by Angela White
“It needs to be deeper.”
Troy frowned, leaning on his shovel. “Don’t understand what we’re doing anyway.”
Zack sank his own spade into the pile of loose dirt to wipe at his neck with a bandana. “Following orders.”
Troy waved at the envelope sticking from Zack’s shirt pocket. “None of this makes any sense.”
“What do you mean none of it?” Zack asked, controlling his tone. Since being named fifth in command, he was learning to control himself in many ways. This was one of those moments, where he acted cool even though he was furious that so many people couldn’t follow orders even when it mattered.
“Dig this, dump that, shoot here. None of it makes any sense is what I’m sayin’.”
“You opened all of them?”
“Well, sure.” Troy grinned. “Got curious.”
Zack blew out a resigned breath. Another one. Great. “Curiosity killed the cat, ya know?”
Troy snorted, starting to realize he was in trouble. “I’m a man. Takes more than that to kill me.”
“I can do it with two sentences.”
“Those envelopes,” Troy sputtered. “I didn’t tell anyone what was in ‘em.”
Zack motioned to the guard on the detail, not responding.
Troy knew what was coming next. He tossed the shovel into the hole they’d been digging. “Don’t do this. You need me. I didn’t tell anyone!”
Kevin, the team leader of their current guards, glared at Troy. He knew what the problem was without being told. “Did you break boss’s orders?”
Troy’s face and protests fell as Zack jerked a thumb. “Here are the two sentences: You are off this mission and out of the Eagles, per Angela’s punishment. Pack up and head out.”
Troy stormed away from the half-dug hole without fighting. Once those words were said, they couldn’t be taken back.
Kevin waved one of his team over to take the angry man’s place, still glad Angela had given him this chore. He couldn’t stand another day of static on the radio and watching Cynthia prepare for war. Angela had known he needed a break of some kind and put him on this low security guard detail. “We’ll round him up at closing time tonight,” Kevin repeated what he’d been told to say.
Zack watched Troy huff through the working people and women, hoping for someone to get in his way. No one was dumb enough to.
“He won’t go to camp.”
Kevin wasn’t sure on that. Angela had made it clear that any Eagle who opened their envelope early would be below camp members in rank, but Troy had a woman in Safe Haven.
Zack was thinking about that too. “She refuses to settle down, keeps screwing around. He won’t go back to camp without an intervention.”
“I’ll let the boss know,” Kevin stated, already drawing on his new mental ability to do so. This was one of those times where the things Angela was teaching them came in handy. He’d been honoring his vow to work hard at it.
“She said bring him in tonight, willing or not.”
Zack understood Kevin’s reluctance, but only nodded. Letting their unhappy shooters join the enemy wasn’t something they could allow and Zack wouldn’t, not even for a pal. That was the problem with secrecy done openly. Many people simply weren’t trustworthy on their own, even to follow simple directions. As a result, curiosity was rearranging their ranks again. Zack thought it was for the best. The camps around theirs held people who were better for those positions and failure to follow orders was going to put them there. The funniest thing was that Zack didn’t think Angela had manipulated it or looked into the future to determine cause and effect on this one. Fate was at work here. Zack took his comfort from that.
7
“Four hours are up,” Kenn called reluctantly. He’d seen that Adrian wasn’t going to do it.
Marc stretched and yawned before consulting his map. “Location?”
“Right where she said to be.”
“Good. I used one of the cabins up here. We’ll spend the night.”
Neither man argued. The tension in the truck, even with Marc sleeping, had been thick. They were curious as to why he was calling it a day so early, but neither Kenn nor Adrian asked. If he wanted them to rest, they were fine with that.
Marc didn’t let out a laugh at their thoughts, but his grin let them know they were wrong. They didn’t realize how badly until they stepped into the over-decorated hunting cabin and found stack after stack of boxes and equipment. Most of the labels were military, but one pile along the wall said made in China. Another was marked for aid distribution, and yet another claimed to be fragile computer parts.
