Page 41 of Shadow Boxed (Shadow Warriors #2)

Chapter thirty-three

The chopper flight up to base felt grim, riddled with tension.

Most of which came from Rawlings. The dude hadn’t been the same since the ASBMs had struck the Harbinger in a burst of flames and smoke.

The southerner had gone through a fundamental shift after that, going quiet and still.

Rawls hadn’t said a word on the flight back to base.

Just sat there, shrunken somehow, staring at the vibrating wall across from him.

The change in his behavior hadn’t made an impression on Aiden at the time.

Nobody had spoken on the trip home. Silence had pressed down on all of them.

The weight of all those innocent souls was smothering.

But the shift in Rawlings was more apparent now. His haggard face was hard to miss. His haunted eyes. No quips. No southern charm. No rounded vowels. Just silence and stillness.

By the time the ASBMs had launched, everyone on the Chinook had agreed the strike needed to happen...everyone except for Rawlings. His voice had been the only dissent.

Aiden hoped his old buddy shook off the ghosts haunting him. Guilt could consume a man, slice the flesh right off the bone, turn even the smartest mind inside out. Until up was down and inside was out, and the only way to escape the pain was through a bullet.

He didn’t want Rawls to lose himself inside that spiral. If, or when, it was necessary, they’d stage an intervention of beer and barbeque and lance the sorrow from this last mission. That would help them all move on.

The grim silence continued after they landed. He, Mac, Zane, and Cos headed for a six-seater utility vehicle. Rawls, without a word split off from the group and headed for the elevator. Aiden was about to call after him when Zane grabbed his shoulder.

“Let him go,” Zane said. “He’s not ready to accept what happened. Chasing him won’t help.”

Mac scoffed. “We did the world a fucking service. He should accept that.”

Zane shrugged and climbed behind the wheel. Aiden called Wolf as Zane headed down the ramps to the bottom level.

“Where you at?” Aiden demanded as soon as his brother’s voice came over the line. He might as well deliver Benioko’s—aka, Aiden’s subconscious’s—message now.

“In the isolation chamber,” came the flat reply.

Aiden’s fingers tightened around the phone. “There a problem?”

“No.” Wolf paused, as though considering whether to say more. “Cap wants to try something.”

“Try what?” But his fingers loosened.

“A means of communication.”

Aiden didn’t ask who Capland was trying to communicate with. If they were in the isolation chamber, the answer was obvious. “On my way.”

He arrived in the chamber to find two huge led screens, identical to the ones in the war room, hanging from the ceiling. The first screen held the finger and hand positions for the alphabet of American Sign Language. The second screen was blank.

“You plan to teach them ASL?” Aiden asked.

“Figured it wouldn’t hurt to try,” Cap said from his chair next to the wall.

He had his ever-present laptop balanced on his knees.

“They can’t talk. Can’t touch the glass thanks to Faith’s shield.

But nothing’s stopping them from moving their hands and fingers.

” He looked up. As his glasses slid down his nose, the gold frames glinted beneath the light.

“Not that they’re moving their hands. Maybe you can encourage that.

” He pushed his glasses back up and glanced at the window.

After a moment, he pointed his thumb toward the glass.

“That one’s moved since you arrived. Shuffled closer to your side of the window. ”

He knew Capland was talking about Squirrel before he followed the direction of Cap’s thumb. Sure enough, Squirrel stood there, a couple of feet to the left of the others, his empty eyes locked on Aiden’s face.

“It moved away from the others,” Wolf observed. “As you came around the corner.”

Capland looked up. “Does it respond your javaanee often?”

“Often enough,” Aiden said absently, something about Wolf’s comment scratching at his mind. He finally zeroed in on what was bothering him. “You said he moved before I turned the corner?” How had it known who was coming?

How had Squirrel identified Aiden? Not his eyes for sure. Even if his vision worked, he wouldn’t have seen Aiden around the corner. His ears? But his ears wouldn’t have distinguished Aiden from other visitors.

“Yes.” Wolf offered a single nod as confirmation. “It knew you were there.”

How the hell had Squirrel known that?

“Aiden, since they appear to respond to you, you should be the one to talk them. Do you know ASL?” Capland asked with a slow, measuring scan from Aiden to the window.

“Not they,” Aiden corrected. “Just Squirrel.”

Caplan’s eyes narrowed on the glass. “The one with the neck tattoo?”

