the heat and humidity of North Carolina.
As she was checking the GPS and her handmade map, she heard rustling and then a screeching sound. She froze and held her fist up for the team to stop in place as she began scanning the woods through her night vision goggles.
“What the hell was that?” Nigel whispered.
“Probably a crocodile,” Hoffman muttered.
“Shut up, both of you. We’re nowhere near the Amazon,” Tristan grumbled as she flipped her goggles up on her helmet and pulled her thermal imaging camera from one of her vest pockets. She began scanning the woods all around them through the monocular. There were no heat signatures on the ground, but she did pick up several birds up on the trees and one thing that seemed to be moving from tree to tree. The distinct small size and curled tail made her shake her head and put the camera away.
“I see it. Looks like it’s coming this way,” she said in a low, serious tone. “It’s going to eat you guys alive if you don’t get moving.”
“What is it?” Perry questioned.
“A monkey,” Tristan laughed. “Way up in the damn trees.” She shook her head. “Get squared away and keep moving. The clearing should be just up here.” She pulled her night vision goggles back down and started walking.
Within a couple of minutes, the clearing came into view. The dirt road had led directly to the dimly lit house in the middle.
“Someone’s there,” Hoffman whispered.
“Everybody down,” Tristan replied, bringing her team to a squatted stop about fifty yards from the house. It looked like a dilapidated farmhouse in the middle of nowhere when she lifted her night vision goggles. “Fowler and Tucker, take the right flank. See if you can see anything on the other side.”
“Copy,” they both replied and headed off together through the cover of the thick woods to check the other side of the dwelling.
“Nigel and Perry, stay here. Hoffman, you’re with me,” Tristan said as she pulled her night vision goggles back down and put her rifle to her shoulder.
Hoffman crouched down behind her as they slowly moved closer to the tree line. She used hand signals and kept the radio silent as they crept closer and closer to the house, until they were literally up against it, squatting under a window. She flipped her night vision goggles up. “Watch my six,” she whispered as she inched up until she could look through the closed window. A thin curtain covered the glass, but she could easily see through it, searching for any signs of life. She cringed slightly as a rat scurried across the floor.
She crouched back down. “Bravo Two, you copy?”
“Lima Charlie,” Fowler replied. “We are unable to see anything.”
“Copy. The only thing I saw was a rat.”
“I think it’s empty,” he said.
“We won’t know unless we go in there. Command, Bravo One. We’ve reached Tango Five with signs of potential occupancy, but no visual confirmation. Commencing with breach. Over.”
“Copy, Bravo One.”
“Roger that,” she replied. “Perry and Nigel, move towards the front of the house. Hoffman and I will meet you there. Fowler, you and Tucker go in through the back door. Wait for my count.”
“Copy,” everyone said as they began to move into position.
*
“I hate this part,” Courtney said, using their private channel as they continued their holding pattern.
“You can’t be a pilot and a ground pounder,” Maguire replied, causing her to laugh.
“I’d definitely rather be a pilot. I mean listening to everything as it’s happening. It’s like an eerie movie, but instead of black and white on the TV, it’s over the radio, which is even worse because it allows your imagination to run wild.”
“When you put it that way…” He shrugged and switched the radio back over.
“Outlaw One, Command. You copy?”
“Lima Charlie,” she radioed back.
“Bravo One has breached Tango Five. Standby for the extraction call.”
“Roger that.”
*
Tristan and her team walked through the house with their rifles aimed, ready to put a hole in anything that moved. However, they found nothing but empty beer bottles, cigar and cigarette butts, and trash. Whoever had been staying there was long gone. The team poked around but found nothing except for a piece of paper with the name Juan Ortega written on it. He was Domingo’s right-hand man and the second in command of the cartel. Tucker took a few pictures of the paper, as well as the sparsely furnished rooms of the small house with trash lying all around.
“This place is giving me the creeps,” Hoffman said as a rat ran by him. He quickly trained his rifle on the rodent, zeroing in on him with the sight.
Perry shook her head as she watched him.
The sound of a car engine got their attention. “We’ve got company!” Nigel yelled, seeing the headlights coming directly towards the house.
“Everyone out the back! Double-time into the woods! Go! Go! Go!” Tristan shouted.
Fowler led the way out of the house with the rest of the team hot on his heels in a single file line with Tristan at the rear. Once they were outside, they broke off, running parallel to each other to move faster. Tristan pulled the door closed carefully and sprinted behind them.
By the time the two men were walking through the front door, Tristan’s team was already squatted down ten yards inside the wood line and completely out of sight.
“Bravo One, Command. Status?”
“Oscar Mike,” she radioed, letting them know they were out of the house and on the move.
“Copy, Bravo One.”
Tristan checked her watch. “Outlaw One, Bravo One. You copy?”
“Lima Charlie,” Courtney answered.
