“What’s wrong?”
“How are we going to jump out with the opening so tight? We don’t even have our parachutes attached yet.”
“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll show you when the time comes. Now make yourself comfortable. These jets are top of the line. Enjoy it, ’cause it costs more money than you want to know to operate one on such short notice.”
Indeed, it was nice. The inside was plush, warm, comforting. Two long couches on each wall, making four total. Each was capable of seating two men, gear and all. Above were racks, where their parachutes and ammo bags rested. The men were sure to check everything was in working order for the last time. There were four accompanying chairs, two in the front, two in the rear. Svetlana and the six Delta sat on the couches, Rivers in the back chair. The front ones remained vacant. They huddled close, gabbing away, overcoming their nerves with jokes, mostly.
There was no going back.
Moments later, another man stepped board the plane. He tucked his head, stepping into the light of the cabin as one of the pilots closed the door and secured it.
Sergeant C. York.
“Hey, boys… and woman,” he greeted them with a raised hand. “Got room for one more?” he asked, taking a seat in the front chair, right side of the plane. He swiveled it toward them, staring at the eight other occupants.
“Guessing ya already know, but the name’s York.”
88
Within moments, the plane jolted, and less than a minute later they were racing down the runway.
Svetlana had to grip the seat tight.
The others seemed unconcerned, nearly bored.
Once airborne, they knew time was limited. They should be discussing the mission, going over last minute strategies. Preparing themselves mentally.
But York was as if a plague of insanity, and he persisted in a deep stare, looking each up and down. The wide, crazy grin remained on his face. His hair was oily, falling down past his eyes. His beard full.
“We’re raised to believe monsters don’t exist,” York said.
“Say what?” Clements said, who was seated closest.
“As children, we know they exist, we know better. But we’re told by our parents that monsters don’t exist, that they’re fake. Over and over, in a sense they brainwash us. Instead, they fill us with stories of Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. But, when we’re young, we don’t believe our parents, because we know deep down that monsters are indeed real! That they exist in the shadows, that if you’re not careful they’ll snatch you up. And what do we do? We check the closet, look under the bed. And for what? For whom? The boogeyman. Because as children, we know the truth deep down. That the boogeyman is real. We know monsters exist.”
“I had an active imagination too,” Dale replied, leaning forward, both irritated and bemused. “Shit, I remember getting quite upset when my GI Joe toys broke. What’s this all matter? Who cares?”
“You should care. The point is, as children we see reality for what it really is. We acknowledge the truth, and it takes years for our parents to convince us otherwise. Children see the beauty of life, they also see the horrors.”
“What’s next, a fucking poem?” Clements asked.
“What I’m saying is this: monsters are real!” York exclaimed.
“Bullshit,” Clements responded.
“You fucking hillbilly, you just don’t get it,” York stated. “We pretend they don’t exist because they don’t fit our reality. We ignore the truth, even if it’s overwhelming. How many people don’t believe in aliens? Yet how many claim to be abducted? Maybe it’s because there’s a level of truth to the matter? We’re stripped of the most precious truth of all.”
“And what’s that?”
“Our reality is stripped away, created by those who want us under control.”
“You sound like a fucking conspiracy theorist.”
“This matter is a conspiracy. A secret that the entire world will never know. A secret that might die with us once we enter that cave.”
“I just can’t believe this,” Clements said, shaking his head. He looked to Dale, baffled. “He’s saying monsters are real. Am I hearing this shit right, Dale?”
“Seems so,” Comstock answered.
“Our reality is created by design. But it’s not reality, but a perception of reality,” York said.
“What the fuck is he talking about?” Clements bellowed. “The guy is crazy, Dale. A fucking nut job. And we’re supposed to bring him along?”
“Orders are orders,” Dale replied, though he agreed.
“I’m not crazy,” York insisted.
“Yeah, right,” Clements countered.
“You’ll find out. You’ll see soon enough. All I’m saying is this: you best be ready for some fucked up shit. Don’t hesitate, not for a moment. Blast those fuckers when you get the chance,” York suggested.
“We’ll see. This seems like some fucking game, but for a moment, I’ll pretend you’re not batshit crazy. I’ll pretend you’re telling the truth. Why? It’s not ’cause I believe you, it’s ’cause of what that science gal says. The commies decided to try and create some genetically altered super-soldier. Fine, I’ll believe that they tried. I’ll even believe they had some sort of success. I might seem like a backwoods fuck, but I understand scientists try shit like this, and maybe, just maybe, someone succeeded.”
“Good. It’s best you keep that attitude,” York said.
“I’m not finished,” Clements said, pointing to York. “You see, that shit doesn’t matter to me. Know why? We’re fucking Delta. We’re the true super-soldiers, not some fucked up ancient fighters. Sure, they might be more athletic, maybe even smarter than this Arkansas boy here, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is training, working as a team, combat tactics. I say we have the advantage, and soon those fuckers are going to see what Delta is capable of.”
“I hope you’re right,” York replied. “And don’t think I disagree. I’m Delta too, bud. Been doing this shit awhile now. Thing is, I know what we’re up against, and sure as shit they aren’t human. I can promise you that. You boys got that?” he asked the team. “You understand me? They’re something different, and they wiped out eleven of my men faster than you can imagine.”
“Maybe your boys weren’t good enough,” Clements taunted.
“Enough,” Dale warned. “I knew Ramirez. Knew a few guys on that team. They were good. Difference is, they were surprised. Didn’t know what to expect. We do.”
“Do we, Dale? Do we really? ’Cause right now this crazy fucker is telling me we’re getting ready to fight monsters.”
“We’ll prepare for any possibility,” Dale said calmly.
Clements shook his head. “I don’t like this one bit, Dale.”
“And you had the option to get out. If you didn’t want this mission, Elizabeth stated she’d transfer any of us. You chose to stay.”
“Not saying that. I don’t think we should go, but as to whether I’m with you guys or not… you know the answer to that. We ride together, we die together. Taliban, monsters, whatever — we’re here to fuck shit up.”
“Well that’s the spirit!” York said with a sinister grin and wicked laugh.
“Fuck off,” Clements replied. “Thing is, Dale, I think we’re not being told everything. Something is off, just can’t finger it at the moment.”
“Me either.”
“I think that scientist bitch is lying.” Clements lowered his voice, “She’s a hot one, maybe even has Thompson convinced ’cause of those perky tits of hers, but I don’t trust her.”