Lee Harden Series | Book 5 | Unbowed

by Molles, D. J.

  “That’s fantastic,” Lee said, even as he frowned, rubbing his eyebrows. Of course, this was the plan. And it was always wonderful when the plan worked out—which it so rarely did. But now there were myriad other concerns. “How’re they fixed on weapons and ammo?”

  Abe made a noncommittal noise. “Could be better. We’ll need to supplement, but we won’t have to provide everything.”

  Lee considered their stores and how much they actually had to hand out. While they’d taken what they could from Butler, and they’d emptied out every bunker in Texas, a lot of that had already been used, and a good chunk of what was left had gone to arming the people from Butler and a few from Triprock.

  Luckily, Cass’s people had come prepared and well-equipped enough that Lee didn’t have to dip into their mobile armory. That wouldn’t necessarily be the case with Lakin. That remained to be seen.

  “Alright,” Lee nodded to himself. “You’ve done an amazing job, as usual. Give me some numbers? You said two hundred. How many of those are well equipped?”

  “Well, most of them have rifles. But a lot of them don’t have much ammunition to go along with it. I’m still gathering the specifics.”

  “Roger that. I’ll wait and we’ll hash it out when I get there.”

  “Where are you currently?”

  “Just outside of Lakin, Kansas, making contact with a settlement there. After this, we’re heading your way.”

  “Any leads on Lakin?”

  Lee grimaced. “Not sure on that yet. I’ve got a lady that has a relationship with them working on it right now.”

  “Any word from Sam?”

  “Not in the last twenty-four hours.”

  “Gotcha. Well, that’s all I got for you, Supreme Leader.”

  Lee rolled his eyes. “We’ll aim to be there by tomorrow at the latest.”

  “We’ll be ready for you.” Abe sounded like he was smiling as he spoke. “Things are looking up. Stay strong and watch your back.”

  “Same to you.”

  Lee hung up the satphone and stared at it for a time.

  Abe was right. Things were looking up. But Lee had learned not to trust blue skies. They only made him wonder when the next storm would blow in.

  ***

  It wasn’t really a question of when Sam had slept last. It was more a question of how many hours he’d slept in the past several days.

  He knew he needed sleep. He figured he’d had about ten hours total, in the entire week since leaving Texas. But he didn’t think he was going to get much today. His brain was sparking and his body jittery as he climbed the steps to his flat.

  When he reached the door, he gave the requisite knock so that no one would attack him when he came through—three knocks, pause, one more knock. “It’s Sam,” he hissed at the door. “I’m coming in.”

  He pushed the door open to find all four of his squadmates sitting in various poses on the floor, staring at him eagerly. He caught how their eyes flitted over his shoulder, as though wondering if he had brought any unwanted guests with him.

  He closed the door behind him, then turned, his hands kneading at each other.

  Jones leaned up and crossed his legs under him like a kid. “What’s the word, Boss?”

  Sam stepped into the middle of the room and then lowered himself to the floor in the same position as Jones. He grabbed eye contact with each of his team—Marie, looking tense; Jones, looking eager; Pickell, curious; Johnson, reticent. He motioned for them to huddle up closer.

  His team tightened up around him, a little circle, like a slumber party, and Sam was going to tell them ghost stories with a flashlight under his chin.

  He spoke in a whisper: “The meeting was…interesting.”

  Jones rolled his eyes. “Jesus, man. We don’t give a fuck about the preamble. What the hell happened?”

  “Gabriella, the Cornerstone woman that came to talk to me while we were on patrol? She got a group of squad leaders together. People she’d given the entrance interviews to and felt they all had concerns about how Greeley was being run.”

  “How many?” Marie asked.

  “Eleven. Plus me.”

  “What about this Gabriella chick?” Jones demanded. “Where’s she stand? Is she just milking you? This isn’t like…” he gave Sam a suspicious look. “…another Charlie situation, is it?”

  Sam scratched his eyebrow irritably. “If you’re asking whether we’re fucking, then no.”

