Lost and Found

Chapter 35

**NOTE: For the purposes of this story... Owen's sister only Just went missing.**

Enjoy!

Jordan Airbase.

Amid howling choppers, blowing sand, and the scorching dessert heat, Owen exited the C-160. Squinting, he turned into the wind, not caring a bit about the sand that prickled every crevice of his face. He pulled out a worn yellow post-it. Major Michaels, it said, with a building number. Quickly, he hefted his heavy army rucksack and made his way to the command center.

Barging through the wooden double doors of HQ, Owen caught the attention of the young dark-skinned clerk at the desk. "Major Owen hunt," he introduced without preamble, "I need to speak to Major Michaels." It had taken him several phone calls, every favour and phone call, every trick he had in the book to get here. But he had to be. His kid sister had been a cowboy and jumped on a chopper that went down somewhere in the desert. He was going to find her.

Already preoccupied on the phone, the clerk held up one finger and nodded, signaling that he should wait. He dropped his bag, placed hands on his hips and paced in the surprisingly empty waiting room. Overwhelming anxiousness roiled in his gut. He hadn't heard anything of his sister since he left Seattle, spending a hellish week in multiple countries and airports, just getting permission to even be here.

Now that he was here he still couldn't do anything.

Owen could do anything as a surgeon. Hand him a scalpel and some duct tape, and he'd patch you up good as new. But here, in the command center, only a couple hundred miles from where his sister was lost, he couldn't do anything.

He just wanted to do something.

"Major Hunt?" the clerk called.

He spun around and strode to the desk, clenching and unclenching his fists, "Yeah."

"Major Michaels is deployed in the field sir," she said. "But he should be back by 0900 tomorrow with more information for you."

"Tomorrow," Owen repeated with a slow nod. Tomorrow meant more time, more distance...

More of that helpless feeling.

"Yes sir," the clerk nodded.

He let out a loud long sigh, looked at his watch. It was 1800 hours now. "I need to see him as soon as he gets here," Owen ordered.

"Of course, sir. The morning schedule is clear."

"Thank you," He picked up his bag, now... where was he cleared to stay? "Can you-," he started-

"Guest quarters are on the left, three buildings down." The clerk replied, reading his mind. "You're in..." she glanced at her sheet by the phone, tracing her finger down a list of names. "3C."

"Thank you," Owen said, once again hefting his bag over his shoulder and stepping out into the elemental blast.

For a moment, he was transported in time...

A decade ago, Megan followed him here like a little puppy. An annoying puppy. But a brave one too. He closed his eyes... was that her? A flash of her long reddish hair tinged the corner of his vision. Owen, stood, triggered, transfixed, hearing Megan's taunting laughter echoing around him. She was lost. How did he lose her?

Shook back to reality by the ferocious sound of a jet engine, Owen blinked. He swallowed air, plodding to his quarters. Now within spitting distance of 3C, he stopped. The man approaching him was familiar somehow... The slope of the shoulders, the jut of the chin, the spark of blue reflecting in his eyes from the setting sun.