Ashes in the Darkness

Hassan

TW: Ghost has a slight blood kink.

Things are gonna start heating up a little.

Within the folding dunes of the Mexican desert, I could hear the howling of coyotes. It wasn't new to me; I actually found the sound comforting in the wake of the explosion I had been subjected to hours before. To me, the sound of wheels on the sand and the breeze coming through the car window was heavenly. The dirt road we had been on for a while now was turning cold, no one would be following us out here.

Hassan sat in the back with a black cloth over his eyes, occasionally he would huff and sigh, to the annoyance of everyone in the car. I was glad for the fact that no one wanted to talk, but the silence was making me sleepy. Rubbing my eyes with my pointing finger and thumb and yawning, I could barely keep my head up.

"This is the meeting spot," I heard Alejandro say. I perked up, looking into the distance as I spotted another set of headlights. The car came to a stop and emptied.

I looked around, appreciating the desert beauty. Even in the darkness I could see the outlines of giant cacti and natural agave. Relishing in the feeling of the air cooling from the heat of the day. I  dared to look down at myself. I was covered in blood, my hands, pants, vest. It was probably on my neck and face too.

"Senora," Rodolfo said beside me. He poured out a half empty water bottle over a rag, handing it over. I took it quickly and began to scrub away at the filth on my body, "¿Estás herido?" (Are you hurt?)

"No, I shot a man point blank with the TAC-50, it's all him," I said through the nausea that rolled over me. Flash images in my head caused me to bend over, placing my hands on my knees. I felt Rodolfo's hand on my back as I breathed through the water in my mouth. I refused to vomit though, not in front of men who did this every day.

"Wow, taking it like a man," I heard Soap say as the second and third vehicles drove up, flooding the group in a headlight circle.

"Shut up Soap," I said, as my brain faltered, and I allowed myself to be pulled down to my haunches. Causing my knee to scream with white hot pain, but I could breathe easier in this position. Taking the rag to my face, I washed away the blood that covered me. Small water droplets fell down my neck to my collarbone, disappearing behind the top of my shirt.

Looking up to the sound of car doors closing, I couldn't help but look over at Ghost, whose eyes were practically paralyzed on me. They were tracking the water droplets, turned pink by the flesh of my enemy that covered me. His chest rose and fell as they went down my face, pooling at the base of my neck. His eyes were lidded again, like he was hypnotized by it. Deep down inside me, I wanted his eyes to stay on me. But he noticed me watching him, and his eyes flicked away, only to return and focus on Rodolfo's hand on my back. That's when his eyes flared and ripped them away from me, focusing on the figure emerging from the darkness.

"Commander Graves," Ghost said, reaching out his hand. The man was shorter than Ghost but still tall. Tanned skin and short blond hair that reminded me of the cowboys that used to ride through the hills of Kootenai in the summer. He was good looking to say the least, but he carried himself with a confidence that made me uncomfortable. He wanted to own the room, that was the kind of aura that seemed to flood around him.

He carried a satellite computer, not much unlike the one that was used at the Forest Office after I awoke from my hypothermia coma. That only meant one thing, Laswell was going to be a part of this conversation. Lucky me.

I stood and made my way in the better light as Graves began to work on the call with Laswell. Other shadows and my team circled around the prisoner in the middle, who was now without his black hood on. I looked into his eyes from afar. They were tired eyes, but black like a demon's and angry. "Earhira." He spit at me once he noticed me watching him.