by D. J. Molles
Lee stared at her for a moment, wondering if this was a perverse joke of some sort.
“Lee!” she raised her voice. “The hemostat!”
She was serious about this. She was actually worried about saving the man’s life.
Lee snapped up the hemostat and handed it to Julia.
She shook her head. “I need you to do it. I can’t move my hands. I’ll guide you in.”
“Should I glove up?”
“He’s already got open bowels in here. Your dirty hands aren’t gonna make a difference. Put it in there.”
“Okay.” Lee pressed up against the table, leaning over Pikes’s inert form. “Where?”
“Right on top of my left hand. The space between my index and middle finger. Okay? Slide it down in there. Do exactly what I tell you to do.”
Lee placed the closed end of the hemostat against the blue nitrile of Julia’s gloves and began sliding it into Pikes’s body, slow. He felt Julia’s fingers moving against it as it disappeared into the bloody mess. She probed it. Getting a feel for where it was.
“Keep going. Slowly. Okay stop.” She took a quick breath. “Now open them. Just a bit.”
Lee opened them. Felt one of Julia’s fingers pushing the hemostat where she wanted it.
“Little further,” she said. “There. Stop. Okay. You’re right on the artery. Clamp it down.”
Lee clamped the hemostat.
There was a moment of silence.
Lee looked at Julia, but her eyes were unfocused, fixed on the far side of the room. She was visualizing the interior of Pikes’s abdomen.
“Okay. I think you got it. I’m not feeling the pulse anymore.” Her eyes became focused again, locked onto Lee’s. “Let go of the hemostat. Grab those bandages there. I’m going to pull my finger off the artery, and you’re going to mop some of this blood up and we’re going to see if it fills up again.”
“Alright.”
Lee grabbed the wad of bandages she’d indicated, and when she nodded to him, he pressed them into the wound between her hands. The blood soaked through the bandage as he sopped it up, and he felt it, warm on his fingertips. He adjusted, then blotted some more, then removed the bandages.
They stood for another twenty seconds in silence, staring at the opening. Lee saw the pale jumble of Pikes’s small intestine bulging around Julia’s hands. There was still blood, but it wasn’t pulsing or welling rapidly. Lee detected a faint fecal smell, and he wasn’t sure if it was coming from inside the man’s perforated bowels, or because Pikes had shit his pants.
“I think we’re okay,” Julia said, and then withdrew her hands. She watched it for another moment, and when the blood didn’t well up, she nodded to herself. “I think we got it.” Then her eyes went to Lee again. “We got a problem.”
“What?”
“Bullet hit him in the hip. Rebounded into his abdomen. It’s still in there. It perforated his bowels in I don’t know how many places.” She blew her hair out of her face, only to have it fall back again. She used her wrist to swipe it away, leaving a pale streak of blood on her forehead. “You recognize him?”
“Yeah. Pikes. From last night.”
Julia nodded. Her eyes registered panic. “Lee, I don’t think I can save him.” She thrust a bloody hand at the man. “The bullet’s still in him, and he’s gonna go septic, I can almost guarantee you that.” She shook her head, her eyes wide. “I can’t perform perforated bowel surgery, Lee! I don’t have the equipment for that!”
Lee’s brow cinched down in confusion. “Julia, you can’t save everyone…”
“You don’t fucking get it!” she snapped. “They’re gonna think I didn’t save him on purpose!”
Lee took her shoulders. “Jules, it doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it fucking matters!”
“Then they can do the goddamned surgery themselves!” Lee glanced at the body. “Fucker’s already lived eight hours longer than he should’ve. Fuck him. Look at me.” He lowered his voice. “Do the best you can. Stop the bleeding. Get the bullet out. Mop up what you can. Or triage him as a total loss and move on to someone you can save.”
Julia’s face was blank. “I can’t save him.”
“Then move on, Jules. If anyone’s got a problem with that, you can tell ‘em what you told me. I’ll have your back on it.”
