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Clay Spenser was fucked.
He knew it from the minute he opened his eyes. Well, eye actually. Just the right one. The left one didn’t seem to want to co-operate with him.
The first thing that came to him was the smell. It assaulted him, that mix of damp dirt and sweat and that unmistakable unbearable smell of burnt flesh. The smell came first, then the pain. But the pain seemed a lot greater than the smell. A deep bone searing screaming pain that seemed to be taking over his whole body. He wanted to scream, to let out some of the pain by screaming but instincts and training always kicked in. He knew he had to be quiet. Whatever was happening was more than a bit not good, but he was a trained navy seal, and he wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of hearing him scream.
Clay lay on his right side, and the ground underneath him was hard, damp and cold. The pain seemed to be everywhere at first but after a minute or so he could localise it first of all to his right leg. There was blood on the ground, a dirty makeshift bandage around what he now knew was a bullet in his right thigh. The bandage was dirty and stained red with blood. He could already feel the wound was infected.
The other pain, that searing, mind numbing screaming burning pain was his left arm and he knew without looking at it that the skin had been badly burned. The skin was white in some places and charred black in others. Blood and pus were oozing from the arm. It was some of the worst pain he had felt in a long time.
SERE training had thought him how to deal with pain, had thought him coping techniques for this situation but nothing can ever fully prepare you for pain so bad that Clay knew he could have happily sawn his own arm off if he’d had the means.
He tried to shift positions, to sit up, pushing himself onto this back with his good arm and then attempting to lift his head off the ground. The minute he moved, everywhere swam in front of him and another blinding burst of pain flared up in his head. He could feel the bile rising and was barely able to move his head away from his body before he was violently ill.
He could feel himself shivering. Cold, shock, blood loss. Maybe all three. He could feel himself fuzzy around the edges, like he was slowly starting to fade away. Pain surrounded him. He needed to stay conscious, but it was really hard.
It was meant to be a one-day mission, in and out. Intel was very clear, HVT was a Médecins Sans Frontières doctor who had been working in Haiti since 2016. He was also a former marine and the son of a wealthy Oklahoma rancher. The US Government didn’t like the optics of a former marine being ransomed and had tasked Charlie Team plus Clay Spenser with freeing the man and bring him back to US Soil.
Intel had tracked the man to a house in a small village 60 km from Port-au-Prince. The gang who had taken him were seen to be small time, a splinter group from a larger gang. Charlie team with Clay Spenser as Charlie Seven would HAHO in at night, hike into the village, capture Dr Cassidy and an exfil Helo would take them back to the nearest US military base. An almost impenetrable tree canopy meant no ISR, but Charlie Team’s commanding officer had been sure the intel was good.
It wasn’t. Instead of 4-6 men with AK-47s there had been 20-25 men with enough firepower to take out a small platoon. They found Dr Cassidy with a bullet though his brain. It looked like he had been killed some hours previously, possibly in a row between rival gangs. Charlie Team had called for a QRF, but before it got to them Clay Spenser, who had gone high to try and pick off some of gang, had been cut off from his team. Charlie Team, in particular Charlie Three did everything they could but had been hit with a hail of bullets and an RPG and although all were injured, they were lucky to escape with their lives.
Clay had tried to stay out of sight, hoping in the madness of the gunfight he’d be forgotten about and starting to regret his sudden decision to come on this mission. Clearly, he hadn’t been successful.
He remembered shooting three guys before being overcome by at least 2 others. Remembered hand to hand combat, getting the better of one before another guy had whacked him across the head with something sharp and very hard.
Then he remembered coming too tied to a chair. A tall dark-skinned man with tight curls talking to him in broken English mixed, something about Clay shooting his brother and making him pay. Remembered an open fire, a tire iron, red hot at the end, remembered blinding pain, over and over and over again, trying to disassociate but the pain being too much. Remembered someone laughing as they melted the skin from Clay’s arm. Then, mercifully, nothing.
Now, lying on his back and feeling himself grow increasingly weaker, Clay tried to breathe slowly, to manage his pain, and to clear his head enough to make a plan to either get himself out of danger or stay alive long enough to be rescued.
******
“How the fuck did this happen?” Jason Hayes was pacing up and down the ops room, anger and frustration leaking out of every pore.
“As I just told you Master Chief….” Eric Blackburn’s voice was calm and even, but his patience was starting to wear thin. “Petty Officer Spenser asked if he could join Charlie Team on their Op to rescue an HVT in Haiti. Spenser knew the area, had spent time volunteering after Hurricane Matthew. Charlie Team were down a man and were happy to take him along. Spenser went straight to Lindell who authorised it.”
“If Charlie Team had done their jobs right....” Jason started to speak, anger spewing out with every word, but Blackburn cut across him, an uncharacteristic flash of anger shading his normally neutral expression.
“ENOUGH Master Chief. Charlie Team did everything by the book, they thought they were going into a fair fight and instead went headlong into a gang war. They did their best to get everyone out in one piece. As it is none of them got away uninjured and Charlie Three took 2 bullets trying to go back to for Spenser”.
