John O'Brien - Conspiracy

Through his sobs, Drescoll utters, “Oh, Allie…why? You were the only bright light in this world. Why did you have to leave?”

Drescoll places his arms underneath Allie’s limp form, and gently, with great tenderness, he scoops her up. His tears splash on her vest and, turning, he carries her slowly to his Humvee.

Watching, I feel my heart fill even more with a great sadness, grabbing hold of it and squeezing. More tears fill my eyes and spill out, marching down my cheeks. Gonzalez wipes her tears away, leaving more dirty streaks, and joins Drescoll where he is laying McCafferty’s body in the vehicle. Gonzalez helps, smoothing out Allie’s hair and, together, with gentleness and caring, they make her seem more at peace.

I watch as Drescoll falls to his knees outside of the Humvee and takes Allie’s hand. He holds it to his face and I see his shoulders begin to shake anew. Gonzalez remains with him with her hand on his shoulder.

I look down at our prisoner. I kept him here hoping that the scene would appeal to his humanity in some regard — that he would see what he caused and for his façade crumble, but he just looks on with the same expressionless face.

Drescoll gingerly, and ever so gently, places Allie’s hand in her lap and turns in our direction. The incredible sadness etched across his face turns into a storm of rage when he sees our prisoner — the transformation startling. Pulling his sidearm, he marches across the waist high grass, making a beeline in our direction.

Gonzalez catches up to Drescoll and grabs his arm. He shucks her off, but she reaches out again, more firmly this time. He turns angrily toward her and she begins talking. After a moment, he lowers his head and holsters his Beretta. He then resumes his march, coming to a halt directly before the kneeling prisoner.

“You are on borrowed time. You get to live for now but, know this, at some point, I will hurt you. I will hurt you bad!” Drescoll states.

The man, staring defiantly at Drescoll, utters his first words. “We all die sometime, mate.” The accent is unmistakable.

“Who said anything about dying?” Drescoll says with soft menace.

Drescoll stalks back to the Humvee, stands next to it, and strokes Allie’s hair.

Climbing into the helicopter a short time later with Lynn in the left seat, I call back to the compound and give them a brief synopsis that includes Lynn’s rescue, the loss of McCafferty, and the subsequent capture of her killer. As the rotors spin up overhead, I look over at Lynn and give her a smile. I’m thrilled beyond measure that she is safe and back with us. I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost her. I feel like everything is hanging on edge as it is. To say the last few months have been stressful would be the understatement of the century. I know the others feel it as well and it’s only a matter of time before that spills into our group.

During the short hop back to Cabela’s, I talk with Frank and Bannerman about emptying one of the smaller shipping containers and having it brought into the loading dock. Setting down in the parking lot, I see a multitude gathering already. Shutting down, Lynn steps out to be greeted by a host of people; some shaking her hand, some clapping her on the shoulder, while others wrap her in quick hugs, welcoming her back.

I continue sitting in the right seat watching the others greet her with warm smiles. Frank and Bannerman give her the biggest of hugs and then step to the side, apparently waiting for me. I give them a head nod and remain in my seat. I’m joyous to have Lynn back and can feel the uplift in energy from our group of survivors. However, I also feel drained. It’s normal to have a post-adrenaline letdown, but I feel like I have no energy left at all. I’m tired and don’t want to move from the seat…and not sure I could even if I wanted.

Before long, the Stryker and Humvees of the other teams crest the hill. Heads turn toward the arriving teams and slump in sadness. Yes, Lynn’s arrival is bittersweet. The vehicles arrive and park. I climb wearily from the cockpit and stand with the door open. Lynn shakes a few more hands, then gathers the remaining teams and arranges them in two rows leading away from Drescoll’s Humvee. Drescoll himself exits and walks slowly around the vehicle.

“Atten-hut!” Lynn calls. The team members in the lines snap to attention.

Drescoll doesn’t appear to notice his surroundings as he picks up Allie’s body and walks with her between the two lines of teams toward the building.

“Present… arms!” Lynn calls out.

The soldiers present in the lines snap sharp salutes as Drescoll carries the limp body of McCafferty in his arms. I join the salutes as does Bannerman and Frank. There are many salutes in the crowd that have gathered to welcome Lynn back — these from the soldiers we picked up during our sorties to other bases. There are very few dry eyes within the entire group as Drescoll carries one of our own into Cabela’s.

Looking to the side, I see our prisoner kneeling on the warm pavement with a contingent of armed guards surrounding him. With a heavy sigh and even heavier heart, I nod toward Frank. He gathers Bannerman and they make their way to me. Catching Robert’s and Bri’s eyes, I motion them to me as well. Lynn dismisses the teams and joins us. A shadow falls over us, mirroring our mood, as the high clouds that had been pushing inland finally cover the sun.

“We’ve been clearing a small shipping container as you requested. There’s enough space just inside the loading area for it and we should have it placed within the hour,” Bannerman says.

“Good. Have the doors face inward. I want it rigged with sturdy overhead rings with some bolted to the floor under them. Place hooks in the rear to secure chains and arrange the chains so we can attach manacles. I want our prisoner secured with short leg chains to the floor and wrists to chains leading through the upper rings. Lengthen them so he can kneel, but no farther. Place guards outside the container day and night. He is to have no sleep and be woken every hour with a bucket of cold water. If we can have recordings of loud, obnoxious sounds played constantly within the container, that would be nice. Crying babies work best,” I state.

“What about sanitation?” Bannerman asks.

“None needed. He can go where he stands,” I say, noticing Frank nod his approval. “Leave instructions for the guards not to talk with him or answer anything. We’re going to leave him in isolation for a while before we even begin.”

“I probably know the answer to this, but what about food and water,” Bannerman asks.

“None,” I answer. “Robert, Bri, go find Craig and the Spooky crew. Gather your gear and meet me back here. As much as I hate to leave at a time like this, we need to destroy that hospital while we know the night runners are there, and to search the area for the shooter’s team. I’m sure he has others out there. We need to find them.”

Robert lowers his head, “Um…. Dad…” he says, hesitating.

I feel the sorrow in my heart increase. “Yeah, that’s right…McCafferty,” I say with a sigh. “Is there anyone else that can monitor her position?”

“I’ll do it,” Lynn says almost before I can finish. “I’m tired of staying around here while you go gallivanting off, and I want to take an active role for a change.”

“But you’re a huge part here. I mean, without you, we wouldn’t—” I start to say.

“You know what I mean,” she interrupts.

I see the exhaustion in her eyes and the loss of weight she sustained during her ordeal.

“Hon, you need to rest,” I say.

“Don’t even! Yes I’m tired, but I want to be a part of taking that place down,” she says, fiercely. Her lips are drawn tight and her eyes flare with anger…or the thought of exacting vengeance.