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  Outside, there was nobody to be seen. The man held a grenade in his hand, knowing the soldiers were still here in the compound somewhere. He had only one way to fight them, and that was with the grenade. The compound was just what it appeared to be—primitive. A place going unnoticed until the missiles of his creation could be relocated, which was scheduled to occur only days from now. The missiles had to keep moving at all times. They had been successful in hiding them for over six months and were so close to deployment.

  Above all, though, he must survive. The grenade will help do just that. The ones who attacked had to be waiting at the gate, Morteza surmised.

  A sudden memory flashed in Morteza's mind. A time when he was a child, running with his younger sisters up one of the looming mountains behind his home, a race to the top they could never finish. And then it came to him, as he felt solace from the memory, his mind and body at peace. He would survive, and this race he had started with so many believers by his side would continue onward and upward.

  A war unlike any other was coming. They were an unknown group, unlike the Taliban or ISIS. In no way would credit be taken for their acts until all worldwide targets were hit. Once the vicious attacks were completed, Morteza and his army would grace nations of interest with options—insider agreements the people of the world would never know about.

  America, the first target, would not pay. America was to be but a demonstration of power. Once other smaller, wealthy nations were hit—like sheep sent to be slaughtered—they would not know what to do. Powerless, held to ransom. Failure to pay would result in repeated hits until submission, the method of attack never the same. The cause was for one thing, and one thing only—power and riches. Being recognized, feared, and a dominant player on the world stage—albeit behind the scenes—was fine with Morteza and his entrepreneur army.

  He found it puzzling at times why others in the world could not also design the weapons he was able to create with such minimal expense, materials, and ease. After a while, he concluded there just really were no more geniuses left in the world.

  As if walking on the moon, Morteza took each step in almost slow motion toward the gate leading out of the compound. He stopped walking when a shadow, and then another, crossed over him. He held the grenade up over his head and fixed his eyes on two soldiers in the dark. He was not trained for this. He was the brains, not the brawn. The grenade will save me, Morteza repeated in his head. Escape and design more missiles for the cause. Just get them to back off, and I can run into the desert to the next safe room buried in the ground. There is no way possible they could know the location.

  Yes, he had made a mistake, one of the very few in his life. He should not have left the safe room. They may not have found him.

  The two soldiers stepped out of the shadows and into the light of the now cloudless moon. Their mouths were covered with what reminded Morteza of a scuba diving regulator—a quick image flashed in his head of scuba diving while vacationing with his parents in Jamaica as a child. He then noticed the eyes of the two soldiers were covered by a type of night-vision goggles he had never seen before.

  "Let me go. Right now!" Morteza shouted in Dari to the soldiers in front of him. From what he could make out of the two soldiers and the way they were armed, he assumed they were Americans, so he tried to speak what limited English he knew while sweeping his free arm in the air like a windshield wiper for them to back away.

  "Me go. Go me!"

  "We understood you the first time. Stop trying to speak English, asshole," Janice replied in Dari, her voice sounding a bit like an old computer. Janice, like some others out on the mission, had decided to test her translator. Language skills were not her strong suit; her Pashto and Dari sucked.

  Morteza reached for the grenade pin. Just as he did, his body spun around, and his arm felt like it had caught fire, the grenade falling to the ground somewhere. He fell on his hands and knees with his back to the soldiers. Morteza could see where the grenade had landed in the sand right in front of him. He was able to pull the pin after grabbing the grenade with the hand of his good arm. Looking over his shoulder, he threw it toward the soldiers. He took a bullet to his head, and everything went black.

  With the distinct sound of the spoon popping off, the grenade Morteza threw hit the ground in front of Janice. With Kevin by her side, Janice saw the grenade in the sand, and she sprinted away.

  Janice ran toward Ray, who suddenly flew past her. She tried to reach out and grab Ray, but he was gone. Turning, she looked back to see Kevin down on the ground where the grenade had landed.

  What the fuck?

