Chain Breakers (Nuclear Winter Book 3)

by Nathan Jones

  Pete relaxed, and while Branson wasn't as obvious about it he did as well. “Glad to hear it, sir,” the sergeant said.

  The captain gave them both a probing look. “I'm curious. Does the 103rd have a nickname?”

  Branson hesitated. “A few that've floated around for a while, sir. None seem to stick.”

  “Ah. I believe this one will.”

  The sergeant gave him a confused look. “Sir?”

  The captain's smile broadened. “I've heard it, ah, as you say “floating” among my men since the successful raid.” He motioned to Lily, as if that explained everything. “They're calling you Chainbreakers.”

  With a final nod to them Simard strode away to organize the crossing. Once he was gone Branson glowered at Pete. “Chainbreakers, huh?” He shook his head. “Guess there are worse nicknames out there.”

  Pete actually kind of liked it. He wanted to believe he contributed more to the world than just shooting blockheads, and freeing slaves was something to be proud of. “Guess so.”

  The sergeant's scowl abruptly turned fierce. “All right, Private, back to work! We've got dozens of vehicles to get across the Mississippi before the enemy gets their act together and comes after us.”

  * * * * *

  As expected, since they were on sentry duty Epsilon was among the last to cross the Mississippi.

  It was done quickly, the ferry crews working fast after a day of practice getting it right. Within minutes the final sentries and scouts had pulled their vehicles up onto the boats and pushed them off the bank.

  There had been no sighting of CCZ patrols during the hour and a half it had taken to get everyone across, and the scouts had done a final sweep before giving the all clear for the last remaining forces west of the Mississippi to load up and return to Canadian soil.

  Even so, Pete felt like he had a target on his back as he scrambled into the last ferry, joining Lily at the railing and doing his best to shield her from the west bank with his body. That itch between his shoulder blades didn't go away as the onboard motor on the craft roared to life, and as it made the best possible speed across the large river he expected at any moment to feel the familiar numb shock of a bullet slamming into him before he even heard the sound of it, followed by the growing blossom of pain as his body realized something was seriously wrong.

  The pain never came. No shots sounded from the bank they'd just abandoned, no noise of approaching vehicles or shouts from enraged enemy soldiers. The only sounds were the engine and the relieved cheers of his fellow soldiers. Lily grinned and hugged him, and Pete let himself smile back and tussled her dirty blond hair.

  “Next stop, Camp Pearson,” he told her.

  It didn't take long for them to get across the river, load the barges onto their trailers, and set off. The convoy drove north along the Mississippi, far enough back to avoid being spotted by any enemy forces on the far bank, but close enough that their scouts could keep an eye on the river for any useful intelligence on enemy movements. Even if the 51st and 103rd couldn't afford to act on the information, it would be useful to relay up the chain of command for Canadian strategists to work with.

  Camp Pearson was just east of the ruins of East St. Louis, a bit over two hours away at the convoy's regular traveling speed. Not long into the drive Lily ended up falling asleep against Pete's shoulder, even though it was still hours until sunset. He couldn't blame her, considering the hard life she must've endured in the camp and the chaotic day she'd just had. For that matter a few of his fellow soldiers were doing their best to doze in their seats.

  Once the girl was free and safe back in camp, hopefully she'd have a chance to properly rest and recover from her ordeal.

  Finally the word came down that they were rolling into camp. Pete gently shook Lily awake, surreptitiously massaging the pins and needles from his arm after she raised her head as the circulation was finally restored. “We're here.”

  Nodding, the little girl rubbed her eyes and looked towards the back of the truck. Since they were coming in from the west East St. Louis loomed behind them, a slag heap of decaying, skeletal buildings, many of them no more than burned hulks.

  The city had been picked clean by looters and rioters after the Gulf burned, then by scavengers in the more than a year and a half since. And now that trade with Mexico and the US in the Rocky Mountains was a thing the Canadian military was directing thousands of civilians in the surrounding area in the work of stripping all those buildings of useful wiring and scrap metal.