Aiden nodded.

“Then you need to concentrate on him.” Capland went back to his keyboard. “You’ll talk to him, ask him questions, while signing the same words through ASL.”

Aiden studied the ASL letter guide. Looked simple enough. “What should I say?”

Capland typed the word “Hi” and the hand gestures for the word popped up on the blank screen. “Try to direct its attention up to the prompts.”

“It has no eyes,” Wolf said. “We do not know if it sees.”

Cap shrugged without looking up from his laptop. “Won’t hurt to try.”

True. Aiden stepped up to the window in front of Squirrel and rapped on the glass. “Squirrel?”

With jerky, uncoordinated spasms, his dead best friend raised his hands and pressed them against the glass, activating Faith’s forcefield. From wrists down, its hands disappeared into the window. Which was still freaky as hell, but not as whacked as the first time.

It was amazing what one could adjust to.

Twisting, Aiden pointed up at the two screens hanging overhead trying to get the creature to look up. “Squirrel. Look.” He glanced over his shoulder. No reaction. Its hands were still inside the force field, its empty eye sockets level with Aiden’s face.

Aiden tried twice more before Capland interrupted. “Let’s move to plan B. We’ll start simple. You’ll sign the letters for ‘hi’ as you say the word.” He demonstrated the hand gestures for the two letters.

Aiden mimicked the gestures. “Like this?”

“Perfect.” Capland nodded at Squirrel. “Now say ‘hi’ and sign the letters.”

Aiden did as directed, but the Squirrel suit didn’t move. It made no attempt to mimic the gestures. Hell, it didn’t even pull its hands out of the shield. It just stood there, hands missing, its eyes level with Aiden’s face. Aiden signed and said hi again. Still no response.

After the sixth attempt with no response, he gave up. “Well, that was a bust.”

“Rap on the glass again.” Wolf cocked his head, studying Squirrel’s frozen form. “It responded to that earlier.”

True, but this time when his knuckles struck the glass, zombie Squirrel just stood there. No reaction.

“Looks like it’s turned off again,” Aiden said, trying to swallow his frustration.

Wolf’s corresponding grunt carried no expression whatsoever. “Why did you call me?”

The change in topic was so abrupt, it took Aiden a second to follow it. “Yeah, about that. I have a message from Benioko.”

Wolf straightened, interest sharpening his gaze. “You dreamed last night?”

“I sure did.” With a scoff, Aiden jammed his fingers through his hair. “And like clockwork, your annoying shaman just had to show up and expose my subconscious thoughts to me.”

“And those were?” Wolf’s eyebrows rose.

“He said there’s a fishing trawler headed for the Harbinger’s grave site, and you need to intercept its harvest and prevent it from infecting the food chain.”

Cap’s head popped up, a sudden frown on his face. This time, when his glasses slid down his nose, he took them off and let them dangle between his fingertips. “There shouldn’t be any fish to harvest. The LFT should have driven all the sea life away from the site.”

Aiden shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you, just passing on your dead shaman’s message.

” He paused a beat, before adding, with a distinct challenge in his voice.

“Looks like my subconscious is still stressed over O’Neill’s food chain theory.

I considered not passing this message on, as Cap has the whole infected fish thing covered, but hell, I promised to tell you anything Benioko told me.

Even when it’s clearly coming from my subconscious. So, consider yourself told.”

“Did the old one mention Jillian’s lion claiming or Gracie’s wolf claiming?” Wolf asked, ignoring Aiden’s disclaimer. “Did Benioko explain the elder gods’ expectations?”

“Of course not,” Aiden drawled. “My subconscious doesn’t know shit about that.”

Which Wolf knew, but as usual his big bro ignored Aiden’s reasonable explanation for Benioko’s appearance in his dream. What a pair they made. Here Wolf was, trying to instill myopic mythology in Aiden, while Aiden tried to encourage rational thinking in Wolf.

It would be amusing if it weren’t so frustrating.

Day 35 Shadow Mountain Base, Alaska

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Mackenzie snarled, his face thunderous. “Aren’t we due for a break? A situation that won’t escalate to the end of motherfucking everything?”

O’Neill didn’t blame the asshole for whining.

At least not much. He’d had a similar reaction when Wolf’s LFT news ruined what looked like a promising day spent with Gracie.

If they’d sunk two of the damn things at the Harbinger’s grave, they could have prevented this trip.

