CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Trak, Whiskey, Jean, Rory, Cruz, Otto, and Vince were on the boat as the sun rose the next morning. They'd had very little sleep but didn't need it. What they needed was to find that island before the men were killed.

"Good morning," said Ace into comms.

"It's after midnight for you, Ace," said Rory.

"I know, but it's morning for you. I might have some good news. A mega-yacht registered in Malaysia was reported missing two weeks ago during a horrible storm. His last known GPS location was somewhere in the Philippine Sea between the islands and Taiwan."

"That's a huge fucking area, Ace," said Rory.

"I know, but hear me out. The owner of the yacht was Colonel Lawrence Kaplan. His brother is Lt. General Levi Kaplan."

"Holy fuck," muttered Jean. "Ace, please tell me you have some islands for us to search. If he was out there in the middle of nowhere, there has to be a reason."

"I have one island with no inhabitants and possible survivability. One. I'm sending the coordinates now."

"Ace, if this is the island, you're the one that deserves the medal, brother," said Whiskey.

"Just bring those men home."

While they finished eating their breakfast, Otto turned the boat toward the coordinates and fired into stealth and RMM. RMM was the newest technology from G.R.I.P., Rapid Movement Mode, and allowed their boats, cars, and other land and sea-based craft to move at high speeds without detection.

By the time they neared the island, they knew they were at the right location. In the distance, they could see a fire burning on the beach.

"We've got coral reefs that will slice the boat to pieces," said Otto. "How are we getting there?"

"I'm the smallest," said Cruz. "I can use the G.R.I.P. wetsuit. It will protect me from the coral and allow me to administer first aid if they need it. I can carry three suits in my pack and get them back here safely. They're likely to be smaller than me, given the conditions. Just get me as close as you can."

Otto maneuvered the boat as close to the reefs as he could, anchoring her securely to the sea floor. Bringing up the detailed mapping of the sea, he pointed to the trail for Cruz to follow.

"It looks as though this is almost like a trail. It's narrow, but you can weave through it. The only thing will be if you get caught up in a current or sudden burst of waves. It could push you against the coral."

"I'll do my best to come back unscarred," he smirked.

"Brother, that's not what I'm worried about. Those men have been on that island for decades now. We don't know their physical or mental condition." They turned, seeing Trak standing in a wet suit.

"Trak, you don't have to come with me," said Cruz.

"We go together. No one goes alone. Otto is right. You don't know what their mental state is. They might not know what's going on."

"Alright. But I'm the SEAL."

"And I'm Delta. Are we done?" Cruz could only chuckle, shaking his head at his friend.

"I'm done. Let's go."

Lowering themselves into the water, they slowly swam toward the reef in front of them. The special rubber of the suits allowed them to pass through tight metal portholes, coral reefs, and other strange spots without danger of being sliced to ribbons. It wouldn't stop the bite of a shark, but it could lessen the intensity and possibly save the men.

If they could maneuver through the coral to the other side, it should be an easy swim. Should be. Cruz carried the weight of the medical pack plus the additional suits on his back. Lost in the beauty of the magnificent reef, he edged too close to a stem, almost slicing at the suit. It wouldn't tear, at least that's what G.R.I.P. said, but why test your luck.

Focused now on only the shore, they swam to the beach and slowly climbed out of the surf, removing their masks and head coverings.

Three men stood by the fire, staring at them as if unsure of what to do next. One held a flare gun in his hand, and Trak raised his hands.

"We mean you no harm. We're here to help and get you off the island. You are Calvin, Vic, and Damon?"

"Yes," said Vic. He was too afraid to believe it.

"You rescued a girl. April."

"She's alive? Is she alive?" asked Damon. "Did the kid make it?"

"She made it," smiled Cruz. "She was found in her lifeboat about three weeks after she left this island. She's very worried about the three of you."

"Is she okay?" asked Calvin.

"She's getting there. There's a lot of healing that needs to take place for her. Are any of you hurt? Do you need medical care?" asked Cruz.

"Who are you?" asked Vic.

"My name is Cruz. This is Trak. We're former Special Forces but own a security company now. We just want to get you out of here before Kaplan returns."

"His boat sank," said Calvin. "We've been pulling debris from the sea ever since. But his brother might come back. He's the one we'd rather not see."

"Other than chronic sunburn, bug bites, and swollen feet, we're doing alright," said Vic. "But we can't make it through those reefs. We've tried."

"You can with our suits," said Trak. "They're specially designed to withstand sharp objects. Not sharks, but coral and knives."

"They can do that now?" whispered Damon. Trak could only smile at the man. He realized what a culture shock it would be for all of them to get back to the States.

"We can do many things, sir," said Trak. "Shall we take you home?"

"Home," whispered Calvin. "Everyone is probably dead. What do we go home to?" Cruz looked at the man, handing him a wetsuit.

"Anything you want, sir. Anything you want."