Page 101 of Out of Control

“Dead and accounted for,” one of the other SEALs said.

“For real? You’ve got positive ID on Hamza?”

“You wanna verify it for yourself?”

“Actually, yeah. Can I get up now?”

“I can’t recommend it, sir.”

“Will I die?”

“Nah. I’ve got you more or less patched up for now. Topped you off with a pint of blood. You’ve got another few minutes of stupidity in you.”

He rolled his eyes at the medic and climbed to his feet.

“How’s Spencer doing?”

A voice he didn’t recognize came up on the frequency. “He fainted a few minutes ago, but he’s coming around. One of my guys is outfitting him with a backup radio as we speak. You can talk to him yourself in a few seconds.”

Pains all over his body announced themselves this time. He felt stitches in a few places and painfully tight pressure bandages in a few more. Limping, he hobbled over to where a pair of SEALs were laying out bodies on the side of the road.

He walked down the line, stopped at the third one, then murmured into his throat mike, “You on frequency, Spence?”

“Affirmative.”

“That sonofabitch Akaba did come out here in person.”

“Is he dead?” Spencer responded.

“I’m looking at his corpse.”

“Last mistake that snake will ever make.”

Drago walked on down the line, examining each body that still had a face. He paused beside the last one. Hamza might have had plastic surgery and totally changed his features, but those open, dead eyes staring up at nothing—he would know them anywhere, even without life in them.

He pulled out his flashlight and pointed it at the guy’s left eye—the one with the gold mote in it. The little speck was there, right where it had always been.

“Gotcha,” he muttered.

Interestingly enough, he didn’t feel any great sense of satisfaction. All he wanted to do was be with Spencer.

“Where’s Lieutenant Newman?” he asked.

“Back by the hut.”

Drago nodded and turned, limping as fast as his battered body would go toward the man he’d been ready to die for.

He spotted Spencer being practically sat on by a big man in full tactical gear. Falling to his knees beside them, he announced, “You look like shit, Spence.”

“I love you too.”

Drago stared down, jaw agape.

The big man kneeling beside Spencer cleared his throat and stood up rather hastily. “Uhh, if you’ll promise to keep him on his back, I’ll be, umm, going over there now….” The guy all but fled the scene, taking himself well beyond the hut and out of earshot.

“Well, I love you back,” Drago declared jauntily.

“No. Seriously,” Spencer said quietly. “I mean it. When I saw all those men pointing rifles at you, the only thing I could think was that I didn’t want to live in a world without you in it.”

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