Nuclear Winter | Book 3 | Chain Breakers

by Jones, Nathan

  That victory had been a high point of Pete's time in Lafayette. A success more substantial than any raid, which had struck a solid blow to the enemy while simultaneously freeing hundreds of slaves and providing a major source of supplies, equipment, and weaponry from the looted base.

  It had even turned the tide of the fighting, making it easier for Canada to push over the next few weeks and take more territory east of the Missouri.

  During the celebration the night afterwards Pete felt like a Chainbreaker for the first time since returning to his old company, and even had some hope that things might turn out all right.

  Of course it wasn't all successes. One of the Chainbreaker squads that had been nearly wiped out during the failed raid that killed Saunders, and needed to be almost completely replaced with transfers and new recruits, had gone out on a patrol and never come back. There wasn't even a hint of what had happened to them until almost a week later, when their burned out truck was discovered near the Mississippi, obviously used by slavers to raid and then destroyed as they fled back across the river. The fate of the soldiers themselves remained unknown, though almost certainly grim.

  At least on the whole things continued to go well for Canada and the US, while the CCZ was struggling more and more to keep going, especially now that they were alienating Mexico with their raids as the Locust Swarm tested new territory.

  In response Mexico was locking down their borders. The corruption reported in their patrols and border guards, usually by pressuring travelers or traders to give over small bribes before being allowed to cross the border, or bribes to avoid detainment on some trumped up crime, had ramped up a notch as the guards and patrols started to view all outsiders as potential aggressors and thus as potential targets.

  There were even recent reports of trade convoys on their way to San Antonio and other trading towns in Mexico being wiped out by “bandits”, or more commonly the attacks were blamed on CCZ raiders who'd infiltrated Mexico. But enough facts didn't add up that the attacks were suspicious, especially since the Mexican government refused to allow US or Canadian officials in to investigate the attacks and insisted on handling that themselves.

  Pete wasn't sure if they were ordering the attacks, or just covering it up when their soldiers went rogue to avoid public embarrassment, but either way the country was becoming a more dangerous place to visit or travel through by the day.

  Which wasn't too big a concern for him since he didn't plan to travel much. Actually Lafayette was becoming more and more of a home to him, and to his surprise he was content with his life there, even with all the combat he was involved in.

  Lily was a big part of that. They'd continued their arrangement of spending evenings together when he got back from raids or was off duty. They'd even expanded those events, with the young woman insisting he invite Jack and Monty along while she invited some of her own friends. Even Kathleen and Bryce occasionally joined them, and after a bit of awkwardness Pete was able to smooth things over with the couple. Under the strict condition, relayed by Lily, that he avoid the topic of pregnancy or childbirth altogether.

  Pete's squad mates couldn't be happier at the invitation to join the group, particularly at the prospect of a chance to flirt or even be set up with some of the cutest girls in town. And they never minded footing the bill for whatever activity the group did.

  Pete wasn't excluded from Lily's matchmaking; out of the blue a bit over a week ago the young woman had abruptly started trying to set him up with her friend Ellen. It came as a bit of a surprise since she hadn't shown even a hint of playing matchmaker with him before then, even when introducing him to some of her best friends of the more “sweet spirited” nature. Pete had almost started to wonder if she'd staked a claim on him herself and was waiting for him to make a move.

  Which he hadn't done, so she seemed to have given up on him. Anyway Ellen was a cute girl a couple years younger than Pete. Much more reserved than Lily, which was probably why the young woman had decided they'd make a good match.

  And she probably would've been right if things had been different.

  It wasn't that Pete didn't like Ellen. He enjoyed spending time with her. But there was no escaping painful memories, and every time the young woman gave an unspoken invitation to be more than friends, or he thought of making a move himself, those memories always resurfaced.

