“Is that what you think manliness is?” she asked. “What you do? Can men not be into 'girly' things like looking good and sharing their feelings? Do they all have to be rugged men like you and your Dad?”
“No, but it helps,” I laughed.
“Can women not be 'manly' - or do they have to stay in the kitchen?”
“I sense a pet topic here,” I said.
“Well duh! I’ve been a walking, talking model of women-at-war for a few years now. Would you prefer it if I stayed at home like a good woman?”
“That's not what I'm saying.”
“What are you saying then?”
“That it must have been hard to stay a woman in a man's world.”
She'd been laughing up until that point but she suddenly went quiet. Her grip on my hand tightened and she nodded.
“Yeah. It fucking was. But something you said to Piotr made sense. What's that word? Symb-”
“Symbiosis?”
“Yeah, that's it. That describes what I saw when I was with the Rangers. Men had their strengths, women had theirs. When we worked together, shit got done. When either of us tried to overpower the other, it failed miserably. Is any of this making sense?”
“Perfect sense to me.”
“I mean, I could shoot better than any guy - we're just more patient and precise than most men. But when it came to the team's decisions, Old Harry was the man! He could see things I couldn't, he had a logic to him I couldn't get my head around.”
“Who was 'Old Harry'?” I asked.
“My Sergeant in Syria and France. I mean, I met women who could think like that, I just think that the other guys were happy to follow him because he was this big bear of a man. He oozed leadership.”
“Symbiosis.”
“Yeah, I think so. We were a tight unit back then.”
“Do you miss it?”
“I miss the team. I miss being part of something. It didn't matter how shitty it got - you had your buddies around you. It stopped being work. It became social, like we were just getting together for a few drinks. It made the hard stuff not so hard.”
“So why did you leave?”
“Because they're all fucking dead.”
9.
The revelation was made all the more shocking by the way in which the world seemed to take a minute of silence for her. The wind gave up howling and the fire seemed to pause mid-meal without even a last snap of a branch. I felt her sag in my arms like an Atlas-sized burden had just rolled off her back. I said nothing. This wasn't the time for cheap words or a toolbox full of platitudes.
“You're thinking they all died in combat. Like fucking war heroes. Well let me tell you, they should have. They should have been given a chance to die on their feet.”
“But they get it?” I said.
“No. They fucking didn't.”
I waited. The world resumed around us. That's all it was prepared to give - there was plenty of grief elsewhere.
“What happened?” I asked, through I found it one of the hardest things to do.
“We were stationed in Paris just as the Russians crossed the border. We all knew it was coming. We were hyped, we were ready to go, we were just waiting for the green light. The Op was easy enough - hit and run raids on their convoys. High value targets like comms relays, fuel supplies, things like that. We were armed to the teeth and ready to rock. It would've been the first serious action we'd had against the NSU since God-knows-when.”
“A black op?”
“Too fucking right it was black - blacker than than black can ever be. There was a rumour that the CIA were on the ground like it was 'Nam or something. There was a lot of excitement around. Anyway, we finally get the go ahead to move. We're based in some hotel - a nice place, when we decide to go down to the bar for a last drink before we head out the following evening. I orders a beer, the rest of the team do a shot, you know how it goes. The next thing we know there's two guys in the doorway in long coats and they're crying out in some fucked-up language. Old Harry jumps up but before he can do anything they've pulled these giant LMG's on us and they're blasting every fucker in the place. The Sergeant drops in a fucking pile of blood and guts on the floor. The bar's blasted to fuck and it's all going in slow motion for me. I swear I saw bullets in the air in front of me. I can't do anything though - our kit is up stairs! We've got nothing. The others, they're torn apart, Billy, Mike, Helen, they're turned to mush by these giant fucking guns that are just spitting lead at us, at everyone in the bar. They just wouldn't stop. I felt something knock me off the stool I'm sat on. I'm on the floor and it's my Spotter on top of me. He looks me right in the eye as the rounds slam into him, one after the fucking other. They just wouldn't stop...”
Her words were cut off by the sobs that racked her body. She tried to roll onto her bad side, to curl up into something smaller, less vulnerable, but the pain of her wound stabbed into her. I tightened my grip, smothering her just as her hands clamped onto my arms, trying to hide from it all. The grief disabled me and I had nothing to fix her with.
In the morning I jerked awake to the sound of howling far off in the distance. It was only about 4 am and still dark. I crawled carefully out from behind Riley who'd only stopped weeping when the exhaustion had taken over. I went to the mouth of the shelter, picking up my rifle as I went. It'd rained during the night and the cloudy sky still lingered overhead in an almost violet hue. I was cold and yet my nerves were on end, causing my stomach to knot.
I raised the weapon, scanning the empty field with the scope, passing back and forth. There was little to see as it was, just dark shaded patches with indistinct shapes.
“What is it?” whispered Riley from behind me. She was getting to her feet using the wall as support.
“Dogs,” I replied. The howling began again, nearer this time.