Julia breathed. Swallowed. Seemed to be testing herself to see if she could do what Lee advised. And then, after some thought, a very small nod.
She was okay.
They were both okay.
They’d made it one step closer to getting out.
Something in the back of his mind spurred him.
Another spike of worry hit him.
Deuce.
He looked at Julia, and was about to ask her, but then he hesitated. She had enough on her plate. He didn’t want to worry her any more than she already was. And if Deuce had been in this bunker…
Shit. Lee felt his stomach rolling again. Let out a slew of curses that never made it past his lips because he didn’t want to concern Julia.
Deuce would have come to him. He would have smelled Lee or heard him when he entered the bunker, and he would have run to him, because he hated to be around this many strangers.
He wasn’t here.
A dozen different possibilities for where Deuce might be ran through Lee’s head, but there was only one reality to it: Deuce was not here.
Movement at the door.
Lee turned, found Abe standing there. This time Lee felt his relief mixed with agitation. “Where did you run off to?” he demanded.
“I was helping one of the wounded guys,” Abe said, but he seemed too distracted to be defensive at Lee’s tone. “Tex needs us. In the control center. Now.”
***
The control center was positioned at the front of the bunker, near the doors to the lift. It was a small room that contained a bank of monitors and system panels that controlled everything inside and outside the bunker.
It was here that they found Tex and Menendez.
The two of them were huddled over a satphone in Tex’s hands, and they glanced up when Lee and Abe hustled in. Tex made a definitive motion towards the satphone, and no one spoke.
Someone was already speaking.
It was a voice that rattled around in Lee’s head like a pinball for a moment before he was able to place how he recognized it.
“Is that John Bellamy?” Lee whispered to Abe.
Abe nodded, and they stepped closer to Tex and Menendez’s huddle.
Lee swung the door closed behind him to cut off any eavesdroppers.
Bellamy was talking: “…don’t know how long I’ve got. I might not be a viable option for you guys much longer.”
“Roger that,” Tex said. “Hey, Lee and Abe just joined us. You’re on speaker.”
There was a moment of silence that sounded to Lee like surprise.
“That really Mr. Immortal himself?”
With considerable effort, Lee pushed his worries about Deuce out of his mind—for now. He smiled, more for Tex and Abe’s benefit, and responded to Bellamy. “I don’t feel very immortal.”
“You have no idea how many times they’ve tried to kill you.”
“Actually, I’ve got a pretty fair idea.”
“And Abe,” Bellamy said. “I didn’t think I’d ever talk to you again.”
“Same here, man,” Abe said, smiling down at the satphone. “Good to hear from you again. Even better to hear that you’re on our side.”
“Listen, guys,” Bellamy’s voice became guarded. “I can’t stay on long. I’m in a quiet section of Greeley right now, but the shorter I keep this the safer I’ll be. And like I was just telling Tex…things are getting a little tight around here.”
Tex nodded. “Go ahead, John. We’re listening.”
“Right. So these fuckers you guys are dealing with down there, these Nuevas Fronteras characters…”
“We’re familiar,” Tex grum
bled.
“…You know that I’m the POC for them here in Greeley.”
“Right.”
“Well, I just got half-chewed out because they went over my head and talked to Colonel Lineberger. According to Lineberger, the cartel is in a fucking panic, requesting that Greeley send them troops to help secure a power plant that they think you’re getting too close to.”
Tex frowned. “John, I don’t know if you’re aware, but they just hit one of our outposts. Pushed us completely out of the area. We’re currently taking refuge in one of my bunkers. I gotta say, they didn’t seem like they were too worried when they pushed us back here.”
“Okay,” Bellamy sounded like he was piecing something together. “That makes sense. Lineberger said that they’d mentioned something about a big move against you guys. Problem is, they took pretty bad casualties on it. They’re weak, and they don’t think they can hold the power plant.”
