by James Hunt
Tuck looked back behind him.
“You don’t have to call him that. Technically, none of us are even in the military right now,” Tuck said.
“He’s right,” Eric said. “You don’t have to go through the formalities of ‘sir’ or ‘Lieutenant.’ ‘God of War’ will do just fine.”
Eric managed to get a smile out of both Marines. They couldn’t have been older than twenty. Still baby faced and fresh out of boot camp, they were itching for some action. At least that’s what they thought they wanted.
“So what’s the plan, God of War?” Tuck asked.
“Our main objective is to search for supplies: food, water, ammo. If we can pull in some recruits to help at the base, that’s a plus,” Eric answered.
“And what happens to the people still here?” Jim asked.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But anyone that fires on us should be considered an enemy. No matter who they are,” Eric said.
It wasn’t an easy thing to ask. All of them had joined the military to protect the citizens of their country. Not fight them.
Eric slowed the Humvee. Everyone turned to him as the engine idled.
“You hear that?” Eric asked.
“Hear what?” Tuck responded.
Eric threw the Humvee into reverse. He kept his head to the left, searching for the source of the noise. Down the alleyway, smoke rose into the sky from a wrecked truck. A woman held a gun to a man’s head. The man was screaming for help.
“What the hell?” Tuck asked.
The three men exited the vehicle and walked slowly toward her. They raised their rifles, and when the woman saw them, she didn’t move her pistol off of the man’s cheek.
“Drop it!” Jim yelled.
“This isn’t any of your business,” she answered.
Eric watched her through the scope of his rifle. She looked familiar. He’d seen that face before.
“I don’t know what he did to you, lady, but put the gun down,” Tuck said.
“She’s crazy! Shoot her!” the man inside the truck yelled.
“Shut up!” the woman screamed.
“Hey, what’s your name?” Eric asked.
The woman’s eyes shifted between the man in the truck, Eric, Tuck, and Jim. Eric could see that her finger was still on the trigger.
“Hey,” Eric repeated.
This time the woman looked right at him.
“He’s not worth it,” Eric said.
The woman slowly moved the pistol from the man’s cheek. Her finger slid off the trigger. Finally, she lowered the revolver. Eric relaxed. Then, the moment the woman turned her head away from the man in the truck, the man reached his right arm across his body and grabbed her arm. He yanked her forward, slamming her head into the edge of the truck’s roof.
A shot rang out and pierced the windshield. The bullet flew through the man’s chest, and the woman collapsed to the ground. Eric looked over to see the smoke from Jim’s barrel rising into the air.
Chapter 11
Eric’s brief foray into recruitment hadn’t gone as well as he had planned. You could hardly call bringing back an unconscious woman, who they dropped off at the hospital, a success.
“Do you need any attention, Lieutenant?” the nurse asked.
“Woman, I would rather die than go into your care again.”
Eric walked back outside, where Jim and Tuck waited for him.
“How’s she doing?” Jim asked.
“They’re patching her up now. I guess we’ll know in a little bit,” Eric answered.
“Oh, here,” Tuck said, handing Eric a wallet. “I found it in the woman’s pack.”
Eric flipped open the wallet. He almost dropped it when he read the name.
“Holy shit.”
***
Brooke’s face felt like an elephant was sitting on it. She could only squint through her right eye, and the room kept spinning. She moved her arm, and she could feel a plastic tube tugging back at her. She looked up at the IV and started to get a feel for her surroundings. Then she started to panic, and the machine monitoring her heart rate beeped loudly.
“Whoa, hold on. You’re okay,” Eric said.
“Where am I?” Brooke asked.
“You’re at Luke Air Force Base in Phoenix, Brooke,” Eric said.
“How do you know my name?”
“It’s me, Eric.”
It took a few moments for Brooke to make the connection.
“Scratch?”
“I actually spent a long time trying to get rid of that nickname, so if you could keep it to yourself, I’d appreciate it.”
“How? What are you doing here?”
“When the president made the announcement about exiling the Southwest, I was given orders to abandon San Diego. I stayed behind and went looking for you, but you were already gone.”
Brooke’s mind flooded back to what had put her in the hospital. Her heart rate spiked again, and she gripped the bed railings next to her. My kids. The pain from her face dissipated, and she
started yanking the tubes out of her arm.
“Um, I wouldn’t do that. The nurse is pretty strict about procedures,” Eric said.
“I have to get out of here,” Brooke said.
“Really though, the nurse is a Nazi. She’ll drug you.”
“I have to get my children,” Brooke said, ripping the sheets off the bed.
