“Sir,” Sam ventured as she stopped in front of him.
Gabriella’s eyes passed over him and his team, as though assessing them. “Good morning, Squad Leader Balawi.”
Squad Leader Balawi. So formal.
“Morning,” he grunted back.
“Anything to report?”
Sam wondered if he should have something to report. Was this another test? Had he missed something? But no. There had been absolutely nothing of note. Just another eight, dreary hours of mindless walking.
He shook his head. “No, sir. Everything was quiet and normal. I guess.”
“You guess?”
“I don’t really know what normal is for Greeley,” Sam sighed. “Nothing stood out to me. Why?”
Gabriella fixed him with that stern look. “It’s my job to ask, that’s why. And it’s your job to notice things.”
“Did I miss something?”
“Did you?”
Sam stared at her for a long moment. It was like his adrenaline wanted to spike, but couldn’t quite find the energy for it. Maybe it was saving itself for later when he was trying to sleep.
“Look. Sir.” Don’t be rude. Try to play it cool. “I don’t know if you’re trying to get at something or what. But I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The streets were empty. Everything was quiet.”
She nodded as though mollified. “How’s your squad holding up?”
“Fine.” It was a canned answer.
She looked briefly uncomfortable. The shadow of a grimace overtaking her mouth. “I heard about what happened.”
Sam didn’t reply.
Gabriella let out a long, slow sigh. “I’d like to have a conversation with you.”
“Isn’t that what we’re having?”
She shook her head. “Not here. And with some other people.” She looked at him pointedly. “Other people you might want to talk to.”
Now his body found a little reserve of energy to give him a jolt. His whole body tingled. He was suddenly very awake. This could be more Cornerstone bullshit…or it could be the break that he’d been looking for.
“Okay,” he said cautiously. “When?”
“As soon as you finish your shift. Your replacements should be here in a few minutes.” Gabriella looked around, and it didn’t escape Sam that her movements were furtive, as though she were concerned about someone watching her. She pulled something out of her pocket and slipped it discreetly into his hand.
Sam felt paper. Didn’t look at it just yet.
“The place is written on that paper. Be there as soon as your shift ends.” Her eyes never connected to his again. They remained focused outward. “We’ll wait up for you. Come alone.”
Then she turned and marched away.
Marie, who had been close enough to overhear the conversation, slid up to Sam’s side. “What the hell was that?”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“She said to come alone. I don’t like that.”
“I don’t like it either. But…” But I have to go.
How could he not? How could he pass on a potential opportunity?
“Besides,” Sam continued, as though Marie had been privy to his thoughts. “If it’s a legitimate order I can’t just say ‘no.’”
Marie made a quiet noise of stress. A hiss through her teeth. “Goddamn this place.” She grabbed Sam firmly, his shirt bunched in her fist as though she were about to fight him. “You be fucking careful, Sam. Don’t give them rope to hang you with. Or us.”
“I know. I won’t.”
But even as he said it he realized that might not be an option.
***
Weaponless now, Sam walked the morning streets of Greeley with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The paper Gabriella had given him was sweaty and crumpled in his right palm.
The rifles they were given for patrol were on loan. They stayed with the patrol route, so that when one shift arrived to relieve the other, they simply turned the rifles over. During their “orientation” the Cornerstone man that had briefed them stated that operatives would do surprise inspections of the rifles, to make sure that things weren’t going missing, particularly ammo.
So far, that hadn’t happened yet, but Sam had only been on the job for a few days. He figured it was coming.
Which was a minor concern in the grand scheme of things. Sam hadn’t messed with the rifles or the ammo—too risky. And he had other things on his mind at the moment.
Like who else was going to be at this “meeting.”
And whether or not this was an official meeting at all…or something else.
Gabriella’s tone, her words, her expressions, kept coming back to Sam’s memory in finer and finer detail. Every twitch of her mouth, every slash of her gaze, every nuance of her word choice, was subject to interpretation.
