Apache Dawn, - [little bear else holmelund minarik txt] 📗

Chula Vista, California

Master Chief Petty Officer, Cooper Braaten, lay by the pool in his teammate’s backyard and felt truly relaxed for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. He could hear Charlie’s wife and young son splashing in the shallow end, playing with an innocence that was more comforting than anything he could imagine. He could feel a delicious stretch in his arms and back that made him instantly sleepy.

Cooper stretched out on a lounge chair, arms behind his head, eyes closed, and exhaled a sigh of contentment as he basked in the warm, early autumn sun. Winter was not that far off, but in sunny SoCal, the snow-blasted memories of his youth in Michigan melted peacefully away.

Cooper sighed at the realization that he would be mustered out of the service on Monday, now that the final surgery to reconstruct his knee was complete and rehab had all but wrapped up. Honestly, he was sad to leave SEAL Team 9, but he was looking forward to starting a lucrative new career in the private-sector with Oakrock Security. A six-figure salary out the gate—they had made an offer he couldn’t possibly refuse.

Stranger things have happened. The soon-to-be retired Master Chief felt a smile split his face.

“Look at you, only a few days till you’re out and you’re already going soft.”

Cooper cracked his eyes at the voice and waited for them to adjust to the sunlight.

“Laying around in a lounge chair at 1400 hours—on a weekday—grinning like a damn civilian. And the shame of it is, just last week you were in command of a first-rate, lean, mean, terrorist killing SEAL fireteam,” said his longtime second-in-command, Charlie Marshal.

“Hey, I ain’t dead, yet. I’m still in charge,” Cooper objected, still smiling.

“In charge of a wheelchair, yeah,” laughed Charlie. “Here, gimpy, have a beer.”

Cooper grinned and sipped the ice-cold brew. He turned his head and shielded his eyes with a hand to see Charlie standing over him, hands on hips, his tanned physique marred with the calling cards of their shared profession: bullet wounds, knife scars, and imperfections caused by the chafing of gear or heat of fire. His chest and back were crisscrossed with the story of his career. Anyone with experience in the field knew right away, he wasn’t just a soldier or sailor, he was an operator. Cooper grinned. A younger version of himself.

“How’s the knee?” Charlie asked with mock concern and smacked Cooper playfully as he sat like a coiled spring in the next chair.

“Shit, knock it off!” hissed Cooper with a wince. He gingerly flexed the pink, new skin around the incision points where the surgeon had reconstructed his butchered right knee. “Damn bullet didn’t hurt half as much as that surgery did…”

“Man, you already turning into a wuss? Here I thought you were a SEAL.”

Cooper drained the beer and turned the bottle upside down as proof. “This helps. C’mon Master Chief, reload me.”

“Easy there, Hoss,” said Charlie with his hands up defensively. “So,” he said, passing Cooper another beer, “what’s up with Oakwood?”

“Oakrock,” replied Cooper after the first gulp. “They’re legit, man. Straight-up spooks and operators, only. They pay top-shelf, have the best toys you can get outside of…I was about to say ‘us,’ but I guess I should say ‘you guys,’ now.”

Charlie nodded. “I know, I checked ‘em out too. VIP security, foreign dignitaries, a little dirty work over in the Sandbox…”

“You spying on me, Master Chief?”

“Wipe that grin of your face—hell yes, I been spyin’ on you. Besides, LT asked me to. And…” Charlie said before swallowing a mouthful of cold beer. He raised his finger. “For the record, you taught me everything I know about raising hell and saving the day. I feel, y’know, obligated to make sure they don’t just put you out to pasture…now that you’re an old fart and all.”

“Well,” Cooper started to say, then saw a blur of motion out of the corner of his eye. Acting on instinct, his right hand whipped out and the beer flew from his hands to intersect the football aimed at Charlie’s head. “Head’s up!”

Charlie sputtered a curse through the beer foam that exploded in his face. “What the hell, man!”

“Now, who’s looking out for who?” laughed Cooper. “‘Old fart,’ my ass. I’m 38 and I got the reflexes of a 20 year old.”

“You ruined a perfect spiral, Coop!” complained the athletic young man coming through the pool gate on the other side of the backyard oasis. Charlie’s little boy squealed at him from in the pool. He waved to the mother and child in the water. “I should be playin’ for the 49ers! You see that, little man? Perfect spiral!” The boy’s reply was unintelligible but enthusiastic.

“Hi Jax, come on in,” said Aliana Marshal with a smile.

“Hey Allie, how you—”

“Jax! You son of a—” bellowed Cooper with a wide smile on his face. What was supposed to be just a quiet afternoon was turning into a surprise retirement party.

“Hey, watch the mouth, sailors,” warned Aliana from the pool. Her voice was stern but a smile lit her face.

Cooper felt his cheeks flush. “Sorry, ma’am.” When he got up from the chair, he was instantly enveloped in a bear hug.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, handing Jax a beer.

“Well, we didn’t really get a proper send-off, now did we?” Petty Officer First Class Jackson Miller said over the top of his beer.

Cooper turned to look at Charlie with a raised eyebrow. “Hey, you never said we couldn’t throw you a retirement party, and I’m the Master Chief now…”

“In three days you are. What about the others?”

“Oh, they’ll be along. They got some more supplies to round up,” replied Jax.

“Steaks, beer, strippers, you know,” said Charlie in a deadpan voice.

Cooper laughed out loud and nodded toward Aliana. “Did you know about this?”

The pretty grin he got in reply was all the answer he needed.

“Man, lemme see that scratch you got,” said Jax, bending low to examine the healing knee of his teammate. “Hmmm,” he said in a deep rumble, finger on his chin as if he were an inspecting doctor. He looked up and flashed a wide grin. “Does it still hurt? ‘Cause the last time I saw you, you were screaming like a teenaged girl at a boy-band concert,” Jax said in his Texan drawl and slapped the knee in question.

Cooper yelped. “Is everyone gonna do that? Christ…”

“Let that be a lesson to you, old man, never abandon your command on sick-leave. We will get our revenge!”

The shared laughter was interrupted by a screeching female vocal set to house music, with a heavy bass back-beat.

“Hey, who stepped on the cat?” asked Jax, looking around innocently.

“Hush!” called Aliana as she walked over with Charlie, Jr. on her hip. She paused to look at the male faces ogling her.

“Really, guys?” she asked in a tired voice. She handed her son over to Charlie, who traded her a towel and the squawking cell phone.

“Hello?” she asked, wringing the water from her hair.

“You are one lucky, S-O-B, Master Chief,” whispered Jax with a slow drawl straight out of west Texas.

“Don’t get any ideas. Allie—and her sisters—are above your pay-grade, sailor,” said Charlie.

Jax waved off Charlie’s comment and squatted next to Cooper. “When you gonna find yourself a good white girl and settle down, Chief?”

Cooper sighed. “Maybe never. I don’t think I’m the marryin’ type.” He grinned and punched Jax on the arm. “That was for Dashiqi. She says you’re her ‘baby daddy.’”

Jax laughed. “Nice…” He grew serious and rubbed his chin. “I haven’t seen her since…hey, when was the last time I went out with your mom?”

“Burn!” hooted Charlie. He high-fived Jax.

Cooper stopped laughing when he saw Allie turn around slowly and walk over to Charlie. She looked confused. Cooper sensed immediately something was wrong.

“Um…it’s Kevin. He’s at work and wants to talk to you.”

“Your brother?” asked Charlie, arms full with a wet, squirming two year old. “What’s he want me for?”

She traded the phone for the giggling toddler. “I don’t know, but he’s really scared. And now I am too. Something has him spooked.” She put on a smile for her son then glanced