  Lily had challenged him on it a few times, gently trying to get him to open up about what had happened with Abella so he could get over it and move on. But Pete couldn't; he shut down whenever the conversation went that way, and no amount of wheedling or cutesy looks could get him out of his shell. Jack admitted that the young woman had been pestering him about it too, trying to find out what the big secret was. Pete was grateful his friend refused to talk about it either, same as he had from the start.

  It wasn't that it even was a secret. To be honest Pete almost wouldn't have minded if Lily learned the truth, as long as she never talked to him about it. It was just something that cut too deep to even think about, let alone talk about, and every time she pried those unpleasant memories resurfaced.

  He didn't want that. He wanted to forget the pain and remember the good times he'd had with Abella. But every time Lily brought her up that just piled on more negative feelings, until Pete was afraid he wouldn't be able to think about Abella at all without the pain. At least more than he already felt.

  But Lily, usually so perceptive, didn't seem able to understand that. She kept pushing until almost subconsciously Pete began pushing back, keeping her at arm's length and finding excuses to skip the evening get-togethers with the group. That only made him feel worse, but he couldn't seem to change how he reacted and Lily wouldn't let up.

  Maybe it was one of those unstoppable force/immovable object things. He could tell he was making the young woman miserable by distancing himself, but it was all he knew how to do.

  It was almost a relief to go out on raids or on patrols. A chance to escape from an impossible situation where he was once again screwing everything up because of who he was. Which was why he was glad when Chavez began volunteering Epsilon for more lengthy patrols around Lafayette, in this case east of the Mississippi guarding against raider incursions.

  It had been about five weeks since he and Jack had arrived in Lafayette. They were currently with the squad about fifty miles south of the town, driving the smaller roads along the Mississippi looking for suspicious signs as part of a two vehicle convoy. Jack had the wheel while Pete rode shotgun in the lead vehicle, and the rest of Team 2 and half of Team 3 rode in back, while Chavez, Torm, and the rest of the squad took the rear vehicle.

  Normally Pete would've been happy to hang out with his friend, shooting the breeze as they carried out their duties. But given his recent mood and the fact that he kept missing Lily's get-togethers he was starting to feel awkward around the man, and it was obvious Jack felt some of that too. He kept trying to fill the air with pointless topics, which Pete did a bad job of responding to.

  Awkward evasion of uncomfortable issues just wasn't Jack's style, and Pete was sure the only reason his friend had held back for so long was because of how closely this all touched on Abella. Which was why Pete wasn't surprised when his friend finally got right into it.

  “Okay you know what, man?” Jack snapped. “It's getting pretty hard to hold a conversation with you when the main thing we'd have to talk about are Lily's little evenings out, and you've stopped going to those and don't seem to like me talking about them.

  “I know,” Pete said quietly. He felt like he should apologize, but at the same time it wasn't any of Jack's business. Not even his friend had a right to dig that deep.

  “So what's the deal? Look, I know Lily's been trying to get in your head, and you've been doing your wounded warrior routine. But you're letting the past destroy what you have now, and it's not good for anyone.”

  “I know,” he said again.

  “So?” Jack demanded. Pete didn't reply, and his fr
iend threw up his hands. Then quickly dropped them back to the steering wheel as the truck hit a bump. “So just open up to her already. Whatever this is that's festering inside you is only getting worse. Just lance it so it can heal.”

  Pete was quiet for several uncomfortable minutes. “I can't,” he finally said.

  Jack gave him a sympathetic look. “Look, I know it hurts, but-”

  “No, I'm not saying I won't, I'm saying I can't,” Pete took a frustrated breath. “You don't think I've tried? This isn't a situation where talking will make it better. Not with me, not with this.”

  “Oh.” His friend fell silent and the minutes dragged by again.

  Finally Pete made up his mind. It was something that had been running through his head for a while now, but he'd had trouble working up the nerve. At the same time this was something he actually could do, even if it was hard. “Just tell her.”

  Jack looked at him sharply. “What?”

