Chapter Four
Auralia
“Hey, Deep,” Auralia called out. “Do you know where Gator is?”
“Yeah, he’s in the woods. Creed was on a search for a missing child.”
“Still missing?” Her body tightened.
“They found him, but Creed needed backup. They’re coming out now. I’ll tell Gator you’re looking for him.”
“Thank you,” Auralia waved.
“Gator’s here then?” Doli asked as she pretended to focus on adjusting her lens.
“Married.”
“I know.” Doli looked up with a smile. “But damned, he’s nice to look at. I can still look, can’t I?”
“Depends. I mean, the man can probably read every thought in your head, so if you can keep things clean and rated G, I guess you’re okay. Move a step over that, and I’d say it’s probably inappropriate to drool over another woman’s husband.”
Doli bent to unzip the camera bag and pulled the sides wide. “Fine, I’ll stay away. Because there’s no way that I can keep things from turning salty in my imagination.”
“That’s my brother, I’ll remind you. I don’t want anything to do with your salty thoughts in his regard, thank you.”
Squatting beside her bag, Doli fished out a lens cloth. “Okay, here’s a non-sexy question: Why does Gator call you Seren?”
“Nom du jour.” Auralia spread a towel on the ground and sat. “I’m going to have to take you on a bit of a longer story to explain it.”
“I have time.” Doli rubbed the cloth over her lens, then lifted the camera to her eye.
“He got his military name back when his unit was training for swamp survival. Some damned alligator attacked him. A beast, fifteen feet. After that incident, his fellow Marines christened him Gator.”
“It fits somehow, like when I look at him, I always think gladiator, but then there’s that boy-like quality, like everything’s fun.”
“Yeah, I hear that a lot.” Auralia pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “So anyway, another time out, there was a group of Rangers pinned down in a firefight. Gator saw it through his binoculars and went in and bare-handed crawled from tango to tango, taking them out.”
Doli hugged her camera to her chest. “Surely, they would have known he was coming and shot at him.”
“Nope. Remember my daddy died when I was still little, and my mamma worked hard, but teachers aren’t paid much, not enough for a family of five kids.
The only fresh meat we got was what we could hunt or pull from the water.
Silence was the only way to put food on the table.
On the night Gator was rescuing the Rangers, it was zero dark thirty, and he had night vision goggles.
No one knew he was there, or, you’re right, he would have been killed.
” Auralia’s mouth went dry; she hated it when the memory of that story came up.
“Horrible and heroic,” Doli whispered.
“Since he came to their aid, that group slapped on the second part of his name. After that, he was either Gator or Gator Aid.”
“Still not following why that would make you Seren as a nom du jour. Du jour? What else does he call you?”
“Depends on his mood. See, he tells folks that’s his name, Gator Aid, making out like Aid is his family name.”
“Easier to spell than Rochambeau.”
“Very true. Ask kindergarten me how well that went. Anyway, then Gator says that his mamma has a wicked sense of humor—which, in fact, she does—and gave her children names that go along with that surname. So, for example, he usually says my oldest sister Genevieve is named ‘First’ cause she came first. That would make her First Aid.”
Doli grinned.
“And he says he was named Gator because when he was born, he already had two teeth, and he bit Mamma straight away—that part is true. Sometimes he calls me ‘Lemon’ because he says I’m in a sour mood. If he’s calling me ‘Seren,’ it’s because he’s feeling nostalgic.”
“Serenade, aww.” Doli pulled out a ball cap and looked much more comfortable without the sun glaring in her eyes. “And the twins?”
“‘Medic and Legal’ or ‘Deck and Marmal,’ really anything that pops into his head. Genevieve thinks it’s clever. The boys hate it.”
“And you?”
Auralia beat. “I find it endearing and inclusive. You know, like there’s no part of his life that he doesn’t want to scoop me into and make me feel welcome, including his time in the military.
And it’s so funny how he tells people his siblings’ names with such pride and sincerity, and everyone around him gets all awkward as they put the names together. ”
“Not everyone can do that—I don’t mean put the names together like First Aid and Marmal Aid. Marmal Aid,” Doli snort laughed, “that’s terrible—I mean that many of our soldiers would rather keep their families out of their military careers when they get out, they want to leave those years behind.”
“You’re right. I’m not saying we get the blow-by-blow of his work, but we get stories.”
“Storytelling runs in your blood,” Doli said as she spread her own towel and dropped from her squat into a more relaxed posture. “Your job as a journalist makes a thousand percent sense. But I can’t imagine Gator likes where you’re working.”
“He’s supportive. He never said boo to me about it.
Now, I will say that after I landed my job, Gator started sharing a whole bunch more stories with me.
But they were heavy on the technical aspects of how to escape.