“Pass it here,” she said, taking the rifle from me. I moved aside and she hobbled into a decent position to view from. “How long until dawn?” she asked.
“Another couple of hours.”
“Shit.”
I'd gone to the trouble of making some torches from the fire wood - sticks with curls of bark cut into them that could be thrown over the wall to dissuade visitors. I stacked a few of them up near Riley as she settled in to watch the sun come up.
“Do you think they know we're here?” she asked.
“They're close enough to pick up the scent,” I said.
“If I see one I'm going to blast it.”
Riley turned slightly as she leaned her rifle on the barricade, breathing out slowly in small clouds of morning mist.
“There,” she said without saying where 'there' was.
“How many?”
“Two or three - hard to tell.”
The rifle cracked and jerked in her hands but she was steady enough to be right back into aiming position, firing again - two more, one almost straight after the other. My ears were ringing with the racket but Riley look unruffled. This was her world and I could only ever be a spectator to it.
“Two dead,” she whispered to herself. “One wounded. There's more of them though.”
She carried on staring down the scope and I went over to my pack to get some more ammunition. The rifle fired again.
“There's another.”
“Here,” I said, passing it to her. Without taking her eyes off the scene she slipped the rounds into her pocket and carried on her vigil.
I went to put the morning's water on the boil just for something to do. I was aware that I was shaking a little - but not from fear but from a thrilling excitement that made little or no sense to me. Perhaps it was a week or so of relative inaction that made me feel like this.
“They're coming,” she said matter-of-factly.
“More?” I asked.
“Fucking loads. You were right.”
“I hate it when that happens.”
We began lighting the torches as the first of them arrived, slamming into the wooden barricade and
trying to scramble up. Riley managed to kill three more at almost point-blank range before hobbling away from the clawing, scratching animals as they desperately tried to scale the wall.
I launched the torches over the top, sending sparks flying amongst their number but they were undeterred until one of them found its fur suddenly ablaze. It ran away, howling into the darkness.
Another managed to reach the top of the barricade and my knife found its throat before it could do anything about it. I was sweating now, my mind bent on surviving the morning and I could see the same thing on Riley despite her pale complexion and obvious amounts of pain. I was able to stab another and soon the bodies were piling up at the bottom of the barricade.
“How many?” she shouted over the terrifying cacophony of howls and snarls.
“I can't tell,” I said. “Plenty though.”
“Too many then,” she replied, reloading the rifle.
Some of them dragged the bodies of the other dogs away, tearing great strips of skin from the bony frames and devouring it. Others began to lose heart, slowly circling us, staring at us with those burning jade coloured eyes that glittered in the early light of dawn.
A few more burning brands went over and they finally stopped, pulling back to a safe distance beyond our throwing arm.
“Well?” asked Riley, sliding back down to the floor in pain.
“I think we've got them where we want them,” I said, laughing. “But whether they go away or not is another matter.”
“Let's just hope so.”
The dogs had all but gone when the sun rose into its cloudy, dull home above our heads. One or two still picked at the corpses of those we'd managed to kill but it looked like they'd given up for now, convinced we weren't going to be the main course. The snow outside our shelter was stained in grim patches of crimson and goblets of flesh were littered around the field nearby.
“They're going,” I said, watching them over the top of the barricade. “For now.”
“What should we do?”
“Nothing. We need to try and make our firewood last until tomorrow. We can't risk going out there today in case they're still lingering. Hopefully they'll follow the deer tracks north, away from us.”
“We'll see,” she said, wincing at her thigh.
“Let me take a look.”
“It's fine,” she snapped. “I'm just a bit stiff.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah I'm fucking sure. Fucking dogs scared the shit out of me.”
“Me too,” I muttered.
“I wish this leg would hurry up and heal. I can't stand not being able to get on the offensive. I could have gotten on the roof and picked them off one by one.”
“I'm not sure we have enough rounds for that,” I said.
Riley laughed and began making what was now our morning routine coffee, splitting one portion of grind and an MRE between us. She worked as if the last two hours hadn't happened, even whistling a tune as she waited for the boil where as I was still edgy, wishing we could move on somehow and get away from them.
“You must be pretty used to this kind of thing,” I said, sitting down reluctantly.
“Yeah, it isn't the first time breakfast got interrupted by an enemy and it probably won't be the fucking last time either. Makes you hungry though.”
“I think I lost my appetite when they started eating each other,” I said.
“At least they're eating something other than us today. Still, they came pretty close to leaping that wall.”
“Yeah, I saw that. When the coast is clear I'll cut some more logs and raise it up a bit, maybe leave a fire step in there for you.”
“Gee, thanks - I think,” she smirked.
We ate silently and I realised we were both listening intently for any further howls, any clues that they might be coming back. It was a good way to avoid asking the obvious question. In the end I couldn't really leave things as they were.
“Riley, about last night...” I said.
“Let's not got there,” she replied without looking at me. “I'm sorry for the emotional vomiting session. I didn't mean to lose it like that.”