  “Well, I mean, I’d be curious about that too,” Jones admitted. “But no, I was wondering what she said. Did she come out and say anything legitimately seditious? Or was she just trying to pump you guys to see where your loyalties lie?”

  Sam shook his head, unsure. “I dunno, man. I’d love to tell you that I had a perfect fix on her, but I’m not a mind reader. Y’all know I’ve been screwed before, and I’m not gonna act like I’m immune to it.” Sam made a pained face. “I’m so fucking tired right now, I’m having a hard time trusting my perception of anything at this point. All I’ve got to go on is what she said.”

  Pickell peddled his hands over each other. “Which was?”

  “She wants to know who would stand up to Briggs if it came down to it.”

  “Ooh. Shit.” Jones bared his teeth. “That is risky as fuck. What did you say?”

  “I tried to keep it downplayed,” Sam admitted. “But the conversation took on a life of its own.”

  “So,” Marie lowered her head. “What you’re saying is that now Gabriella knows we’re not loyal to Greeley.”

  Sam’s heart thudded in his chest, all the hopefulness turning to doubts at the way that Marie phrased her question. “I don’t think there’s any way around that at this point. Yes, she knows.”

  “Shit.” Marie shook her head.

  “What the hell was I supposed to do?” Sam hissed, getting defensive.

  Marie held up a hand. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

  “No, there’s not,” Sam confirmed, still heated. “Our mission was to sow sedition and get intel. We’ve got the intel, and now this is a chance to reach out and make contact with others that might be willing to fight for Lee when he gets here. I had to take a risk.”

  “I know.” Marie folded her fingers at her chin. “I’m just worried about this Gabriella lady.”

  “I’m worried too,” Sam said. “I had to take a leap of faith, and I’m still in midair. I’d love to tell you guys that I’m gonna land on both feet and everything in that meeting was just what it was represented as. But none of us are that stupid.” He pointed to Marie. “You’re right. Gabriella could be playing us. That’s why we need to keep our head on a swivel.”

  “Oh, cool.” Jones rolled his eyes. “Because we’ve been totally relaxed up to this point. This has been a fucking vacation.”

  “Well, there’s no other way to put it, Jones,” Sam snapped. “Our asses are in the wind. We’ve got a chance to capitalize and actually accomplish the other half of our mission. But we need to all admit that there’s a strong chance I just got played. Cornerstone might be rooting out dissenters.”

  Johnson spoke up, his voice distant, almost childlike. “So what do we do if they come for us?”

  Sam stabbed a finger down on the ground. “We got in. We’re behind enemy lines. That’s a position we had to work for, and I’m not giving that up, no matter what happens. Even if all we can do is be eyes for Lee’s invasion force—well, that’s better than nothing.”

  He paused, took a deep breath, wondered if his command of these others was as solid and logical as he hoped it was, or if he would wake up after a solid sleep one of these days and discover that, in hindsight, he’d been delirious.

  “If they come for us,” Sam continued. “We scatter. But we don’t give up our position behind enemy lines. That is not an option.”

  “Where the fuck we gonna go if something goes down?” Jones asked.

  Sam nodded. “Western edge of the Red Zone—you remember when we pa
trolled around that area?”

  Jones nodded. “Yeah, it’s mostly abandoned.”

  “You guys remember that three-story building that looked like it’d been fire-gutted?”

  Another round of nods.

  “If we have to run, we’ll try to meet up there. It’s not being used, and the entire area around it is abandoned. We should be able to get in and out without attracting attention. That’ll be our fallback point if shit goes south.”

  “Okay,” Marie said. “So what if shit doesn’t go south? What if Gabriella is telling the truth?”

  “Then we use her to help us,” Sam replied. “And we try to get as many dissenting squad leaders to bone up and be ready to cause trouble the second Lee arrives.”

  “Elgops,” Pickell interjected with a knowing glint.

  Sam frowned. “What are you talking about, Kosher Dill?”