What to do if kinds of things. But one of the most poignant things he’s ever said to me was that I have the same fierce blood in my veins that our many-greats-grandfather did when he came to America to command the French forces at Yorktown alongside George Washington.
As Gator likes to say, ‘He done good that day.’ I call on my ancestors in times of need, and the Comte and I have had our fair share of visits where I asked for courage and strategy.
I feel him in my bones.” She shrugged her shoulders up, then dropped them.
“As our friend Lynx likes to say, ‘It’s good juju.’”
“We do that in my family, seek advice and the courage of right action from our ancestors. Yeah, it feels good to know that they’re at my back.” Doli stared off into the distance.
“Since Gator’s his military name, what’s the one on his birth certificate?”
“Jean-Marie, that’s what Mamma named him.”
“Jean-Marie,” Doli let that play on her tongue. “He should only use that for special occasions. He is a Jean-Marie, too. But Creed and Gator work better, I think. I never asked about Creed’s name because it fits him like a glove.”
“He was born Honoré,” Auralia’s tone softened. Today was the day of the grand reveal.
“Honoré. Yeah, same thing only, it’s best kept for when he wears his dress uniform.”
“He won’t do that anymore,” Auralia said.
“Oh? It’s been a while since I was on assignment with you, but not that long. A few months? November? What does it mean by “not any more”?
“Creed retired. He didn’t feel like the Marine Corps was a good fit moving forward. When his contract was up for renewal, he let the deadline pass. He’s with Iniquus now, which is nice because I can see him a lot more.”
“He’s on Gator’s team?”
“No, he’s a K9 handler, so he joined their Cerberus Team Charlie. He’s been obsessed with training his black lab Rougarou.”
“Ragout?” Doli asked. “Like French stew?”
“Roo-ga-roo. That’s what he decided to name her. It’s like naming a King Charles spaniel ‘Killer’ or a Pomeranian ‘Thor’, it’s supposed to be ironic. It’s just stupid if you ask me.”
“Because Rougarou means what then?”
“Like a swamp werewolf from Cajun folklore. It’s a huge shaggy-headed dog-like monster with glowing red eyes.
Mamma brought us up on stories of the Rougarou to keep us from getting up and wandering off in the night.
You’d better believe she scared me to death with her stories.
The only thing Rou and a Rougarou have in common is the black fur.
Rou’s job is actually a counter purpose to a Rougarou.
Where a Rougarou gets blamed for missing livestock, it’s Rou’s job to find people on search and rescue missions.
She’s a sniffer only. She doesn’t bite. Labs typically have soft mouths anyway, and, in a takedown, you want chomping pressure. ”
“Like now with the missing kid in the woods kind of stuff? There aren’t many people going missing in this area, and my understanding is that there’s a fairly strong volunteer search and rescue team in Virginia.
Why would Iniquus hire Creed to do that?
I mean, I’ve taken pictures at plenty of events where Cerberus is doing security.
I’ve seen their dogs—they’re magnificent beasts. ”
“And you’re saying Rou isn’t?” Auralia was offended on Rou’s behalf.
“I’ve never seen her. Just asking questions and wondering which Cerberus guys might be around today.”
“Just Creed and Rou, so you can put your tongue back in your mouth. I guess I did Rou a disservice when I told you that she’s just search and rescue.
She’s got an amazing nose for all kinds of searches.
Mostly, they want her to go into collapsed buildings when the team gets called out to extract clients from whatever mess they found themselves in. ”
“Like that Bravo K9 that found Senator Blankenship over in the Lebanon explosion?”
“She’s the one, Truffles. Truffles is Rou’s doggy mentor. Her handler’s name is Bear, but it would be so much funnier if his name were Pig or Hog.”
“Nah, then it would be the handler finding the dog and not the dog finding the treasure.” Doli squinted toward the woods. “Speaking of Rougarou, I think they’re coming through the trees now.”
Auralia turned to look over her shoulder. Rou was out in front, Creed had the kid on his back, and Gator was taking up the rear. Auralia squeezed Doli’s arm. “I think we have a few minutes until the speakers step up to the mic. Creed and I need to talk to Gator for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Standing, Auralia brushed her hands over her clothes, then adjusted her shoulders back and down. She waited off to the side, giving the team time to make their way to a picnic blanket, where a distraught mother dangled a baby on her hip with a stormy face.
Creed handed off the screaming boy to the first responder, and Gator fished a bag from his tactical pants and then handed it over.
Off they went—mother, toddler, rescued child, and first responders.
Gator looked bemused.
Creed looked like he could use a drink. He bent down and scrubbed a hand over Rou’s fur, then clipped her lead into place.
Things were already riled up. Better head on into the fray and take advantage of the agitation.