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Authors: Matthew James

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BOOK: Babel Found
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The only problem with that? I’m not sure how many more people are going to get hurt—or worse, die—before it happens. Our group of six may not be that by this time next week.

16

Camp Arifjan, Kuwait

 

Construction of the United States Army installation began in 1999 after a series of bombings decimated the Khobar Towers in nearby Saudi Arabia. The US decided it was better to replace the current base with one better protected from possible terrorist attacks.

“Have you been here before?” I ask Kane.

He nods. “Once or
thrice
. It’s a common waypoint for Allied Forces in the Middle East, giving the US troops here easy access into Iraq.”

“Even us,” I say, looking around.

I remember seeing write-ups about the base in the past. It even hosts the USO, bringing such personalities as the late Robin Williams over to show support to the 9,000-plus personnel stationed here. Not at all an easy task to undertake if you ask me. As I walk, I marvel at the massive C-130 Hercules transport planes and row upon row of armored trucks parked off to our left.

Unfortunately for my lower back, we had to be ‘smuggled in’ on one of those particular aircraft. While super reliable, they
are not
made to be comfortable. The seats were low to the ground and offered zilch for support. My ass is completely numb as is most of my lower body. I figured Kane would be in even worse shape since he’s that much bigger than me, but he seems no worse for wear.

Or
, I think,
he’s just not letting on in front of the soldiers around us.

“Where are we going?” Nicole asks, dressed as we are.

The three of us are wearing another of Todd’s newest inventions. It’s actually a very comic bookish idea. We are, in essence, wearing a standard set of army fatigues, blending in as best we can with the crowd around us, but what’s underneath is what counts.

It’s called the BSA, Battle Suit Armor. Its outer layer resembles the standard issue Battle Dress Uniform, also known as a BDU, but they lack our upgrades. First, it’s nearly indestructible, being made mostly of a Kevlar polymer that I have no in-depth knowledge of. As long as it works, I really don’t care why or how. It’s attached directly underneath the fatigues we’re wearing and is as light as silk. No one would be the wiser if they were staring at us. All I have to do to strip the outer suit off is to yank on a cord sewn into the lining of my collar and
presto
, instant wardrobe change. Runway models around the world would kill for that ability. There’s also a thin, yet, tough-as-nails padding where it counts and is made of another type of Kevlar-based material.

But, as much as we try to look the part, we aren’t one of them. We’re easy to pick out, but still no one approaches us, giving me the impression that they’ve had some other
off-the-books
people here over the years.

“The commander of the base wants to see us,” Kane says, answering Nicole’s question. “He likes to stay in the loop, which is understandable.”

“What are you going to tell him?” I ask.

“Not much,” he says. “Even he isn’t privy to exactly what we’re doing here. He’s just here to support us as much as he’s able, but he’s an old-school kind of guy and at least likes to meet the people he’s aiding.”

We continue through a row of attack choppers, heading towards a low-profile building at the center of the base. People are everywhere, tending to their various duties. As you’d imagine, there are engineers of some kind double and triple checking the helicopters, making sure they’re in perfect working order.

Some glance our way, some even look us up and down. I watch as one of them sets his sights on Nicole’s backside. His eyes then meet my gaze and his eyebrows raise. He knows I just caught him in the act, but he either doesn’t care, or he wasn’t actually looking at her ass. He may have been looking at her twin handguns, holstered just above it.

It’s the other tell that we aren’t really soldiers. Our exposed weapons aren’t what you’d call
standard issue.

Not only does Nicole have a pair of Glocks strapped to her belt, but she also has an ultramodern KRISS Vector CRB assault rifle slung over her shoulder, not to mention a massive knife sheathed on her right thigh. The latter would make even Rambo sweat. She looks like the most beautiful badass killing machine ever. The men around her recognize it too.

Kane has an odd looking gun holstered low on his right leg, like a Wild West gunslinger. It’s a one-of-a-kind experimental weapon and is based on his favorite, the Mark XIX .50 A.E. Desert Eagle. He used to wield two of them like Nicole does her smaller caliber guns. Unfortunately, now, following the rollover in D.C., he can’t and has opted for a different, yet, still very similar weapon.

It’s actually two Desert Eagles put together in design, what he named the ‘Mark Infinity’ model. Its extended clip protrudes low under the handgrip, providing Kane with the same fourteen rounds his dual Eagles would have. Todd came up with another nifty customization too, based on a suggestion from Kane. It’s fully automatic if needed. All Kane has to do is flick the fire selector switch and he can go from point-and-shoot to spray-and-pray.

What’s interesting is that he’s foregone carrying the FN SCAR assault rifle he’d normally bring in order to have his other new edition. A Japanese katana is strapped across his back between it and his pack. It’s the same pack we’ve all carried since Algeria. It mostly holds extra ammo and what not, but also has a handy water reservoir in its top section. Kane christened it the Tactical Backpack. But instead of the Tac-Pac housing our weapons like it was originally designed too, it only holds our spare ammo. We aren’t exactly going covert like we normally would. No need to conceal our weapons where we’re headed.