  They weren't the only ones who'd had that idea. Over the past week or so scouts had reported teams of blockheads across the Mississippi in St. Louis doing some scavenging of their own. The width of the river hadn't stopped the two groups from trading potshots at each other, most of which were hilariously far from the mark, and for small arms fire at least had expended a lot of their stopping power by the time they got to the far bank.

  Still, it added a bit of risk for anyone scavenging in the neighborhoods along the river who didn't know how to stick to cover. The Mississippi wasn't that wide where it passed through St. Louis, and a decent shooter aiming for a stationary target had a fair chance of hitting it. Skirmishes across the river like that was the only real combat the CCZ and Canada still engaged in, outside of raiding.

  But soon the view of the city's ruins disappeared as they pulled into the camp's motor pool, leaving them to look at the trucks holding freed slaves that were continuing on to drop off their passengers at the eastern end of camp, where dozens of large tents had been set up along with shower and latrine facilities.

  The soldiers of Epsilon squad filed out of the truck, joining the milling mass of men and women from two full companies who were dispersing to their barrack tents or other camp facilities. Pete started to follow, then paused when he realized Lily was still in her seat, waiting expectantly. He bit back a sigh.

  “It's been a long day,” he said as gently as he could. “If I hold your hand will you walk instead of making me carry you?”

  The girl gave him a hurt look, but nodded and accepted his offered hand. He led her to the back of the truck and lifted her down, then wove through the confusion of departing soldiers towards the newly built refugee camp. Lily dogged his heels with every step, occasionally kicking his shins as she tried to stay too close in the confusion. Her grip on his hand had surprising strength for such a frail arm, a silent signal of her growing distress. Pete squeezed her hand reassuringly.

  Before too long they passed the laundry tents, and Pete brightened in spite of himself as a woman a year or so older than him straightened from hanging wash on a line to wave. “Kid!” she called, leaving her basket of sodden cloths behind and heading their way.

  At Pete's side Lily hesitantly waved back. “Um, hi.”

  He grinned in spite of himself. “I think she was talking to me.”

  The little girl gave him a surprised look. “She calls you kid?”

  By that time the woman had reached them, grinning as she overheard that last bit. “Everyone calls him Kid,” she said, reaching out to tussle Pete's hair. Not much different from how he'd mussed Lily's hair not too long ago, which kind of irked him. “The Kid, really.”

  Lily wrinkled her nose. “Why?”

  Pete shrugged, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I joined the military young.”

  “Yeah, sure.” The woman nudged him teasingly. “I think it has more to do with the fact that you're a bit of a hothead.” She winked at Lily. “Not as much as he was, from what I hear, but he'll still dive headfirst into a scrape. Also it probably helps that his last name is Childress. It all just worked together to give our little boy his nickname.”

  Pete tried to keep his dignity as he changed the subject. “Lily, this is my friend Kathleen Feldmann. Kathleen, this is Lily, um . . .” He trailed off, realizing he'd never asked the girl her last name. Or if she had family. Or where she lived.

  Man was he an insensitive jerk.

  “Adams,” Lily fi
nished in her small voice, offering her left hand to Kathleen to shake while she kept holding Pete's hand in a death grip with her right. “Lily Adams.”

  “Right,” Pete agreed hastily. “Anyway we took Lily out of the Lost Home slave camp, along with a couple of her friends and all the other freed slaves.”

  Kathleen smiled warmly at the little girl. The laundry worker was on the shorter side, with mouse brown hair and gray eyes made a larger by the glasses she wore. In spite of conditions after the Gulf burned she was somehow still slightly plump, which gave her an interesting figure that stood out in a crowd of people on the edge of starvation.

  Pete always felt like a tool for thinking it, but Kathleen would've been way out of his league if she'd been pretty. Which wasn't to say she wasn't cute in a friendly, likable sort of way. She just couldn't compete with Alice's stunning good looks, and whether or not it made him a crappy person he kept finding himself making that comparison, even though it had been almost a year since he'd walked away from Alice for good.

