Freedom Day

Chapter 16 - "Relentless"

Interstate-35, San Antonio, Texas
29 hours later

...

There was nothing but black, starless skies on the horizon, beyond the car's windows. It proved just how much time had passed since Caleb stepped off from that God-forsaken place and returned to the US. For the first time in... ever, he hated carrying on with his mission. The toll that this trip had taken on his body was subtle, but nonetheless keenly felt. His eyes were heavy, his back ached a bit, and his arms were strained from all of the driving. He wanted to stall for time and rest. Instead, he lightly slapped himself to stay awake, repeating a ritual he just recently taken up. The only silver lining was the unusually light traffic he found at the I-35, which made the journey much, much more bearable.

But finally, after what seemed like an eternity behind the wheel, he arrived at his destination none the worse for wear. Up ahead of him was a right turn, flanked by a row of streetlamps and road signs, herding him into the sprawling urban complex. It seemed that everyone was caught unawares. The gate pass forged by the CIA granted him unparalleled access to one of the military's most heavily-guarded facilities. As soon as he found a good place to park, he pulled the handbrake on the rented white Civic, grounding it to a permanent halt.

Brooke Army Medical Center.

There was no time to congratulate himself for yet another successful infiltration. The next thing Caleb did was to check the rear-view mirror for any roving guards in the parking area; the place was almost completely-filled with other vehicles. Seeing none, he turned the engine off and pulled out the key. Then, he reached for the black gym bag resting on the backseat, which contained his credentials and costume. A white medical coat, a matching polo shirt and pair of beige pants, plus a thin ID card. He donned them with due haste, all the while keeping his suppressed MEU.45 tucked into a hidden holster. The meager equipment was slightly disappointing: there was no bulletproof vest to protect himself with, no M40 sniper rifle to do the deed from his comfort zone, and no white balaclava to hide his identity.

With a weary sigh, he gulped down the last drops from the energy drink in the cup holder, which he bought at a gas station a while ago. Not that it helped him, mind, as he was still feeling a little bit woozy. He berated himself for being so weak. The multiple pit stops and over-careful prepping might have been a bad idea, but Jacobsen insisted that they were necessary to cover his tracks. After all, not even their most effective spy could guarantee that her CIA-buddies wouldn't be onto him for long. After tidying up his disguise, Caleb mustered extra strength to fight off fatigue, then looked at the mirror again for a final safety check. The coast was clear. And with that, he left the vehicle with a confident stride, masking the weariness in his body, once again pretending to be a different person for the umpteenth time.

There had been no radio updates from the guys up north. This only meant that the prisoner refused to talk. Tonight's mission, therefore, was a go.

Okay, time to find that girl...

The target had brown hair, a small body build, and was five feet, six or seven inches tall. She was in the Recovery Ward, which was quite some ways from the parking area. Ergo, a fifteen-minute walk through the lobby and several security checkpoints. But at least the target's description would narrow down Caleb's search. Not only that, he had a significant advantage for the mission: he knew this place rather well. Several years ago, when he was rotated out of Fallujah, he underwent surgery at BAMC for the wounds he received from that brush with death. Wasn't the first time that a Marine had to recuperate at an Army base, but the experience was bizarre to say the least. The doctors here treated him like any other combat casualty, blissfully unaware of the future-infamous figure they had at the operating table at the time. There was this nice, elderly therapist who helped him cope with his recovery. Caleb thought it'd be a great idea to emulate his aura, to work on the disguise better.