“Fuck.”
“Yeah. That’s pretty much it. Big clusterfuck. Donaldson was injured in the initial blast, and it’s not looking good. They’re airlifting him back to Coronado on a medical evac flight where they may be able to do more, but the medics have warned the LT that it’s going to take a miracle.”
“Shit.” There was no love lost between him and Donaldson but still Bacon felt like someone had sliced him open. Dying. One of his guys was dying, and he hadn’t been there to save him, to take the blast for him. “Anyone else hurt?”
“Curly’s on the same flight.” The senior chief looked away. “Took a bullet. He was more stable than Donaldson, though. But we just don’t know yet how serious.”
“Fuck.” Unable to stay seated, Bacon stood and paced, not particularly caring that it wasn’t good form to stand while the senior chief sat. Curly was hurt. Bad. And unlike some of the injury-prone guys on the team, Curly never so much as went down with the flu. He’d worked through kidney stones last year. Even if he pulled through, this was going to be a hell of a blow to the big guy. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It was the only word Bacon could really think. He couldn’t stand the idea of his friend in pain. Pain he should have been able to prevent—everyone knew he was a far better shot than Curly.
A strange sort of anger unfurled in his gut, as intense as it was irrational. Damn Spencer for being here. Damn this assignment for keeping him from his team. Damn the LT for not putting him on Team Alpha. Damn his stupid motherfucking finger for refusing to heal properly the first time. Damn the whole fucking world to hell.
“We’ve sent the rest of the men to get a few hours’ shuteye before a team meeting.” The senior chief’s voice was pitched low and reassuring, but Bacon wasn’t soothed. “You’ll need to be there as the LT wants the full debriefing of what happened with you and Bryant out there.”
“Understood.” Bacon scrubbed at his hair. “And Sp—Bryant?”
He figured he knew the answer, but had to ask.
“LT just talked with him. His embedded assignment with us is coming to an end—PR agrees this is too delicate a time to have an outsider around. They’re going to try to find him some new contacts back at Coronado, but no guarantees. This went about as sideways as possible, and no one’s happy about that.”
“So he’s leaving?”
“Yeah, but he opted to arrange for his own travel on a commercial flight. Wants to return via Hawaii so he can see some relatives or some such thing, but is taking a day or two in a hotel here first.” The senior chief gave a wry smile. “Personally, I think he just wants to avoid a twelve-hour transport flight.”
“Probably.” Bacon wasn’t going to reveal how concerned he was for Spencer, even with the rage he felt. Was he too exhausted to travel? Angry? Did he think Bacon had been the one to ask for his removal? Bacon should be feeling relief at not having to be in charge of him anymore, but instead felt...numb. Empty. Like he was losing something and didn’t even know what.
“Now I want you to sleep. And then eat a big meal before we meet. Those are orders.”
“Understood.” Bacon was careful to keep his grumbles to himself.
“By all accounts, you did good out there.” The senior chief clapped him on the shoulder as he stood. “I know this assignment wasn’t your first choice, but I’m proud of you. Got Bryant out safe, and that’s more than some would have been able to do.”
“Yeah.” Bacon wasn’t feeling particularly proud. As he walked back to the barracks, all he really felt was exhausted—all the anger and worries and loss had burned through him, leaving him an empty shell. His room was too quiet without Curly there, and he wanted to smash something over it, but couldn’t muster the energy for more than falling into bed, sleeping until Rooster came pounding on his door, telling him it was time to eat.
He had enough years eating when he didn’t feel hunger that he managed to choke down his food. Breakfast. Somehow it had been a whole day since the mission, hours lost to transport and worry and sleep. And it felt wrong, being rested when Donaldson might never rest again and Curly sure as hell wasn’t sleeping peacefully either.
At the meeting, he had to go through his part of the mission minute by minute for the LT and Mission Ops brass who had arrived for the debriefing. They had maps and satellite photos, and he had to work hard to figure out exact locations as best he could. The rest of the team were similarly put through their paces, everyone trying to sort out what had gone wrong and why. There was still no word on Donaldson and Curly, and worry permeated the room like a toxic gas, everyone on edge and snappy.