by Zack Finley
Zeke handed me my ruck and a weapon cleaning kit.
I snagged a chair beside Ben, placing my rifle and pistol on the table to clean and oil. Ben was nearly done with his weapons.
"How are your ribs?" I asked him in a low voice.
Ben started to shrug, but a twinge reminded him that was a bad idea. "Better than in Arkansas but no worse than yesterday. Dr. Jerrod told me what she told you, I can go on full duty when the pain is bearable."
"I don't recommend splitting wood, and jogging sucks," I said.
The guys were trying to get Craig to drop his pants so they could admire his wound, but he resisted.
"I've seen his wound, before we stitched it up," Allie said. "And his boxers, so he can drop his pants as far as I'm concerned." She finished cleaning her gear and was just hanging out in the mission afterglow, not ready to let the bonds fade.
Buzzer offered to sharpen her combat knife if she stepped out for a moment so Craig would drop his drawers. This started a mild bidding war, which Allie ended by accepting Buzzer's offer.
"What the hell did you do to this poor knife?" Buzzer roared. "It has no point; the edge looks like you dulled it on purpose, and once I sharpen out the nicks, it will be a stiletto."
"Sounds about right," Allie said. "I was wondering how long it would take to get it back to being usable. Now that is settled, I'll just step out for a few minutes. Don't take too long, I'm coming back in at the count of 60, it is cold out there."
The rest of us on the trip asked Buzzer to sharpen our knives, but he declined. He was quite insulted at their condition.
"What did you guys do, dig a foxhole?" Buzzer asked.
"You got it in one," Joel said. "Sure, you don't want to sharpen knives that actually need sharpening for a change?"
"This pig sticker is enough," Buzzer said, pulling out his whetstone.
The pack turned on Craig demanding to see his wound, and he eased his pants over the dressing for them to see.
"Tom, can you lift his dressing a bit so we can see?" Matt asked.
"Dr. Jerrod put that dressing on, after chastising us about not making him rest enough. What do you think?" Tom asked.
"Hey, do you think Allie knew about the bandage?" Buzzer asked.
"Yup," Tom said. "You been played, buddy."
Played or not, Buzzer gave Allie's knife much of his attention.
Buzzer carried a pet knife. We called it that because he lavished so much attention on it. Some of the guys called it his pacifier, but usually not in earshot. During any mission downtime when he wasn't sleeping or eating, he sharpened his knife. It was such a pervasive habit that everyone asked him about it and no one got a truthful answer. No one got to hold his knife either. Once it became clear that in this one area Buzzer was serious, everyone respected his boundary. We all had places and rituals like that.
Allie came back in carrying a coffee urn and a sack of mugs. "I sweet-talked Jeremy's granny into letting me take this out of the food hut. I know I could use a cup of coffee, thought you guys would, too."
No one got a full cup, but once everyone got their mug, I knew what to do.
"To Razor," I said, raising my cup, and they echoed "To Razor."
That opened the floodgate of Razor stories. Allie knew him the least, and his fellow Rangers wanted to fill her in. She drank in the stories, prompting when needed and silent when that helped best.
I disassembled, cleaned, and oiled my weapons as the stories poured out of my brothers. We'd have a memorial service for Razor tomorrow, but this was his true memorial.
As things wound down, I announced, "Those returning from the mission have the next two days without assignments. I still expect to see everyone at PT in the morning."
I was the only one who left, but I needed to get home to my girls. Melissa and Jennifer ran to greet me when I came in through the mudroom. I swung Melissa up into the air and carried her into the family room. She was growing up fast, and by year end I probably wouldn't be able to toss her around so easily.
My nephews, Billy and Joe, came over to hug me and I hugged them back. My niece, Ellie, did not. Between the crash and being 13, she was a royal pain. Ellie sat by granny, reading a book, and ignoring my arrival. They were all staying with me because my brother Steve and his wife Mandy were now in charge of the Justice Center. Kids were not allowed to remain there overnight for safety reasons. That was partly why granny moved in with me.
I told Joe and Billy that Craig, who lived in the boys' dorm with us, was wounded and might need an assist. This announcement caused an uproar amongst my girls. They treated him like an older brother. After reassuring them he was in no danger, they demanded to know where he was. When I admitted, he had been at the armory when I left that seemed to mollify them.
"As long as he isn't staying in the hospital," Melissa said. "Dr. Jerrod wouldn't let you out of the hospital if there was any danger." Jennifer seemed to agree, and that ended the discussion, much to my relief.
They let me relax in my armchair for a few minutes before Melissa swarmed into my lap. Jennifer sat on the arm and leaned on me. The room's warmth and the affection of my girls seeped into me, and I fell asleep.
I woke up to Melissa, crawling out of my lap. Jennifer was putting her book on a shelf. Granny was shooing everyone to bed. When I started to get up, granny held my shoulder down and shook her head. She then made sure everyone brushed their teeth crawled into their beds before returning.