  “It’s an acronym,” Pickell explained. “L-G-O-P. Little Groups Of Paratroopers. During the invasion of Normandy in World War Two, the allies dropped shit tons of paratroopers into occupied territory. They were scattered all over the place, but they they’d meet up in little groups, and run around the countryside wreaking havoc.”

  Sam shook his head. “How do you know all of this shit?”

  “History major,” Pickell replied, as though that explained everything.

  “LGOPs,” Sam said thoughtfully. “Yes. That’s it exactly. If we can get enough small squads on board, we can run around and tear shit up during the invasion. Start fires, blow things up, ambush Cornerstone, steal supplies. Anything to undermine their defenses. We don’t need any specific strategy—just find places to apply pain.”

  Marie looked troubled. “Sam…does Gabriella know that Lee is coming?”

  Sam shook his head. “No. I didn’t want to give that information up.”

  “Are you planning to?”

  Sam hissed air through clenched teeth. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I should trust her with that.”

  “What about the others?” Pickell suggested. “The other squad leaders? You’re not sure about Gabriella’s motivations, but what about them? What reason could they have had to lie?”

  Sam nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. I should start reaching out to them. Talking to them privately.”

  No one spoke for a moment.

  Marie leaned back, her eyes suddenly heavy-lidded. “You gonna get any sleep?”

  Sam laughed without humor. “I’ll close my eyes for a bit and hope for the best.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  ─▬▬▬─

  THE WILL TO FIGHT

  Lee watched the approaching vehicles from Lakin.

  The day had turned uncomfortably warm. Lee had his sleeves rolled up as high as they could go. The scars on his left arm were bright pink and raw. He drank the last of the water from a bottle. It tasted faintly of plastic. Sleep had overtaken his need for water, but he was on the verge of getting dehydrated. Not fully there yet, as he was still pouring sweat in the midday sun, but he had yet to piss today, so that wasn’t a good sign.

  The vehicles in the distance were just a shimmer in the mirage coming off the road, but he could see that there were two of them. One he recognized as the pickup they’d loaned to Cass. The other must be from Lakin.

  “So,” Angela said, leaning in the minimal shade of the MATV. “She’s got someone following her. I guess that’s a good sign?”

  Lee shrugged, stuffing the empty water bottle into his cargo pocket to be refilled later. “Maybe they just wanted to come tell me to fuck off in person.”

  “Boy,” Angela sighed. “There you go again, being nauseatingly positive.”

  Lee smiled at her. Sopped a bit of sweat from his sodden eyepatch. When it got soaked, it smarted against his ruined eye. But one more pain was nothing to balk at. “You’re right. It’s probably a good sign.”

  The watery shapes of the vehicles gradually became more solid. The sound of their engines lifted over the light breeze and the murmur of general conversation at his back. He turned and looked behind him. The convoy stretched out on this long, flat section of road until the back ends of it shimmered, just as liquid as those two approaching vehicles had.

  All throughout the convoy, people stood outside of the vehicles, where the air was marginally cooler than the baking interiors. Soldiers, Marines, guerilla fighters. Men, women, children. Boys and girls that looked too young to be toting the rifles on their backs or strapped to their chests.

  Their conversations were subdued to the point that Lee couldn’t pick out any single words, just the low trickle of it all. Many of them faced forward, watching the road to Lakin and the two approaching vehicles. Many more seemed to be looking at Lee. Or Angela. Or both of them.

  “How many of them are ready for what’s about to happen?” Lee wondered, quietly.

  Angela hesitated for a moment, then said, “All of them. You were clear with them, Lee. You told them what to expect, out on that road when we evac’d from Butler. If they’re still here, they’re ready.”

  “And afterwards?” Lee asked. “When half of them are dead?”

  Angela let out a long, uncomfortable sigh. “One thing at a time, Lee.”

  Lee faced back forward. The two vehicles’ engines lowered from the roar of acceleration to a downshifted idle, then rolled to a stop. He could see Cass in the cab of the pickup, about fifteen yards from them. The other vehicle was an older, blue sedan. It looked like an unmarked police vehicle. Interesting choice.

