Epic: Book 02 - Outlaw Trigger

by Lee Stephen

  “Nope,” William said. He extended his hand. “William Harbinger.” His grasp engulfed her slender fingers. “I’m the Fourteenth’s adopted son.”

  Withdrawing her hand, Nicole said, “It’s nice to meet you, William.”

  “Call me Will. Or Big Will.”

  “Or Imbecile Will,” David said.

  William eyed him.

  “Just don’t call him Harbringer.”

  Nicole laughed again, and she flitted her gaze to Scott. She leaned into his ear to whisper, “He’s huge.”

  Scott smiled in silence.

  “Did you sleep well?” Varvara asked Nicole. Atop Varvara’s head sat a brown cowboy hat, almost an exact duplicate of Jayden’s. Jayden had had it shipped in from America as a gift, and she wore it fashionably often. The added benefit was that she could leave it on the ground by the running track, without fear of it being stolen. No other Russian wanted a cowboy hat.

  “I slept great. Yesterday was such a busy day.”

  “I cannot imagine,” Varvara said, then she turned to Scott. “I am sure you missed your room last night, yes?”

  “A little bit.” Scott said. “I’m just used to sleeping alone now.”

  Varvara smiled. “Well, soon you will have a beautiful wife to keep you warm at night. You ain’t gonna sleep alone forever.”

  Scott fought to hold back a grin. Varvara also had the privilege of improving her English while dating a Texan. She was the only Russian who spoke English with a twang. Judging by the amused look on Nicole’s face, it caught her off guard as well. Between Varvara’s accent and hat, she’d become a bona fide Soviet cowgirl.

  Scott looked past the table, where he saw Becan approaching. The Irishman stumbled with every step, his sleep-tossed hair spiking in all directions.

  “Top o’ the bloody mornin’,” Becan mumbled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of money. He smashed it into Jayden’s outstretched hand.

  “Much obliged,” Jayden said, as he shoved the money into his pocket.

  “Because I slept in the barracks?” Scott asked.

  “Yep.”

  Nicole passed on that one and glanced about the table. “You guys typically eat before running?”

  David indicated the various bread baskets at the front counter. “Nothing too heavy, just enough not to run on an empty stomach. There’s bread in the line. That usually holds us over till we eat afterward.”

  She grinned and looked at Scott. “I’m going to go grab a bite, baby. I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Scott said.

  She laughed, placing her hand on his shoulder. “No, no, it’s all right. It’s just right there. I’m a big girl.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure!” she said, smiling. “I’ll get you some, too.” With that, she sashayed away.

  As soon as she was out of earshot, William leaned closer to Scott. “Dude, she’s a hottie.”

  “I know.”

  “How’d you do that?”

  Nicole weaved through the cafeteria, stepping up to the bread counter. Of all the people in the room, she was one of the few in civilian clothing. She stood out among the uniformed throng.

  To one man, she stood out even more.

  * * *

  Nijinsky spotted her as soon as she took her bread. His ice-blue eyes locked onto her, and he pulled the photograph from his pocket. It was her. She was the one. The one whose white smile sparkled from the gloss of her picture. The one whose name was unknown.

  She’d come to him.

  There was no time to think—no time to hesitate. He slid the picture back into his pocket and pulled out the ring Dostoevsky had given him. As he slipped it on his finger again, the tiny sliver of a needle protracted into the open palm of his hand.

  It was time.

  Nijinsky slipped from his corner and tracked across the cafeteria. As he jostled through its occupants, his open palm remained locked at his side—the ring safely distanced from his leg. His gaze followed her as he moved to intercept her. She didn’t see him at all.

  The act was casual. Practiced to perfection. He glanced away from her just as she drew near, so that their bodies bumped innocently together. An intentional accident. As she fell slightly off balance, he immediately put his open palm on her shoulder to steady her. She never even felt the tiny prick. “Prostite menja,” he said in apology, then he smiled and hurried away.