  “Tell her about the second nuclear winter. What happened. Everything. It was never about whether I trusted her or wanted to open up to her, I don't care if she knows, which is why I don't mind if you tell her.” Pete met his friend's gaze firmly. “It's because it's painful for me. Try to make her understand that I can't talk about it, and I'd appreciate it if she'd respect that and stop bringing it up. Then I'll start coming to her gatherings again, I promise.”

  His friend looked stunned. “So wait, that's it? All this brooding, all this hiding from the world and driving her frantic with worry about you, and making everyone around you miserable in the bargain, was because she kept pestering you about Abella and you didn't want her to?”

  Pete hesitated, then shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  Jack gave him a disbelieving look. “Why didn't you just tell her that?”

  “I tried, in my own way.”

  His friend slapped his forehead with his palm, groaning. “Listen, man. I know this is the most painful thing in your life, and I've done my best to be sensitive to that, but that's just . . . I can't even. You realize that one hangup probably singlehandedly torpedoed your romantic relationship with her, right?”

  Pete flushed. “I wasn't looking for a romantic relationship with Lily. I told you that from the start.”

  Jack gave him an odd look. Seriously, Pete really had no idea what it meant. “I know, I just figured that when you said that you actually meant the exact opposite, so . . .” he trailed off sheepishly.

  “You figured wrong.” Pete let the silence drag on for an uncomfortable few seconds. “You'll tell her though, right?”

  “If it means getting you back to the party?” Jack finally laughed, leaning over to throw an arm around him. “Maybe with a bit of sweet talking you can even get back on Ellen's good s-”

  “Stop,” Pete snapped.

  His friend retrieved his arm, looking hurt. “I just meant-”

  “No, I mean stop the vehicle!” Pete craned to look through the passenger's side mirror. “You see that?”

  Jack hastily pulled over, radioing a heads up to Chavez and the second vehicle while Pete hopped out of the truck and ran back thirty feet, past the other truck, to the underbrush next to the road.

  Yeah, there it was. A bit of bright red peeking through the underbrush. Pete crouched, pushing aside branches for a better look, then swore softly. Straightening, he began pacing along the shoulder of the road, peering closely at the dirt.

  Chavez joined him a moment later. “Corporal?” he growled.

  Pete pointed back at the underbrush. “Fresh body hidden in there. Middle aged man. And I've got tire tracks along the shoulder here and skid marks across the road there.”

  The sergeant put together a string of blistering curses, eyes following Pete's finger as he pointed out the evidence. “Slavers ambushing a vehicle, butchering its occupant, and stealing it for a raid?”

  “Sure looks that way.”

  Chavez spent a minute inspecting the body, the tire tracks, and the road around them himself. Then he cursed again and turned to Torm, who nodded as if confirming their conclusion. “What's the nearest settlement?”

  The interrogator shrugged. “I'll radio Command.”

  “Make it snappy.” Chavez raised his voice to the soldiers peering out of the backs of the two trucks. “On your toes, gentlemen! We've got slaver activity here, which means we might just have a chance to catch them in the middle of a raid for once.”

  Pete trotted back to the lead truck and hopped in. “Slavers in the area,” he told Jack.

  His friend snorted. “Or at least were. Once they hit a place they never stick around long.” He saw the expression on Pete's face and looked away, chagrined. “So what's our move?”

  “Find the nearest place and get there before they do.” Pete leaned back, giving his weapon a quick inspection. “Be ready to drive.”

  A few minutes later Chavez radioed them. There was a small settlement about a half hour's drive northeast of their position, a decent distance from the Mississippi and tucked into a secluded little dip between wooded hills where it had so far remained unbothered. The sergeant relayed the best directions Command had for them, and Jack started off at the best speed their patrol vehicles could manage.

  “This will probably be pointless,” Jack grumbled after maybe twenty-five minutes of taking bends at dangerous speeds and going up and down the constant rolling hills fast enough they caught air a few times. “Who knows how far behind the slavers we are, or even if they headed for that settlement. For all we know they could be wandering around looking for targets of opportunity. Or they could've drove straight east and got as far from the river as possible before scoping out likely settlements. Even if they did end up going for this place, by the time we get there it'll probably be a bunch of burned houses and scattered corpses, same as the others we reached too late.”

