27. Twenty-Seven
27
TWENTY-SEVEN
PETER DAVIS
Washington D.C., Spring 2023
Eight months together
S hit was about to hit the fan and we needed to do everything we could to prevent it. For months now, the team was investigating any terrorist activities coming from Mohammed Atef and his followers.
Our newest information was leading to an old sawmill in the middle of the forest which was misused as a training facility for young terrorists and sleepers.
Why were it always the empty facilities that came right out of horror movies?
The team had worked hard in dozens of interrogations until finally a young man had said something he shouldn’t have. We promised to protect him in prison, but I doubted that there would be a place on Earth where he'd be safe when Atef found out that he accidentally told us about the sawmill.
If there was one thing that I’ve learned in these past years, it was never fuck with a terrorist or you’ll be six feet under quicker than you can count to three.
Deserters or traitors had a rough life everywhere, but damn, you don’t want to mess with Atef. We found multiple bodies in various stages of decay on our path to encrypt Atef’s plans and strategies of infiltrating our country. Buried underneath rose bushes in the backyard of family homes or hanging off bridges in New York City as a warning to other people considering betraying him.
It was a nasty investigation, but if we managed to get more information today, it was worth it.
The sawmill seemed to be the central training organization in Atef’s plan. Making sure to have as many loyal members as possible within the borders of the United States while lurking from an unknown place, waiting for the right moment to attack. He was like a tiger on a hunt.
We learned that he was recruiting teenagers from families with an unpromising financial background, telling them that he’ll pay for their education and make sure they have a real chance for a better life. One that their parents—as much as they probably love to—didn’t provide them because even with two or three jobs, they weren’t able to pay the student bills.
It was a nasty form of emotional manipulation. I thought about all the hopeful teenagers who ignored the waving red flags and just wanted to have a better life.
Oliver wasn’t sure if they would end in prison for treason as he was sure they wouldn’t know the real reasons behind Atef’s killer factory. He’d probably made up some ‘protect your country when it needs you’ parole and the kids were following.
The boy we interrogated was only seventeen and he had gone to the sawmill once before having a bad gut feeling and contacting the police on his way home. He was under the protection of the CIA ever since, currently living in one of the rooms on the fifth floor with his parents and his sister. The prosecutor still argued that he was guilty of treason because he hadn’t reported it right away and quoted “only when he was getting too scared”.
Discussions were still ongoing but, again, no matter where he would end up, he was never safe, anyway.
We reached the sawmill around 4:00 pm. Oliver and Nate were a bit nervous because it was getting dark around seven and you really don’t want to perform such an op in the dark if you don’t have to. Eli and I were bundled up together, and that had worked amazingly for the last two or three ops where we were looking through empty facilities and office buildings without finding anything useful .
This time, things were different and I felt it in every muscle of my body: the tension.
We all knew that we would go in there and would face teenagers who were about to get radicalized without even knowing, and terrorists that were teaching them. Today, we would face enemies, so we had to make sure to go in there with our head in the game.
“Mission is to catch as many of them as possible, only shoot to defend yourself. I don’t want an entire training facility dead. This is our big shot to finally get closer to catching Atef and protect our homeland from yet another crazy maniac. I’m convinced we find useful intel here. We’re clearing the entire facility first before starting any sort of investigation. Understood?” Oliver instructed.
“Understood,” Eli, Sheppard, and I said in unison before exiting the trucks.
Showtime, Peter.
Time to make the world a better place as Eli always said.
The cold spring air filled my nostrils, the scent of freshly cut wood still present even though the mill was out of order for multiple years now.
I saw Eli looking at me with a little smile and responded to her with a playful wink. She was nervous; I could tell from the way her shoulder muscles were tensed and her eyes were trailing around. None of us knew what to expect.
We were sent into the eastern part of the mill, our rifles high and always on alert. The goal was to catch not kill, but you never know how cooperative future terrorists turned out.
In contrast to the other facilities we had been to, this one wasn’t silent. We could hear multiple voices and steps, and even saw people patrolling outside already.
Old blueprints of the sawmill had told us that there were office rooms in the eastern part of the building, some sort of dorms were located in the western part where Oliver and Nate were heading to. Marta was the voice in our comms, guiding us through the facility as if she was with us.
“There should be a door to a hallway to your right. You will find four, as offices declared, rooms in there, two on your left and two on your right. They’re all the exact same size,” she said.