  She blinked and watched him walk off.

  Nijinsky slipped the ring from his finger, and the needle retracted into its tainted surface. He slid it back into his pocket and left the cafeteria.

  His task was complete.

  * * *

  Scott smiled as Nicole returned to the table, two pieces of bread in her hand. “Thanks, baby. I would have gone with you.”

  “I know,” she said. “It’s okay.”

  Scott took his piece of bread from her and bit off a chunk. The aroma of warm steam rose from within it—it was actually fresh. “The bread’s actually good. I think they make it locally.”

  Her brow furrowed as she massaged her shoulder.

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah,” she answered lightly. “Shoulder’s a little sore—I must’ve slept on it funny.”

  Becan chortled. “Yeh think you had it bad last nigh’—try catchin’ some zeds in the barracks.”

  “I’ll pass on that for now.”

  “Can I get a bloody pass, too?”

  “Gentlemen!” The newly arrived voice came from beyond the table, and the operatives turned to face it. It was Captain Clarke. He smiled as he approached, offering a wink to the women. “And ladies.”

  Nicole smiled.

  “Are we ready for our jog today, Lieutenant Remington?”

  “Yes sir. Just waiting for everyone to finish breakfast.”

  “Morning lasts only so long, lieutenant.”

  “I’ll take that as my hint to hurry up.”

  “If you will.”

  “Yes sir.” The operatives around him were already discarding their food when Scott turned to address them. “You heard the man. Let’s get a move on.”

  “Did you sleep well last night?” Clarke asked as he turned to Nicole.

  Nicole flashed him an amiable smile. “Yes I did, Nathan, thank you.”

  “Will you be joining us this morning, then?”

  “I’m not really in running clothes…”

  Clarke grinned. “At least entertain us from the sideline. We’ve never had a cheerleader before.”

  She hesitated for a moment before saying, “I think that sounds good. Is that okay, Scott?”

  “Of course,” Scott answered. “That’d be great. I actually thought you might run with us.”

  She half-frowned. “I would if I were in different clothes, but I don’t feel like changing.”

  Scott wrapped his arms around her. The other operatives began their exodus from the cafeteria. “Don’t worry about it. You’re not an enlisted operative—you can get away with being a spectator.”

  “Because you know I’d beat you anyway.”

  “If it makes you happy to think that, that’s fine with me.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Let’s go.”

  The weather was serene. It was too overcast to be beautiful, but just cool enough to be comfortable. Sunlight cracked through the clouds at sporadic intervals as the grounds of Novosibirsk came to life.

  The Eighth joined the Fourteenth near the track, where they stretched in preparation for their run. Derrick Cole worked alongside William as the warmup progressed, as he always did when that time came around. Nicole took her place on the sideline, while Scott led the opening exercises. Within minutes, both units were limbered and prepared for the jog. As they started off along the blacktopped ground, operatives clustered into mobile discussions.

  Scott found his place with his usual running crew: David, Becan, Jayden, and Travis. He slowed his
pace enough to allow William and Derrick to catch up, at which point the seven-man group traveled as one.

  He enjoyed the camaraderie of William. Derrick was always fun to be around, too, but William was like a part of the Fourteenth himself. For all of his southern swagger, the demolitionist was one of the goofiest men Scott knew. He was right up there with Becan.

  William flagged his hand and panted as the group edged ahead of him. “Slow the hell down, guys.”

  Becan turned in mid-stride and jogged backward. “Righ’, yeh big lunkard. Trim the gut an’ maybe you’ll keep up.”

  “I don’t have a gut, McIdiot.”

  “If it looks like a gut, an’ smells like a gut.”

  “You’ve smelled it?” Travis asked.

  “How can yeh not? He’s a walkin’ tsunami o’ sweat drops.”

  Holding point for the pack, Scott said, “I’ve been getting the football bug again. You guys think we can rustle up enough people for a game?” He always had the football bug, but more so when Nicole was there to watch him. It brought back memories of college. When she’d run onto the field after a game to embrace him. Now she could do it again.