In the far corner, an Indian with a single braid and no feathers was sitting against the wall with two guns aimed at them. A decaying Christmas tree with fading packages sat to his right.
Kenn and Adrian waited for Marc, but let their eyes do the walking.
Marc pulled the truck to the rear of the building, where Grendin and Natoli covered it with netted camo tarps that blended perfectly with the dead and dying trees. He entered the cabin through the rear door, nodding at the rookie on duty.
The Indian holstered his guns and left through the rear door.
“Junit and his father will keep watch.”
Adrian moved toward the nearest box to read the instruction sheet taped to the top.
Kenn did the same with the box from China.
Marc went to the table where a small stack of envelopes and papers were laid out and weighed down with rocks and heavy knickknacks. “Meeting in ten minutes. Try to find the box she had them label with a big biohazard symbol.”
Frowning, Adrian began searching in the front, while Kenn searched the rear.
“When you find it, leave it there. We just need to keep track of that hot potato for now.”
“Over here,” Kenn called, motioning to a crate under a shelf. It was thick and wrapped in multiple layers of plastic.
“Good. These top sheets are arranged according to danger level. Not sure why, but I’d imagine we’ll find out as we go.” Marc shuffled through the stack of papers, heart clenching at the script. He missed Angie.
“So do I,” Adrian ground out. “Stop thinking about her.”
Marc glared angrily. He sometimes forgot that Adrian had many of the same gifts that he did. It was natural that the blond would be monitoring his thoughts, but Marc didn’t like it. “Let’s get started.”
Other men entered the cabin and came to the table, dangerous men.
Kenn and Adrian kept their protests to themselves as Natoli and Atolius also joined them.
Junit closed the door after they came in, AR now in hand as he stood watch outside.
Marc handed each of them a single sheet of paper. “When you get that done, come grab the next one. She has five levels to this plan and all of them are deadly. As you can see, the outer ring starts with complete chaos. She isn’t giving them any merciful hits.”
“Good,” Natoli stated coldly. “They don’t deserve any.”
“Those are American’s we’re about to wipe out,” Kenn shot back. “Show some respect!”
Sebastian grinned, puffing on his cigar to get it lit. “Touchy soldier boy, eh?”
“Yeah,” Marc snickered. “We’re definitely that. Maybe I need to set some rules of conduct. First, shut up. Listen to the boss. Second, shut up.”
Instant waves of anger and challenge filled the room.
“Better,” Marc approved. “As I was saying, the first rings are bad. The second ring is a jungle of detcord and mines. From there, it gets ugly.”
“What are me and my boys doing?” Sebastian asked. Half of the Mexican army, under Sebastian, had fought alongside the Ghost while coming over 40.
“Same as the rest of this team. We’re handing out supplies, escorting people around, keeping lines of communication open.”
Now all of them were scowling.
“Sounds like rookie work,” Kenn commented.
“Supposed to,” Ma
rc answered cryptically. “As soon as the first sheet is finished, come to me for the next. We work in three man teams.”
Kenn was almost foaming with eagerness to rip it apart. “There’s no way six men can supply an entire battlefield.”
“Nope,” Marc agreed. “But those plans are above your pay grade.”
Kenn snapped his mouth shut, glowering instead.
“At dawn, the Safe Haven group will head out,” Marc resumed. “We’ll make it back here around dusk and then Natoli’s group will go. We’ll alternate shifts like that to cover all the areas in our zone twice a day. During those times, we will pick up and deliver supplies, messages, give advice and help, and anything else that’s needed.”
Now that they were getting solid details, Adrian and Kenn began fitting them into their own ideas of what Angela might have planned.
“First runs are crates A-D. No other letters. Get on it.”
The men finished going over the small bits Marc was able (willing) to tell them, planning the best routes to the camps on the map he laid out. Seeing how many there were again threw into doubt being able to reach them all, but this time, Kenn waited to see what the plan was.