Staring at the satphone, Lee realized his heart had started to thump. “John, is there any chance that Greeley already has troops on the ground with the cartel?”
Bellamy was quiet for a beat. “No. I feel like I would’ve known about that. Why are you asking?”
“We had contact with a squad of guys yesterday,” Lee said, frowning. “They weren’t cartel. They seemed like military. They had the equipment and the night vision and the tactics, anyways.”
“I dunno, Lee,” Bellamy said. “But from what I’ve seen dealing with this cartel, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had some military working for them. Cartels traditionally have a lot of Central American military personnel in their ranks.” There was a pause, and Bellamy continued, sounding disgruntled. “Not to mention the fact that I had to turn over a bunch of bunkers into their control. A lot of that military equipment you saw might’ve come out of a Project Hometown bunker.”
Lee rubbed his face pensively, but didn’t say anything else.
“The power plant,” Tex said, circling back around. “Are you advising this as a target?”
“Well, I’m relaying what I heard. I can’t tell you to take it…but…”
Tex clenched his eyes closed. “Do you have any further intel on it? How well it’s defended? And which one are we talking about?”
“Shit, Tex, it’s all through context. Nothing definitive, and I didn’t want to ask too many questions and seem weird. All I know is that Nuevas Fronteras is pretty convinced that you guys could take it down if you made a move, and they’re desperate for our help. Lineberger mentioned it was located somewhere near Comanche? Or that might be the name of the plant?”
Tex nodded, making a link in his mind. “Okay. I know the one they’re talking about.”
“And, guys,” Bellamy continued. “I think Lineberger is gonna commit some Cornerstone operatives to help them secure it, but I gather that’s still twenty-or-so hours out.”
“Fuck.” Tex rubbed his face. Finally opened his eyes. “John, that’s a small window, man.”
“I know it is. But—and Lee, I’m lookin’ at you, buddy—this might be your ticket to mobilizing the UES.”
Tex’s expression was still pained. “John, you’re talking a twenty hour window, which shrinks to twelve if we want to play it safe. That’s twelve hours to put together a major operation against unknown odds. And I don’t know if I said it, but they banged us up pretty good last night. Everyone’s been fighting for the last eight hours straight. Nobody slept. We got our arms full with wounded.”
There was a definite note of disappointment in Bellamy’s voice when he spoke again. “I understand, Tex. I do. And you’re the one that has to call the shots down there. All I can do is pass on the bits and pieces I find out about. I guess I’m just…Tex, this might be the last piece of intel I can get you.”
“Is it looking that bad there?”
“Shit, I don’t know. I recognize that it might be paranoia on my part. But if I wait until the hammer falls on my head, it’s gonna be too late, you know?”
“Alright. Well, listen. I can’t guarantee you that we’ll make a move on this thing. I guess you’ll find out through the grapevine if we do. In the meantime, keep yourself safe, and if you gotta jet outta there, don’t think twice. Do you have a plan in place?”
“Yeah, something like that. I’m working on it.”
“Well, finish it. Like you said, if the hammer’s dropping, it’s already too late.”
“Roger that. Hey, I gotta go.”
Nothing else was said.
The line clicked dead.
They all stared at the satphone for another few seconds until Tex closed it and collapsed the antenna.
Lee crossed his arms over his chest and took a heavy breath. “Shit. I can’t tell whether this is good news or bad news.”
“Good news that we got the intel,” Menendez pointed out. “Bad news that we can’t take advantage of it.”
Tex looked at his sergeant earnestly. “Is that your real opinion? You think we can’t foot it right now?”
Menendez looked surprised. “Hell…I thought that was your opinion.”
Tex grimaced. “I don’t know what my opinion is.”
Lee scratched at the stubble on his face then winced as his fingers touched a piece of bullet shrapnel. “Keep it simple, Tex. Run the numbers. If the numbers make sense, we roll with it. If they don’t make sense, we hold back.”