  David laughed. “Scott, how many people here even know how to play football?”

  William huffed. “I can play football.”

  “Who else here can play?” Scott asked.

  Jayden raised his hand.

  “I’m all right,” said Travis.

  Becan ahem-ed. “None o’ yis could catch me if I was at tailback, so I migh’ as well not even play.”

  Scott looked at him funny. He was surprised Becan even knew what a tailback was.

  “I could catch you,” Jayden said.

  “Sure yeh could.”

  “I’m pretty fast, man. I’d be a good receiver.”

  “Righ’.”

  “I’m serious!”

  Catching up to Scott, David said, “So William is a blocker, Jayden’s a receiver, Becan’s a—”

  “I can tackle, too!” William said.

  “With that little piece of information, might I recommend flag football.” Everyone but William laughed. “Jayden’s a receiver, Becan’s a tailback. I can do some blocking, and I’m sure Travis can catch.” He kept at Scott’s side for several moments, then he grinned. “Too bad nobody here can throw.”

  Scott shot him a glare.

  “Calm down, gunslinger, I’m joking.”

  Scott harrumphed. He could throw. He could rifle. “I could have started, you know. I did for four games.”

  “We know,” David and Becan said in unison.

  “I went two-and-two. Should have gone three-and-one.”

  William huffed from the rear. “Why didn’t you start?”

  “Because some asinine suck-up was two years ahead of me, and he started the year before.”

  “Thanks for asking him, Will,” David said. “I was hoping I could hear this a five-thousandth time.”

  “Guy’s name was Shawn Klein,” Scott said. “God, he was horrible. Protect him and he’d pick you apart, but the second you got pressure on him, he was flinging balls into the stands.” In an open quarterback competition, Scott would have smoked him and more. “And what made it worse, we had two freshmen on the offensive line. So the last year I was there, there was someone in his face every play.”

  “How did you get to play?” William asked.

  “Someone finally popped him one. Ohio came with an all-out blitz, he dropped like a brick. Broke his ankle.” He felt bad as he said it. He never wished injuries on anyone. As much as he felt he was better than Klein, he didn’t want to replace him that way. “There were only four games left in the season, and we weren’t going anywhere anyway. We were one-and-five. So I played the last four games.”

  “Pay attention to this,” David said. “Notice how he remembers every single detail.”

  “First game in, and I lit up the field. We played Southern California. They were four-and-two, ranked fifteenth. No way we should have won. No way we should have even come close.”

  “What happened?” William asked.

  “We destroyed them. It was 20-3 at halftime. The final score was 33-24.”

  “Notice how a nine-point win is ‘destroying’ them,” David said.

  “You’ve got to understand,” refuted Scott, “this was the fifteenth-ranked team in the nation. Killer pass rush, probably better than half the top ten. They just had no offense.”

  William’s eyes widened. “They had no offense and they scored twenty-four points?”

  “We weren’t too hot either, remember?”

  “Right. So you torched one of the best defenses in the nation. That had to rock.”

  “Oh man, it was great.”

  “How did you do it? If you had no line and they had that great a defense, how’d you not get killed?”

  Scott wiped sweat from his brow. “I scrambled a lot.”

  “You’re not a pocket-passer?”

  “Come on, man, I’m five-foot-eleven. Every time they brought the rush, I rolled out and burned them. They’d send a seven-man rush, and they left receivers open everywhere. By the time they figured me out, we were up seventeen.”

  “Man, that’s awesome.”

  As Scott came back to the beginning of the track, he saw Nicole standing at its edge. She goosenecked in his direction, and he made eye contact. She was trying to get his attention. As he neared her, he glanced back to the group. “Hang on, guys. I’ll catch you next time you come around.”

  As the group trotted past him, Scott broke from the track and slowed to a walk. His face glistened, and he wiped a hand across his brow.

