Page 1 of Freeing Lark

CHAPTER 1

Eight Years Ago

“Do you believe in karma, LT?” Bullet, the newest member of the team, asked.

Cormac “Hoot” Shibley paused, the gears turning in his mind as he considered Bullet’s question.

The team room was quieter than usual. Although sounds were still present, the SEALs maintained a demeanor of subdued quietness, a notable departure from their off-duty boisterous nature. The weighty hush settled over the men, conveying a shared, grim understanding that their remaining time might be limited to the next twenty-four hours. Weapons lay field-stripped across scarred wooden tables. Suppressors, magazines, optics, batteries, demolition charges. The familiar smell of CLP gun oil mixed with sweat, dust, and the ever-present diesel exhaust drifted through the cracked plywood walls of the outpost. Outside, somewhere beyond the Hesco military barriers, a helicopter’s rotors whirred faintly as it idled on the flight line.

Hoot sat backward in a metal chair, cleaning the bolt carrier group of his rifle with practiced hands. He didn’t have to look to know where everyone was in the room.

Voodoo lounged against a wall, sharpening a knife he probably didn’t need to sharpen. Dell leaned over a map with Atlas. Ma inventoried medical supplies for the third time. Bullet, the team’s newest addition and youngest operator by nearly a decade, was checking batteries as though they personally offended him.

The kid still counted equipment. The veterans counted exits.

Six heads didn’t exactly turn, but everyone heard Bullet’s question. Ma snorted. “That’s the dumbest question you’ve asked today.”

Bullet shrugged without looking up. “Just wondering.”

Voodoo barked out a laugh. “Karma?” He shook his head. “That’s some California crystal-healing nonsense.”

“Says the guy who carries around a lucky charm,” Atlas murmured under his breath.

“It originated in India,” Dell corrected without looking up from the map. The man had a brain like a computer and could remember pieces of useless information like that.

“Whatever.” Voodoo waved them both off. “Still nonsense.”

Bullet frowned. “You don’t think people get what they deserve?”

“No.”

“What goes around comes around?”

“Nope.”

“So all the bad people just...” Bullet gestured vaguely. “...walk away?”

Voodoo slid the blade along the whetstone with a metallic whisper. “If karma existed, half the dictators in history would’ve been struck by lightning.”

Atlas chuckled. “He’s got a point.”

Dell stood up from his hunched position over the map, extending his back. The sharp snap of stiff joints cracked above the steady drone of the room’s air system. “I’ve met enough politicians to know karma’s got terrible aim.”

A ripple of laughter worked around the room. Even Hoot smiled.

Bullet looked disappointed. “What about you, Hoot?”

Five pairs of eyes shifted toward him.

Great. He hated philosophical discussions before missions. He rolled the bolt carrier over in his hands, studying carbon baked into the metal. Did he believe in karma? He wasn’t sure. With the amount of shit he’d seen and done in his years as a SEAL, the awareness that the inescapable law of karma seeing retribution always lay dormant in the deepest recesses of his mind. However, years of practiced compartmentalization meant he rarely dwelled on it.

Until moments like this. “I think...” he said slowly, “...life keeps score.”

Ma groaned dramatically. “Oh, here we go.”

Hoot ignored him. “I’ve seen men do terrible things.” No one joked now. “I’ve watched people murder children.” Silence. “I’ve watched villages burn. And I’ve watched good men die trying to stop bad ones.”

His voice stayed even. Years of practice made it sound detached. Inside...