Chapter 28

 

TWENTY-EIGHT

Trigger awoke to the chemical smells of antiseptic. He was still in a prickly daze from painkillers, and his senses felt dulled and delayed.

Where the hell am I? was his first thought.

 

As his vision slowly sharpened from a blur, He could see he was not in a hospital. The Room was small and reminded him of something closer to a hotel room, He lied in a bed, on the wall opposite him was a room leading into a bathroom, and a closet, along the wall to his right was a window, and to his left was a blank wall with a door, what Trigger figured was the exit.

It struck him that he had no memory of how he got here, nor where here was. He slowly took stock of his surroundings. His bed was surrounded by medical equipment he didn’t recognize, A heart rate monitor and an IV Bag.

His mouth was dry,

“Hebbo?” He rasped out.

Hearing nothing, he grasped around the bed for a call button. As he groped around clumsily, a dull pain radiated through his chest, gingerly Trigger pulled up the bedsheets. His body was covered in Bandages. Unsure if his bravery was motivated naturally, or by the painkillers, Trigger lifted the bandage closest to the pain, He could see what appeared to be a healing scar, as well as staples in his chest, one of which that had come loose and was now leaking blood.

Well shit. Probably nothing I can do about now. He mused.

His hand brushed, and with some effort he grasped onto what looked to him to be a large pill, looking it closer, he clouds see it was a short piece of PVC pipe, with a rounded off end, one with a long black wire coming out, and the other with a large red button. Trigger studied the contraption, It reminded him of the bomb-triggers that some of the Belkan Partisan’s used against Osea during the years following the war in 95’.

Well at least if I blow up, It, will be quick. Trigger thought, wincing his eyes shut as he pressed the button.

 

He waited. Nothing.

 

Relaxing, Trigger released the button.

After a few minutes, the door opened. Instead of a nurse in scrubs, it was a large Hispanic muscular man in a sand t-shirt and tactical pants.

He smiled at Trigger as he walked over to a desk in the far end of the room.

“Hey Look who finally decided to wake up.” He greeted.

“Hebbo” Trigger replied, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth painfully.

The man retreated into the bathroom and Trigger could hear the sounds of the tap running, he returned a moment later with a plastic cup and a straw, He handed the cup to Trigger, The cool water felt like ambrosia to the exhausted pilot.

“Thanks” Trigger said, handing the now empty cup back to the man. “Who are you?” Trigger asked.

“Petty Officer Hernandez, I’m your caretaker.” The man said identifying himself.

“Oh. Ok… So, your from Osea?” Trigger asked.

The man Shrugged and shined a light into Triggers eyes as he examined him.

“Its complicated and I’m not really at liberty to say.” Hernandez replied.

“So where am I?” “Someplace safe.” “That really narrows it down.”

Hernandez chuckled.

Trigger looked at him annoyed “What?”

“Nothing. Nothing. Anyplace bothering you today?” Hernandez dismissed the question.

Trigger nodded. “Yeah, I think I pulled a staple.” He explained, lifting the bandage.

 

“So you did. We can fix that no problem.” Hernandez stated, returning to the desk, and returning with the staple applicator. He pinched the wound closed “You’re going to feel a slight pressure” Hernandez explained as he stapled the wound closed and reapplied the bandage with a medical gel.

 

Trigger grunted in discomfort. “That was a bit more than a pinch.” He complained.

“Oh, get over it you big baby. After what you’ve been through. That little staple is nothing.” Hernandez chastised.

“Hey where do you get off saying that!” Trigger shouted.

Hernandez, unimpressed, shook his head. “Do you want a full campaign list or just the highlight reel? Or maybe just the past six months? I can provide either. Or do you want to see my board certifications or where I did my Residency?”

“So, you are a doctor? Just not a Corpsman?” Trigger asked.

“Well at least your brain appears to still be working. If you need anything else, just press that button. I’ll be back in a few to check up on you.” Hernandez replied. He left without another word and shut the door gently behind him. Trigger could hear a sharp click of the lock engaging on the door.

He was no stranger to a prison cell, and though the amenities here were nicer than Zapland, he felt no different than he did as a Spare.

Trigger sat in the room for what felt like an eternity until Hernandez returned with a plate of food.