  Nicole smiled as he neared. “Hey, sweaty man.”

  “Hey,” Scott said as he caught his breath. He wiped his hands on his shorts, then propped them up on his hips. “What’s up?”

  “I think I’m going to go back to the room,” she said somewhat sadly.

  “Something wrong?”

  “No…I just want to lie down for a while.”

  He took her gently by the arms. “You feel sick or something?”

  “No, nothing like that. I just have a little headache, is all. It started at breakfast, just feels a little worse now.”

  “A headache?”

  “Yeah, it’s starting to come on a little. It’s nothing to worry about—everyone gets them.”

  Scott nodded. “You won’t miss much. We’ll just run some laps, then hit the weight room for a while. You want me to walk you to the room?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s not that far—I won’t get lost.”

  “You sure?”

  She gave him a look.

  Scott glanced down at his outfit. Its color was darkened with sweat. She probably wouldn’t even touch it. “Do I get a kiss goodbye?”

  Her lips curved. “Sure.” She leaned into him, propped her hands against his arms, and pressed her lips against his. Scott savored the lingering gentleness. He was surprised she had touched him at all. When she pulled away, her eyes sparkled. “Do you love me?”

  “I’ll always love you.”

  For a moment, she said nothing; she simply stared in his eyes. When she finally spoke again, her voice was sweeter than ever. “I’ll always love you, too.”

  “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Then she was gone.

  It took a minute for the group to loop back around to Scott, but he rejoined them as soon as they did.

  “Everything all right?” David asked.

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. She’s got a headache coming on, so she’s going to lie down for a bit.”

  “She’s probably running off with some hot Russian guy.”

  Scott laughed. “Right. Where’s Boris—is he still here?” He threw a mock-glance about the track. “He’s a chick magnet.”

  Travis chuckled.

  Scott set his pace again. Everything had gone as well as he imagined. She even
enjoyed the Fourteenth. That was an unexpected bonus.

  That statement got him wondering. Why had it been unexpected? The Fourteenth was a good group. The only knock against them was that they’d come after Richmond. Richmond had been perfect. Richmond set him up for a future. Then he was ripped away.

  Ripped away.

  That’s why he never thought of the Fourteenth as the ‘better’ group. In Richmond, he’d had time to settle. He’d met Charlie Squad, and everyone was in the same boat. They went out together, they failed together, and they won together. They had time to bond. There was no bonding moment in Novosibirsk. They’d arrived in the darkness of night, in the middle of an onslaught of rain. They’d arrived to General Thoor.

  That was why Charlie Squad had felt better than the Fourteenth. That was why Charlie Squad remained a distant memory of perfection. He had never quite eased in with the Fourteenth as he had with Charlie Squad. He’d been thrown into the Fourteenth like fresh meat. All four of the Richmond transfers had. Their bonding moment at Novosibirsk had been the death of Lieutenant Novikov in Siberia.

  The reality was, he loved the Fourteenth. He had more fun with them than he ever had with Charlie Squad. David, Becan, and Jayden were always a blast. They were the originals. But the others were just as good. Travis was fun to be around—he was under-appreciated, but he was sincere. Even though they weren’t with him right then, he enjoyed the company of the Russians, too. An enigmatic kind of funny, Boris the technician never lost at chess. Oleg was nothing but a clown. Galina and Varvara had a distinctly unusual chemistry that soothed everyone around them. Dostoevsky took time out to train him. Even Max was more comrade than threat.

  And they had Clarke.

  Things were just as good here as they had been with Charlie. It shouldn’t have been unexpected that Nicole would get along with them. He got along with them, too.

  Derrick Cole flagged for his attention. “Get back to the story, man.”

  Scott snapped out of his thoughts and glanced back. “What?”

  “About football. It’s good to hear about that again.”

  David grimaced as Scott shook his head. “That’s it, really,” Scott said. “We lit them up from one end of the field to the next. I had over four hundred yards passing that game.”