Chapter 7 Twidget #2
Past the table was a small living room with shag carpet. A sliding door on the far wall led to some kind of backyard, but Gabriel couldn’t see anything out there. A sagging velvet couch and two La-Z-boys were huddled around a large flat screen TV.
Phin finished clearing the rooms. Drawing the curtains on the sliding doors, he turned back to his commander. “What are you thinking?”
Gabriel paused, not sure how to answer just yet.
They had gotten lucky running into Blake and Tommy.
It was hard for him to admit that he had led his team into a trap, but he had.
Were it not for good timing and a lot of bravery on the part of the medical professionals, they wouldn’t be here right now.
As much as he wanted his priority to be getting all of them to safety, he had to think of the mission. Of the greater good.
“Did you see the radio?” Gabriel asked.
“Yeah, they’ve got a bunch of stuff in the office there. But I can’t make heads or tails of any of it.”
Gabriel nodded. “I’ll take a look at it.” It was hard to stomach that he was the most qualified for the job—they really could have used a communications expert. But Irving had been clear that they couldn’t risk anyone that valuable.
He tried not to take that personally.
Judd walked into the room stiffly. He looked rough, with sweat dripping down his face. He was holding his arm awkwardly, like he was afraid to move it, but trying not to draw attention to it.
“Where do you need me?”
“Resting,” Gabriel said, jerking his head over to the couch.
Judd glared at him. “I don’t need to rest.”
“You look like hell.”
“What’s new?” Phin grumbled, walking past Judd and dropping a heavy hand on his good shoulder. Judd sniped something at him as he walked by, and he could hear Phin’s heavy laughter from the hallway.
“Gabriel, I didn’t let a broken leg keep me from redoing the barn roof the summer I turned fourteen, and I’m not going to let this papercut stop me today. Where do you need me?” His drawl was thick with exhaustion.
Gabriel sighed, dropping his head in defeat. “Secure the perimeter.”
Judd nodded tersely, shoulders back as he moved to do as ordered.
Alone, Gabriel finally took a moment to relax. He pulled his helmet off, dropping it onto the scarred wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. Sighing, he raked his fingers through his sweaty hair.
His shoulder ached now that he had a moment to rest. In a perfect world, he’d be icing it—preferably with a cold beer. Maybe with a hamburger and an anti-inflammatory chaser. But he didn’t have that kind of luxury. Gabriel couldn’t be weak. Not when he had responsibilities.
Wincing as he rubbed the sore muscle, he could feel the heat through his shirt.
He was tired. Tired people made mistakes—he’d been in the field long enough to know exactly what it felt like to pop caffeine pills to keep himself awake.
Entire weeks of his life were a blur of grit between his teeth, the stink of sweat in his nose, and the pop pop of gunfire ringing in his ears.
But he’d never lost focus like he did when he saw Blake. There was something about the man that made him slip. Sure, he was pretty. Gabriel saw pretty men every day. He worked with them, for them, around them. Notice—appreciate—move on. Like a nice sunset. Blake not so much.
The truth.
Blake’s words were sharp, but all Gabriel could see was the wetness in his eyes.
The tears he refused to shed. An unspeakable strength that coiled along his spine even when all he wanted to do was drop to his knees.
There was a fire in those eyes. When Blake demanded the truth, Gabriel knew he could take it.
He gave it. And it killed him to do it. He wanted to make everything better. To shield Blake from the heavy truth he knew, but the paramedic didn’t want it. He demanded to stand with him, as equals.
Being a soldier required a kind of inner strength.
But to stand in his hometown, feet away from what was probably his friends and colleagues tomb, Blake had put Gabriel to shame.
Even now, he was talking with the young Tommy.
Keeping his chin up. Hell, he’d even grabbed vegan food options for his partner.
In the middle of explosions and death, Blake cared enough about someone else to remember that.
And honestly, Gabriel didn’t know how to handle that. No, he knew what he should do—Ignore it. Because it didn’t matter. He had bigger things to deal with than a burgeoning interest in a man he’d bled with before he even knew his name.
Blake came into the kitchen lugging his jump bag. He dropped it onto the counter and unzipped it, sorting through the food and medical supplies.
His hair was falling in his eyes, and he angrily brushed it away with the back of his hand.
Blake wasn’t a big guy. He was about average height and weight, with a generic haircut.
In fact, had he not leaned out the back of an ambulance and saved his life, Gabriel wasn’t sure he’d have noticed him at all.