“Make sure you tie the back on that gown. They’re pretty flimsy,” Eric said, rushing after her.
Brooke made it into the hallway before Eric finally grabbed her wrist, but Brooke yanked it out of his grip.
“Let me go!” Brooke shouted.
Eric held up his hands in defeat.
“Look. I know you’re freaking out right now. I get it. But you’re in no condition to go running back out into the city. Tell me where your kids are. I can help,” Eric said.
Brooke looked him up and down through her one good eye. The burst of adrenaline that had propelled her out of bed faded.
“They’re south of the city off Exit 22,” Brooke said.
“What are their names?” Eric asked.
“John and Emily.”
Brooke’s eyes wetted. Eric walked over to her and put his arms around her. She didn’t protest. A few silent sobs escaped as the events of the past few hours washed over her.
***
The wrecker rumbled along Highway 85. When Brooke told Eric about the cruiser’s condition, he thought they might be able to get it working again, so he chose a tow truck over the Humvee, which Tuck and Jim didn’t like. Brooke had pestered to come with, but the nurse laid the smackdown.
Eric pulled the picture that Brooke gave her from his pocket. The photo had been taken two years ago, when Jason was still alive.
“So you served with that woman’s husband?” Tuck asked.
“He saved my life,” Eric said.
“How’d it happen?” Jim asked.
“We were doing building checks with a group of Marines in Iraq. The brass wanted to have ten blocks done before sunset. We were just moving too fast. There was a guy watching from across the street that our snipers didn’t pick up. He sprinted inside with a bomb strapped to his chest. Jason pulled me out. He died in surgery.”
“I’m sorry,” Jim said.
“Bring back any souvenirs?” Tuck asked.
“Four pieces of shrapnel in my abdomen. Took out twenty feet of intestines.”
“Well, at least you shit quicker,” Tuck said.
“Thanks for the silver lining,” Eric said.
Eric pulled off on Exit 22 and shifted gears. The wrecker rolled down the road, and the warning shot Brooke told Eric to expect halfway down the street arrived on queue. Eric parked the vehicle and stepped out, hands in the air, and looked to the strip mall where the shot had
originated.
“I’m here for Brooke Fontanne’s kids,” Eric called out.
A man popped his head out from one
of the store fronts and kept his rifle aimed at Eric. Both Tuck and Jim exited the vehicle, their hands in the air and their rifles hanging from their shoulders.
“Where’s Brooke?” he shouted without lowering his rifle.
“She’s in the hospital at Luke Air Force Base. She got banged up a little bit, but she’s all right. Are you Brent?”
He nodded, and three other men appeared from buildings, and they circled Eric, Jim, and Tuck.
“You have any proof that you know Brooke, aside from her children being here?” Brent asked.
“I do, but it’s only for the kids’ ears,” Eric said.
Brooke had given Eric a safe word that she and Emily had used in case Brooke ever needed to have someone other than herself come and pick Emily up. If Emily didn’t recognize the person, she would ask for the safe word. If the stranger knew the safe word, she’d know the person was okay.
Brent led them over to the office building where his group lived and brought both John and Emily out. Eric was amazed at how much John looked like his father. Emily had her head down and was fiddling with her hands. Eric bent down to meet her at eye level, but Emily wouldn’t look up.
“Your mom wanted me to tell you something,” Eric said.
Eric leaned into Emily’s ear. He whispered so only she could hear, and when he pulled away, she was flashing a gap-toothed grin.
“It’s okay! We can go with them,” Emily said.
“You guys ready to get out of here?” Eric asked.
John and Emily nodded and stepped away from Brent’s group of men. Another man, standing next to Brent, stepped out with the kids.
“Was that you guys taking off the other day?” the man asked.
“Yeah, it was us,” Eric said.
“You were fighting the Mexicans?”
“Yes.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Tim!” Brent said.
Brent grabbed Tim’s arm and pulled him back. He kept his voice low and turned both of their backs to Eric and his men.
“What are you doing?” Brent asked.
“Aren’t you listening? They have soldiers at the base. They have food, water, guns. We can push those wetbacks back across the border where they belong.”
“Those aren’t gangs or marauders they’re fighting. They’re trained military soldiers. It’s not something we should get caught up in.”
“We can’t keep sitting here in this shit hole, Brent. If you’re too chickenshit to leave, then that’s your choice, but you don’t make decisions for me.”
Tim yanked his arm out of Brent’s grip and joined Eric’s group. Eric had noticed they had a good number of armed, well-bodied men. If he could bring back a few more, then it could make up for his failed Phoenix run.
