28. Jack
28
JACK
I wipe Quinton with a warm washcloth. We sing along to the music pulsing through my phone, its volume turned up. Ava often compliments me on my swift baby-changing skills. Little does she know, my secret lies in my choice of playlist. Without fail, the rhythm and beats captivate Quinton, coaxing him to cooperate effortlessly.
“Mama.”
“She’s just outside, buddy. But don’t tell her about the music, okay? It’s our little secret.”
After changing him into fresh clothes, I gather the dirty pile and stuff it into a plastic bag.
“Okay. You’re ready for the real flight, Captain Q-Bear.” I kiss his belly, taking in the delicate fragrance of white lilies and jasmine from his baby powder. “Who am I, Quinton?”
“Emmo…”
“No. Come on, say ‘dada.’”
The cheeky little one simply laughs. I believe he’s aware of how amusing it is to everyone when he refers to everything as Elmo .
“You’re not gonna say it, are you?” I give him a funny face, and he continues giggling. “All right. How about ‘aloha?’”
“Oaaa.”
With a chuckle, I praise him as I stop the music and pack up Quinton’s diaper bag.
How my life has changed. A good day used to mean successfully pushing my Marines to their absolute limits. Now, simple things like singing a duet with a baby are enough to fill me with satisfaction.
I lift Quinton into my arms and carry him out of the room. The air is still. The house is quiet, as if I’d just stepped into a museum.
“Ava?” I meander from room to room. “Elmo…”
I search both the front and back porches, but there’s no sign of them anywhere. All I come across is an abandoned trash bag by the door.
Desperation creeps in.
I put Quinton in his baby carrier, strapping him securely on my front, facing me. For the first time, I feel a real threat while Quinton is with me—on me. I carefully don my ballistic vest. It’s got to be in an unconventional way because, somehow, I have to adequately cover both Quinton and me.
With Quinton fully protected, I reach for my SIG.
I cautiously step out of the front yard and onto the street. When I hold a weapon, my brain instinctively switches to military mode. I’m currently adjusting to the combination of this mindset while feeling the presence of Quinton hanging on my chest and wearing a vest that fits like a rice sack.
The baby moans, reaching up to me. He’s probably feeling a little warm, thanks to the Kevlar around him. “Easy, baby. Stay quiet,” I whisper, hoping the baby will understand. While keeping myself concealed behind the trees and bushes of the front yard, I yell, “Ava! ”
The stillness is deafening, but suddenly, a faint whimpering reaches my ears, coming from the rear of the house. Without a second thought, I sprint toward the back, my heart pounding in my chest. And there, in a heartbreaking sight, I find Elmo, his body contorted in pain, dragging himself with a broken front leg.
My God… what has just happened?
I kneel as Elmo collapses at my feet.
“Emmo!” Quinton squirms in his carrier, eager to catch a glimpse, but his view is obstructed by the ballistic vest. Maybe it’s for the best that he can’t see, given the condition the dog is in.
The longer I stay here, the more I expose Quinton to danger. But there’s no way I’m going to give up on that loyal creature. In battles, I stand by the notion of ‘no Marine left behind.’ In life, I will never leave a friend behind—human or animal.
I run back to the house, grab a sheet along with Quinton’s bag which I’d forgotten, then come back. I wrap the sheet around the dog to create a makeshift sling. With great care, I lift him up and place him gently into the cargo area of Ava’s SUV. My senses heighten as if there’s evil behind every tree surrounding me. Keeping my gun within reach, I secure Quinton in his baby seat.
Free from the tenting ballistic vest, he looks around, searching. “Mama…”
“Everything will be okay, baby. Don’t cry, please don’t cry.” I caress his cheek. “I’ll find Mommy. But first, we’ve got to get out of here.”
Although I’m eager to locate Ava, my gut feeling warns me that I’m deep within a dangerous territory. I scream north to Helena as fast as I can with a baby and an injured canine on board .