“Here, you haven’t eaten in a while so take your time with this.” He instructed, sitting the plate down in front of Trigger. It was scrambled eggs, toast, yogurt and what Trigger figured was orange juice.

“What time is it anyways? I don’t even have a clock.” Trigger asked.

 

“Around 1745-ish. I just figured these things would not upset your stomach.” Hernandez explained.

“How long was I out?” Trigger asked, taking a plastic spork, and shoveling a portion of Eggs into his mouth.

“You’ve been here four weeks.”

Trigger coughed, choking on the powdered egg. “Jesus. What the fuck happened to me?” Trigger asked.

 

“Can’t say for certain. You had technically died twice on the table though is all I know. The surgeons know their trade though, so you should get almost full mobility once we get you rehabbed.” Hernandez Explained.

 

“Well, that’s good. Wait… I died?” Trigger asked.

“Yup. Now enough questions. Eat.” Hernandez instructed.

“Fine… Fine… Well can I at least find out what I missed out on?” Trigger asked.

“What do you want to know? Celebrity gossip? Because if you want, I heard Katy had a baby so that clears up all those rumors about Tom.” Hernandez said sarcastically shaking his head. “Its best if we just leave that stuff for after your out of the woods medically, OK? Come on, we need to get you moving here pretty soon.”

***
Slowly over the following days, Trigger regained memories of what had happened. Most of it had been fuzzy, but he was certain that he had been captured, and tortured, and all by Osea. While he wasn’t sure Hernandez was related at all to his beatings, he was sure that what followed his stay in bed was a torture within itself.

From a sedentary month in the bed, his muscles had atrophied, and it was days before Trigger was able to walk with the aid of a walker in the tiny room.

 

“You’re going to feel a slight tugging,” Hernandez explained as he started pulling the staples from Trigger’s wounds. The pilot had been amazed, after a little over what he figured was a week, they had all largely closed up and all that remained was a pink, slightly puffy scar.

“Well at least I’ll have something to show for this mis-adventure -Youch!” Trigger said jokingly.

“You’re such a baby. Ok, that one might have been a bit more than a tug but whatever. Just stop squirming.”  Hernandez replied. “Besides Chicks did scars. So, you’ll have them lining up for you after we get these damn staples out.”

 

“Joy. hey babe, look at me, I don’t have a belly button anymore!” Trigger said sarcastically.

“Your belly button is still there… I think. You don’t need one anyways so its not like you’d really miss it. And done. That was the last one.” Hernandez said triumphantly, dropping the final staple into a tiny collection tray.

“Cool, so does that mean I get a day off from your exercises?” Trigger asked hopefully.

“Not by a long shot.”

“Shit” Trigger groaned.

***
Trigger sat in his bed late at night reading a book. One of the luxuries Hernandez had brought into the room with him was a stack of adventure novels. Trigger looked at the cover, a large elegant colonial style house, and the faint image of an F-35 in the background, in bold red lettering it read STONE BY STONE. Trigger had largely enjoyed the series, following a disgraced Osean fighter pilot as his ex-fiancé’s infidelity had pulled him into a deeply rooted conspiracy.

 

He missed Cossette.

 

Hobbling over to the window, he looked out over the dense darkness of the jungle.  Unfortunately, if his captors were correct, and he had been in a coma for a month, he could be almost anywhere on the planet, so he didn’t bother with minor details of which jungle he was in. He looked at the moonlight reflecting off the large leaves of the trees.

 

Anytime Trigger broached the subject of current events with Hernandez, the Corpsman shied away and would change the subject. It made Trigger furious, though he tried to not let it show.  I just need to know she’s alright. He prayed.

 

He thought back to the last time he had seen her. They had landed at an Osean Air Base, He had kissed her and then, he woke up to being beaten. It enraged him to think that Cossette might not only have suffered the same fate but had not been rescued like he had.

 

He pushed the thought out of his mind. That thought, and others was why he had taken up reading in his down time during recovery. Reading kept the pain away, reading kept his mind busy, reading kept him from missing her.

 

He hated himself.

 

For a final time that night, Trigger hobbled to the door as quietly as he could and tried the handle. It was stiff and would not move no matter how he jiggled it. Trigger had briefly entertained the idea of trying to Overpower Hernandez to escape, but even with the advantage of being upgraded to an aluminum cane for his walking support, he figured the more athletic sailor would easily overpower him.