  While trying to figure out what happened to Kevin, Janice felt hands on her shoulders. Todd and Carrie grabbed her from behind and dragged her away. The two, like the rest, had seen Kevin trip and fall to the ground, the laces on Kevin's right boot snagging on a piece of chicken wire in the sand that had broken away from the compound fence.

  Ray reached Kevin and put his arms around his shoulders. Disoriented after hitting his head on a rock when he fell, Kevin attempted to get up but couldn't. Ray started to drag him away and then saw the live grenade near Kevin's boot. Kevin looked at Ray and then looked down at the grenade. They were out of time; both of them knew it.

  But nothing happened.

  Ray got Kevin up to his feet fast, and the two ran, reaching the others. Kevin ripped off his translator and let out a beyond-relieved sigh. Janice ran at the two with her translator dangling around her neck and wrapped Kevin in a hug for unintentionally leaving him the way she did.

  "Fuck, I'm sorry, Kevin. I didn't know."

  Kevin gently broke away from the embrace with Janice. With his body slightly shaking and his eyes still wide from having a grenade about to rip him apart, he approached Ray, taking each step cautiously, his mind and body still recovering.

  Ray gave him a tap on the shoulder.

  "A dud. Someone above was looking out for us tonight, Kevin."

  Walking away, Ray called out to Todd.

  "Todd, call EOD to come pick up their missiles and check on that grenade."

  Camp Constellation

  Miles away from the location where the new power-hungry radicals of the world thought they were being so clever to hide their weapons, a military base had recently been established right under their noses, away from any sort of city or homes. Two gray AH-1Z Viper helicopters flew off into the sky—the heavily armed, slim-bodied copters benefiting from a recent upgrade from the Genesis lab: their choppy whisper mode replaced by what sounded like nothing more than a gust of wind outside your bedroom window.

  Kevin sat on the ground, leaning against the back of one of the tents, watching the helicopters fade away in the sky without a sound. Recalling what had happened just four hours ago, Kevin rubbed the stubble on his head and face repeatedly.

  The sound of shifting sand jerked Kevin's head to his left, and he saw no one. Turning to his right, he saw Ray standing next to one of the tents just ahead.

  "You okay there, Kevin?"

  Kevin nodded, took a breath, and answered Ray honestly. "I'm a little fucked up with what happened."

  Ray walked over and sat down next to Kevin, and the two took in the morning sun rising ahead. Ray reached into his left cargo pants pocket, pulled out two Budweisers and handed one to Kevin.

  "We don't go out for another day or two, still tracking the transporters hiding in the mountains. So, I thought you could use one."

  Ray could see Kevin's body was trembling.

  "You're okay, Kevin, you're all right," Ray said in a calming voice.

  The words and tone of Ray's voice seemed to calm Kevin, as he controlled his shaking body somewhat. Kevin clasped down on the back of his neck with both hands and then looked over at Ray holding out the beer.

  "I could actually use a whole case after what happened, Ray."

  "I've got more."

  After taking the beer and putting it up to his lips, Kevin laughed and spit out the small sip he had
taken, the beer running over his chin as what Ray had just said registered inside his brain. Kevin stared down at his boots, beer slowly dripping from his face.

  "No way…there's no way you could've known that the grenade wouldn't go off. I…"

  Kevin tried to speak once more, but nothing came out, only an exhaled breath. He lifted his head to face Ray, staring at him with grateful eyes.

  Ray tilted his beer and tapped it against the Budweiser in Kevin's hand. "To another day alive."

  "To another day alive, Ray."

  Mountains of Kabul

  Two days had passed, and Ray and the members of his Unit were sent back out to finish their mission. They walked in the light of dawn on a rough gravel path precariously close to the edge of the mountain. The mountainside of rock, smooth and flat in places, protruding and jagged in others, the mix of tan- and off-black-colored stones touched by the sunrise.

  Ray held out a hand for all in his Unit to come to a stop.

  "It's time," Ray said.