“We are less than two klicks due south of Zulu Two. ETA for extraction, ten mikes. Over,” Tristan radioed, putting the GPS away as she half walked and half jogged, leading the team at a steady pace through the dense forest, all the while keeping the edge of the dirt road fifteen yards out to her right.
“Copy, Bravo One. En route. ETA to Zulu Two, ten mikes.”
*
The helo arrived overhead just as Tristan’s team exited the tree line of an open field with a ratty old soccer goal at one end. The grass was high, giving the impression it hadn’t been played on in quite some time. She didn’t think about what may or may not be living in that grass as she sprinted towards the waiting helo with her team.
Once everyone was inside, Howie slammed the door closed and Courtney pulled the collective lever up, lifting them off the ground. She pushed the cyclic to the left, causing the helo to bank in that direction before straightening out and continuing a forward path towards the mountain range that separated Venezuela and Colombia.
“Command, Outlaw One. Oscar Mike with the package in tow. Over.”
“Copy, Outlaw One.”
With nothing else to do, Tristan leaned her head back against the jump seat and stared ahead. She was in the middle of the row, essentially in the center of the helo, and had a full view of the pilots. The world outside the windows was pitch black, leaving her nothing to look at except Courtney, under the helmet and heavy camo, as she maneuvered the helo with soft movements and steady hands. She thought about the paper they’d found with Ortega’s name on it but had no idea what it meant. Military Intelligence wasn’t her forte, because if it had been, she certainly wouldn’t be sitting there in that helo sweating her ass off. That she was certain of. However, it still made her wonder what significance it was, if any. She even thought about home…something she rarely did to begin with, and never on a mission. At that point, she wanted to think of anything other than what was really on her mind. What were she and Courtney going to say to each other? Was it a mistake? Or a prelude to more? She wasn’t even sure what she wanted it to be; if it could even be anything. She was a commissioned officer, but Courtney was a warrant officer. Generally speaking, they could be together if they were in different commands or units, which in essence they were, but their current deployment to the special task force, put them together under the same command. They had different commanding officers. She was under Maj. Irving and Courtney was under Capt. Warren, who commanded the second squad, airborne group of plane and helo pilots. However, they were all currently under Lt. Col. Powers’ command. Any way she looked at the lines, they were blurred. The last thing she needed to do was cross them. She would most certainly be in more trouble, and Courtney could potentially risk losing her flight wings. Was it worth it? They barely knew each other.
“Outlaw One, we have you on radar. You are clear to set the bird in the nest,” Command said, bringing Tristan out of the mental fog she’d gotten stuck in.
“Roger that,” Courtney replied as she flew closer to the flight line and began lowering the helo in front of hangar two, where it was usually stored.
“Bravo Team, we’ll debrief in the ready room at 0800 hours,” Maj. Irving said as soon as they were out of the helo. “Dismissed.”
Tristan’s team saluted him before walking away. “Everyone in DFAC by 0700,” she said, telling them meeting in the dining building where they ate their meals.
“Roger,” they all replied.
Once they were in the hangar, their helmets quickly came off, and by the time they were in the locker room, everyone was starting to peel out of their tactical vests. Perry, Nigel, and Tucker also carried rucks, or backpacks with extra needed equipment for their specialty on top of their tactical vests, so they were happy to get the additional weight off their backs.
As soon as she had her gear stowed, Tristan pulled her patrol cap from her locker and headed out of the room. She needed a shower and she wanted something to eat. DFAC was closed for the night, so she had to settle on whatever snacks she had lying around in her barracks room from the care package her mother had sent a week earlier.
Chapter 8
The sun began directing its hot rays down onto the base at first light. Tristan had trekked enough the night before, so she’d opted out of her morning run before breakfast and the mission debrief, which had lasted two hours.
When the meeting ended, the lieutenant colonel left the room, but Maj. Irving had remained behind. He was the only one in the room with Bravo Team.
“Pack your bags, Bravo Team. You’re going stateside,” Maj. Irving said. “Wheels up at 1300.”
Tristan’s jaw dropped. They’d been in theater less than a month, and their shortest deployment thus far had been six weeks, and most had been eight.
“I know this is a need-to-know basis but is there something we need to know?” she asked, looking at him.
“No,” he answered, shaking his head. “You guys were supposed to be on leave for an additional ten days when we called you back to handle these last three missions. We’re sending you back to finish your leave and report to garrison until your next deployment as usual.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. When he left the room, she looked around at her team. “You heard him. Pack up and be on the flight line at 1230. Dismissed.”
Everyone got up and went their separate ways. Tristan headed towards the personnel office to pick up her team’s garrison orders. Then, she went to her barracks room and neatly packed her uniforms, PT gear, and toiletries into her deployment bag, along with a few personal items. As she sat on the side of her rack, she felt her shoulders slump. She’d been doing this a long time, so she knew how to handle the deployment cycle of emotions and the mental stress it caused for both the soldier and his or her family. She actually loved her job and looked forward to being in other countries around the world, so it was quite the opposite for her each time her team went home.