 

Relenting, Trigger crawled his way back into bed and fell asleep.

 

***
“Wake up.” A voice ordered Trigger.

His eyes shot open. The room was dark, save for the dim glow of the moonlight outside. The first thing that struck Trigger was an acrid smell, that of a cigarette smoke. Slowly leaning up, Trigger could see the faint orange glow of a cigarette tip at the foot of his bed, and the dark silhouette of a man.

 

Feeling a sense of panic, Trigger reached by his bed for the call button.

 

“Try it. No one is gonna come for you. Its just you and me.” The voice taunted. The Cigarette tip brightened as the man took a drag.

 

“who are you?” Trigger asked apprehensively.

“Does it matter?” the man asked.

“You know, I’m really getting tired of people saying that to me. Yeah, it fucking does matter asshole.” Trigger shot back.

“Fine, you can think of me as the angel of fucking death, dumbass.” The voice replied.

“Spooky. Is that just a machismo thing or?”

“Shut the fuck up.” The voice ordered. Standing up

The man stood up and walked to Triggers bed side and pulled something from his hip.

Even in the dull moonlight, Trigger could see the imposingly large barrel of a 1911 aimed at his head.

“Now, Trigger, You listen here. I’m the only thing stopping that back wall behind you from being painted with your frontal lobe. The only way you avoid that is by answering my question truthfully. You fail at that, or give me an answer I don’t like? Boom.” The Man threatened.

Trigger gulped. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“We picked you up from McKnight Airbase. Why the fuck where you there?” The man began the interrogation.

Trigger took a breath. “That’s where I was directed to land.”

“Not an answer. Explain.”

“I was in an X-02 Strike Wyvern. I had made contact with an Osean AWACS, they told me to fly there.” Trigger pleaded.

“How did you get the Wyvern? That’s high up Erusean Tech, not something you just loan out.” The man pressed.

“I stole it. Figured the base was toast anyways so might as well, right?” Trigger replied. He felt the gun Barrel press into his forehead.

“That’s not the whole fuckin truth bud, and you know it. You were with someone. Who?” the man demanded.

Trigger winced. If he’s an Osean, He’s just liable to kill me if I tell the truth. If He’s not, He probably wont even believe me. “It’s going to sound stupid, but you need to believe me, ok?” Trigger asked of his interrogator.

“Who. Was. It.” The man asked again.

“Princess Rosa Cossette D’Elise of Erusea.” Trigger Replied.

“Now why the fuck, would an Osean Fighter jock like you be tied up with a chick like that?” The man asked.

“Its. Complicated.” Trigger sighed.

“Enlighten me. We have til the end of your life to explain.” The man ordered, pulling the pistol back slightly from Trigger’s head.

 

Trigger took a deep breath. “I was assigned as a Liaison to the Princess. Mostly just giving her a point of contact in the Osean military going forward. It wasn’t my choice; she pulled the strings to make it happen after we met in Selatapura.”

The handgun did not move from Trigger’s head. “Now that’s one hell of a first impression you left Trigger. Any idea why she did that.” The man asked.

 

Well what else do I have to lose, Either I tell the truth and he shoots me, or I lie, and he still shoots me.

“I don’t know.” Trigger lied.

 

“Trigger-“ The man said calmly “-What the fuck did I say would happen if I got an answer I didn’t like, or if you lied to me?”

“You’d shoot me?” Trigger replied dryly.

“Exactly, Clearly Doc did one thing right, so I’d hate to ruin his hard work at this point. So how about you, rephrase your answer for the class.” The Man instructed.  

 

“Fine. You want to know? You really want to know?” Trigger said, turning his gaze directly towards the interrogator. “The reason she had me attached to that assignment is because I was sleeping with her, OK? We were in what you could call a relationship.”

 

Trigger didn’t notice any change in the mans posture. He also noticed a lack of bullet holes in him.

 

“We’re you feeding her intel on our movements in the area?” the man asked.

“God no. I’m not stupid. Besides, I didn’t know any useful intel to give her, nor did she ever ask.” Trigger replied.

