Read Online The Traiteur's Ring by Jeffrey Wilson - Free Book Online
Authors: Jeffrey Wilson
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we went down range.”
“I’ll go,” Reed said.
“Don’t be ridiculous, dude,” Lash said with a twinkle in his eye. “You can’t go fast enough or far enough to keep up with real Frogmen,” he said with a wink at Ben.
“Fuck you,” Reed said with a laugh. “I mean, you may be right, but fuck you.”
A few minutes later, Ben headed off in the direction of the camp clinic where he could talk to the surgeon and check on his little girl. She had been asleep when he saw her last night, curled up on a stack of blankets at the top of a cot. He had stroked her face and left, not wanting to wake her and not knowing what he really had to offer her anyway. Now, he hoped she would be awake, and he felt confused at his excitement to see her.
She’s a link to things I don’t understand, but that feel so familiar.
Ben wondered if that familiarity was because of his strange past or because of the strong ties he felt to the villagers. That tie, he suspected, was just a manifestation of the burning guilt his whole team shared in an unspoken way. Whatever – he decided he would do what he could (though he had no idea what that would be) to make sure the survivors, and especially the little girl, were all taken care of.
The medical spaces filled a hanger that was in much better condition than the one converted into a barracks for the Navy SEALs and Army Special Forces Operators. Roughly square, they had actually brought in Sea Bees to build hard walls to separate the mini-recovery area from a small operating room and an even smaller X-ray room. The recovery area held twelve cots arranged in two rows and above each the Sea Bees had constructed crossbeams to support monitors, IV poles, needed supplies, and equipment. At the end of the rows were four sets of two saw horses where stretchers could rest for the initial management of bad trauma patients. So far, they had not had to use any of that advanced surgical capability on this deployment, thank God.
What struck Ben, however, was that all of the cots were empty.
Where are my people?
“Hey,” he hollered out to the young Army medic across the large open room. His voice sounded harsher than he intended, but he continued on without pause anyway. “Where the hell are our villagers? Where’s the little girl?”
The medic looked up, confused at first. Then, his voice seemed to register understanding.
“Oh,” he said. “You mean the natives?”
Natives?
He wasn’t sure why that irritated him so bad, but the word pissed him off for sure.
“They’re not —‘natives’ – they’re human beings, dickhead. They’re also the only survivors of a whole village of peaceful people slaughtered by a bunch of AQ assholes, and they watched everyone they knew and loved hacked to death, raped, and mutilated. Now where the fuck are they?”
Ben realized his voice had reached a feverous pitch he had never intended and felt his face flush. The young medic seemed unsure what to do, and for a minute Ben thought he might bolt for the door. Then, he took a long, shaky breath and held out an arm as Ben approached.
“Take it easy, sir,” he said, though as Ben was an enlisted SEAL, the “sir” was completely inappropriate. “I didn’t mean nothing, okay? Anyway, I’m not sure where they went. Doc Gilliam said he was getting them some place more comfortable is all. Just hold on a minute, and I’ll find out where they went, okay”
With that, he nearly sprinted out the door at the end of the recovery area, and Ben felt bad that he had over reacted. A few minutes later, the Army surgeon came in the same door, although the medic remained conspicuously absent.
“Whaddya say, man,” the surgeon said and stretched out a hand. Ben shook it. “You hangin’ in there?”
“Sure,” Ben said, now really embarrassed. “Just looking for our survivors, sir.”
“Of course,” the surgeon said. “I wanted them somewhere more comfortable and private,” he said. “Come with
“I’ll go,” Reed said.
“Don’t be ridiculous, dude,” Lash said with a twinkle in his eye. “You can’t go fast enough or far enough to keep up with real Frogmen,” he said with a wink at Ben.
“Fuck you,” Reed said with a laugh. “I mean, you may be right, but fuck you.”
A few minutes later, Ben headed off in the direction of the camp clinic where he could talk to the surgeon and check on his little girl. She had been asleep when he saw her last night, curled up on a stack of blankets at the top of a cot. He had stroked her face and left, not wanting to wake her and not knowing what he really had to offer her anyway. Now, he hoped she would be awake, and he felt confused at his excitement to see her.
She’s a link to things I don’t understand, but that feel so familiar.
Ben wondered if that familiarity was because of his strange past or because of the strong ties he felt to the villagers. That tie, he suspected, was just a manifestation of the burning guilt his whole team shared in an unspoken way. Whatever – he decided he would do what he could (though he had no idea what that would be) to make sure the survivors, and especially the little girl, were all taken care of.
The medical spaces filled a hanger that was in much better condition than the one converted into a barracks for the Navy SEALs and Army Special Forces Operators. Roughly square, they had actually brought in Sea Bees to build hard walls to separate the mini-recovery area from a small operating room and an even smaller X-ray room. The recovery area held twelve cots arranged in two rows and above each the Sea Bees had constructed crossbeams to support monitors, IV poles, needed supplies, and equipment. At the end of the rows were four sets of two saw horses where stretchers could rest for the initial management of bad trauma patients. So far, they had not had to use any of that advanced surgical capability on this deployment, thank God.
What struck Ben, however, was that all of the cots were empty.
Where are my people?
“Hey,” he hollered out to the young Army medic across the large open room. His voice sounded harsher than he intended, but he continued on without pause anyway. “Where the hell are our villagers? Where’s the little girl?”
The medic looked up, confused at first. Then, his voice seemed to register understanding.
“Oh,” he said. “You mean the natives?”
Natives?
He wasn’t sure why that irritated him so bad, but the word pissed him off for sure.
“They’re not —‘natives’ – they’re human beings, dickhead. They’re also the only survivors of a whole village of peaceful people slaughtered by a bunch of AQ assholes, and they watched everyone they knew and loved hacked to death, raped, and mutilated. Now where the fuck are they?”
Ben realized his voice had reached a feverous pitch he had never intended and felt his face flush. The young medic seemed unsure what to do, and for a minute Ben thought he might bolt for the door. Then, he took a long, shaky breath and held out an arm as Ben approached.
“Take it easy, sir,” he said, though as Ben was an enlisted SEAL, the “sir” was completely inappropriate. “I didn’t mean nothing, okay? Anyway, I’m not sure where they went. Doc Gilliam said he was getting them some place more comfortable is all. Just hold on a minute, and I’ll find out where they went, okay”
With that, he nearly sprinted out the door at the end of the recovery area, and Ben felt bad that he had over reacted. A few minutes later, the Army surgeon came in the same door, although the medic remained conspicuously absent.
“Whaddya say, man,” the surgeon said and stretched out a hand. Ben shook it. “You hangin’ in there?”
“Sure,” Ben said, now really embarrassed. “Just looking for our survivors, sir.”
“Of course,” the surgeon said. “I wanted them somewhere more comfortable and private,” he said. “Come with
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