Page 11

Chief Aiken Oakley

I gotta stop. Stop, stop…stop fuckin’ kissing him.

Oakley barely came up for breath before diving in again, his tongue searching for every sweet hint of papaya he could find.

He was grateful Sawyer had sense enough to stop them because Oakley could’ve explored him for the rest of the night.

“Fuck you taste good,” he mumbled against Sawyer’s lips. “When we get outta here and are cleared from duty for two weeks, I’m gonna rent a villa in some tropical paradise and let you fuck me on every surface from the balcony to the bathroom.”

Sawyer’s rough laugh morphed into a low hum. “You sweet talker, you.”

They held each other for several minutes until an inevitable weight bore down on them.

“Before we can get lost in each other for weeks, you know what we’re gonna have to do first.”

Oakley swallowed a lump of regret that pierced his heart like a rusty spike.

Yeah, as the chiefs of their crews, they would have to visit their teams’ families and explain how they died while serving their country.

Sawyer’s grip tightened and so did his hold on his neck.

“We’ve been MIA for over forty-eight hours.”

“I know.” Oakley held him back.

“How hard do you think they’re looking for survivors?” Sawyer’s words sounded hesitant and uncertain.

“Around the clock.” Oakley touched their foreheads together. “I know it.”

Going from zero to one thousand emotionally caused an exhaustion that made him sink into Sawyer’s embrace.

He didn’t want to think about being MIA or the death of his men anymore. Not until they were out of the woods, literally, and back on base.

For now, he’d track time by the second. Staying present and surviving each one that ticked by.

He and Sawyer parted and walked several yards away and did their business, drank more water, and then settled as comfortably as they could on some rock formations near each other.

Though it was dark, it was probably no later than eight o’clock. But after trekking from sun up to sun down, his body felt as if it were three in the morning.

Oakley struggled keeping his eyes open. Sawyer had claimed first watch, but he could’ve sworn he heard light snoring.

“You all right over there, Chief?” Oakley asked.

“This rock doesn’t feel as good as lying on your chest, but other than that…yeah, I’m good.”

“You’re not good. You were asleep.”

“I wasn’t fuckin’ asleep. I was doing some meditative breathing.”

He could hear Sawyer’s grin in the dark.

“You were about to fall asleep.”

“I said I’m good.”

“What were your parents like?” Oakley blurted. “I told you about my nutcase, Steve Irwin-wannabe father and how he left my mom and traipsed me through every dangerous environment imaginable, all because his own dad was just as big of a nut. What about you?”

“Yeah, your dad does sound pretty fuckin’ intense, man.”

“What’s the word for intense to the tenth power?” Oakley scoffed. “I tell you what. Once he gets wind that I’m MIA, he won’t grieve. He’ll fuckin’ say I should’ve died as a Ranger, not a sailor.”

“Jesus.”

“My old man retired at sixty-two from the Army, then went into isolation because he didn’t get killed like his lineage demanded.”

“Are you serious?”

“I haven’t seen him in eleven years. He doesn’t wanna see me, and I don’t wanna see him either.”

“Damn.”

“Now, tell me about your father.”

Sawyer was quiet for so long that Oakley thought he’d dozed off again.

“I never knew him.” Sawyer’s sigh was cut off by the scuttling of some animal taking a drink. “It was just my mom and me. She never married. Worked her ass off, sometimes two and three jobs at a time.”

“She must’ve been something.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She raised one helluva man to have done it by herself.”

Oakley hoped he hadn’t raised a sore subject. What if his—

“She died during my third year in college. Had a heart attack on the bus on her way home from work.”

I’m a goddamn idiot. Oakley was kicking himself in the teeth.

“When anyone asks how she died, I tell them she worked herself to death.”

“Damn, Sawyer. Look, man, I didn’t mean to—”

“It was a long time ago, Chief. I’m good. I know I made her proud by graduating from college and serving my country. That’s all that matters.”

Oakley didn’t say another word, and when he heard Sawyer’s breathing deepen again, he let him rest.

Chief Styles Sawyer

The thousand-mammal orchestra of the jungle woke Sawyer from his fitful sleep. He squinted at the rays of sunlight filtering through the vast canopy of leaves and groaned in anguish that his current predicament was not a dream.

His senses were all fucked up from the thick humidity and constant stench of pungent fungi and pine.

He sat up slowly, trying not to cry out at the sharp pain in his lower back and his sensitive, burned face.

However, it didn’t take Sawyer long to forget his aches when he heard the raucous chatter over his head.

He jerked off his stone bed, his heart racing, to find a troupe of monkeys swinging from the branches, darting effortlessly from one vine to the next.

Some hung upside down, some were chattering and grooming each other, and others were just perched too close to him, their tiny hands gripping the limbs and eyeing him with curiosity and caution.

It looked to be several different species, some with patchworks of browns and creams, some solid mahogany, and others appeared almost jet-black. They were gathered around like they were having a goddamn family reunion.

“Oakley…Oakley,” he whispered harshly.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know if they’d all jump him if he tried to run, like those itty-bitty dinosaurs in Jurassic Park .

Shit.

“Oakley,” he called a bit louder but still didn’t get a response.

Sawyer slid off the rock, and the moment his boots touched the ground, one particularly bold monkey with a tufted crown of fur leaped down and landed beside him. He tilted his head as if Sawyer was the strange creature, not him.

He guessed he was.

Another, emboldened by his friend’s bravado, leaped down and scurried close enough that Sawyer could smell his rank fur and see the light-brown pigment in his eyes.

“Ummm, Oakley.” Sawyer eased his hand inside his pocket and removed his switchblade.

He didn’t trust these things. Sure, they were cute…until they went all Planet of the Apes on him.

The word “apeshit” had to come from somewhere.

No sooner had Sawyer pulled the knife from his pocket than the second monkey reached out, snatched it, and took off. Before Oakley could yell, both had bolted back into the tree and weaved through the forest with unbelievable speed.

The babbling got louder as the playful troop called out in a raucous mix of howls, shrieks, and playful squeals.

“Motherfucker.” Sawyer searched for the thief, but he knew that little piece of shit was long gone. “Dammit, that was one of a kind.”

“And you can forget about ever getting it back.”

Sawyer whirled around to see Oakley walking toward them with a handful of extra-long bananas, some more of those papayas, and four little guppies stuck on a sharpened piece of bamboo.

“While you were off hunting and gathering, I almost became another fuckin’ statistic of the Amazon,” he cursed.

“You are a statistic, Chief. You’re another human to get duped by a monkey.” Oakley chuckled.

Sawyer went to the edge of the stream and drank some of the water, which tasted even more refreshing in the early morning. He also dabbed some over his burns that, thankfully, weren’t as tender as they’d been the day before.

“And you’re welcome for this continental breakfast,” Oakley said as he got the fire restarted.

Sawyer was thankful for all Oakley was doing. He was just feeling stupid from that damn monkey.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

Oakley let out a loud yawn, then began cutting up the pieces of fruit.

“You were up all night, weren’t you?”

Oakley shrugged. “I got in a couple of bouts of shuteye. I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe we should stay right here, where there’s food and water and you can nap while I watch out for shit.”

“Negative,” Oakley shot back. “We gotta be close to finding a village by now. The longer we stay in the Amazon, the less chance we have of surviving.”