Marc handed out a second sheet of paper. “That’s the allotted supplies for each location on the inner ring. Do not go over that.”
“Ten thousand rounds of ammunition, two week’s food and water, three hundred assorted handguns, one hundred machetes.” Kenn looked around at the room, the boxes. “We don’t have all that.”
“This is one of seven stockpiles that we have in this area,” Marc answered. “As we empty each one, we’ll move to the next.”
“Ahead of incoming,” Adrian guessed.
Marc shrugged. “That’s what I assume, but we’ll find out together.”
“She sounds like a gem, this woman of yours,” Sebastian commented. “I am most anxious to meet my brother’s obsession in the flesh.”
Three cold glares swung his way.
The Mexican blanched, held up a consoling hand.
Two of those heads dropped, accepting. The third glared at him for a moment longer.
When Marc finally looked down at the next stack of papers, Sebastian was relieved in a way that he didn’t feel the need to question. Marc was the boss and that was that.
“We’re using standard Eagle code until they jam us up,” Marc answered Adrian’s question before it rolled out.
“Then field phones?” Adrian asked.
“Yes. She already has the lines run.”
“When do we fall back to our camps?” Natoli wanted to know. “We have people to care for.”
“When she gives the call,” Adrian answered, reading the single sheet on future plans that Marc was allowing them to view. “She’ll be contacting all of us at different times, getting updates.”
Natoli guessed from those words that Angela was also gifted, and felt better about a female in charge. Marc was one man who Natoli wouldn’t ever want to cross. It was a comfort that the war was in the hands of someone who was like their Ghost.
“She’s not like him!” Adrian growled. “He’s like us!”
Marc’s laughter was more salt in Adrian’s wounds and the blond stood up. “Are we done?”
“For now,” Marc responded, still chuckling. “You can have first shift, up high.”
Adrian left without slamming the door like he wanted to.
Marc glanced over to see Kenn wearing a confused expression and found he didn’t mind explaining this time. “Adrian thought he was the only gifted male in our camp, other than Charlie. A teenager isn’t a threat, but me, well...” Marc chuckled again. “I’m more than his match.”
Kenn thought about it. Weren’t there any other gifted males in Safe Haven? There was...Conner, though a son wouldn’t be viewed that way. And there was… “Damn.”
Marc nodded, no longer smiling. “Kids, he can handle. Eagles and camp members, he’s great with. Our kind? He’s on the bottom rung with very little power and a whole lot of mistakes to keep him there. It allowed him to overlook people.”
Kenn wasn’t sure if that was true, but the fact that he had to consider it sucked. The information coming from Marc made it worse.
Marc shrugged. “Sorry about that, but you’ve earned it the same as he has.”
“What about you?” Kenn sneered. “You’ve done the same shit we have, just at different times.”
Marc wasn’t going to be drawn into that. “I’m not on trial here, Marine. You and your idol are. Time to pay for your choices, your lies, the deaths and mistakes that came from it.”
Kenn was shaking his head. “Name one person I killed who didn’t deserve to die!”
“Your unborn son.”
“You piece of…” Kenn came over the table and Natoli and Sebastian got out of the way as quickly as they could.
Marc met him with a vicious head butt that knocked Kenn out. He slid to the floor in a quick movement that scattered papers and cups.
Marc rubbed his forehead gingerly. “That’s gonna hurt tomorrow, right?”
Natoli chuckled, while Sebastian grinned weakly,
“Yes, my friend, but it is much quieter in here.”
Marc sighed, now wishing he’d chosen to punch. The throbbing headache was already starting.
Take from one of them and it will heal you, the demon reminded.
Marc closed his lids, concentrating, and managed to bring the pain down to a level he could stand, without any help. Controlling pain was a skill that soldiers developed quickly.
Nice, the demon praised.
