After getting my on-post housing assignment, I go to the commissary to fill my fridge and pantry with the basic necessities. I pick up a carton of eggs and turn around to find Weber walking towards me. We smile and shake hands.
“How did you escape, I thought you were still in MOS training?”
“They give us an occasional day of leave, so we don’t go completely bat shit crazy.”
I notice he has a bouquet of flowers in his basket. I raise my eyebrows and incline my head towards the flowers.
“Hot date?”
He shrugs noncommittally. So, I decide to poke the bear.
“Man, Abram was a beast on the course. I’d love to find out what make it makes her tick.”
And just like that, the always calm, and affable Weber, dissipates. His posture is ramrod straight as he tries, and pretty much fails to contain the contention in his voice.
“I can tell you for a fact she is not interested in getting involved with anyone in her ODA!”
I just smile and give him a smack on the shoulder as I lean in and give one last knowing look to the flowers.
“Tell Abram, I said hi.”
I start to walk off as a nearly silent curse escapes Weber’s mouth. He grabs my arm with a firm grip from behind.
“Look, Malone…it’s important that no one know about Abram, and me. It could ruin everything she has worked for.”
I look him in the eye and hope he sees my sincerity.
“I know… I have no intention of breathing a word. Your secret is safe with me, I swear it.”
He blows out a sigh of relief.
“Thank you”
“But I really am curious, about what drives her. I have never seen anyone handle that level of physical, mental and emotional distress and maintain complete composure at all times.”
“She’s had a lot of practice.”
It slips from his mouth and the moment he says it, I can tell he regrets it. My eyebrows lift slightly, but I say nothing.
“Look, if you want to know Abram’s personal business, you’ll have to ask her. She is a very private person and doesn’t share easily. It’s not a good idea to push her.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, but hopefully one day she will trust me enough to tell me her story. I have a feeling we have a similar background.”
“I doubt it…but then, you don’t tell your story either, so it’s hard to say.”
Chapter Eleven First Mission
T he team is just finishing a workout when we get called into headquarters. As we walk in, the buzz of energy coming off the team is so strong it feels like my skin is vibrating. I suppress the anxious grin that wants to creep onto my lips. It will only serve as a reminder that this is the first mission for Abram, and I. The rest of our team is experienced. Crowder, one of our Engineers was the newbie before us, and he has been with the team for five years. Doc Love, (and that is his actual last name) has been with the team the longest, at twelve years. He looks anything but loving, but when he speaks the scary façade of a grizzly bear slips away. That’s when you can see the glimmer of understanding and compassion within his battle-weary eyes.
We pass by all the shiny polished floors and make our way to a small, dreary room with old fluorescent lighting that gives off an annoying hum. Chief Gonzalez, looks at Abram and me, obviously seeing the question in our eyes. Basically, why we are meeting in a room that looks like a big janitor’s closet with a table?
“They call it the quiet room. It’s the most secure location in Ft. Bragg to receive intel. It’s where we get our mission briefings.”
Immediately after this statement a little, weasel, looking man, who identifies himself as Mr. Burrow walks in. Presumably, the rest of the team already knows this man, and from their collective air of hostility, it’s clear they do not like him. Burrow hits a few buttons on his phone, then lays it on the table. He turns off the lights, and without greeting begins.
“Operation “two birds”: These two, countries, have just been named enemies of the U.A. It has been ascertained that they are having secret meetings to rally against our nation’s upcoming agricultural advancements.”
While this information is received in complete silence, I observe my comrades closely. There is a small twitch in Abram’s cheek, which lets me know she is clenching her teeth. Clayton, one of the communication sergeants, tries to relax his neck, but this only magnifies the vein that is now bulging from, said neck. I found out a couple of days ago, that Clayton comes from seven generations of farmers put out of business by Agrisin. There is no way he doesn’t have a grudge against them. Therefore, he probably isn’t a hundred percent loyal to the U.A. Though, I am not sure what it means, I see doc Love’s fist clenched, just before he uncurls it. The rest of the team is unreadable, or I am to slow to catch their reactions. I turn my attention back to Burrow, as he prattles on.
“Your mission is to find out