Tex huffed out a sigh and leaned back against the desk that held all the computerized bunker control systems. “Alright. I have yet to get an exact headcount for our most recent disaster…”
“We got sixty-seven people in this bunker right now,” Menendez interrupted. “Including us. Eight of them are completely out of commish—no way they can fight. There’s another twenty with minor booboos that we can give ‘em some Ibuprofen and tell ‘em to buck up. There’s another twelve that are somewhere in between—I was waiting to hear from the docs—but I wouldn’t count on them.” His recount of the figures done, Menendez glanced from Tex, to Lee, to Abe. “That leaves us with twenty-seven fighters. Maybe forty-seven, if we count the probables.”
Tex smiled. “That’s why I keep you around, Menendez. You’re like my personal assistant.”
“What about Oklahoma?” Lee asked.
Tex pursed his lips, musing. “You think they can get down here in time?”
Lee shrugged. “I suppose we’d need to ask them that.” Lee thought of another question. “How close is this power plant?”
“Close,” Tex said. “Which makes sense why they pushed us out of Caddo. We were right in their backyard. Though, I don’t think they actually have possession of that power plant. I feel like we would have caught wind of them moving in.”
“Maybe that was the push on Caddo,” Lee pointed out. “Maybe that was them moving in.”
“Then it turned into more of a fight than they were expecting,” Tex postulated. “And now they don’t know if they can hold the power plant.”
Menendez looked troubled. “You think they really want the power plant? What the hell are they gonna do with it?”
“Well, we know they’re using power plants elsewhere,” Abe said, stroking his bushy black beard. “There’s no way they could’ve gotten the refineries running without a power plant. Which means they have some nuclear engineers. Or…” Abe shrugged. “Whatever you need to get a power plant running.”
Lee nodded along with him. “We got one running up in the UES.”
“No shit?” Menendez looked impressed. “Well, damn. So, they want the power plant for what?”
“Push more pumping stations?” Abe suggested.
Lee nodded again. “That would be my guess. I’d go one step further and suggest that this is how they plan on pumping oil to Greeley. Which explains why Lineberger would commit troops to it.”
Something sparkled in Tex’s eyes. “So taking this power plant is going to starve Greeley of oil.”
“For now,” Lee said. “Which might give us the opportunity to get the UES in
volved, like John pointed out.”
Tex leaned forward on his elbows, staring at the floor. “Alright. If we decide to do this—and I’m not saying we are—but if we do, I can probably get Oklahoma to send us…twenty? I’m just guessing here.”
Menendez squinted shrewdly. “But will they be here on time?”
“Well, that I can’t say.”
“Can you contact them?” Lee asked. “From here?”
Tex waggled the satphone that was still in his hands. “Yup.”
Lee nodded, thoughtfully. “Tex, I can’t tell you what to do. But if I were you, I’d see if the timeline works out. And if it did, I’d take that place down. Starve Greeley. Starve Nuevas Fronteras of Greeley’s support. And give the UES time to get down here with some troops.”
Lee paused, to see if there was anything anyone else needed to say. When no one spoke up, he finally let it out, trying to sound level about it. “Has anyone seen Deuce?”
All eyes turned to him. Blank expressions. Then, regret.
Everyone shook their heads.
No one had seen him since the firefight on the hill.
NINETEEN
─▬▬▬─
PILLOW TALK
Things seemed to be getting out of control in Fort Bragg.
This was less of something that was apparent, and more of a general feeling that Sam had in the low parts of his gut.
It was like that person that you know so well, you can tell from the miniscule movements of their face if they are happy or sad or angry.
It was the same way with Fort Bragg.
Sam had been around these people every day for years. This little society of theirs, it had something of its own unique, collective personality.
And there was something wrong with it right now.
Sam stood at the kitchen sink, which had a window that looked out over the neighborhood streets. It was getting into the late morning hours now, and given Sam’s third-shift excitement the previous night, he should’ve been sleeping.
He’d awoken to what sounded like someone speaking on a bullhorn.