Or maybe he was reading too much into it. Maybe this was just a meet for the squad leaders.
But then why would she have looked so strange? Why would she have been glancing over her shoulder? Why would she have given him the paper with the directions on it in such a secretive way?
Sam was well aware of his faltering cognition. His brain was running on willpower and adrenaline at this point, his body simply dragged along like an unwilling dog on a leash. Knowing that he wasn’t in the clearest headspace only increased his paranoia.
He’d already committed the scrap of paper to memory, because he didn’t want to be seen referencing it. In case he was being followed. Which he kept checking for, but didn’t see anyone surveilling him. They were either too good, not there in the first place, or Sam was just too tired to spot them.
Gabriella hadn’t told him to make sure he wasn’t followed. If this were some sort of secret meeting, as he hoped for the sake of his mission, then wouldn’t she have said something like that?
Maybe. Maybe not. If she had, it would have been a giveaway that this was not official, and she might be trying to play her cards close to her chest.
Sam jogged a left at an intersection, heading north now, away from the taller buildings of the more commercial area where he was usually posted. After about a mile, he found himself in a residential area. Neighborhoods. Cookie-cutter houses. Big swaths of these neighborhoods were demolished. Some of them looked intentional, the houses bulldozed into scrap heaps. Other sections looked like they’d been burned, or shot to pieces, but hadn’t yet been knocked down.
And in the midst of all of this typical destruction that had become, over the years, somewhat humdrum for Sam, he found himself in something much stranger. Like little islands, there were other sections of these neighborhoods that looked…normal.
All the little houses still standing in a row. Windows intact. Lawns not exactly manicured, but not overgrown with chest-high weeds either. Sidewalks where an occasional pedestrian passed by. Sam felt like an interloper, but they paid him no mind.
When he found the correct street, he began looking at the numbers on all the identical mailboxes. He had the urge to double check the note in his pocket, but he trusted his memory of it. He eventually stopped at the driveway of a house. A little sable-colored affair.
The number matched.
Was this where Gabriella lived?
Sam had a brief moment, standing there, where he felt something like vertigo. An odd, spinning sensation that left him feeling as though this little house in front of him couldn’t possibly be real, this must’ve been a waking daydream, or a memory from times passed.
He swallowed, shook his head slightly, and moved for the door.
His heart kicked out a steady rhythm of tension in his chest. He stood there, staring at the numbers posted on the door for a long moment, listening, but not hearing anything from inside the house.
He raised his hand to knock, but before his knuckles could strike the door, it opened.
Gabriella stood there, looking just as cautious and stern as she had before. Her gaze flitted over him, making only the barest moment of eye contact befo
re scouring the street beyond. She nodded to him, and held the door open.
“Come on,” she murmured, jerking her head.
Sam stepped through the doorway.
There, standing in a barren living space, stood about a dozen other individuals.
Sam’s eyes shot across each of them, searching for signs of who they were. But they were all dressed in civilian garb. Except for Gabriella, who still wore her black Cornerstone polo. Those gathered were just as interested in Sam as he was with them, and yet no one spoke.
Sam’s gaze passed over one of them—and then snapped back.
The man watched him. Smiling.
And Sam recognized him.
“You again, huh?” It was the man from The Tank. The asshole with his little gang that had tried to rough Sam up when they’d come in.
Sam’s jaw locked down and he looked to Gabriella.
“Sameer, I see you’ve met Nolan,” Gabriella said.
“Sameer, is it?” The man named Nolan remarked. “So I guess you’re not Mexican after all.”
“Wetback. Hadji.” Sam didn’t bother looking at him. “You call me whatever you want, Nolan. I’ve heard it all before.”
An awkward silence descended. There was a nervousness in the air that made it feel stretched and thin. Sam got the distinct impression that no one really had a good idea of whether or not Sam and Nolan were kidding with each other or serious. It was also obvious that no one knew why they had all been gathered.
