GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra

Chapter Three

General Clayton Abernathy looked out across the serene wilderness of the Appalachian Mountains, his elbow resting on the armrest and his chin in his hand. Beside him in the driver’s seat was Major Lonzo Wilkinson, although Abernathy usually called him Stalker privately. Their dusty black SUV bumped along a rarely-used dirt road heading into the mountains.

“Are you sure it was necessary to come all the way out here?” Abernathy asked.

“You already asked me that,” Stalker said. “And the answer is still yes.”

Abernathy chuckled and sighed, trying to enjoy the scenery. They had flown from Washington out to rural Pennsylvania and then rented the truck to drive out into the middle of nowhere, all on Stalker’s suggestion. The past few days had been spent recruiting people for their new task force, and Abernathy didn’t like the idea of spending so much time on an errand like this. He preferred to get things done right away, and even though they were not behind schedule by any measure, he would rather have settled this by a simple phone call. Unfortunately, their target apparently did not use phones.

“You think he’ll say yes?”

Stalker nodded. “Yeah, I think he will. If I’m there to ask him. He trusts me.”

“You know, I looked up his file before we left.”

“I know.”

“Quite a little history he has. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a file with so many Classified notations. He’s pretty young to be so deep into black ops.”

“He’s a prodigy,” Stalker said with a smile. “I know that he’s on leave right now, so hopefully we can swing his transfer to the new team. Personally, I would feel a whole lot better if he came with us.”

“Why did he leave your unit, anyway?”

“He got wounded during Iraqi Freedom, and then I did a few weeks later. By the time he was healed up, our unit was scattered. So he requested a transfer to Special Ops, and he’s been there ever since.”

“Must be hard to keep in touch with him.”

“Very,” Stalker said. “He’s a hard man to find sometimes. Especially if he doesn’t want to be found.”

“Well then, I hope he wants to be found this time.”

Stalker turned the steering wheel and drove the SUV off the dirt road onto a narrow track that was not even mowed. Tall grass divided the two uneven wheel ruts, and the SUV lurched side to side as Stalker maneuvered the pathetic excuse for a road. He drove in between some rows of trees and appeared in a small clearing.

“Well, the hard part is over,” he announced, shutting the truck off. “We’re here.”

Abernathy opened the door and stuck his leg out. He carefully placed his foot on a rock to avoid getting mud on his shoes, but as soon as he put his weight on it, the rock sank down and his foot dipped into inch-deep mud.

“Wonderful,” he said to himself.

Stalker walked around the truck and pointed. On the other side of the clearing there was a very rickety log cabin with a sunken porch and damaged roof. It had been built by hand, with twisted black logs of unequal lengths. The windows didn’t even have glass in them. Abernathy couldn’t imagine that someone could actually live in a building like that. It looked about ready to collapse in on itself.

He walked gingerly through the muddy clearing, crossing his arms across his chest. Stalker looked at him and smiled when he saw Abernathy’s expression.

“You sure this is the right place?”

“Very sure.”

“You sure this isn’t where the Unabomber lived?”

Stalker chuckled and cupped his hands over his mouth. “Hey Snake! Are you in there? I got someone here who’d like to meet you!”

They waited for a few moments, but there was no motion within the tiny log cabin. There was barely any sound at all, just the whispery movement of the trees and a distant chipmunk chittering. Abernathy sighed and glanced at Stalker.

“Guess he’s not home. He’s probably out running errands or something.”

“No,” Stalker said. “He’s probably standing right behind us.”

Abernathy turned to look, and as if by magic, a figure had appeared right behind them. Abernathy flinched and took an involuntary step backwards, while Stalker only chuckled to himself.

The figure was dressed all in black, from head to toe. Black boots, black cargo pants, a black long-sleeved shirt with black gloves, and most surprisingly, a tight black facemask like a ski mask, and black goggles. Not an inch of skin was exposed. He stood as still as a statue, and there was not a spot of mud on his entire outfit. A long hunting knife hung from a sheath on his hip

“Good to see you again, Snake,” Stalker said, walking toward him. Snake shook his hand firmly and nodded, then gestured at Abernathy, who had not quite regained his composure. “This is General Clay Abernathy,” Stalker explained.