"Aaron and Claire will be here any second. Claire was barely able to get him to wait. I finally convinced Aaron that nothing would happen tonight so he might as well give you a few hours to decompress," granny said. "He takes after Gerald. They both were born impatient. It is a good thing he met Claire or who knows how he would have turned out."
I always liked to hear stories about my dad and Pops. Normally granny wouldn't share, but when she did, I cherished those revelations, although this wasn't new ground.
The Rangers staying with us hadn't returned. They were still either at the armory or the food/recreation hut. Wakes normally involved a lot of drinking, but we'd have to start a new tradition. The Valley was years away from diverting food resources into making alcohol. When we did, it would be for fuel rather than entertainment. I wasn't a heavy drinker, but I did miss a snort of Pops' aged moonshine some evenings. I missed coffee a whole lot more.
Granny returned to the dining room and added a split to the stove, opening the damper a small amount to make sure it caught. Watching her, I knew she'd done that same task thousands of time. She probably didn't even realize her actions were on autopilot.
She sat at the end of the couch nearest me.
"What was Razor's full name?" granny asked.
"Edward 'Razor' Peterson," I said. "No one knows why he used Razor for a nickname. He was from Pittsburg but never spoke about family. I was on three deployments with him, and he barely spoke to me. He opened up some after joining my merry band, but not substantially. We all knew he didn't learn his lockpicking and car magic in the Army. Why a kid from Pittsburg loved the desert has always puzzled me. On our first deployment, I assumed he was from Phoenix or Death Valley because he loved the heat and dust so much. When the, uh, crap hit the fan, he was the guy we all wanted at the wheel. Pops would have loved him on 'shine runs. No cop would have gotten near him."
"Gerald really appreciated excellence in everything," granny nodded. "What kind of permanent memorial would your people like to have, since we can't bury him here amongst our family where he belongs?"
"I haven't thought about it," I confessed. "I was just so focused on getting the rest of us home and then Andy..." my voice petered off.
Granny leaned forward, patting my arm to soothe me as she had done hundreds of times before in my life. "Jeremy, of course, you haven't thought about it. I wanted to suggest a memorial stone to put in the cemetery. One of George's fellas has some skill with a chisel. He is already working on Andy's headstone."
"My guys
would like that," I said, fighting the tears. Bravado and manliness only went so far when talking with my granny, or my mom, or my girls. What was it about Breckinridge women?
"Good. Have someone write down the details for George. He will make sure the memorial stone gets done right."
As if on cue, my mom and dad slipped in through the mudroom.
"Are all the kids in bed?" my mom asked, keeping her voice down.
"Of course," granny said. "They may not be asleep yet, but they'll stay in bed as long as we keep the noise down."
Granny moved over a few feet on the couch to let my dad sit near me. My mom moved a dining room chair over beside me.
"Son, I hate to bother you tonight, but I really need to know about these people and what happened," my dad said.
"When we got to the rendezvous spot outside of Helena, there wasn't any sign of Andy or his people." I briefly summarized what happened. He picked up immediately on the ramifications of Grady and his team.
"I'm inclined to let Grady contact whoever he wants," I said. "If we can offer billets for soldiers and their families, that could help everyone. I'd insist they sign up with us, dropping any army or national affiliation. I'm especially interested if he has a contact at Fort Benning. I suspect my old general is still there and he might send me some more Rangers if they are available."
"I'd really like to tap into the army intel on conditions around the country. If Grady's group wasn't alone, the army probably has recent info on conditions around the whole country," my dad said.
"I doubt they will share with us," I said. "It just isn't the army way. They may send us people, especially if they are worried about feeding them, but I doubt they'd even consider sharing intel. Unless..."
"Unless what?" my dad demanded.
"Ranger command might share with me," I said. "They won’t share any secret orders or sensitive intel, but they might share general intel. Especially if every military facility is really operating alone."
"You aren't leaving to go to Fort Benning, Georgia," my mom said. "Contact anyone you want by radio but no more cross-country trips." Her voice brooked no argument. My dad looked at me and raised one eyebrow. We would discuss this more when my mom wasn't present.
"We could use some more able-bodied warriors," I said.
"If they want to come, they are certainly welcome," my mom said. "Your guys more than pull their weight. They don't need to be convinced it is bad out there."
If the doubts of some residents about the mess outside our borders was that much on my mom's mind, we needed to address it, and soon. Preferably before planting time.
"Does Tom really want to adopt the kid?" my dad asked.
"Kurt is a great kid. If we'd left him behind, Tom is sure he was weeks from starving to death," I said. "I don't know how formal we need to get about the adoption, but Tom wants to sponsor Kurt to join the Valley," I said.
"That is good enough for me. Jules wants us to accept his whole crew, Grady and all?" said my dad.
"I have no problem with that," I said. "They work hard, most were starving to let the kids get more to eat. They are steady in a fight, what more can we ask? I'd have them talk to some of mom's skeptics. Some people with a closed mind won't be convinced, but reasonable people can tell they aren't making shit up. The only problem is that they aren't likely to volunteer to talk about their experiences."