Blackburn paused, waiting for Jason Hayes to launch into another tirade. Hayes had his back turned to him now, but Blackburn could see Bravo One deflating, knew the words were getting through.
His voice softened slightly. “You know as well as I do that Spenser is no longer a member of Bravo Team and free to join other Ops if he chooses, nothing you or I can do to stop it.”
Jason turned and looked at him, his expression still angry, but Blackburn knew that anger wasn’t for him. It was for Lindell who had removed Clay from Bravo Team, and for Clay Spenser, who couldn’t stop himself from running headlong into trouble time and time again. Too familiar maybe, Blackburn thought, not for the first time.
“I’ve told you all I know Master Chief. If Bravo Team are going to be a part of this rescue mission, I need to know that where the team’s heads are, and I need to be sure that you can keep them in check.”
There was a long pause. Jason chewed his jaw angrily for a moment, never breaking eye contact with his commanding officer. “We’ve got this Blackburn, just get us the green light to go after the kid”. Even after almost 4 years and having proven himself as a top tier operator, Clay Spenser would always somehow be the Bravo Team ‘kid’ especially when he was in trouble.
Blackburn’s face remained impassive, never breaking eye contact. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, he uncrossed his arms. “Fine, I’ll get the rescue mission approved, pull the boys together and be back here in an hour.”
Jason gave a nod of acknowledgment, turning around and made for the door, pulling his phone out of pocket and dialling as he walked.
Throughout this entire exchange Lisa Davis had been sitting just to the left of where Blackburn was standing. She felt herself started to breathe normally as the Master Chief left the room and some of the tension in the air started to dissipate.
Eric glanced at Lisa and sighed before sitting down heavily, allowing himself a momentary break from his usual controlled demeanour. “I hope this is the right move” he spoke out loud, as much to himself as to Davis.
“The boys will bring him home” Davis pushed aside any personal worries, she needed to keep her head in the game.
Blackburn nodded, also shifting back into professional mode. “Let’s make sure our intel is better than whatever Charlie Team were working with, we need to give our boys a fair chance”
Thanks to Davis’ hard work piecing together information Bravo Team were on the ground less than 5 hours later, hiking towards the target. The plane journey had been strangely silent. Jason had briefed them on the phone and then again just before take-off. Last intel had Clay and his captors hiding out in a small house at the base of Chaine de la Salle mountain. No ransom demands had been made, not much was known about the gang that had taken Spenser and what their motives might be. All they knew was that at last sighting just after his capture he was alive.
Jason, Sonny, Brock, Trent and Ray were all angry. Angry with Lindell for allowing Clay to go, angry with Charlie Team for leaving him behind although it wasn’t his fault, Angry with Clay for playin the fuckin hero (Sonny Quinn) angry with Ray although they knew it wasn’t his fault, angry with Jason for not being able to fix it. Just plain angry.
Bravo Team wasn’t the same, hadn’t felt the same for a while now. Back in Afghanistan, going after Echo Team’s killers, in Mexico, even in Serbia although there had been mistakes made, they were a team, getting the job done, Bravo Team at its best.
Now…. Well… they felt wrong. Still on top of their game. But not Bravo at its best.
“Havoc this is Bravo One, passing Lannisport.” Jason’s voice was low, clipped.
“Good Copy Bravo One” came Blackburn’s reply.
“When we get back to the States, I swear I’m lockin Blonderella into his cage and he can just live there. Seems the only way he won’t get into trouble.” Sonny Quinn wiped the sweat off his forehead. “It’s gotta be 110 degrees out here”.
“Need to find him first” Ray Perry replied, his mouth set grimly.
“Yeah, well if you had owned up to your mess we wouldn’t be here in the first place.” Sonny Quinn started to rant but was cut off by Jason
“Shut up Sonny, I’m not listening to this shit again. Clay made his own choices, lets just concentrate on the mission” His voice was low, but his tone was clear. Sonny Quinn knew he was right, knew it wasn’t Rays fault. But couldn’t bring himself to apologise either and once again tension hung in their air.
15 mins later they had the house in sight. As there were less trees they had ISR and and knew there were four armed men patrolling the outside of the house.
This time there were no surprises. Working quickly, silently and efficiently they had picked off the guards one by one, had surrounded the house and were inside and had taken out the remaining 3 guard members, all in less than 5 minutes.
“Havoc this is One, I pass Oldtown”
There was no sign of Spenser. The house appeared to be empty. Trying to stay level-headed, to stop panic from rising the other members of Bravo Team systematically cleared the other 3 rooms in the house.
Nothing.
“Boss we sure that intel was right?” Ray Perry looks tense, the strain of this mission clearly outlined on his face and in the hunch of his shoulders.
“Had to be here somewh..” Jason was interrupted by a shout from Brock “Jackpot Jackpot jackpot!”
Rushing back into the kitchen he saw an open trapdoor which had been cleverly concealed in the floor. Peering down into the cold, damp cellar Trent and Sonny were kneeling either side of a prone Clay Spenser, murmuring words of reassurance. Brock standing close-by looking pale and uneasy.
“Havoc this is One, Jackpot, I repeat Jackpot” As he gives the status update Jason is both relieved and worried at the same time.