As for me… Well, I obviously have on my orichalcum bracelets, allowing me easy access to my abilities. I have my own Glock on my right hip too. It’s the same G41 .45 caliber variant I used before while in Mexico. I’m actually becoming a pretty good shot now and didn’t want to have to
relearn
a new one. And as you probably guessed, I also have my favorite weapon with me as well. My AA-12 auto shotgun has become my signature firearm of sorts. It has its customary twenty-round drum mag, giving me a crap-ton of firepower right at my fingertips... Literally. Speaking of fingertips, I’m actually holding it at the moment, pointing the barrel at a non-threatening downward angle, but nervously gripping it tight.

I also have two more drum mags in my pack,
I think smiling a little, easing some of the built up tension.

I was thinking of bringing my orichalcum sword, but I didn’t want to draw any extra attention to myself. These weapons are modern and deadly, yes, but they’re
military
weapons, not
Atlantean
weapons.

Each of us is, of course, wearing our NVS glasses, completing our ensemble. As of now mine are relaying statistical information back to Todd who’s putting together a file on the base. It isn’t espionage or anything like that. We aren’t collecting information to use illegally—far from it. His software can measure the building’s dimensions and count each and every vehicle or person in sight, cataloging the information for later if needed. It’s a handy tool if we get into a scrape of some kind. Yes, if a battle breaks out, we’ll be the most informed of everyone here, giving us a much-needed edge.

We exit the column of helos and are met by a lanky man around Kane’s age—mid-thirties, give-or-take. He stands rigid, at attention, eyes glaring at the bigger man. Apparently, he sees Kane as the alpha of the group, which is correct in this setting. If it was a dig, or in a museum, he’d gladly step aside and let Nicole or I take point.

Dude’s picking a fight with the wrong dog
, I think, watching as Kane stops, the muscles in his neck bulging. He’s not happy at this show of male dominance. Not one bit.

“You three being here is exceedingly unusual,” the soldier says, speaking like more of a businessman than a warrior. “The base commander is—”

“Expecting us,” Kane says, interrupting the slighter man.

“He happens to be a busy man and—”

Kane steps right up into the man’s face and leans in hard, showing no give. “You either take us to see him, or I’ll beat you senseless and ask someone else with half a friggin mind to do it. We have a man MIA in the field and you’re standing in our way of finding him. You can either be a part of the solution or a part of the problem, it’s your call. We didn’t come all this way to get lectured by some bureaucratic asshole.”

After a long second, Kane finally steps away. Nicole and I join him, giving the other man something else to think about. We aren’t about to start an incident, but we will stand by our man.

“Just remember who we work for, Jeeves,” Kane continues, laying on the
charm.
“We’re on the same—”

“What the hell is going on out here?”

Kane looks over the deflated soldier and sees a grizzled gray-haired man pound towards us. He’s thick and looks like he’s about to blow his top. Considering the daily stress of this place, I can’t say I could blame him for feeling that way.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Kane says, stepping past the castrated man. “We’ve been detained by your Chihuahua here. We were on our way to meet you.”

Then, to my surprise, Kane slaps the older man on the shoulder. The two men then embrace like old friends, turning towards us, laughing.

“Hank and Nicole,” Kane says, leading the other man over to us, “I’d like you to meet Brigadier General Steven Carrack, commanding officer of Camp Arifjan.”

My eyes widen a little. “Carrack?”

Kane nods. “He’s Matt’s father.”

I look at Nicole, the both of us understanding at the same time. Kane’s cousin was killed in New Hampshire a few years back. It seems Matt wasn’t the only relative Kane had in the Armed Forces.

“What the hell are you actually doing here Jeremy?”
Uncle Steve
asks.

Kane’s face gets serious. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?” He turns to the snooty soldier. “Preferably, away from those I’d like to break in half.”

17

Camp Arifjan, Kuwait

 

“You’re kidding me, right?” Carrack asks with a look of disbelief. “Y’all are looking for the Tower of Babel?”

“We aren’t kidding you, sir,” Nicole says, a deadly serious look on her face. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the attacks that have happened the last few days?”

He nods.

“We were the ones being attacked,” I say. “Nicole and me in Miami, Jeremy and Olivia in Orlando, and two of our other men—one in D.C. and the other in Algeria.”

I shake my head a little. Calling Kane,
Jeremy
, just doesn’t feel right. He’ll always be Kane to me.

“And you think the one taken from Algeria was brought to Iraq—to Babel?”

The three of us nod in unison.

“I know it sounds incredible,” Kane says, “but we’ve come into some historical data that backs everything up. My bosses are fully aware of our actions and are backing us the entire way.”

Carrack chokes on his coffee. “So this isn’t one of
your own
wild goose chases… Langley is behind this?”