  “Does your whining have a point, or are you saying we shouldn't even try?”

  His friend opened his mouth, then shut it. A short while later he said. “I'm just saying.”

  “Yeah, and that's real useful.” Pete squinted ahead through the windshield. “We may get lucky this time. We're almost there and there's no sign of smoke, and you know slavers like to burn everything when they leave.”

  Jack snorted. “And alert every patrol within miles of where they are. Maybe they finally got smart and figured out it's better to slip away with their loot without lighting huge signal beacons.”

  Before Pete could point out that their side burned slaver buildings and fields just as often, the truck reached the top of a taller hill and he saw the settlement up ahead.

  There were two vehicles, a delivery van and a pickup truck, parked in the center of the buildings, with several men in Gold Bloc uniforms milling between the crude houses and probably more out of sight inside.

  Jack cursed and slammed on the brakes, throwing Pete forward as he reached up to toggle his mic. He missed, cursed himself and got it the second time, screaming into the radio for the benefit of the rest of the squad in the back of the truck and in Chavez's truck behind theirs. “They're still here! The slavers are still in the town!”

  As the radio erupted with chatter Pete swore at Jack. “Why'd you stop? Go go go!” In his ear Chavez was yelling the same order for them to keep moving.

  His friend slammed the gas, sending them lurching down the other side of the hill towards the settlement still a mile or so away. Halfway down Private Nelson, manning the patrol vehicle's mounted gun, opened fire on the slavers below. Soon after Torm in the sergeant's truck opened fire with their machine gun as well.

  Pete knew this one was going to be hairy. Surprise attacks against slaver camps were one thing, and staging ambushes on raiding slavers was similar. But when a patrol and raiding party met that meant a lot of lead flying around, and it usually became a chase as the raiders tried to disengage and escape while hotly pursued.

  Epsilon had the same number of vehicles as the slavers, but for them that could actuall
y be an advantage since they'd be able to send one ahead to cut off the fleeing enemy. In this case that would probably be Chavez's truck, while Pete's engaged them and pursued from behind.

  Sure enough they hit a fork in the road, and the other truck took the left fork while they continued down the right towards the settlement.

  Which turned out to be the wrong play, because the moment Jack drove them out of a copse of trees and in sight of the small cluster of houses again Pete saw that the slavers hadn't hopped in their vehicles to make a run for it. Instead the vehicles were sitting abandoned, not an enemy in sight.

  Which meant the enemy had scattered into all the structures to try to ambush Epsilon, and this fight was about to get a lot hairier.

  Pete cursed and relayed the news through the radio. Jack stopped them again, then floored the gas in reverse to get them back into the cover of the trees as slavers began peeking out of windows and around the sides of houses to open fire on them.

  “How do we play this, Corp?” his friend demanded.

  Pete shook his head grimly. “We'll hop out and make our way closer through the trees while you and Nelson circle around with the truck and give us cover fire. Hopefully Chavez can get around to attack them from the other side.”

  Jack muttered to himself. “It's times like this where I really hate the fact that the CCZ runs squads of twenty to our twelve.”

  He ignored his friend, hopping out and chivvying three of his squad mates out of the back of the truck. As soon as they were clear Jack and Nelson roared off again to cause what chaos they could with an armored vehicle carrying a mounted machine gun.

  Hopefully even so they'd be careful.

  Pete led the way through the trees, keeping to the best cover and trying to remember what this had all looked like from his brief glimpse atop the rise. He wanted to get his people as close to the settlement as he could, but unfortunately that was still a hundred yards or so.

  Not so bad for a shootout with rifles, but if the slavers were determined Epsilon would eventually have no choice but to bolt across that distance, probably under fire, and sweep the houses one at a time to flush them out.