“That’s good Copy Bravo One, how is he?”
“I’m not sure.” Jason could hear Clay trying to answer Trent’ questions which meant he was conscious at least. “He’s awake but not sure if he’s ambulatory. Have medics on standby. Bravo One out”
Jason climbed down to join Ray and the others in the cellar, automatically turning to Bravo Four for an update but Trent was working on a nasty looking bullet wound in Spenser’s leg. Clay was awake but Jason could see his eyes scrunched closed and his breathing was heavy, like he was trying to manage pain. The leg looked bad but…. Then Jason caught a glimpse of his Bravo Six’s left arm and he understood why Brock was looking so pale. It had been deliberately and viciously burned, and was mass of charred skin, white in places, black in others. Bravo Team had seen plenty of burns in their time and they knew these were bad. The pain must be excruciating.
It was only then that Jason noticed Sonny Quinn was hunkered down on the ground with his face next to Clays, murmuring quietly to him, obviously trying to distract him from the pain.
“……do something about this hero complex of yours Claymation….. I’m too young for these grey hairs you’re given me…. . ……just breath through it buddy, all good, lucky its not your darts arm…….”
He had his left hand on Clays head, as if trying to absorb some of the pain his brother was feeling. Ray joined in, his voice calm and even, as if nothing was wrong. Trent did what he can, working efficiently and quietly as ever, Brock now at his side. They are a good team in situations like this, working seamlessly together. Not for the first time Jason thanked God for his team, all of them and the strengths they brought to this mission. He also knew he was going to do everything he could to fight to get Clay back once they got home.
Once Trent was happy that Clay’s wounds were fairly stable, they pulled together a makeshift stretcher and carried Bravo Six (he’s Bravo Six on this mission and let anyone contradict them) out of the cellar and an hour later they were on a Helicopter and heading back to the capital.
The Hospital at Port-au-Prince was poorly staffed and under severe pressure, but they did their best to further stabilise the bullet wounds and redress the burns. It was obvious thought to the rest of Bravo team that Clay was going to have to endure a long road of skin grafts and surgery once he got back to the States. Trent had given him some morphine but just a little until he could be x-rayed for internal injuries. The doctors in Port-au-Prince were happy there are none and gave him a full dose of morphine which obviously did the trick because Clay slept for the entire journey from the Hospital to the C-17 and back to Virginia Beach, his (former) team sitting around his gurney as he slept, drinking beers, swapping stories and feeling more like Bravo Team than they had done in months somehow.
******
The next time Clay Spenser woke up it felt different. Instead of a cold floor there was a soft mattress and a pillow under his head. HIs head was fuzzy and heavy, that feeling of having a lot of painkillers in his system which he hated, but it was also a lot better than the pain he had endured previously. He could see his left arm was wrapped in in a funny looking gauze and propped outside of the covers. His leg hurt too but nothing was bad, not like before.
He remembered the door over his head opening, remembered his whole body going stiff, waiting for more pain, wondering what was coming next and the relief that washed over him as he heard Trent’s voice “We got him!” and Brock calling out to the others.
He knew Bravo would come, that they would be the ones to rescue him. His team. Only, not his team anymore and it still gives him that breathless, empty feeling thinking that.
But they still came after him. They still think of Clay Spenser as Bravo.
Speaking of Bravo, Clay’s head rose up slightly from the pillow and he looked around, seeing a sleeping figure to his left, partially blocked out by the bandages on his burnt arm. He smiled as he saw Sonny Quinn, head on his chest, snoring softly. Obviously not too soundly asleep though because he woke up with a start, almost falling off his chair. Recovering quickly, he flashed a grin at Clay, obvious relief at seeing his friend awake written all over his face.
“Blonderella, you took your time!” We were beginning to think you weren’t talking to us” Sonny quipped. “How’d you feel?”
“Drugged, Tired, but alive so its all good” was Clays reply. “How’s Charlie Team”
“They’re gonna be fine, a bit banged up but nothing they can’t recover from.”
Clay was about to ask more questions when the door to his room opened and the rest of Bravo Team came crowding in. After careful hugs and pats they all found chairs and sat round Clay’s bed.
“So” Clay began “Is this the part where y’all give me shit for going on mission without Bravo?” He tried to sound light-hearted but there was more than half a truth in it.
From the minute he agreed to the mission he wasn’t sure what Bravo would say or think of him going on a mission with Charlie. He wasn’t sure himself why he did, except that he knew they were down a man, and he really just wanted to get out from behind a desk, to stop thinking about Bravo Team spinning up without him.
It was Jason Hayes who spoke first. “Kid, if there’s one thing, I know it’s that once Bravo, always Bravo. Nothin’s gonna change that, ok?”
Clay nodded, not trusting himself to say anything at that moment. Blame the pain, and the morphine for overloading his senses.
“However, if you try something like that again, I’m letting Sonny microchip you” Jason continued, smiling. “he’s been threating it for months now”.
Clay laughed, and despite his fuzzy head and his arm which was starting to throb again painfully, he somehow felt better than he had in weeks. Maybe he wasn’t running with Bravo right now, but he was still Bravo, and everything else would figure itself out.