Everyone was able to sleep except Seven. The combination of impending combat mixed with the brutal Mexican heat made even the idea of slumber impossible for him. The remainder of the crew had no trouble at all drifting off as they were stretched out on the ground and in the cargo hold of the helicopter. Goat was snoring loudly and occasionally mumbling in Spanish. Colt, Mike, and Robert performed one final equipment check before conking out. It was just another mission for them. Just another rescue, just more gunplay. Seven Andrews didn’t have the luxury of a peaceful spirit. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for the whole ordeal. He looked at the men and the boy as they slept. It would be his fault if any harm came to any of them. It was his fault that Joey had been taken. Even if everything went as planned for the crew, men would be killed. The burden was boiling in his stomach and burning in his thoughts until he heard the Colonel’s voice in his head. The Colonel was telling him that this was combat, and horrible, awful things happen in combat, if your cause is just, then combat is justified. He glanced over the maps and photos one final time before closing his eyes and pretending to sleep.
It was about 2 a.m. local time when Colt made the rounds with his crew, making sure that everyone was up and prepared. Colt pulled Seven to the side and issued special instructions as to the care and welfare of the youngest team member.
“We gotta take the boy on the bird. We don’t have a choice. Once we get Bunny on the chopper we’re going straight to the border, no stops. That means the boy has to go in with us. I’ve already talked to him and given him instructions not to leave the bird for anything. I need you to make sure he stays put,” Colt said.
“Sure, I got it,” Seven replied.