What did stand out was the bruise on his cheek. It had grown darker in the last couple of hours.
“How’s your cheek?” Gabriel asked.
“Fine.” Blake looked up briefly then did a double-take. He stared at Gabriel. “Sorry,” he cleared his throat. “I didn’t recognize you without the helmet.”
Gabriel knew just how much the helmets changed appearances. He had spent days with soldiers, only not to recognize them later in the mess hall.
Blake stepped around the table and pushed Gabriel’s hand away from his shoulder, feeling the tender flesh. “Do you need help getting your vest off?”
“Actually, yes.”
He lifted his arm as high as he could so Blake could undo the Velcro and slide the heavy plate carrier from his shoulders. Another sigh of relief. It helped with the ache and relieved the pressure in his upper back. Blake set it down on the floor with a thunk.
“You never answered me about your cheek.”
Blake touched his cheek lightly. “I don’t even remember how I got it. I think it might have been when I was hit with a tire.”
Gabriel’s eyes widened. “You were hit by a car?”
“A tire,” Blake clarified. “I’m almost positive it was not attached to an actual vehicle.”
“Oh, well, that changes everything.”
Blake rolled his eyes. “That’s a lot of sarcasm for someone who got hip checked into a fire hydrant.”
Gabriel laughed, feeling some of the tension melt out of his shoulders as he conceded defeat. “Got me there.”
They stayed silent for a moment. It wasn’t awkward, but there was a pregnant pause in the air. Like both men wanted to say something, but neither knew what. Or if they should.
“Do you have a way to contact your boss?” Blake finally asked, leaning against the countertop and crossing his arms.
The setting sun and drawn curtains meant the station was getting dark, fast. Only a few feet separated them, but Gabriel was already having difficulty making out the lines of Blake’s face.
“Not unless we get some kind of radio up and running,” he admitted, feeling like he just swallowed a brick.
Blake didn’t say sorry. Or offer up any kind of ‘bullshit’ as he so eloquently put it. Gabriel appreciated it.
“So what’s the point?” Blake asked. “No offense or anything, but why are you even here?”
“Our mission is primarily to reestablish communication with the outside world. If we can do that, then it’s possible we can get some reinforcements. But at the moment, without any intel, it’s unlikely the powers that be will be willing to launch any kind of attack.”
Blake seemed to be processing what he said. He leaned back against the table. There was a rip in his uniform shirt over his collarbone, stiff with dried blood. It looked like his own. “So how do we do that?”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow and Blake continued, “If there are any powers that be. You said the government was scattered.”
Blake was sharp. And right. Getting communications up might be pointless, but he had to try.
“Government or not, we have a mission. We need comms to reach Irving. At the very least, he can get us out of here.”
“Who is Irving?”
That made Gabriel smile. “It’s more like what is an Irving. Technically, he’s my boss. He manages Kinetic Solutions and plans our missions. Really, he’s a Mensa powered one man wrecking crew.”
If anyone could organize a makeshift government, plan and execute evacuations, and manage any intel Gabriel and his team brought back, it would be Irving. The number of desk jockeys Gabriel trusted could be counted on one hand, but Irving was one of them.
Blake wrinkled his nose. “He sounds interesting.”
“Oh, he’s absolutely insufferable,” Gabriel laughed. “But he’s the guy.”
That seemed to be the only answer Blake needed.
He grew quiet, still, except for his hands.
The medic was constantly cracking his joints.
Absently, like he didn’t know he was doing it.
Once he finished one hand, he started on the other.
Every knuckle pulled and pressed until it audibly snapped, then he moved on to the next.
It left Gabriel with room of his own to think.
What was his next step?
The last bit of intelligence they’d received had been about a cell phone tower. It didn’t look to be in too bad shape, but the last images and information was a day old. It could be gone now. Still, he didn’t have any other leads. They would need to get to the cell phone tower.
Gabriel pulled out the small map from his pocket and laid it across the counter. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he retrieved a small, chipped crochet hook. Fiddling with it, he used the point to trace a possible route. And then an alternate route, if that one was blocked.
Gabriel would have to go alone. Judd was in no state to travel quickly, and he needed Phin to stay behind with the civilians.
“There’s construction,” Blake said, interrupting his thoughts.
Gabriel looked up to see Blake leaning over, also studying his map. He pointed to the intersection his crochet hook was resting on.