  Ray and the Unit, clothed in turbans and local garb for authenticity, reached under the loose garments they now wore and removed Stealth Imaging masks—one of Rydel's many projects at the lab. Everyone stared at Ray with unenthusiastic expressions while holding the masks.

  Ray was the first to place the mask on. The pulsing blue mask sucked down on every contour of his face, ears, and entire neck. With his blue face, Ray looked over the worried men and women staring back at him and gave them all a thumbs-up. "I'm still breathing. Put them on."

  The Unit, having seen a demonstration at Genesis and still unnerved by it, stared at their commanding officer's blue sucked-in face. However, he was still breathing and speaking, so one by one they all started to put the masks on. Adriana, one of the last to place a mask on her face, reached down to her chest for her crucifix beneath her tunic, raised it to her lips, and kissed it. Ray notified Genesis that the masks were in place and their blue faces morphed to resemble the people of the region.

  They traveled on.

  Ray and his Unit continued up the mountain's winding path for just over two hours. Up ahead, they spotted a man traveling in the same direction on the same narrow passage, the first person Ray and his Unit had encountered. Moving closer to get a better look at him, they could make out the bent-over figure of an old man dressed in baggy black clothing with a narrow, light-brown pack on his back—the top of the pack reaching all the way to his head, and the bottom ending at the back of his knees. Laboriously, at a crawl, the man stomped forward with his left leg and then slowly with his right, fighting the weight on his back and the uphill climb.

  Ray pointed for Sal to move in on the old man's left and then pointed for Kevin to pull up along the right side of the old man. The two did so without making a sound, flanking the old man, walking side by side with him. The old man dropped the giant backpack from his shoulders and looked up. His mouth slowly formed into a circle O of surprise as his ocean-blue eyes went back and forth between the two men now alongside him.

  "Who are you?" the old man asked Kevin and Sal in Dari.

  "Do you need help?" Sal replied in Dari, his language skills excellent.

  The old man shook his head and started to reach for his backpack on the ground, getting a hand on it. Kevin shot the old man in the leg with a sedation round from his Smartround rifle—the weapon making a barely audible high-pitched whooshing sound.

  Ray and the rest of the Unit, with their altered faces, joined Kevin and Sal by the unconscious old man.

  "Scan it for IEDs," Ray ordered Kevin and Sal. The two scanned the long backpack with their Smartround guns. Finished, Sal turned to Ray.

  "Clear."

  Ray pointed at the backpack with the muzzle of his Smartround gun.

  "What's inside?"

  Sal opened the pack on the ground and searched its contents.

  "Just food. Shitload of naan, some—"

  The road began to rip open in a Y-shaped line of explosions making their way toward Ray and the rest of the Unit. They all took cover against the side of the mountain, and the explosions came to a sudden stop. Ray pointed for all to follow as he ran up the blasted, churned-up dirt road, making his way toward a bend in the road only a few yards ahead. Ray stopped just shy of rounding the curve, taking cover against the mountain's rock wall. Todd joined Ray, leaning against the mountain.

  Another blast hit the dirt road ahead of Ray and Todd, knocking them back, with Todd falling to the ground. Behind the two, the rest of the Unit had their backs pinned against the mountain's rocky slope and were safe.

  Ray reached down and helped Todd to his feet. As his head cleared from the blast, Todd tapped Ray's left shoulder, thanking him with the gesture.

  "Ray, you have something sticking out of your shoulder."

  Ray suddenly felt the pain that had, until now, been masked by the adrenaline rush of being in combat. A glance at his right shoulder confirmed that a branch had embedded itself in his flesh. He ripped the branch out of his shoulder, and a stream of blood trickled down his chest. Todd reached under Ray's clothing and placed a blue patch on his shoulder, wrapping it in tape.

  "I'm good, Todd."

