Chapter 34

Return Of The Phoenix: A Monster Squad Novel By Heath Stallcup

Gus Tracy took one look at the orders he had been handed and stated simply, “You’re shitting me, right?”

“Sorry, Tracy. These came in for you just an hour ago. Hot off the printer,” the young specialist said. “No idea what your final destination might be, but these are the weirdest orders I’ve ever seen issued.”

Gus looked it over again. Surely there was a typo somewhere. In his ten years in the Army, he’d never received transfer orders that didn’t have a destination, a command name and at least an offer for using some annual leave in getting there. “Where’s Colonel Baird?” Gus asked.

“He’s in the procurement office. He should be back shortly, though.”

Gus looked at the departure time again. He had less than twelve hours to pack everything he could and be ready to leave. Sighing to himself, he turned to the specialist assigned to the Colonel’s office. “Is he aware of this?”

“To my knowledge, yes. He was confused as hell when he left here. Told me to contact you and make you aware of it as soon as possible.” The specialist turned and retrieved Gus’ service record. “I went ahead and brought everything up to date for you. Your medical and dental records are on their way over here now. Should be here within the hour.”

Gus took his service jacket and tucked it under his arm. “This sucks balls, ya know.”

“I know, Tracy. I’m really sorry. I wish I had answers for you.”

“Fuck. Less than twelve hours to pack up everything and make ready. That’s bullshit. It took me two months to unpack all my crap.” Gus looked at the orders one more time. Nothing had changed, but he hoped there was some small piece of information he had missed. “Fine. Tell the old man I’m getting my shit together. If he needs me, I’ll be in my barracks.”

Gus Tracy, Army Airborne, Green Beret and all around nice guy, once the terror of Baghdad, now being treated like a mushroom; kept in the dark and fed bullshit when all he really wanted was a few fucking answers.

Gus took no care while shoving things in his duffel bag. He paused only briefly to admire the SFG pin on his uniform. “Say goodbye to the Fifth, Gus. I guess they don’t need you anymore.” He muttered to himself. The Fifth being the Fifth Special Forces Group, the only real home Gus had known in his twelve year stint in the Army. A career military man, Gus Tracy had been under a lot of commands, been to many foreign places, met strange and exciting new people and killed them. Yet he never questioned the Army. He never questioned those in authority over him. To him, these men were like gods. They had gone through the ranks, earned the same rights and respect that he had, yet they had the ability to not only serve, but to lead as well. The Army had always taken care of Sergeant First Class Tracy and he wasn’t about to question them now.

Although Tracy’s mind was turning about on where he might be headed, he diligently packed up all of his belongings. Much to his surprise, nearly all of it fit in the single duffel. What little that didn’t, he soon realized he could easily toss out and replace when he got to his new command. Coming from nothing, Gus never was one for acquiring personal things that didn’t pertain directly to his job. The closest thing to a personal belonging that he owned was his father’s straight razor. Gus never tried to actually shave with it, but the shiny metal folding blade brought him a small bit of comfort. He may be alone in the world, but at one time he had family who loved him.

But that was a long, long time ago…during another life that he could never return to.

Gus quietly shifted the duffel over his shoulder, scanned the area one last time to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, then wordlessly left the building. He would just as soon wait at the airport than to sit here and argue over something he had no control over. Besides, most airports had bars in them and Gus really felt the need for a drink.

Maria Consuela Rosalea Sanchez had just come on duty at LAPD. As she finished changing in the locker room and headed to the shift office to log in, her lieutenant approached her. “Sanchez. Captain Rodgers needs to see you ASAP.”

Sanchez paused a moment. Who is Rodgers? “LT?” she asked. “Who is Rodgers again?”

“Admin. She works in personnel.”

Sanchez took the stairs instead of the elevators to help keep in shape. She was one of the first females to make it onto LAPD’s illustrious SWAT teams, and she prided herself on her fitness and shooting skills. Anything and everything she could do to help keep herself in shape, she would do, including taking the stairs to the top floors to the administration levels.

Once reaching the upper levels, she scanned the names on the closed office doors. When she found Captain Rodgers office, she knocked and stepped into the office. “You wanted to see me, captain?”

“Sgt. Sanchez, please have a seat.” Captain Rodgers was shuffling through a pile of records and pulled a thick one out as she sat down behind her desk. She slipped on a pair of reading glasses and began going through the record, nodding and smiling. When she was done, she closed the file and took off her glasses. She looked directly into Sanchez’s curious eyes.

“Have I done something wrong, ma’am?”

“What? No. Not at all, Sanchez,” Rodgers replied. She turned her chair to cross her legs. “But tell me, have you ever served in the military?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I didn’t think so. Your record states that, after high school, you attended UCLA where you obtained a degree in criminal justice, applied to LAPD, went through the academy where you scored in the upper ninety percent of your class.”

“Upper ninety-five percent of my class, ma’am,” Sanchez corrected.

Rodgers turned to her again and smiled. “Of course. Upper ninety-five percent of your class.” She opened the file again and using her finger as a marker, “You’ve always scored in the upper percentile on the range. You applied for SWAT…how many times, before being given a chance to try?”

“Eleven, ma’am,” Sanchez stated.

Rodgers stared at her. Her face was unreadable. “That is either stone-cold perseverance or stupidity, I’m not sure which,” she said.

“I’m one of the first female SWAT members in the nation, ma’am.”

“Yes, you are,” Rodgers stated. “Is this something you’re proud of?”

“Very.” Sanchez replied. “Is this going somewhere, ma’am?”

Rodgers inhaled deeply and closed the file again. “No. But you are. You are being transferred.”

Sanchez was floored. She couldn’t possibly imagine what she could have done to deserve being transferred. Her record was perfect. “Ma’am?” she asked, “Is this a mistake?”

“I’m afraid not, Sgt. Sanchez. Despite your exemplary record with our department, your presence is strongly requested elsewhere. And it’s signed by the governor on behalf of our military.”

Sanchez was shaking her head, clearly not understanding what was going on. “Ma’am, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sergeant, somebody, somewhere at some time has taken notice of you and now, for whatever reason, they want you to come and work for them. I tried to make a few calls to see what this is about, but I’ve been stonewalled. All I can tell you is that we have been strongly urged by the office of the governor to see to it that you accept this offer.” Rodgers was not smiling.

“Wait a moment.” Sanchez was still trying to piece this together in her mind, “Someone, but we don’t know who, wants me, but we don’t know why, to come work for them, but we don’t know what it is.”

“Correct.”

“Well, doesn’t that make a fuck load of a lot of sense?” Sanchez exclaimed.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Rodgers stated. “However, let me say this...although you don’t have to accept this offer, when the governor’s office strongly suggests you take something…” Rodgers let that hang for a moment. Sanchez digested the ramifications of going against the governor’s office. “And who knows? Girl, this could be the job of a lifetime!” Rodgers said with a smile.

“I suppose it could be,” Sanchez said, thinking to herself.

Rodgers leaned forward on her desk, “You know, this all seems rather ‘cloak & dagger’ to me.” Sanchez raised her eyebrows on that one. “Either way, you are expected to catch this military flight tomorrow morning at LAX at 6AM.” Rodgers handed a sticky note to her with a flight number and gate on it.

“Well,” Sanchez replied, “I guess I have some packing to do.”