Page 70 of Monsters within Men
And Noah did.
twenty
Noah
Itwasquicklyturningout to be a bad day.
Noah had woken up to a series of sharp-bladed knives twisting themselves into his stomach.
The first, when he remembered it was the day of their live capture mission.
The second, the torrential rainstorm beating against his window. Rain again. He was so sick of rain. It provided less than ideal conditions for their excursion today. Not that Murphy would reschedule.
The third and final thrust, the killing blow—a detailed replay of his last conversation with Zeke. He hadn’t spoken to or even looked at him since. Not that Noah blamed him.
He was all smiles with Frankie and the others when they’d joined the rest of their squad at the fire pit, festooned with makeshift bunting, yesterday evening. Frankie beamed when she’d presented him the ‘carrot cake’ she’d cobbled together in the compound’s kitchen, and everyone quickly devoured every slice of the peculiar-looking dessert. Apart from Habib frowning at the pair of them as they emerged from the forest path, there’d been a festive atmosphere to the evening—despite the five deaths that ignited his meltdown in front of Zeke.
He told himself this was all for the best. What had he even been playing at anyway, by caving in and kissing Zeke? It was a stupid, selfish act that was bound to have repercussions.
But when he remembered the feel of Zeke’s lips on his, the way he’d trembled at his touch, he found he didn’t regret it, despite what happened next.
Now, every member of Squad E waited, suited up in full gear, at the south-eastern exit, for Command to give the order for the first gate to rise. Rain fell and glided off their plated armour like rivers, a constant visible reminder of the weather they were about to battle through.
Briefing earlier was a quiet, sombre affair. They’d met in a classroom, and Noah brought up photographs, videos, and maps on the screen. Murphy, on behalf of a client, was requesting the capture of a specific typeB. Originally a male human, early thirties. Squads were never privy to the complex reasons behind these requests. He could only guess that it demonstrated strange behaviour. Behaviour that needed to be studied further.
After Noah talked for a solid thirty minutes, they left the safety of indoors to become soaked in the storm on their journey to the armoury. Before they even entered the check-point at the main gate, all ten of them were moody and sniping at one another.
But there was one way he could improve this day.
Noah sidled up to Splat, tugging him away. “Splat, I need to borrow you for a second,” he shouted over the rain, praying Splat could hear him without using their audio feeds.
“What is it?” Splat replied, wary of his serious tone.
“I’ve been thinking… We never know when one day will be our last.”
Splat shuffled his weight from one foot to another. “Okay… Thanks for the… pep talk?”
“Fuck the standard protocol. If you want to be with Meredith, and she wants to be with you, don’t let me hold you back.”
Splat took a sharp intake of breath.
“I’m serious.” Noah grabbed his arm and looked him dead in the eye through the glass panes. “I don’t want anyone to have any regrets. Besides, I trust the both of you to remain professional on the field.”
“Absolutely,” Splat said. “Thanks, boss. This means a lot.”
Noah nodded and increased his pace to rejoin the others. Splat followed, looking shell-shocked, like Noah just told him the secrets of the universe.
A massive weight lifted from Noah’s shoulders. He’d royally fucked things up with Zeke, but Splat and Meredith may at least enjoy a sliver of happiness in the messed up world they all inhabited.
The ‘all clear’ came. Five of them would take three motorbikes, five would ride with Wolf in the transport vehicle. When Noah asked Zeke to get into the van rather than share a bike with him again, he looked for any small sign of reaction. There was none.
It’s better this way, a small part of him said. The far larger part ached with anguish.
Noah drove on his bike alone, flanked by two others. Meredith and Aoife rode pillion, their crossbows already positioned on their shoulders.
The journey to the target was relatively quiet, especially considering the low light, which typically drew more types out into the open. Only a handful of types, that ventured onto the path attracted by the noise of their engines, needed to be taken down. The thundering weather must have spooked most of them, forcing them inside.
As usual, the further from the city wall they drove, the worse the driving conditions became. His bad mood only increased when they hit a colossal pile of rubble that blocked their paths. Next to it, a half of a large house remained standing, with the rest of it spilling out into a heap of broken concrete and twisted metal. Splat promised it hadn’t been there when he checked the route that morning—it must have finally succumbed to damage inflicted from prior bombings.