  Looking above and ahead, Ray studied the mountain quickly, glanced back to his Unit, and then faced Todd. "Either it was the old man, or it doesn't matter how we appear—we are too close to where they are. We could be overrun now that they know we're here. Call in an air strike. Have them blast the mountain. We'll salvage whatever intel we can get after."

  As Todd called in the air strike, three men dressed head-to-toe in black came into sight up ahead and fired on Ray and Todd but missed. One of the men quickly threw a grenade way the hell off its mark, the explosive flying over Ray and Todd. The grenade exploded just as it fell on the dirt road, the mountain absorbing most of the blast. Ray and Todd returned gunfire, taking the three men down with lethal Smartround headshots. The men crumbled to the ground like puppets cut from their strings.

  Todd reached under his clothing and took out a pair of binoculars provided by the Genesis lab, strapping them around his head. He ordered a search through the binoculars' headmic, glancing left and right.

  Todd spun to face Ray. "We're clear for nine hundred and fifty-six yards. Human movement picks up after that, a gathering with weapons coming our way. Air support, ETA five minutes away, has their location."

  Past Todd, Ray could see Janice, in her altered appearance, running toward the two.

  "Ray! Martinez and Ben have been hit!"

  Ray and Todd ran back to where the rest of the Unit had taken cover. Ben and Martinez lay on the ground under a rocky overhang carved into the mountain—both men had decided to opt out of wearing Rydel's skin armor because of the heat. On her knees, Adriana applied pressure to Ben's shoulder. She quickly glanced up at Ray and Todd as they came into view.

  "I think Ben's on ice."

  Ray and Todd rushed over to Martinez, who was on the ground and surrounded by the rest of the Unit. Ray could see it right away: a headshot right above Martinez's right temple. Martinez also had a wound on the side of his body, and from what Ray could see, it was most likely from the overthrown grenade that had flown past him and Todd.

  Ray dropped to his knees next to Martinez.

  Seeing the wounds, Todd bowed his head like the rest of the Unit surrounding Martinez. They all waited silently on Ray, knowing they were safe for the moment.

  Ray lowered his head and made the sign of the cross. He reached out to touch Martinez's shoulder, and Martinez's body shuddered in an epileptic-like seizure.

  Martinez disappeared.

  Ray, Todd, and the rest of the team surrounding the now-empty spot where Martinez had been stared with wide-open eyes. Then they all felt the ground shake—the mountain above erupting into a wall of fire.

  The approaching enemy—from Todd's last reading on his strap-on binoculars—was swept up in a fire cloud, half of them turning instantly into ash.

  It was over. The mountain
above Ray and his Unit glowed in a deep-orange sunburst.

  The air strike had burned the entire top of the mountain. Three Viper helicopters circled above, hawk-like, as if searching for prey, making sure the area was clear…and then faded away into the blue sky.

  Rydel Working off the Clock

  Rydel worked on one of his laptops inside his off-hours quarters at the Genesis lab, the computer's screen providing the only light inside the room at the late hour. It was almost midnight. He went over his notes, along with statements taken from two high-ranking military officers afflicted with PTSD. After counseling and other medications had come up short, the two men had volunteered to test a new injectable drug developed at Genesis, and they remained symptom-free for what was now nine months. The one-time injection did not eradicate the memories of what had happened during their tours of duty, but the images and thoughts of war no longer continually raged inside each man's mind anymore and were manageable if they did surface. No more dependency on pills like Zoloft and Prazosin when the images of warfare flared up because you forgot to take your meds. The two men now fully functional in society and with loved ones.

  Pounding inside his room—loud.

  Rydel let out a startled gasp. He rushed to the door to his room, unlocked it, and began to open it slowly. John Adams stood in the doorway. He had a look on his face Rydel had never seen before—the man was worried.

  "What's wrong?"

  "A malfunction of some kind with Shutdown. We need to get to Afghanistan right now."

  "What went wrong—"

  "Now, Rydel, let's go. We are on a plane in five minutes."

  Rydel looked around his room. "Okay, okay. Do I need to pack supplies for—"