Eli and I positioned ourselves outside of the door on each side before she carefully leaned in and listened. I could hear voices from inside over the loud pounding of my own heart.
“Ready?” she whispered and I nodded before grabbing the handle and turning it. I ripped the door open quickly and Eli was the first one to enter the hallway, her rifle ready to shoot. It was a strange feeling to let her go in first, but there was no time to mix personal feelings with professionalism right now. Eli was a highly trained agent and knew exactly what to do.
The hallway was narrow, but being taller than her made me have a good first look on the enemies before I heard them screaming in a language that I didn’t understand. And only moments later, Eli’s rifle went off. Bodies were falling to the ground, and within a brink of a second, it was silent again. As I was trained to, I turned around and held the rifle back at the door we had just passed in case the screaming and shooting had alerted other terrorists close to us that would come running. We waited for a couple of moments, but no one appeared.
“Clear,” I said to Eli.
“Clear,” she responded to me before giving status report to Oliver, Nate, and Marta over comms:
“Two dead, one adult with middle eastern appearance, one white teenager. Screaming something in Arabic and gripping the pistols in their holsters the moment they saw me. No negotiation possible, needed to shoot to defend Agent Davis and me.”
“Understood. Right decision, Agent Richards. Any other suspects?” I was happy that she died down Eli’s insecurity if she had taken the right decision before it could even come up. Marta was a good boss.
“No, ma’am. Hallway clear. Heading out into the office rooms next.”
“Understood.”
Without communicating, Eli turned to the right, getting into position on the first office door. We repeated the procedure of earlier with the slight addition that she was turning on the light in the room to give us better sight. The former office room had been turned into a classroom with a big blackboard on one wall. There were pictures of different pistols and rifles hanging on the board, notes in very bad handwriting underneath explaining the best use cases, advantages, and disadvantages, as well as difficulty to handle.
As bizarre as this might sound, it reminded me a lot of the lectures we had in the early weeks on the farm. We also learned how to hide each of these guns the best when we were undercover which was impossible with a couple of them. The good old, oversized briefcase with the sniper rifle was a bit too obvious for the trained eye.
“Clear,” Eli announced after checking the last potential hiding spot in one of the cupboards.
Another run for the office on the other side, which turned out to be clear as well.
“We found the dorms in which the terrorists and some of the students are living. Managed to capture three students, rest of the subjects are diseased,” we heard Oliver’s voice overcome while halting our movements back in the hallway.
“Any terrorists who survived that could give us some intel?” Marta asked.
“Negative.”
“Fuck!” Marta’s verbal outburst was a surprise, but understandable.
“Richards, Davis, status,” Oliver commanded.
“Two more offices, no signs of living here, but we’ll check,” I answered this time.
“Understood. We’ll bring the captives to the truck already. Hurry up before Atef sends more men. ”
Standing in front of both offices, we were listening closely, and as there was no sound to be heard, we decided to split up. I was taking the office on the right, Eli the one on the left.
Taking a deep breath to calm my heartbeat was enough preparation before I entered the room, turned on the light, and looked around.
The room appeared to be empty like the others.
I was glad that Nate and Oliver were more successful in actually capturing some of the trainees because it would hopefully give us new information about Atef’s whereabouts. Even though captured terrorists would have been more helpful, but in this fight, you take what you can get. That Atef was able to train terrorists just outside of Washington D.C. was concerning enough. It was about damn time that we finally put him behind bars.
“Office three clear,” I said over comms to the others.
When I was about to turn around and look for Eli, I heard a shot coming from the other side of the hallway.
The mere sound made all the oxygen vanish out of my lungs and it felt like my heart missed more than only one beat.
My body was frozen while my brain processed the information and it took me some effort to get my legs moving.
This didn’t mean anything.
Eli could have shot a suspect.
A shot didn’t mean anything.
No need to panic, Peter .
She was probably alright.
This didn’t mean anything.
I’m coming, Cinnamon.
It was only a couple of steps between the office I was checking and the one Eli was in, but it felt like I had to run the distance of a full marathon. Through the open door, I could see a young man standing in the middle of the room, a gun in his hand but lowered to the ground. I couldn’t see Eli, but I shoved the panic away and tried to stay calm. Just as we were trained.
“Hands up!” I screamed and entered the room, my rifle pointed firmly at the young man.