 

In the darkness, Trigger could see the man shake his head disappointed “You know, I’ve heard of honeypots where they would have Prostitutes, or attractive women in general act as spies to bed high ranking officers… but damn, screwing the leader of a foreign country as a uniformed officer? That’s definitely a new one.” The man said chuckling.

 

Trigger laughed dryly “What can I say, I’m a bit of a pioneer in that regard.”

 

The man relaxed and holstered the handgun. He turned around briefly and turned back. Trigger could see a glass vial in one hand, and a syringe in the other.

“What the hell is that?” Trigger asked.

 

“Oh, Nothing.” The man said, jabbing Trigger into his thigh with the syringe.

After a brief moment of extreme pain, Triggers world went black.

***

He woke up in the same room. His leg throbbed where he was jabbed, but aside from that he felt relatively normal. He patted himself down to verify he was still whole. Satisfied, he gently donned his cloths, consisting of grey sweatpants, a white t-shirt and socks, and set forth with one goal in his mind.

Escape.

He had entertained the idea briefly when dealing with Hernandez, but after last nights encounter, he was in no mood to find out if it was going to be a repeat occurrence.

Trigger pried at the edges of the windowsill in his room. It didn’t budge.

Trigger walked into the bathroom and searched the counter and cabinets. Save for his toothbrush, there was nothing he could use to escape.

Trigger continued searching his room for minutes, finding it devoid of most of the tools he had seen Hernandez with.  Well so much for that idea. He thought.

He looked at the door. From the sound it made when it opened and closed, it sounded like a heavier redwood door, likely sturdier than a normal interior door. Trigger briefly entertained using the bed as a battering ram, before dismissing the idea as foolish. He was only just capable of walking on his own, anything more than that would be unlikely.

 

Seeing no additional options, Trigger did his first tests of the door, the handle. As softly as he could, he tried turning the handle.

Click

The door’s latch opened. Trying to remain as quiet as he could, Trigger peered his head out the door.

It opened into a standard home hallway, lining the walls was other doors just like his, all of them, however we’re open.

 

Trigger grabbed his cane and tried to sneak as quietly as he could down the hallway, he poked his head into each room, seeing them lived in, but with no personal effects readily apparent. At the end of the hall was a staircase, leading into a large room. The walls made of lumber and stone, and through large pane glass windows along the side, a view of the surrounding jungle. From the layout of furniture, he deduced that it was a living room.  He scanned the room and saw on a coffee table, laid a rifle.

 

Bingo He grinned.

 

 He carefully went down the steps and rushed past the leather sofas to the rifle.

 

Trigger gingerly picked up the bolt action rifle and tossed it in his hands; Feeling the weight, studying the wood stock and sleek steel. Turning around he froze.

What he hadn’t looked at, was that underneath the staircase was a small kitchen and dining room. Sitting at the table was a man.

 

The man looked at Trigger and waived. “Nice one, right?” He asked, pointing to the rifle. He stood up and brushed off his pants. He was around Trigger’s age, white, slightly more muscular, and cleaner shaven, wearing a red polo shirt and black slacks. “Yeah, it’s a Remington 700, just one of the things that got left here when we picked up the place. It would probably be good for hunting if you really wanted to.” The man explained as he closed the distance. Getting within arms reach of Trigger he stopped and fished something from his pocket. “However, it generally works best if it has one of these installed.” He replied, holding up a small medal rod for Trigger to see.

The man gently pulled the rifle out of Trigger’s hands and held out his own hand to shake.

 

“Major, my name is Lieutenant Nathan Fick, let me be the first to welcome you.” The man introduced himself.

“Ok, so you’re the second military guy I’ve met, if not the third. Who are you people?” Trigger asked apprehensively, weighing the option in his mind if he could use the aluminum cane as a weapon.

The Lieutenant laughed “Of Course, I did tell Doc to try to keep the information to you at a minimum, but the Broker finally said otherwise. Do you mind taking a seat? I can tell you what I can, but the rest has to come from the man who arranged your escape.” The Lieutenant motioned to the dining room table.

“I feel a bit under dressed.” Trigger said.

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, just be glad you’re moving around at all. I saw what those Osean’s did to you.” Fick replied.