She’d been best friends with her father since the day she was born, and when she lost him, she lost a piece of herself…but she’d somehow found it in the Army. Seeing her mother and spending extra time together was always nice, and they’d gotten much closer over the years, but they were nothing like most mothers and daughters. Plus, she was very single and lived the life of a soldier. There was no girlfriend or wife to come home to or children waiting to climb all over her. She got her love and camaraderie from her team and the other soldiers around her.
By the time she finished allowing herself to go through the withdrawal stage and close her deployment bag, she only had an hour and a half left before she needed to be on the flight line. She quickly headed over to the locker room to pack her gear. The first thing she did was empty all her ammo cartridges and check her rifle and handgun to make sure there were no rounds in the chamber. It was against regulations to fly with open rounds on a transport, unless you were an MP or had special circumstances. Once she’d finished with that task, she went about stowing her gear in her deployment bag. Her head popped up when she heard the door open behind her.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going home?” Courtney asked.
“I just found out a couple hours ago. Besides, it’s not like we’re…”
“Friends?” Courtney finished for her.
Tristan looked at her. “I don’t know. What did you want me to do? Take you into an abandoned building and have sex?”
Courtney grinned and shrugged. “I’m not saying I would’ve stopped it.”
Tristan shook her head. “Are you trying to get thrown out of the Army?”
“No. I’m trying to tell you I like you.”
“It’ll never work. The brass would never go for it.”
“We’re not even in the same battalion. Commissioned Officers and Warrant Officers date all the time.”
“We’re currently under the same CO for this deployment,” Tristan stated, stuffing her helmet into her deployment bag on top of her tactical vest.
“You’re leaving, so unless you’ve been re-deployed, you’re going back in garrison, wherever the hell that is.”
“East coast, and I’ll be back. My team has been deploying in and out of here for a little over a year. If anything, you won’t be here when I get back,” she said, zipping the bag closed.
“We’ll be here for a while. We finished up a long stint in Afghanistan, and this seemed like a nice cozy place to put us after we were in hell.”
“I know the feeling. We were in Iraq before here. This place is a cake walk…most days.”
Courtney nodded in agreement.
“I should go,” Tristan said, keeping her eyes locked on the chocolate brown ones staring back at her.
“Have a safe flight,” Courtney said.
Tristan’s eyes moved to her mouth as her lips parted. Her mouth watered at the thought of kissing her.
“Get going, Captain. I’ll be here when you get back,” Courtney said with a smile and a playful wink.
*
For the first time in her military career, Tristan wished the C-12 transport plane had windows she could see out as they raced down the runway and lifted into the air. She’d never cared to look back from a place she was leaving…until now. With an inaudible sigh and barely noticeable shake of her head, she put her AirPods in and left Colombia behind.
*
With Bravo Team gone, Courtney’s helo crew was temporarily reassigned in second squad and tasked with flying recon missions tracking vehicles crossing the border into Panama, which was like several missions they’d had in Afghanistan, plus pursuing speed boats coming and going from Colombia.
“I guess it beats twiddling our thumbs until they return,” Maguire said as they walked out of the ready room.
“And here I thought we’d just sit around playing pool and darts.” She shrugged.
He laughed.
They sometimes went weeks without a mission on their last deployment and would literally volunteer for supply runs or other mundane flights for the hell of it just to log hours. Then, other weeks they’d be flying so much, they were barely able to fit sleeping and eating into their days. So far, deploying to Colombia as a part of the task force was proving to be pretty good.
*
The four-hour flight was coming to an end when Tristan pulled her AirPods from her ears and stuffed them and her dead iPod into her pocket. As she glanced around, she noticed Hoffman was asleep; Perry was reading a book; Fowler and Nigel were playing Texas Hold’em with a ratty old deck that she knew was missing at least four or five cards; and Tucker had his headphones on with his eyes closed. Her mind drifted back to the base as she stretched her stiff muscles. She couldn’t figure out why she couldn’t get Courtney Hewitt out of her head. They’d made out, but never had sex. The what if kept replaying in the back of her mind. “It’s not going to happen,” she mumbled to herself, just before the plane touched down.
Chapter 9
Tristan’s apartment was only about two miles from the base, and it was the first place she went when her team was dismissed after the flight and formally put on leave for the next ten days. She replied to her mother’s voicemail with a text saying she was home but wasn’t coming over until the next day. All she wanted to do in that moment was take a shower, eat a hot meal, and relax on her couch. The last thing she expected was a knock on the door. She’d removed her jacket and boots but was still wearing her camo pants and tan t-shirt as she walked over, peeping through the tiny hole. A well-dressed woman with mocha-colored skin and long dark hair pulled up in a bun, was standing on the doorstep. The folder in her hand made her look like a salesperson. Tristan was about to walk away when the woman rapped her knuckles on the door once more.