Sam, for one, had no intention of making more of an enemy of Nolan than necessary. So he was an asshole. Big deal. Assholes were a dime a dozen. Sam could work around that.
Gabriella closed the door behind her. It didn’t escape Sam the sound of the deadbolt being thrown.
“That’s everyone,” Gabriella said, stepping up to Sam’s side.
No one responded. Everyone’s expression was withheld. Cautious.
Sam blinked a few times in the ripe stillness. Then cleared his throat: “May I ask what we’re doing here?”
Gabriella stepped around him and stood at a point in the room where the rest of them formed a loose semi-circle around her. They watched her carefully. She folded her arms across her chest, then seemed to decide that was an unwelcoming posture, and relaxed, holding her hands at her waist.
“Right now? We’re here to talk.”
Another woman, middle-aged and severe looking, like a harried school teacher, put her hands on her hips. “About what? And also…” she swept a finger across the room. “I don’t know any of these people.”
Gabriella nodded. “None of you know each other—except for maybe Sam and Nolan. But you all know me. I was your intake specialist. I talked to each of you when you came into Greeley. And the reason that I asked each of you here today, was because it sounded like you…” Gabriella paused, appearing to struggle with how to state what she wanted. “…Maybe shared my reservations. About things.”
So, this wasn’t an official meeting.
Sam’s heart skipped a few beats, then redoubled its efforts. He could see the effect Gabriella’s words had on the others. Their eyes moved rapidly over everyone else. Scared. Maybe a little excited.
He looked at Nolan, relieved to find the man’s attention now on Gabriella.
So, Nolan-The-Asshole might be an ally?
Sam didn’t like the guy one bit, and trusted him even less. But he was…interested.
“Does command know that we’re having this meeting?” A man asked, his voice low, hesitant.
Gabriella forced a smile that was entirely unconvincing. “I’m not required to notify command just because I want to talk to some people. And that’s all we’re doing here. I need to make that clear. We’re just talking. I’m just…taking your temperature, so to speak.”
“You’re seeing if we’re loyal to Greeley,” Sam suggested, in a tone that didn’t give away whether he was or wasn’t.
Gabriella shook her head, but Sam could see the dishonesty in that motion. “No. Again, I’m just talking. Seeing where everyone’s head is at.”
“Okay,” the School Teacher said. “Why don’t you lead us off then, sir?”
Gabriella took a stiff breath. “Alright. Let’s start this way. If anyone is happy and satisfied with everything going on in Greeley, then you don’t really need to be here. If you’re happy and satisfied, you’re free to go.” Gabriella pointed for the door. “No hard feelings.”
No one moved. Not even a shuffle.
Gabriella nodded. “So, if you’re still standing here, then you have some concerns.”
Again, nothing. No reaction at all. No one wanted to be the first to show their cards, and it didn’t seem like Gabriella wanted to either. But someone was going to have to make the leap of faith. Someone was going to have to extend a modicum of trust to the others, or they’d all just sit in silence, too terrified to speak their minds for fear of reprisal.
Don’t trust anyone.
That’s what Lee had told him.
But occasionally, you have to take the risk.
No one wins in a poker game full of too-cautious players. At some point, someone has to make a serious gamble.
“Yeah,” Sam said, his head humming with worries as he heard his mouth speak. “I have reservations.”
Gabriella cast an appreciative look in his direction. It seemed earnest. Encouraging. “Well, that’s a start, Sam.”
And it was. Because Sam’s words were the hole in the dam, and after that, it became apparent that everyone in the room had reservations. And more than that, they were fucking pissed.
TWENTY-FIVE
─▬▬▬─
MOMENTUM
Lee spun awake in what had become a normal fashion for him.
Complete and utter disorientation.
He was used to it at this point in time, and while his threadbare brain tried to piece together where he was and when he was and what was going on in that instant, a small, logical part of him told him to wait it out. It would pass.
Bulkhead. Steel and bolts. Daylight. An annoying chiming noise.