“I didn't mind - honestly,” I said.
“Well I did. I shouldn't have let it out like that. It wasn't controlled, it wasn't like me.”
“Why were they killed?” I asked, eager to stop her from wriggling out from under the pressure. I had a feeling it was her default way of handling grief. It wasn't mine.
“Let it go, Miller.”
“No, I won't. What happened?”
She chewed on her breakfast, still unable to look directly at me. Then she drank some water before fixing me with her beautiful blue eyes.
“They were extremists from a local cell. They wanted to send a message to the French Prime Minister, telling her how angry they were at her administration. They didn't target us, we just happened to be there at the hotel they wanted to shoot up. We were just unlucky.”
“What happened to them?”
“They blew themselves up before they could be arrested. And that was the last I heard.”
“That's why you retired?” She nodded.
“Yeah. Now you know, so let's forget about it. It was a long time ago and I'm sorry for bringing it up, okay? You've got enough to worry about.”
I let it drop and carried on eating, feeling better after the meal. I got up and looked at the steel hooks in the wall. They looked like they could take my weight.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“Something you said before, about getting on that roof. I think I'll climb up and take a look around.”
“Be my guest,” she replied.
Riley leaned against the wall, putting her good leg out so that I could use her knee as a step-up. I pulled myself to the first hook, then grabbed the roof beam and dragged myself up onto the logs.
I crouched down in the carpet of snow that'd fallen over the last few days and I noticed that it'd begun to freeze. The temperature was dropping and the snow was becoming hard. It wouldn't be long before the worst of the weather came in and I wasn't sure how we'd handle it. With the right gear we could survive, but with what we had it'd be a different story. Still, it wasn't worth thinking about at that point - across the field towards the woods was a trail of bloody mess where the dogs had fled. Any plans I had to gather more logs would have to be put on hold.
“What do you see?” called Riley.
“They ran into the trees,” I replied. “Pass me the rifle.”
The stock of the weapon appeared and I took it from her, aiming the scope towards the woodland which looked a little worse for wear given that I'd been cutting most of it down of late. Even with the magnified view I could see very little. Suddenly I saw a flash in the distance and a moment later the sound of a weapon being fired. I cursed under my breath keeping the rifle aimed in roughly the right direction. There was another blast, then silence. Something was moving, hovering above the ground. It was a helicopter of some kind but too far away to identify. It was slowly moving east, searching for something.
“Put the fire out!” I yelled down to Riley. “Dowse it in snow. There's a 'copter out there.”
“Fuck!” she replied and I heard the hiss of the flames dying and the scraping of snow over the ashes.
I edged closer to the last log, ready to drop down if it turned our way. I followed it with the scope until it'd gone, disappearing north over the horizon.
“It could have dropped troopers,” said Riley. “A search team.”
“Why though? We're dead,” I said, scanning the woods with the scope. “It's been too long. Why start looking now?”
“Something must have made them think we weren't - enough to want to make sure. They've run into the dogs though. That was automatic rifle fire.”
“You could tell?” I knew that she was giving me that look even though I couldn't see her.
“Just get down here.”
I slid over the edge, dropping heavily int
o the dirt. I passed the rifle back to Riley and she began counting out the last of the ammunition.
“You're thinking we should take them out first?” I said.
“Yep. What would you do?”
“Exactly the same. Go on the offensive, try to get some Intel off them as well as the gear we need to travel with - which I have no doubt they'll be carrying.”
“So we're in agreement then?”
“Sort of,” I said. “The leg?”
“I'm a marksman - distance is my thing. I'll head back up onto that ridge we came down off and work north from there.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “I'll work through the woods to the east and back-track west once I'm deep enough in. Hopefully you won't have to shoot them too soon. How many do you think they'll send?”
“A five man team, maybe less. Just to look for bodies they might only send two. Work on the idea there might be five. What about the dogs?”
“They'll work in our favour now. It's risky but if I come running out into the open with them running after me then feel free to shoot a few. We'll meet back here at sunset if all else fails.”
“What's your goal?”
“To try and take one alive,” I said.
“The rest?” she replied. I shrugged.
“We can't manage hostages and I'm not letting them walk about - even if they are unarmed by the time we're finished. They tried to kill us and now they're back to finish the job. It's war in my opinion. Are you okay with that?”
“I'm fucking peachy with it.”
“What if they're your people?”
“Like you said - it's war. I want to survive this and I don't give a shit about the cost right now.”
I nodded and she grinned. “Back to work, eh?”
“You could say that.”
With my jacket on her back and her usual sunglasses and hat, I wouldn't have believed she was the same injured woman from a few days ago. She was limping on her bad leg but she was able to get across to the ridge in good time whilst I went east for a click before coming back north, then west and into the woods from the other side. My nerves had gone now and I was back in that strange zone that professionals sometimes find themselves in - a place of calm confidence in their ability to succeed. My heart was beating steadily and I felt the tension in my muscles that told me I was ready for action.
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