I call my brother. “Ava’s gone!” I pant. “It’s that motherfucker, Sam!”
“Don’t fuck with me, Jack!” Sam growls in anger. “Where are you? Where’s Quinton?”
“Quinton is with me, and I’m on my way to Red Mark. Are you there?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you arrange for a vet? Elmo is badly injured,” I request.
“I’ll get a vet. Don’t worry about that. Just get your butt over here.”
The stretch of road ahead is desolate, with only a few scattered cars passing by. The surrounding landscape is dominated by dense clusters of trees and bushes, creating countless potential hiding spots. Eventually, I arrive at Red Mark without any complications.
Sam is already there, accompanied by Huxley and a lady I assume is the vet. As I prepare to carry Quinton, Huxley and the vet take Elmo inside.
“Are you both okay?” Sam inspects me and Quinton.
I huff out a ‘yes’ as Sam hands me a bottle of water.
“Let’s go inside,” he says.
In the lobby, Elmo lies motionless on the floor as the vet examines him. His eyes remain open and occasionally blink weakly.
I lower myself and gently stroke the top of his head. “How is he, doc?” I ask.
She replies, “He has a broken leg, which could be complicated by his skeletal dysplasia. I will need to take him to the hospital for emergency surgery. My team and I will do everything we can, I promise.”
I whisper, “Good dog, Elmo. Hang in there,” while Quinton stretches himself to pet his loyal friend .
Sam leads me to one of the dayrooms upstairs. These rooms are regularly used by Red Mark agents when they have to stay overnight. I realize it’s the same room Ava was taken to the first afternoon she was here after Quinton was taken from her.
We sit together in silence. In the past, dealing with a fucked-up situation like this, I would have hit the gym and vented my emotions on a punching bag. But I’m a different man now. Just like I advised Ava that evening, I’m now following the same principle and using Quinton as my guide in any decision I make. I cannot allow my emotions to overpower me.
Soon, Huxley enters the room, holding Quinton’s filled bottle. “Sweet tea for you, baby bear,” he offers Quinton and then suggests, “I can take care of him. You two can talk outside. We don’t want to stress out Quinton. He can sense it.”
We agree, knowing that Quinton will be in good hands with his ‘Uncle Comet.’ Sam leads me into his office.
“Willem has information about my abduction,” I admit, rousing uneasiness in Sam. “You know, during your search, you never discovered the location of that man’s base in Florida.”
“No, I never did. Once I found you, it became irrelevant,” he responds, narrowing his suspicious gaze. “Why are you trusting him?”
“Willem sent me a photo of a basement,” I explain.
My brother shakes his head. “It could be any basement, right?”
“Not this one. The photo looked exactly like the space that appears in my nightmares.” I rub my face in frustration, growling to myself. “He offered it to me, but I told him to go to hell. He didn’t specify what he wanted in return, but we both know who he’s after. ”
Sam nods, his concern evident, but he’s showing no trace of blame on his face. “Now he has one of them.”
I feel the burden pressing down, but his calm demeanor soothes my frayed nerves. I tell him, “I was changing Quinton with the music playing. I didn’t hear anything from outside. She was gone, just like that. I didn’t have the luxury of exploring. I couldn’t risk Quinton’s safety. But from just scanning around, it was clean, as if there was nothing.”
Sam nods understandingly. “My guess is that Willem gained access to information about you from the DOJ database his company was responsible for managing.”
“His access won’t last for long. It might already be too late. I don’t know. I don’t care. I need to get to Ava!”
I rise from my seat, my thoughts converging in my head with Ava at the center. Willem wants her, but he won’t hesitate to hurt her. To what scale—I don’t even want to know. But one thing is sure. I will end him. Today.
“He wants you in his lair, Jack.”
I decide, “I’ve got no choice but to meet that cockbag there.”
Sam sighs, “The question is, where’s his lair?”