Someone touched his leg.
He sat up.
It was Angela. Her hand on his leg. She sat on a jump seat in the back of…
Where?
The chiming noise went on.
“Lee?” Angela said gently. She was, perhaps, just as accustomed to his disorientation upon waking as he was. “You with me?”
Lee realized his hands were gripping the rifle that lay on his chest.
He was in the MATV. Laying in the center of it, between the two rows of jump seats. The doors were open. It was broad daylight outside.
“I’m getting there,” Lee mumbled.
“Your satphone is going off.”
Satphone. Yes. That was the chiming noise.
Lee released the grip on his rifle. Looked blearily about for the satphone, then realized it was in his pocket. The where and when of his current existence started to leak back through and supplant a hazy skein of strange dreams. Violent dreams. Dreams where he stood in firelit darkness and let everything and everyone around him burn.
Right. That wasn’t real. This was real.
Their convoy was positioned nearby to the settlement of Lakin, Kansas. He had been awake all night and had chosen to get some sleep while Cass went on ahead. She said she had good rapport with Lakin. They’d done some trading in the past.
Lee felt misgivings take him—had he really allowed Cass to leave on her own? Had he really decided to trust her that much? But then he recalled that it wasn’t that much trust—she’d gone in alone, and he still had a hundred of her people, distributed through their ranks.
Something of a judgement call, but Lee didn’t think she was going to pull anything.
Snippets of conversation drifted back to his mind as he leaned over and fished the satphone from his pocket. Things that Cass had said. Things that made him more comfortable with her as an ally.
She was not a fan of Lee’s t
actics, but she was less a fan of Greeley. In their conversations in the back of the MATV as they had travelled into Kansas, she’d made it clear that she was willing to look past the way that Lee had handled the situation in her settlement, in order to support the overall objective—defeating Briggs.
That was good, Lee thought, as he extended the satphone’s antenna, taking a moment to clear his head before answering. He could see the number calling. He had hoped it would be Sam—Sam had been in his dreams, and he felt a residual fear caking the inside of his mind.
But it wasn’t Sam’s number. It was Abe’s.
“Abe, that you?” Lee answered, somewhat cautiously, like he wasn’t quite sure what to expect on the other line. The weirdness of his dreams still made him expect the worst. Or perhaps that was just smart to do.
“It’s me,” Abe’s voice came over, strong and clear.
Lee relaxed. “Good deal. Sorry, just waking up.”
“Sounds like it. You awake enough to talk?”
Lee rubbed his face with his awkward left hand. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”
“Well, this oughta perk you up a bit. I got some good news.”
“God help me, that’ll be refreshing.”
“So, we infiltrated La Junta last night—”
“Infiltrated?” Lee frowned.
“Right. Try to stay with me. It’s a big settlement and we weren’t sure about their loyalties, so we played it very cautiously. And we may have had to rough a few people up. Some feelings got hurt.”
This doesn’t sound like good news, Lee thought, but restrained himself from saying.
“All’s well that ends well,” Abe concluded. “We had a nice, long, midnight chat with the guy running shit here in La Junta—Jonathan Reeves. Long story short, after we explained why we had to ninja our way into his house in the middle of the night, he understood, and he’s on board.”
“Onboard? Like…?”
“Like he’s an ally. La Junta is open for business. I’ve got my whole team settling into some temporary quarters. The entire settlement is one-hundred-percent anti-Greeley. In fact, Cornerstone came through only a few days ago and tried to bully them into supporting Briggs, but they weren’t having it and they told that handful of Cornerstone operatives to go fuck themselves. Now, I’ve got a solid contingent of people from La Junta that are ready and raring to go for a push on Greeley. It’s not everybody, but it’s a solid number, and it’s got some solid fighters. Some former military personnel, and they’ve been doing some training with the civilians. Right now, we got about two hundred people ready to mount up and ride on Greeley.”
Lee Harden Series | Book 5 | Unbowed Page 26