Snake stood straight and saluted appropriately. Abernathy acknowledged it and said cautiously, “Major Wilkinson has told me a lot about you. But I get the feeling he’s barely scratched the surface.”

Snake nodded.

Stalker looked at Abernathy. “You’ll have to forgive him. I’m afraid he doesn’t speak much. His injuries included damage to his throat and vocal chords. He can speak in a whisper, but he prefers not to speak at all.”

“I can imagine. On a mission, you would be communicating in hand signals mostly anyway, correct?”

Snake nodded again, and as if to demonstrate that, he gave Abernathy a thumbs up. He crossed his muscular arms and looked at Stalker, tilting his head questioningly.

If they were sharing some kind of personal code of body language, Abernathy could not decode it. But Stalker seemed to know exactly what Snake meant to say.

“We have a new project we’d like you to be a part of. That is, the General and I. It’s a new task force, specializing in covert anti-terrorism. A cooperative effort between all branches of the military. I requested you personally, and General Abernathy here agreed to come and meet you in person.”

Snake uncrossed his arms and spread his hands.

“Right now the team is pretty small,” Stalker explained. “We have a few candidates, but nothing has been finalized. I’m thinking maybe ten members in all, with different backgrounds and specialties.”

Snake nodded and then pointed at himself, shaking his head.

“I’ve already worked that out,” Stalker said. “The team is covert, and all team members will be using code names. So there’s no reason for anyone to wonder about your name. Of course, you can still keep your own personal style,” he added. “I know you’ll want to keep your mask and your weapons.”

Snake seemed to accept that, so he turned to look at Abernathy. His eyes were just barely visible behind the dark goggles.

“I don’t know what else I can tell you,” Abernathy admitted. “Stalker wants you to join the team, and I trust his judgment. If he says we need you, then I agree with him. It’s up to you, of course.”

Snake considered that, and then turned to look back at Stalker. Abernathy wondered how a man like that normally communicated, if he used regular sign language when around people who did not know his background. Stalker had only barely hinted at what Snake was like, and Abernathy found it somewhat disconcerting. Perhaps that was the whole point.

Snake gestured at Abernathy, and Stalker chuckled again. “Come on, man,” he said. “Do you think I’d waste your time, and come all the way out to the middle of nowhere, if I didn’t think this was a worthwhile project? We’re trying to put together a crew that’s the best of the best, and you’re the best of them all, Snake.”

Snake seemed taken aback, and he spread his fingers and placed them against his chest, feigning a meek posture. Abernathy could almost see the dialogue bubble above his head saying, “Who, me?”

“Trust me,” Stalker said. “You want to be part of this.”

Snake waited a moment and then nodded. Abernathy could almost hear a muffled laugh coming from underneath his mask. He pointed at his log cabin and Stalker waved him on.

“Go ahead, man. Get what you need. I know you travel light.”

Snake walked off toward the cabin and disappeared inside. Abernathy shrugged. “Well, that was easy. Does he really stay silent all the time like that?”

“Yeah, he does usually,” Stalker said. “He never talked much even before he got hurt, so I guess I’m just used to it by now. It kind of weirds people out when they first meet him.”

“You don’t say.”

“Well, he’s on the team. We have our first official member.”

“Hopefully all the others are this easy.”

Snake emerged from the cabin with a black duffel bag, as well as a case slung over his shoulder that Abernathy at first thought was a rifle. As Snake approached the SUV, he realized it was actually a sword inside a plain black wooden sheath. Other than that, Snake only came with the items on his person.

He climbed into the back seat while Stalker and Abernathy got inside as well. Stalker turned the truck around and headed back for the paved road.

“I’m glad you decided to join, Snake,” Stalker said. “I’m glad you’re a part of the team. It’ll be good working with you again.”

In the back seat, Snake made no response.

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