"I'm working on that," my mom said. "I'm trying to transcribe people's experiences for history. Maybe we can make a video?"
"I'll leave that up to you, Claire," my dad said.
"We are giving everyone rescued and on the mission two days of rest," mom said. "I suggested more, but Amelie told me they needed to be integrated into the Valley routine as soon as possible. As you know, a few are in rough shape, between starvation and other illnesses. The children are underweight and have a parasite, but Amelie expects them to bounce back nicely. All the refugees, including Jules, are on additional rations. The soldiers are in better shape than most, but they are still underweight."
Granny stood up, indicating the visit was over. Neither my dad or mom looked eager to argue with her. I hugged them both as they left.
"I saw you and Aaron plotting to run off on another rescue mission," granny said, as we both prepared to go to bed. "Don't let that Breckinridge stubbornness get in the way of common sense. I know why you had to go after Andy and his family. I didn't like it, but I knew it had to be done.
“We have everything we need right here in Breckinridge Valley. Nothing you can find in Fort Benning or Fort Yahoo will help this Valley prosper as much as the people and supplies we already have here. Claire may not have noticed you two plotting, but she'll shut down any covert operation in a heartbeat. And I will help her." With that, granny leaned up, kissed my cheek, and trundled off to her bedroom.
The guys were still out, but they'd be in soon, the light's out for the rec hall was at 23:00. I undressed and crawled between clean sheets and was out like a light.
Someone nudged my foot to wake me up. I jerked up, heart racing as I struggled to remember where I was. It was still dark, but I soon realized I was home, in bed. I forgot to set my watch alarm for PT, but Craig must have set his.
I swung my feet to the floor as Craig eased out the door ahead of me. He moved much better than I expected. While no one got any satisfaction from Craig showing off his bandage, Tom told me on the side that Craig ripped a few stitches during the takedown of those who killed Andy. Dr. Jerrod restitched some of Craig's wounds was worried about infection.
I pulled on my pants, grabbed my boots, and the rest of my clothes and slipped out the door. Joe and Billy both made snuffling sounds as they slept. Like Melissa, they were hard to wake up in the morning.
After stoking the family room stove, I finished dressing, while waiting for Craig to finish in the bathroom. I felt the whiskers on my face and chin. I needed to decide whether to shave or finally give up that ritual and save the razor blades for more useful purposes. I was already past the first itchy phase and decided to let it go. I'd keep the razors for a few more days, just in case I changed my mind. It was bad enough having red hair, but a red beard seemed to be too much of a good thing. I didn't know if it was that or whether army brainwashing made me reluctant to keep the beard.
The first PT after deployment was a bitch. No matter how rigorous a deployment was, it didn't use all the muscle groups engaged by PT. It didn't help that except for a few danger-filled moments most of the last two weeks involved riding on a boat or a truck.
Tom made sure Craig did modified exercises, aimed mostly at his upper body. Ben mostly came to be companionable. If we had to get up before dawn, he would, too.
Allie and about half of her Force Gammas exercised with us. When I asked about the rest of them, I learned they worked at Justice this week on an assignment. Zeke assured me they had their own PT scheduled each morning.
Only the competitive drive that got me through Ranger school made me finish the one mile run without dropping behind.
I wasn't so focused on my own misery to miss that the rest of those on the mission were struggling to keep up, too. I knew it would only take a few days to knock the dust off, but it would still be uncomfortable. I didn't envy Ben and Craig, once their injuries allowed them to exercise fully. Been there, done that.
The jog back to the food hut felt pretty good.
Grady and his army crew were already eating when we arrived. Several of us waved from the chow line. Without a word, my team peeled off with their breakfast and sat in the empty chairs around them. I took the empty seat next to Grady.
"You guys getting enough to eat?" Tom asked.
"Do you guys eat this well every day?" Jumper asked.
Some of my guys had extra food, as directed by Dr. Jerrod, but most had the same amount I did. There wasn't a morsel left on the plates in front of Grady's crew.
Today's fare was oatmeal with nuts and fruit and an egg. And coffee.
"I like o
atmeal better than blood sausage," Tom said, "but my favorite breakfast is sausage, eggs, and tortillas."
"Remember we only serve two meals a day," I said. "Have you been weighed by Dr. Jerrod yet?"
"No, we have physicals scheduled for later this morning," Grady said.
"By this evening she will have you on extra rations," Tom said. "All of you are underweight."
"We don't need special treatment," Tiny said.
"And you won't get it," Tom continued. "Dr. Jerrod wants everyone lean and healthy so we can work hard every day. She controls the calories. Men and women get different sized portions, automatically. I've heard some people are on reduction diets, but that doesn't include anyone in this crowd. Some of our people get larger portions if Dr. Jerrod is concerned about their weight. Everyone we picked up in Helena is underweight, and once she sees you, you'll be getting bigger portions."
