Page 24 of D-Day

“I’m trying to make the right decision.” His self-condemnation made his tone harsh.

It seemed that they stood there forever, neither of them speaking, the silence compounding the tension between them.

“We’re all about making decisions on the fly. Granted, blood is probably being diverted from one head to another. Thewronghead, man. Your brain is virtually experiencing tunnel vision through your fucking dick.” He gave D-Day a bleak smile. “You’re in survival mode.” He lowered his voice as Buck finished up with Joker. “Get off the X, man. I agree with taking your time to assess the situation but stop dragging your feet. Use the Rule of Three. Formulate a game plan bymaking a fucking decision. Commit. Live or die. Pull the fucking trigger.”

There was a tone of bone-tired weariness in his voice when he answered. That kernel of anger festered in his gut, churning with all that shame and guilt. “I made a decision.”

“And how is that working for you?” Zorro asked low and steady.

Trying to ease a breath past the awful constriction in his chest, D-Day responded jaggedly, “You made your points quite well.”

Zorro walked away, and D-Day just stood there, realizing that he hadn’t made a decision, he’d been in denial, and all he’d been doing was avoiding making a decision that was final. He took a hard breath. Helen had challenged him to work the problem, and now Zorro, who was seeing everything very keenly—fuck his psychology background—had delivered a damn ultimatum. Whether he liked it or not, Zorro was right. The decision he made about Helen was going to either haunt him until his dying day, strip him of something he held dear, and leave him just as hollow, or make him the happiest man on the planet. He just wasn’t sure how to get to the last part.

8

The van bumpedover an even worse road than they’d been on previously, Helen and her colleagues getting jostled around a lot. This particular village was deeper into the southern part of Luzon, still in the Ambong territory, the largest and most populated island, but a trek from Manilla. Dr. Bacunawa had warned them that the New People’s Army may be active in the area, but the Ambong twins would ensure their safety.

It was imperative that they get to these out-of-the-way communities to stop the spread of TB. They were going to establish a camp in a central location, making it easier to treat people in the outlying towns. While Manila and some of its suburbs were urban, the people who populated the southern part of the island were farmers, growing either staples like rice and coffee, or fruits like bananas, mangoes, coconuts, and pineapple. Other sectors included livestock, tourism, mining, and fishing.

She was no longer just a nurse doing her job. She was undercover…a CIA NOC, and she intended to fulfill that requirement with every fiber of her being. Bailee had told her that it was a matter of not only protecting and preserving thePhilippines but about global security and the very health of not just relationships, allies, and enemies but ecosystems. She was locked in. The burden and the responsibility of being a major factor in saving so much meshed with her very purpose in life. She wouldn’t fail her country or the SEAL team that was putting their lives on the line.

Bailee had also given her the gist of the situation. D-Day was posing as Graham Butler, a notorious gunrunner, and a hard, no-holds-barred man with Buck and Zorro as his sidekicks, using their call names. He was working to procure a deal for weapons of mass destruction that were allegedly in the hands of the Ambong twins, who were actively selling them. They suspected the twins had brokered a deal with the New People’s Army. Bailee had said the NPA operated in central and southern Luzon, Palawan, the Visayas, and eastern and northwestern Mindanao with cells in Manila and other metropolitan centers. She had shown Helen a picture of their leader, General Nimuel Alonto.

The group was the armed wing of the Communist Party of the Philippines, and their goals were to overthrow what they considered the democratic Philippine puppet government, establish a communist state, and expel US influence from the country. The NPA employed guerrilla tactics, including ambushes, bombings, assassinations, extortion, and kidnappings.

Helen remembered that peace negotiations between the NPA and the government had stalled a few years back, and the NPA had been designated as a terrorist group, along with the CPP, by the Filipino government, the United States, the European Union, and Japan.

She wouldn’t let down her country or the people of this country. She certainly would work hard never to let down D-Day. His scent, the imprint of his body, and his soft plea woundaround her. The memories of him were so potent, she had to take a stabilizing breath.

They reached their destination. The large white trucks following were filled with sturdy tents, equipment, and medicine. As soon as the vehicle stopped, people exited the van and trucks to construct the camp.

Helen got lost in the preparations, sweat pouring off her as she stopped hammering a tent pole support and straightened to wipe her brow. A deep voice from over her left shoulder said, “Such beautiful woman should not do hard labor.”

She turned to find Taer Ambong standing way too close to her. Dredging up a smile, she swiped at her brow again.

“Beautiful?” she scoffed with a laugh. “Right now, I’m a sopping wet mess.” She scowled at him. “You know, you can drop your backwards English. I have a feeling you use that to disarm people.”

His brows rose and a smile slipped across his handsome face. “You’re not only beautiful but smart too,” he said in perfect, cultured English, his accent lending a lilting sound to her native language.

“If I was smart, I’d be in air conditioning, sipping a cool drink right now.”

“Allow me to provide you with refreshment. Unfortunately, air conditioning is still in progress,” he said, eyeing her equipment. “But perhaps, my men can take over while you and your people rest for a moment.”

She smiled, gratified that it was so easy to slip into this role, and the fact that Taer wasn’t exactly the man she’d thought he was at first glance. It made her curious, but cautious. She couldn’t actually like the enemy, especially since she would have to play him. It was a fine line.

“Let me clear it with my?—”

“That is already in progress.” He stepped aside to reveal Greg and Lando conversing, and Greg nodded as Lando led the way over to a shaded area near the thick jungle to some chairs. “Shall we?” He offered, taking her arm. She allowed contact but was soon walking on her own. When she reached Greg, he was in conversation with Lando, and she took one of the chairs as he bent down to a cooler and pulled out a bottled drink—Cali, a non-alcoholic, malt-based, fruit-flavored drink with a slight fizz. This one was pineapple. She eagerly took it once he popped off the top, taking a swig, and sighing as the cool, tangy liquid slid down her throat. “Better?” he asked with a smile, the light in his eyes making her uncomfortable, but she pushed it away.

“Much. Thank you.”

He took up his own drink and settled next to her, taking a long swallow off his bottle. “So, why are you here, Helen?”

She swallowed hard, tense for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“What is your purpose?”

She relaxed back into the chair, taking another drink, and said, “To help people. That’s all. We as a group are dedicated to the sick and injured. We care for people affected by conflict, disease outbreaks, natural and human-made disasters, and exclusion from health care in any country who needs us. We provide medical care, advocate for patients, stay neutral, and act in a patient’s best interests, regardless of race, religion, gender, or political affiliation. The neutral part stuck in her throat, but she had justified her involvement solely on the enormity of the threat. She reasoned that she was advocating for patients in advance to stop what these young men were about to do.

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