Page 4 of Javier

The clatter of my imaginary dice got louder.

I had a lot of character flaws. Some were ingrained. Some were temporary. Insubordination came and went, but I only relied on it when it was absolutely necessary. Following my instincts, I decided that scouting the compound below was a necessity.

The boss would be livid with me if anything went sideways. He’d give me the ass-chewing of a lifetime for going on independent study. But if my instincts were on point and I came back to base with my mission accomplished, the ass-chewing would be well worth it.

“Control, Top Dog, do you copy?” Reaching back and strumming my antenna, I fudged with the channel, sending a whole lot of white noise their way, knowing the satellite would be out of range in less than ten seconds. “If you can hear me, I donotcopy. I repeat. I donotcopy. I’m Charlie Mike—”Continue mission. “Will make contact at the next check-in. Green out.”

I powered down my SATCOM capability. Yep. I was gonna take a look the Texas way.Better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission.

As I signed off, I caught a hint of movement down in the compound. I flattened even lower to the ground and squinted down the hill. I lifted my binos and worked the glasses.

Sure enough, a woman wearing a fluttering black robe and an equally dark veil came out of one of the back rooms. As she stepped out of the housing quarters, she hooked a cloth bag over her shoulder. The handle of a folded umbrella stuck out from it. She also led an identically dressed companion by the elbow.

I added magnification to the lenses. The first woman was short and stocky. Beneath the veil, her face was surrounded by a white band, a cowl, and guimpe. She must be hotter than a stolen tamale in that outfit. Even from afar, I spotted a map ofwrinkles etching her skin. The other woman was also no spring chicken. She was taller, thinner, with a long face, a bony nose, and a careful stride.

My mother, bless her soul, had ensured that, despite my lack of desire, motivation, and cooperation, I’d attended Catholic school as a kid. I’d been far from a stellar pupil, but at least I knew what I was looking at. I might be a lapsed altar boy, but I understood that the women encased in their penguin suits were nuns, members of some religious order or another, and that they were stragglers on their way out of the compound.

They still had plenty of time to melt into the jungle before the soldiers arrived. That is, if they didn’t suffocate in their habits. Judging by the footprints I’d detected at the top of the hill, the rest of their brethren had already left with the kids they obviously served in this remote little outpost. After the government’s decree, they probably suspected soldiers would be coming.

Come on, ladies.I worked my jaw.Get the hell out of there.

Irritation burned in my gut when the women lingered. What the fuck were they waiting for? I watched with growing concern as the taller one unfolded a cane and waved it over the uneven ground. She was visually impaired. Even though she seemed very capable, she and her companion stood there, talking among themselves, as if waiting for something.

My orders were simple: infil, confirm intel, and exfil. I was to stick to my mission and avoid contact with the locals. If the nuns left soon, I still had a chance to go down there. If not, I might be shit out of luck. Might as well position myself closer for a quick in and out.

With the dice still rattling in my head, I set my mission watch for a fifty-mike countdown before I tucked my binos in my tactical vest, donned my ruck, and stuffed my machete in itsleather sheath. Holding my carbine at the low ready, I began my descent, placing my feet carefully, stealing silently through the jungle, keeping my eye on the women below.

I was halfway down the hill when the doors of the church flew open. A third woman ran out. Finding cover behind a cluster of ferns, I studied the newcomer from a distance. She locked the door to the little church before she whirled around.

With my naked eye, I couldn’t make out her features, but she carried a small pink backpack and wore a dark blue jumper over a white shirt, and a short veil that fluttered just above her shoulders. Her crisp, fast motions and her lean, sprite figure indicated she was younger than the other two, maybe even a kid. She was delicately constructed and of average height, around five-five or so, but beneath the shapeless jumper, I spotted hints of athleticism in her strides.

She was what we used to call a “little nun” in elementary school, a novice, learning the ropes. In her hands, she held a small pewter bowl. I’d been an extremely reluctant altar boy, but between stealing the wine, beating up your run-of-the-mill-bullies, and kicking the odd pedophile priest in the nuts, I’d learned some shit. The little vessel the novice held was used to store the consecrated wafers central to Catholic communion.

Why the hell would someone risk torture and death for crap like that was beyond me, but hey, it was what it was.

“The key gave me some trouble, but I was able to unlock the tabernacle.” The novice’s voice rang musically in the clearing. She quickly stowed the bowl in her pack before sliding it onto her back.

The heathen in me swallowed a snicker. I was sick and tired of watching people die all over the world because some god or another demanded things should be his way or the highway. A mean and vengeful god was behind every conflict I’d ever fought in. My lack of faith extended from gods to the humans whobelieved in them.

As if the universe had punished me for my irreverent thoughts, my situation suddenly went to shit. Movement at my three o’clock. I lifted my carbine, pressed the butt against my cheek, and, switching off my safety, squinted into my scope.

Several figures silently snaked their way down the adjacent hill, undetectable to the nuns below. They moved fast and with purpose. They hadn’t noticed my presence yet. I counted as four reasonably skilled, well-armed soldiers stole out of the jungle and paused at the corner where a vibrant bougainvillea crept over the chain-link fence. Concealed by the vines, one of the soldiers produced a heavy-duty wire cutter, and cut a rent through the mesh.

Fuck. I gritted my teeth. Here I was, with my hands tied by Bozeman’s no-contact rule.This ain’t good.

One by one, the men slipped through the tear and crept across the compound. They caught the women by surprise.

“On your knees!” one of the men barked in English, as he and the others surrounded the terrified nuns and cased them with their weapons. “Hands on your head. Now!”

The women bent their knees and followed his orders. The leader of the pack paced around them, poking them with his rifle, tormenting the females, cackling along with his shitheads whenever the nuns jumped.

Sons of bitches.

These guys looked greasy as fried lard.

Who the hell were these assholes and what the fuck were they doing in the middle of the jungle, harassing a trio of helpless nuns?

The soldiers wore decent gear, tactical vests, and proper camo, but they hadn’t bothered with patches or identifiers. Not government troops, then. There were a lot of free-ranging bastards in this part of the world who got off on raping, pillaging,and killing, but these turds gave me a different vibe, a more concerning one.

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