  He supposed that was one of the drawbacks of a first love who was in a class of her own, if you could call that a drawback.

  In reality he should've been counting his blessings, considering his uphill battle to catch Kathleen's eye when she was one of the few women in a camp full of soldiers. Especially since he was younger than her. Sure, he'd managed to talk her into joining him for dinner last week, although he wasn't sure that counted for anything since they'd eaten with Saunders and a few others. In fact he'd half assumed that their almost-date was nothing serious on her part, and if he asked for a second one she'd politely let him down, or at best string him along until she found someone better.

  But he'd apparently drawn Kathleen's eye more than he'd realized, since as the young woman chatted with Lily about her rescue from the camp she casually draped an arm over Pete's shoulder and leaned against him. That was way more hands-on than Kathleen had ever been with him before, and definitely seemed like a good sign.

  Was it because he had Lily with him? He'd heard girls responded well to nurturing instincts in a guy.

  On the spur of the moment Pete spoke up. “We were headed over to the refugee camp to get Lily settled in. Want to come along?”

  Kathleen gave him an amused look. It was probably pretty obvious that he had ulterior motives: not just trying to find an excuse to spend time with her, but also in that he was dreading the moment when he'd have to find a way to leave Lily with the other freed slaves so he could rejoin his squad. Maybe having someone else along would help with that.

  But the young woman nodded and trotted back over to the other laundry workers to talk to them about covering for her, then moved around to Lily's other side to take her free hand. They took up a lot of room that way, walking down the street side by side, but somehow made it to the refugee camp without creating a roadblock.

  Once among the newly set up tents they were plunged into the chaos of a camp that suddenly found itself trying to sort out and settle in the hundreds of new residents it had been built for. More would be on the way, too, if the other companies sent out on raids today and over the next few days were similarly successful.

  Pete did his best to duck between confused, ragged people, searching for someone who could help him while pulling Lily and Kathleen along behind him in a sideways line. Finally he found the center of the activity, where civilian aid workers were struggling to deal with the influx of new arrivals.

  He made his way over to a harried-looking American woman with the sagging folds of skin of someone who'd lost a lot of weight fast. After a few minutes of trying he finally managed to get her attention. “What?” she snapped.

  Pete raised Lily's hand slightly, gently maneuvering her front and center. “She came from the slave camp and needs to get settled in.”

  The aid worker wryly glanced around at the seething mass of unwashed humanity. “What a unique situation. You have some problem with waiting your turn?”

  For some reason her reaction annoyed Pete. Maybe because he considered Lily a special case out of all these people, since he was the one who'd found himself taking responsibility for her. “No, it's-” he paused and let go of the little girl's hand, leaving her with Kathleen while he took the aid worker aside. “Listen. I think she's been traumatized by what happened when we saved her from the place. She saw some shocking things. I just want to make sure she's properly taken care of.”

  The woman's expression softened slightly. Nodding at him, she went over and bent over to bring her face level with Lily's. “Listen, hun,” she said gently. “We're swamped right now, and I'm sorry if it doesn't seem like we care. But I'm glad you're out of that awful place and free again.”

  The little girl huddled a bit closer to Kathleen's side, and the young woman put a reassuring arm around her. “Thank you,” Lily peeped quietly.

  The aid worker smiled. “I'll tell you what. Most everyone is interested in food and beds right now, so the showers aren't very crowded. Why don't we get you over there ahead of the rush, give you a chance to wash up and change into clean clothes. Does that sound good?”

  Lily shamefacedly glanced down at her baggy dress, long since dried out but still soiled, and nodded. But when the aid worker tried to take her hand and lead her away the girl panicked, clutching Kathleen's hand and giving Pete a pleading look.

  “You'll be here when I get back, won't you?” she begged. Pete looked away, and with a keening noise the little girl broke free and ran over to throw her arms around him. “Please don't leave.”

  Pete glanced helplessly at the two women, then down at the sticklike arms clinging to him, the hollow, frightened face, and the huge green eyes staring up into his.