In my peripheral, I saw Eli standing against one of the walls, but there was no time to focus on her now. I needed to eliminate the danger in front of me first.
Even when I heard Eli sliding down the wall behind me until her butt made harsh contact with the floor, the sound of her rifle falling to the ground, I focused on the young man and getting the gun out of his reach.
Which was easier said than done. Everything inside me screamed to check for my girlfriend first, but it wasn’t safe yet and I promised her to protect her and keep her safe. So that had to be my mission first.
Surprisingly effortlessly, I grabbed the young man’s pistol, turned him around, and put cable ties around his wrist. My right arm wandered towards the comm in my ear to give a report to Oliver and Nate.
And finally I was able to turn around and look if Eli was okay.
Her eyes were awaiting me already and a small smile danced around her lips. A smile that I couldn’t respond because it was that exact moment that I saw the crimson red stains on in her shirt spread out beneath her vest.
Eli was shot.
Shit.
Eli was fucking shot.
My mouth opened in shock, I tried to holster my gun but that was almost impossible because my hands were shaking uncontrollably. When I finally got it done, I closed the gap between us with a couple of sprinted steps and crashed down next to her.
“Eli,” I whispered, a frown on my face.
“Peter.” She smiled at me, but it didn’t ease the panic at all. I let my eyes dart down to her stomach to take a closer look, but the amount of blood she’d already lost made me lose all control over my emotions.
There was a fucking bulletproof vest on her body. And still there was a large puddle of blood on the concrete floor.
Why didn’t it protect her?
I wasn’t sure if she’d already realized in what state she was in, but I saw her hands laying on top of her stomach as if she wanted to seal the holes in her body with her bare hands.
“Oh my God,” I mumbled, putting my own hands on top of hers and applying pressure.
She grunted a little and I felt my heart break because I knew I was hurting her, even though I’d promised to never hurt her .
Her father had done so much damage and all I wanted to do was making sure there wouldn’t be more.
“Hang in there, Cinnamon. It’s all going to be okay,” I whispered, my own eyesight blurry from the tears glistering in my eyes.
“Agent down, I repeat, agent down. I need a medic. Right fucking now. She’s bleeding pretty badly!” I screamed into comms, desperate to get help. Oliver and Nate were still close, I was sure they would be able to send some.
They had to.
Eliana needed to survive this.
There was no reality I could imagine living without her.
It was impossible.
She was my future.
“Help’s on the way,” I heard Oliver respond over comms.
Suddenly, Eli retreated her one hand from her stomach and looked at it like it didn’t belong to her body.
Her beautiful deer eyes widened and she stared at the blood covering her fingers, as if enough staring would let it vanish into thin air. The gears were turning in her head, processing the situation, and I could see her finally understanding the severity of her injury.
“Peter. Peter! PETER!” She started to hyperventilate more and more with every syllable.
“What’s wrong, Eli?” I asked with panic lingering in my voice. One of my hands was still on her stomach, applying pressure while the other cradled her cheek. For a moment, time stood still while we looked into each other’s eyes and deep into our souls. Hers was like a flower that had just bloomed. Closed and hidden beneath darkness for so long, but showing off her beauty as soon as sunlight touched it.
Do you know this feeling when another person is your forever? That there is no scenario in your head without them?
I have this with Eliana Richards.
And maybe that’s why the emotions I feel right now are so overwhelming. Because with every passing second, blood was oozing out of her body and reduced the likelihood of surviving. With every passing second, the non-existing scenarios without Eliana in them came closer, cornering me like I was their prey.
Pushing the thought aside to keep myself functioning until the medic arrived, I watch her hyperventilate more and more, not understanding why.
Did I miss something? Was she hurt even more?
“Eliana,” I repeated sternly now. “What. Is. Wrong?”
“I got shot,” she whispered and my face softened in response.
“I know, Cinnamon. Medic’s on the way. You’re gonna be okay. Just hang in there for a second, okay? Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”
“No. You don’t understand.”
I tilted my head a little to the side and felt the frown appear.
“What? ”
“I didn’t know.”
“What didn’t you know, Eliana? Talk to me.”
“I didn’t know I was shot. I didn’t feel it. There’s no pain, Peter.”
My eyes widen just slightly while my brain was running through memories in top speed. I’ve read a lot of studies and medical reports about injuries of other agents and the lack of pain was a common symptom.
“It’s probably the shock,” she added and I nodded in response.