 

“So, you say that… What country are you guys anyways?” Trigger asked.

“Oh us? We’re all Osean Marine Corps. 5^th Corps of Engineers.”

“I was unaware the Marines even had that.” Trigger admitted.

“They don’t. You probably know us by the name Basilisk. You’ve worked with us twice in the past.”

 

Trigger wracked his brain. Why does that sound familiar. Pizza guys?

“Wait… where you guys at Cape Rainey?” Trigger asked.

Fick nodded. “Some of our team was. This particular unit is just one of many smaller ‘special tasks’ groups that do the jobs you don’t need an entire force to handle. Its actually rare you see a full-blown detachment make a move like that, but We we’re the closest in the area and command figured if we could do counter-terror well, an Airfield Seizure is probably within our capabilities.”

Trigger chuckled. “Small world.”

“That it is. The Second time was back in December over Chopinburg. Your LRSSG Actually saved this unit by providing air support.”

“The Hind? I always wondered what was happening with that. A lot of weird shit too happened.” Trigger explained.

“Yep. Partially the reason we’re out here.”

“So, that guy who visited me last night, Is he a Marine like you?” Trigger asked.

 

Fick grimaced “Yeah sorry about that-“ He started apologetically “-just understand you’re a bit of a unknown around here. He’s our general litmus test of character.”

“So I take it he told you what we discussed?” Trigger asked.

“Actually no. Nor did we ask. He just vouched for you and that was that.” Fick explained.

“Ok, fine, Next question, where the hell am I?” Trigger asked.

“You’re in Chopinburg, Usea at one of our safehouses. Just around sixty miles from Crater Lake.” Fick elaborated.

“Certainly, explains the jungle.”

***
Trigger took a drink of water and digested the information Fick had given him. Trigger had a mountain of questions for the Marine and Fick was the first person he had met that was more than willing to provide answers.

 

The Radicals chose to go out in a final blaze of glory the survivors had called ‘Operation Charon’. Armed with weapons likely supplied by a Saipanish Cartel, and with the mission of not only killing the Princess of Erusea, but as many Occupying Osean and Conservative Erusean forces as possible. The attacks had ended with nearly fifteen thousand Erusean casualties, the destruction of four bases, and nearly a thousand Osean service member casualties. Farbanti Airbase had been erased, and many Osean casualties were split between the Osean Army garrisoned in Farbanti, and north at Cape Rainy.  

It pained Trigger to think the soldiers he had rode with days prior might have been on the casualty list.

 He was relieved to hear Cossette had been ok. Aside from what the media had reported as ‘being shell shocked’, and general lack of information how she arrived to Dennis, she was unharmed and leading recovery efforts back in Farbanti and across Erusea.

 

Finally, the Information came to what was known about Trigger.

He was listed as one of the thousand Missing and dead Osean’s in the attack, however his apparent connections to Asher had marked him a suspect in the attack. Fick had hypothesized that perhaps news was spread by the radicals of Trigger’s involvement but aside from being wanted by the Osean Bureau of Investigations, there was no further details to provide.

 

“So why did you guys even come get me if you thought I was a traitor?” Trigger asked Fick, breaking the silence.

“Simply, we we’re hired to. We’ve been getting actionable intel from this information broker for the past couple months, He found us and asked us to break you out. As for the why? You’d have to talk to the Broker yourself.”

“So, you keep mentioning him, where the hell is this dude?” Trigger asked.

 

There was a knock on the door.

Fick grinned. “Just a bit behind on the time. Let me go let him in.”

 

Fick disappeared, and Trigger could hear what he figured was the front door opening. There was a hushed murmur of discussion before another person entered the dining room.

Trigger had seen this man before, and was very familiar with his voice

 

He was slightly taller than Trigger, by his guess anywhere from ten to fifteen years Trigger’s senior in age, His dark hair was starting to grey at the edges, and wrinkles started to form at the creases of his eyes. He wore a nice button up white shirt, and grey slacks, reminding Trigger more of a door-to-door missionary than the potential threat he was.

Fick entered the room behind the man.

“Major, let me have the pleasure of introducing you to-“ Trigger stood up and cut him off with a dismissive hand.

“Don’t worry Lieutenant. I know who this man is. Hows it hanging, Bandog?”