  Dang it. He awkwardly patted her head. “We can stick around for a bit longer, make sure you get settled in here,” he reluctantly agreed. Over Lily's head Kathleen nodded at him to let him know she was still with him.

  “That's fine,” the aid worker said. She turned and started away at a brisk walk. “Come on.”

  As they made their way to the showers the woman introduced herself as Leann, and gave a sort of off the cuff tour of the camp facilities they passed. Then they arrived at their destination, and true to Leann's word the showers were barely in use. The aid worker rustled up a pair of clothes for Lily, much too big since they hadn't been expecting kids and even the smallest women's clothes swamped the malnourished girl. So she searched around until she found a sash from a bathrobe to use as a makeshift belt.

  With Lily's dubious wardrobe taken care of Leann ushered the girl into one of the stalls, piling a toothbrush, hairbrush, and a few other personal hygiene items into her arms. Lily reluctantly allowed herself to be led away, but as she went she gave Pete a distrustful look as if afraid he'd ditch her while she was out of sight.

  He had no intention of doing so, of course. The thought had barely crossed his mind.

  While the girl cleaned herself up Leann vanished to do some task. Pete found himself alone with Kathleen a short distance from the showers, and for a painful half minute they both shifted awkwardly as the silence stretched.

  Finally he cleared his throat. “Thanks for coming along. I'll admit I'm out of my element here.”

  The young woman gave him a warm smile, eyes dancing behind her glasses. “You're doing fine.” She hesitated for a moment. “Want to tell me about the raid on Lost Home?”

  Pete didn't really, but it was something to talk about. So as the minutes passed he quietly relayed the day's events. Lily seemed to be taking her time, probably enjoying the warm water, and by the time he finished the girl still hadn't emerged from the stall.

  Leann came back, carrying a bundle of things including blankets and shoes that, while small, would probably look like clown shoes on Lily. She made her way over to Pete and Kathleen and shoved the things into his arms.

  “It's kind of you two to look out for the girl,” she said solemnly. “Normally we'd prioritize her care, and I'll certainly do what I can for
her, but I've got to be honest: this camp was intended for adults, freed slaves who'd be willing to get to work improving their own lives. There were almost forty kids among the people you brought back from Lost Home, and we don't have the resources to do as much for them as we'd like.”

  “What are you saying?” Pete asked warily.

  “I'm saying that she'd be better off if she had someone looking out for her, helping her in ways we can't manage. A couple who could provide her with some stability.”

  “We're not a couple!” Kathleen said, sounding angry enough that Pete took it personally. “What are you suggesting, that we adopt her? You want to fob her off on a couple of perfect strangers?”

  Leann looked taken aback. “No!” She patted the air soothingly. “I just meant that you seem to care about her. If you care enough you could provide her with necessities and even luxuries that we just don't have the resources to give her ourselves.” The aid worker's eyes settled on Kathleen's hands, still slightly wrinkled from washing clothes. “Even if you did nothing more than helped her find work with you, that could do a lot to improve her situation.”

  “So walking a kid a hundred feet is enough to make me responsible for her?” Kathleen demanded, relentless. “What kind of BS is that?”

  The older woman sighed and glanced at Pete. He had no idea how to react to any of this and said nothing, and she sighed again. “Look, I'd love it if people were falling all over themselves to donate help to the freed slaves,” she said wearily. “I mean I know that most of what you loot from the slave camps is going to them to help them get started living new lives, but that's not much stuff split among hundreds of people. The slaves haven't been rescued from hell and brought to paradise like we'd all wish for; in spite of our best efforts this is more like purgatory, and they're still in a difficult spot. We'll do what we can, everything we can, but it won't be enough.”

  “I didn't realize the situation was quite that bad,” Pete said.

  Leann snorted. “Why wouldn't it be? You gave us less than a week to prepare for an influx of thousands of new people.” She shook her head. “Anyway all that doesn't matter. What I'm saying is that anyone who cares, anyone who's willing to do something, can make a difference. Your help could be a huge benefit for that little girl in there.”