Kane nods. “One-hundred-percent. You can call Director Rollins if you need further proof.”

The general just leans back in his overly squeaky chair, thinking it over. I’m not sure what there’s to think about, though. We were told he’d follow orders and give us what we need. I glance to Kane. Maybe he’s just getting his uncle’s blessing out of respect.

“Well then…” I watch Carrack run his hands through his thinning hair. “I guess we’ll need to figure out a way to get you guys into the fire without being set ablaze.”

We perk up a little.

“It’s a shitstorm of epic proportions with everything going on in the world. We get threats against our facilities just about every hour but have very little actual action against us. Unless you go looking for it, that is.” He says the last part on purpose. It was intended as a warning for us.

Kane continues. “The enemy here is crafty but has very little it can do against a force the size of Camp Arifjan. We could probably flatten most of Iraq if we really wanted to.”

The general nods his agreement. “You see, Mr. Boyd… We don’t want to go out there unless we have to. If we drop you behind those lines…we may not be able to come back for you anytime soon.”

“We’d be cut off,” Kane says, letting it sink in. “We’d be on our own once our boots are on the ground.”

“In Iraq,” Nicole adds, sitting back, not looking as gung-ho as before.

“In Iraq,” Carrack says, restating the significance. “This isn’t a decision to take lightly.”

“General,” I say, shaking off the thought of being stranded, surrounded by the ruthless killers this part of the world is known for, “we don’t really have a choice. It’s more than just getting Dr. Fehr back. He wasn’t taken by a terrorist cell remember.” Carrack meets my eyes. “He was taken by
the worst
of them all. The people we’re up against use the world itself as their sword. They don’t use guns or bombs. They use the winds, water, fire, and earth against you.”

“Bullets don’t really work against tsunamis or earthquakes,” Kane says, sitting back like Nicole.

“I bet,” Carrack says, he himself looking beaten down. “How do you plan on fighting such an enemy—how did you fight it in Miami?”

I look at Kane, he nods. “You can trust him, Hank. He’s family.”

I simply hold up my hand and ignite my fire, telling it to remain in the center of my palm like a softball. It listens and the only noise in the room is Carrack cursing under his breath and the sound of a crackling flame.

“So it’s true that you found something extraordinary in Algeria,” Carrack says, staring at my hand.

“It is,” I say, closing my fist. The flames instantly go out. “I can fight them off for a while, but not against four of them. Your full support—whatever you can give us—is much appreciated.”

“Of course,” he says, standing, “especially if my nephew is involved.” He looks to Kane. “We’re all we have left. My wife took ill after Matt died and never mentally recovered. Losing your child can be a death sentence for the parent sometimes.”

“My parents died in a car accident the night I graduated high school,” Kane says, shocking both Nicole and I. “It was the major launching point for me to join the army. Uncle Steve here supported me the whole way. Matt had entered a year before me. We always dreamed of serving in the same unit together. I was trying to transfer to his unit at Fort Drum when he died.”

“When my son died…accidentally,” Carrack adds, not believing his own words, “I recommended Jeremy go to Ranger school instead. He was a natural fit for them.”

The small office goes silent except for what sounds like the rattle of an air conditioning kicking in. Carrack hears it too but doesn’t react as nonchalantly to it as I do.

“What?” I ask, seeing his face contort into one of worry. “Sounds like the air coming on.”

He shakes his head. “No, the AC is normally louder than that.”

“What then?”

I get my answer when a picture of Carrack and his son falls off the wall and shatters.

“Looks like your friends are here,” Carrack says, pounding his fist on his desk’s phone. “Louis, what the hell is going on outside?”

Louis is apparently the scrawny, overly nosey man who greeted us near the row of helicopters. He was put in his place by the general immediately following Kane’s threats. I won’t lie and say it didn’t feel good watching him get his balls ripped off by the two men. Nicole was next on the list of emotional outbursts for sure.

“We aren’t sure, sir,”
the phone squeaks.
“But it looks like the disturbance is coming from the border to the northwest.”

Carrack looks at me. I simply nod, my mind racing. The Judges must have figured out where we’d go and are trying to hit us before we can formulate an appropriate plan of action. It would make sense that people their age would know about the key military installations around the world.

“It’s a preemptive assault,” Kane says, looking at Carrack. “We need to be ready for anything.”

Carrack nods and speaks into his speaker phone. “Louis,” he says, slipping on his jacket and hat, “put Arifjan on high alert. We’re under attack.”

“Sir?”
Louis asks, his voice crackling on the other line.

“Do it now!” Carrack yells, slamming a meaty fist into the phone’s plastic casing. It audibly snaps, the handset cracking in multiple places. He then glances to the three of us. “What do we do?”

When we finish giving him the details, I grab his arm and ask him softly. “I need something else from you.”

Carrack’s eyebrows raise slightly. “Like what?”

BOOK: Babel Found
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