But nobody, not even Cap, had expected the LFT’s power supply to fail.

Fuck...talk about a tsunami of catastrophes lately.

“Seriously,” Mackenzie continued with his tirade. “Of all the bluefin tuna in the Pacific Ocean, why does that motherfucking trawler have to camp out there? Above that fucking ship?”

“We don’t know they are fishing there,” Aiden broke in. “All we know is they’re headed that way. They could still turn around.”

O’Neill smirked. Aiden didn’t sound optimistic though.

In fact, the squid looked kind of shook.

Guess finding out Capland’s sound device had quit working, right after Benioko’s dream warning, had spooked him.

Bet the dude’s subconscious hadn’t seen that coming.

Wonder how he was explaining the coincidence to himself.

“Fuck no,” Mackenzie shot back. “Our luck’s too shitty for them not to camp right over that spot and drag in a motherlode of fish.”

“Indeed.” Wolf’s placid voice made Mackenzie’s complaints sound even more strident. “Nevertheless…” His voice trailed off.

But then there wasn’t much more to say. They couldn’t ignore the warning. O’Neill grimaced and supplied the obvious. “We have to intercept the trawler.”

“How about we go old school and call in an anonymous trafficking tip? Get the Coasties to intercept them?” The suggestion came from Simcosky.

“Already done, ” O’Neill said. “But the Coast Guard can’t hold them for long. When they don’t find evidence of drugs or illegal fishing, they’ll release them.”

“How long do you figure the Coasties will hold them?” Aiden asked.

“We’ll be lucky to arrive before the trawler is released,” O’Neill admitted reluctantly.

“And you can’t reach out to one of those mysterious contacts of yours and get the boat detained indefinitely? Or at least long enough for us to chopper out and drop another LFT, ridding the area of fish?” Aiden asked, a clear challenge to his voice.

“Not without questions. Questions we can’t afford to answer,” O’Neill admitted.

“Maybe the Coasties’ search will rattle them enough to send them back to port,” Winters offered, although he didn’t look like he believed in that pipedream any more than the rest of them did.

“I suggest we drop two LFTs over the contaminated water this time,” Capland broke in. “As an additional failsafe.”

“What if we don’t get there before the fishin’ starts?

” Rawlings interrupted. His voice sharpened.

“If the fish are infected with those damn bots, and the harvestin’ has started, just handlin’ their catch will expose the crew.

What then? Are we gonna sink that boat too?

” There was a shitload of accusation in the question.

A tense silence fell.

Mackenzie leaned forward in his chair like he was about to verbally explode. But Winters grabbed his arm and squeezed. With a volatile scowl, the commander settled back in his chair.

“No decisions will be made until we arrive on site and assess the situation.” Wolf’s voice remained as mild as ever.

Cosky broke the tense silence. “What are they doing out there, anyway? The site’s in the middle of the damn ocean.”

O’Neill shrugged. “They’re probably after unfished schools. Bluefin tuna has become increasingly lucrative, which means more competition.”

“When do we head out,” Aiden asked.

“The Chinook is being prepped,” Wolf said.

“We have no authority to prevent anyone from fishing over that spot.” Winters grimaced, running a tense hand over his hair. He glanced at Wolf. “We better pray the captain doesn’t radio the Coasties when we show up.”

“I can jam their radio broadcasts,” Capland offered.

“Fifteen minute to go.” Wolf pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.

“Hold on.” Rawlings’s voice climbed. “I’m still waitin’ for an answer. What’s the plan if those poor bastards have already started pullin’ in their catch?”

Wolf sat back down and considered the blonde former SEAL. “Our actions would depend on whether they exhibit symptoms of infection.”

“Bullshit.” Rawls scowled. “You know damn well the minute the crew touches those fish, they’ll be infected. You ain’t gonna let them wander around the mainland. So, what you gonna do with them?”

“The longer we sit here stewing over the what if contingent, the better chance they’ll be fishing when we arrive.” Winters paused, watching his teammate with sympathetic eyes. “You could sit this one out. There’s no shame in saying no.”

A muscle in Rawlings’ cheek twitched. He opened his mouth, only to close it again. Without a word, he got up.

“You know where the Chinook sits,” Wolf said quietly, watching Rawlings walk around the table and head for the door. “It lifts in fifteen minutes, if you decide to join us.”

But when O’Neill climbed on the bird, the southern squid was missing.