Reign of Evil

Jack and Holmes were the only two passengers in the rear of the DCH-6 de Havilland Twin Otter. The seats had been removed and replaced by a single bench along the port side. Jack sat with his equipment hanging to the floor. He carried a one-hundred-pound pack in front. His HK416 was attached to the front. The oxygen tank rested on top. A hose ran from the tank to the mask he wore. He’d been pre-breathing 100 percent oxygen to purge the nitrogen from his blood for ten minutes so he wouldn’t experience hypoxia or the bends. A helmet and goggles rested on his head. He stared at the altimeter gauge on his left wrist and watched it creep past 24,000 feet. His MC-6 parachute served as a seat cushion, which he leaned back against.

Holmes sat beside him. He wore a chute, helmet, and mask but wasn’t carrying a simulated combat load.

“I know you’re aching to get this over with, SEAL,” Holmes said through their intra-mask com system, “but slow is smooth and smooth is fast. We’re not going to rush anything.”

“I’m okay. Last thing I wanted was to spend a week with two chatty Cathies. Talk about feeling like a third wheel.”

“Just so. Slow is smooth and—”

“And smooth is fast, I know.”

Holmes held up a hand. “Hold. Getting a call from Laws.”

Walker watched Holmes. Through his mask, he could only make out the SEAL team leader’s eyes. But several times they flicked in his direction. Walker felt worry creep into his system. He’d had a finely honed sense of trouble ever since he was orphaned and left on the streets of the Philippines as a child.

Holmes spoke for perhaps two minutes, then turned to face Walker.

“What’s the news?” Walker asked.

Holmes shook his head. “It’s bad. We’re going to cancel training.”

Butterflies with switchblades kamikazied in his stomach. “How bad?”

“Worst.”

Walker went through the list of all the worst things that could happen. He was stunned at how few there really were. He glanced at Holmes and then he knew. The emptiness was so complete it was as if his insides had been torn out, leaving the vacuum of space.

He couldn’t keep his voice from cracking as he said, “Jen?”

Holmes closed his eyes and nodded.

Walker gulped for air. He felt like he was falling. How ironic he wore a suit made for it and it wasn’t helping. “How?”

“They don’t know. She and her friend and a group of others were all murdered visiting Stonehenge.”

Suddenly he had something to grab on to. “Did you say ‘murdered’?”

“I did.”

“Do they have the—”

“They have no idea.”

“By ‘they’ you mean MI5?”

Holmes nodded.

“What about our intel? Do we have any?”

“If we did I know it’s well above our pay grades.”

“To hell with pay grades. She was my fiancée… and I want to know. I need to know.”

“We may never know.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Regardless, this exercise is over. Team leader to pilot.”

“No!” Walker felt a sense of panic. He had to have something normal. He needed something planned. He had to jump. He glanced at the open door, then back at Holmes. “Let me do this.”

The voice came from the cockpit and through their com systems. “Team lead, this is pilot. What’s your command?”

Holmes gave him a steady gaze.

“What? You think I’m going to kill myself?” Walker felt his lip curl. “You think I’m going to swan-dive so I can be with Jen in a better place? As romantic as that sounds in movies, it’s bullshit. Someone has to be alive to pick up the pieces. Someone has to be the one to get revenge.” He paused and couldn’t keep from one last desperate whisper. “Is she really dead?”

“Yes, son. She’s really dead.”

“Let me jump. Just let me fucking jump.”

“Team lead, this is pilot; I say again, what’s your command?”

“Pilot, this is team lead; continue mission.”

“WILCO.”

When they reached altitude, the light above the door blinked red.

Walker made to stand and move, but Holmes gripped his arm. They both wore masks, but Jack could feel the intensity in his commander’s eyes.

“We’ll get through this, Jack. We’re your family. We’ll help you any way we can.” Holmes held on for a moment, then let Walker go.

They both stood and crouch-walked to the door. When the light turned green, Walker stepped out and let the wash carry him back and down. He knew Holmes was right behind him, but there was no way to see him. Not through the darkness. Not through Walker’s tears.

Fifteen seconds later he deployed his chute and felt it jerk him free of his fatal fall. He stared at his altimeter and watched as it indicated his descent. Sobs overtook him at 25,000 feet. At 21,000 feet he thought about pulling the release on the chute. Maybe there was a heaven. Maybe there was an afterlife. God knows he’d discovered that there was so much more to this world since he’d joined Triple Six. If there were demons and shape changers why couldn’t there be a heaven?

Holmes’s voice brought him back. “Walker, you’re off course.”

Walker checked the GPS compass on his other wrist. He was way off course.

Holmes’s voice was filled with urgency. “Walker, what are you doing? We talked about this.”