Marc didn’t respond as a punishment for almost being tricked into drawing when he didn’t need to. The demon didn’t realize Marc was also monitoring him.
The demon withdrew.
Marc looked over with the others as the rear door to the cabin opened. They’d left the jingle bells up, but Marc was already tired of the sound.
Adrian spotted Kenn and then the ugly welt coming up on Marc’s forehead.
“Figures,” he grunted, stepping inside to pull Kenn’s big body onto one of the pallets along the wall. Once finished, he returned to his post outside, breathing heavily.
Marc leaned back, arms crossing. “You two should get sleep while you can.”
Natoli was honored to be on Marc’s war council. He had no problem taking the order. Sebastian obeyed without showing any emotion at all. The two leaders crashed in their bedrolls at opposite ends of the building and were soon snoring.
Chapter Eight
Choices to Make
1
Samantha stood up as the van came to a halt. They’d been traveling for hours, all watching Heather for signs of aggression. And they’d been grilling her, of course. It was still going on.
“Tell us when they’re coming! That’s all we need.”
“I don’t know.”
“Marc won’t go easy on you. Save yourself. Tell us when they’re coming.”
“I wouldn’t even if I knew!”
Slap!
Samantha did a fast check of her gear to be sure she had her two kits and pack, then moved toward the door.
“Hey! Where is she going?”
Samantha flashed her instruction card to their driver, who frowned but opened the door.
As she stepped out, alone, Kyle couldn’t stay quiet. “You’ll be okay?”
Samantha didn’t answer. She’d spent the ride getting set for her mission. She’d known something like this was coming from the remarks Angela had made to her when they were alone. Samantha had been longing for it, as if it were the very air she needed. No one else existed for her now. Not Neil and his macho attitude, nor Jeremy and his whining charm. Not even the twin sons she was carrying. Her duty, her mission, would come first. It was the one thing she’d been denied her entire life because of her gender, but no one could take it from her now. She would either succeed or die.
Samantha vanished into the shadows with her head up and feet carefully moving through
the tangle of underbrush.
Kyle closed the doors before the need to follow and drag her back could overwhelm his resolve to follow orders. “Next stop in fifteen minutes. If you have number two, get ready.”
Kyle was glad Samantha was the closest stop to their camp. He inspected the remaining pale females, at the reality settling over their faces, and got them rolling. Angela said to stay on schedule, not to be late or early at any of the stops. The windows and avenues of detour she’d given him would cover almost everything that could go wrong, so long as he remembered to do his part.
“What are we supposed to do with her?” Tracy asked about Heather, tiring of the useless questioning between satisfying slaps.
Heather saw a moment of distraction and quickly spat the snot and blood from her mouth. She wiped her face with her sleeves, clearing until she was dry. She didn’t act like any of the bruises hurt.
That bothered the guard on her. Tracy snagged Heather by her hair and slammed her face against the seat.
Heather screamed as her nose broke, blood splattering.
Tracy let the other women pull her away. “Felt that, didn’t you?”
Heather flung a bloody hand toward Tracy splattering bloody drops. “Drop dead, bith!”
It sounded pinched and garbled, causing the van of women to snicker.
Heather pulled her scarf off and used it to stem the flow. “Mean whore, hipping from fa back!”
Tracy crossed her arms over her chest to keep from lunging again. “That’s what you’re doing, spy.”
Heather groaned, and then snapped her nose into place, making everyone in the van wince, including Kyle. He knew exactly what it felt like to do that.
“Dust kill me!” Heather ordered. “Don’t dwag it out.”
“We want information and then you can go free.”
Heather held the scarf tighter as the blood continued to drip. “Swew you!”
Kyle shook his head at Tracy when she would have finished the job, as he’d been teaching them. “Not for us to decide. She goes to Angela.”
The thought of facing Marc’s anger sent a wave of silence through the van. None of those pictures was pretty.