It was bullshit, though. Maybe for a short moment, but she was shot a while ago. She should feel the pain by now. She should’ve crashed already from that adrenaline high.
One of the studies I’ve read not too long ago had stated that all agents with near death encounters had stopped feeling pain right before they’ve been clinically dead and that it wasn’t based on an adrenaline rush. Scientists were still unsure what were the biochemical explanations behind the lack of pain right before dying but, not gonna lie, I was freaking scared.
I couldn’t lose her.
“It’s all gonna be okay, Cinnamon. I promise.”
I wanted to believe myself so badly. That the medic would come, that they would stop the bleeding, transport her to headquarters, and send her right into surgery.
I turned my head around every five seconds, hallucinating steps in the hallway, and looking for the help that Oliver promised me. It would inevitably come because he would never let us down.
But maybe they would be too late.
She moved her upper body a little, grunting.
“What’re you doing?” My voice was more than only slightly panicking as my hand wandered to her shoulder to push her back against the wall. I needed to apply pressure to keep her alive and I couldn’t do that properly if she was moving.
“We need to get the vest off. I can’t breathe,” she whined.
“You sure?”
“Yes. Please, Goldie.”
I helped her lean forward and opened the buckles that were securing the vest around her body. Slowly, to not hurt her stomach area, I lifted the vest off her head. Eli’s head lulled back against the wall and she took a few deep breaths. I could literally hear the rattling in them, indicating that she had trouble breathing properly, and it alarmed me even more.
Had the shot hit her lungs? Were they filling with blood?
I felt myself getting lightheaded when the panic kicked in again and to my own surprise I shoved it away again, focusing on helping her with everything I had.
I’d promised her to keep her safe.
I couldn’t fail her now.
There would be time for panic later. When she was in the helping hands of a medic .
“Better?” I gave her a forced smile.
“Much. Thank you,” she slurred.
Oh shit.
Where the hell was the medic?
“How long, Oliver?” I asked, a permanent frown on my face by now.
“She’s about to crash. We don’t have time!” I added with such an intensity I’d never used towards Oliver.
I’d only averted my attention for a couple of seconds, but as soon as I did, I felt her pushing my large hand away from her stomach. She lifted her gray shirt and stared bluntly at the hole in her stomach, as if she didn’t realize that she had been shot.
Then her eyes wandered over the rest of her body, even slightly leaning forward while. I had no idea what the hell she was doing, but it wasn’t helpful.
“Stop moving, Eli. Please. You need to stay still. I can’t apply pressure like this.”
Her eyes found mine again, but this time, there was something shimmering in them that I couldn’t read.
“Peter,” she whispered, barely hearable.
“Eliana,” I answered with a smile, an honest one this time.
“I won’t make it.” She smiled back with heavy eyes.
No. No. Nononononono.
No. Cinnamon. Please.
You can’t die on me.
I won’t allow it.
“Don’t say that, Cinnamon. The medic should be here any second. You’re gonna be fine. I promise. ”
“Oh Peter,” she sighed. “Don’t do promises you can’t hold.”
“No. Eliana. No. I refuse to let you die here. It’s not happening. You won’t die today. Not under my watch. Do you hear me, Cinnamon? Not today.”
My hands were cradling her face while my stare bored into hers as if I that was enough to keep her body alive.
“It’s okay,” she whispered back, her lips curling upward into a shy smile, trying to assure me. She could barely keep her eyes open anymore and I practically saw the life being sucked out of her.
This was going too fast.
We need fucking help.
“No, Eli. Please. You need to fight. Fight for me, Eliana. Please.” My voice was pleading and I felt my hands started to shake. Her face blurred thanks to the tears gathering around my eyes until they broke free and cascaded down my cheeks.
“It’s okay,” she breathed.
“Please, Eli,” I pleaded again, but I finally realized what was about to happen as much as I hated it.
No matter how much pressure I’d apply, this was the end.
The end of Eli’s way too short life.
The end of my happily ever after.
The end of everything because there was just no scenario without her. I couldn’t exist without her.
“I love you, Peter. Thank you for accepting me the way I am and making my life a lot better these past months.” She’d put all of her strength into these slurred words, her eyes trying to focus on me one last time, but I saw her losing the fight against death.
“Eli…” I started, but my voice broke into a sob.
“I love you. Never forget this. Promise me.”
“Eli.”
“Promise.”
“I promise,” I whispered, and with these words my world would never be the same.