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“THE GENERAL WISHES to speak with you all right away,” the man announced.
“And just who is the General?” Frank asked, once again taking charge of the situation.
“Major General Hiram Martin, U.S. Marine Corps, retired; he’s our CO,” the man replied. Then, as an afterthought, he extended his hand. “Forgive my lack of manners; Major Evan Jergenson, USMC, retired. Medically,” he added, wiggling his right leg. A slight metallic clicking helped them all understand at least a portion of his right leg was artificial. “Most of the troops just call me Major J.”
“Well, Major J, you and I have about the same amount of authority with our rank here in Lubbock, Texas,” Frank responded, smiling and accepting the proffered hand. “Which means none. I’m Lieutenant Franklin Kratos of the Chickasha, Oklahoma Police Department and a member of the Oklahoma Urban Task Force on Paranormal Activities. Most everyone calls me Frank, except my troops, who just call me Lt.”
When Frank announced the second part of his Bona Fides, everyone in the group turned to him in unison. Echoes of huh?,...what?... and Frank?... all jumbled together for a moment. Holding his hand up, Frank addressed the information.
“There has been no need for any of you to be aware of that qualification, it makes no difference to our mission,” he said casually. “Besides, Clara knew, and I’m sure she shared it with Raquel.”
Major J’s eyes flared silver, and Cassiel was back in the driver’s seat. “I cannot overemphasize the imperative nature of our travelling to Hellam Township as quickly as possible.”
“Well, just exactly how do you suggest we get there as quickly as possible?” Frank asked with an edge of frustration in his voice. “We can’t just call someone there on the cell phone and jump bodies.” Hesitating as he realized what he had just said, he started again. “Well, most of us can’t; that is I can’t, and...” that was when he realized he was the only person present besides Ham who had no rider to actually jump bodies should the opportunity arise.
“There won’t really be a need for any of that,” Major J started. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. The General wants to offer you the use of his G II private jet. It can fly 500 miles an hour, carry 12 passengers, and is ready for take-off at Executive Park, which is about 15 minutes from here.”
“Whoa, we’re moving a little too fast for my taste here,” Frank called out. “We, at least I, need to think this through before I can allow my young charge, and my wife, to go tearing off half-way across the country to fight...” And then he just ran down.
“Yes, darling, it is what we just did, and extremely well; I might add,” Clara said lovingly.
“I say, let’s take it to them,” Ham called fervently.
When Frank still looked hesitant, Camael placed a hand on his forearm and spoke softly. “There has been far too much dying for one night, and I fear it is not over yet. Frank, you have died twice this evening, and I fully understand your hesitation to...”
“No,” Frank growled loudly, yanking his arm away. “I don’t care a whit about what happens to me, it comes with the shield. What I can’t stand again, what I refuse to witness again...” and his voice broke. Tears broke free from his eyes, coursing their way down his dusty, haggard cheeks. “I can’t stand to see you die again,” he pleaded, looking at Clara.
“I almost lost my mind a little while ago, and was ready to charge into the gate myself. I wanted to kill anything that stood for the other side, because they had taken the only person who has ever meant anything to me.” Hanging his head, he whispered softly, “I went into a complete berserker rage; I lost all control. I don’t want to ever do that again.”
Clara moved her chair to her husband’s side and took his hand gently. “I felt exactly the same way both times you died, honey, and I railed against Raquel to let me loose, to let me use her power. It’s really a good thing she refused,” she said with a sheepish grin.
Frank leaned down and gently kissed his wife’s lips, softly at first, and then with increasing ardor. When he finally broke contact, Clara’s eyes flashed white and Raquel said, “He really is a dynamite kisser.”
The lighthearted jest broke the heavy tension in the air, and everyone laughed a little nervously at first. But when Frank threw back his head and let loose a belly laugh, everyone joined in earnestly. Once the laughter had died out, Frank turned to Major J and said, “Let’s get to the airplane. The night’s not over yet.”
––––––––
“A PLEASURE TO MEET you, General,” Frank said as they mounted the stairs built into the door of the aircraft. “I must say, when Major J told me your airplane was equipped with a wheelchair lift and tiedowns, I was overjoyed.”
“Please, call me Hiram, otherwise I’ll have to call you lieutenant all the time,” the General grinned. “My late wife was wheelchair bound for the last eight years, and we spent a lot of time travelling the world and seeing the sights,” he sighed. “I did my best to empty her bucket list before she went over to the other side.” His eyes took on a distant look, and Frank waited politely until he was finished with his memory. Shaking himself, Hiram said, “Anyway, you should get both Hamilton and your wife secured while I finish pre-flighting her,” he said, turning back to the cockpit.
“You’re the pilot?” Frank replied to the unexpected announcement.
“I’ve logged over two thousand hours in this beauty since I bought her ten years ago, and I’ve been multi-engine qualified for over forty years,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Flew C-130’s for the better part of them,” he added.
The brilliance of his gaze belied the weather-beaten appearance of his face. This man was an old warhorse, and he was far from finished. Frank nodded and turned toward the rear of the plane to ensure all was in order. Ham and Clara were both secured to spots where seats had been hastily removed from the equipment rails on the floor. The remaining ten seats were filled with the other members of the team and four rugged and totally capable-looking men with long beards, short haircuts, and steel in their eyes.
Daniel surfaced from Hofniel’s control for a moment to ask them, “Where did you guys serve?”
The oldest-looking of the four turned to him and said, “Fallujah.”
“Al-Zarqawi?” Daniel asked in return, referring to Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, the chief strategist and Al-Qaeda leader behind the insurgents in Iraq during the battles for the city of Fallujah.
The man pointed his chin toward the man across the aisle from him and said, “Kettlebell was on the crew that found the bastard so the wingnuts could take him out,” he finished, referring to the Air Force bombing of the safe house in which the terrorist leader had been hiding.
“So, you guys all served together?” Daniel asked.
“Major J, all of us, Hell, most everyone in our unit now, served under the General when he was CO of the Regiment. We’re all Palehorse,” he concluded.
Daniel’s sharp intake of breath belied his calm exterior. He realized he was in the presence of some of the most seasoned counter-terrorist members the Marine Corps had ever seen.
“How about you?” Kettlebell asked. “You look pretty hard yourself.”
Daniel hesitated for a moment before pulling a large gold coin from his pocket. He held it up for the others to see the skull impressed onto its surface with the number 6 on the forehead.
“Hoowee, lookee here, boys,” Crowed Kettlebell. “We got us a genuine Navy Frogman in our midst.”
When Daniel colored darkly, the older man cut Kettlebell a hard look that silenced him immediately.
“Sorry, Gunny,” was all he said.
“Where?” Gunny asked.
“Gardez, Turkman, Kandahar, Jbad, Kabul; three tours,” was all he answered, but it was enough.
Kettlebell leaned forward and held his closed fist out; Daniel bumped his own fist against it. “We cool” He asked.
“Yeah,” Daniel replied. Then Hofniel’s eyes flared bronze and both Marines jerked their heads back. “We’re cool,” he said.
Major J stepped into the front of the airplane cabin from the cockpit and announced, “Strap in, we’re wheels up in 10.”