  Cass stepped out. Closed her door behind her. Looked to Lee and nodded once.

  A nod was a good thing, right?

  The front doors of the sedan opened, and two men emerged, one from behind the wheel, the other from the front passenger’s side. Both with dark, short-cropped hair. They wore gunbelts with pistols, but no rifles. Just looking at the belts, and the holsters, and the pistols inside those holsters, Lee had a pretty good bet what they’d been in their past life.

  Cass fell in beside them and approached.

  Lee and Angela met them halfway.

  “Major Harden,” Cass announced, gesturing to him, then Angela. “President Houston of the former United Eastern States. Lee, Angela, this is Paul and Stephen Eller.”

  Lee extended his right hand, his eye coursing over the two men and noting the resemblance. “Brothers?”

  The first one smiled as he shook Lee’s hand. “I’m Paul. That’s Stephen. Yeah, we’re brothers.”

  Lee shook Stephen’s hand. “And cops.”

  “Well, we were,” Paul admitted. “Back in the day. Now we just try to keep the good people of Lakin from bickering too much with each other.”

  “Very Mayberry,” Stephen said

  Lee laughed.

  Stephen and Paul traded a glance, still smiling. “That’s funny?”

  Lee shook his head. “Well, it is. But I’ve just…” He gathered himself and nodded. “It’s kind of refreshing to hear that, to be honest. Makes me think everything’s been normal in your little corner of the world.”

  Paul chuckled. “Yeah. Normal-ized. People adapt. First year or two it was pandemonium. But then it just becomes life. We don’t have to worry much about Jim-Bob getting drunk, but we do have to worry about infected eating our cattle. But then it gradually just becomes Same Shit Different Day.”

  “So, gentlemen.” Lee put his hands on his hips. “I assume Cass has told you what we’re here for.”

  “Yeah,” Paul nodded. He seemed to be the older brother—the one slightly more in charge than the other. “We’re in.”

  Lee arched his eyebrows. “Just like that, huh?”

  Paul nodded, still smiling.

  Lee tilted his head, a slight frown coming to his brow. “What exactly did Cass tell you we were here for?”

  Paul and Stephen exchanged another glance. “Taking down Greeley. Right?”

  Lee didn’t immediately answer. He had the urge to hold back on confirming that. Like their friendliness might be
a trap. Was that too much paranoia? Did he honestly think that’s what was happening?

  Stephen shifted his wait. “That is what we’re talking about, right?”

  “And who’s in?” Lee asked. “Just you two?”

  “Oh,” Paul laughed. “Hell no.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder at Lakin. “I got about a hundred and fifty people that are hot to trot in there.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” Paul echoed, looking a little confused.

  Lee nodded. “Why do they want to fight?”

  Paul appeared to silently hand the reins to Stephen.

  “Lakin? Used to be an outpost for Greeley. Some soldiers—mostly those dicks in black polos—”

  “Cornerstone.”

  “Right. They barged in here about a year back, set up shop without asking and basically told us if we had a problem with it we could take it up with their flight of gunships.” Stephen frowned. “Obviously that wasn’t popular with our people, but no one wanted to get mowed down by an Apache. So we went along with it. I’m not sure what changed, but earlier this past month, they pulled a good bit of their shit out and sent it back to Greeley. Left a little garrison of maybe ten guys—all of them Cornerstone this time. Complete fucking assholes, pardon my French. Then, about two weeks ago, the garrison up and leaves.” Stephen’s features darkened. “But not before they ‘requisitioned’—as they called it—about twenty head of cattle, a metric ton of corn, and a good portion of our weapons and ammunition. Said they needed it in Greeley.”

  Lee looked over Stephen’s shoulder to the settlement, barely visible in the distance. “Are there any more still in Lakin?”

  “Hell no,” Paul spat. “Took all that shit, packed in in a convoy of trucks, and took off. Haven’t seen them since. All they left behind was about three hundred very pissed people.”