“We’re all in this together,” Eric said. “The Mexican army pushed forward, but we were able to turn them back. We can do it again, but we need help. Are there any others with past military, law enforcement, or medical experience?”
Everyone shifted awkwardly in place. No one stepped forward.
“How about just anyone that wants to help?” Eric asked.
“You have water?” one of the men asked.
“We do.”
The man was older, his grey hair suggesting that he was in his fifties. The scruff along his face was thin and white, providing poor cover for the lines of time etched along his weather-worn skin. He looked back at a woman and young girl, presumably his wife and daughter. The two of them nodded in agreement.
“I never had any military experience, but I was a hunter in Ohio in my youth. My wife’s a nurse,” he said.
“What’s your name?” Eric asked.
“Mark.”
“Good to have you on board, Mark. Anyone else?”
That was it. Eric could have done worse. In a war like this, every body counted, so he wasn’t going to turn his nose up at a man who could shoot.
Tuck finished hooking up the cruiser, and everyone that was coming along loaded into the wrecker. Brent watched two key members of his group leave. The dust from the wrecker kicked up and blew against his face as he watched the armored truck disappear onto the highway.
***
Emily was the first to start crying, followed by Brooke, then John. The three of them were hunched on the floor in the middle of the hospital hallway where Brooke had paced back and forth since Eric left.
It was the most stressful two hours of her life. The tips of her fingernails turned raw from her nervous chewing. Her stomach practiced backflips, turning over and over until she thought she would puke. The one relief she had from the worry of her mind was the distraction of the pain in her face.
The moment she saw Emily and John through the window of the door, her feet smacked in rapid succession against the hard tile of the hospital floor. Brooke couldn’t see anything other than the two of them.
“Are you guys okay?” Brooke asked, finally pulling back to look at each of them.
“We’re okay. What happened to you?” John asked.
“I’m fine. Ran into a little trouble was all,” Brooke said.
John lowered his head. Brooke could see the shame on his face. The shame that he hadn’t been there to protect his mom when she was in trouble.
“Hey,” Brooke said, lifting his face up, “I’m fine.”
Brooke kissed his forehead and did the same to Emily’s cheek. She wrapped them both in another big hug and looked up at Eric, who was giving them some space. He simply nodded and smiled, then turned away.
“All right,” Brooke said. “Who’s hungry?”
The hospital food would have been mediocre in any other situation, but having had to choke down canned beans and MREs for the past two days, the piping-hot meat and vegetables were more than welcome. Brooke wolfed the food down in big bites. John inhaled his in a matter of minutes, and even Emily managed to polish off everything on her tray.
Once Brooke and Emily were finished eating, and after John went back for seconds, the nurse finally allowed Brooke to change out of her hospital gown and into her regular clothes. She had even been nice enough to wash Brooke’s clothes first. The nurse apologized for not being able to get all of the dirt out, but Brooke was just happy having her clothes back so she could start walking around a little more freely without feeling exposed. Eric was right. The gowns were quite flimsy.
After Brooke changed, they were escorted to the barracks. Since the base was designed to house almost five thousand men, there was plenty of space. Brooke and her family had an entire building to themselves. The privacy was a welcome attribute. But perhaps the biggest amenity was the air conditioning. After almost three days in the hot desert sun, the crisp seventy-nine-degree temperature felt like an icebox to them. Emily flopped onto one of the beds and sighed.
“Even the sheets are cool,” she said.
John and Brooke followed her lead and collapsed onto the mattresses. They were firm, but at that point anything was better than the ground. To Brooke, it might as well have been memory foam she was resting on. She lay there for a moment, her eyes closed. The pain in her cheeks began to return, but she was too tired to reach for the meds the nurse had given her.
Brooke had to figure out her next plan. And part of it involved asking Eric for another favor—one she wasn’t sure he would be able to pull off. She knew the conversation she needed to have with him, but right now her full stomach and cozy bed beckoned her to rest. And she did.
***
The moment Eric saw Captain Howard’s face, he regretted agreeing to a video call. Howard’s stone-wall expression didn’t make it easier for him to ask for something he knew the military couldn’t afford.
“You want a plane?” Howard asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“To fly to North Carolina and transport a woman and her two children.”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“Lieutenant, are you aware of the war that’s happening right now?”
“I
am, sir.”
“You do realize you’ve already destroyed one of my jets.”
“I do remember that, sir. I did manage to make it all the way back to the runway, though. I think that should count for something.”
“It doesn’t.”
