A comfortable pause lapsed into a long silence. Stryker glanced at Erin and saw she was lost in thought. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek.
“We need to get some privacy soon.” She giggled. “Maybe when we get to La Verkin we can do an overnight in the park. You know, stay in one of those romantic little cabins.”
“MREs and tepid water by candlelight first,” Stryker joked.
She punched him on the shoulder lightly. “You know what I mean.”
“I do, and I feel the same way.”
“Let’s go eat,” she said.
“Right behind you.”
They finished dinner, and Stryker was relieved to see that Annie was making eye contact and even joined in the gentle ribbing the group routinely engaged in while eating.
“Haley tells me you were a marine,” She said in a soft voice. “My brother, the one who lives in La Verkin, was in the Marine Corps for four years. He talks about that time very fondly, but I worried the whole time he was gone.”
“I remember it fondly as well.”
“We’re you an officer?”
“No, I worked for a living.” Stryker grinned. It was a practiced line.
“Tell me about the military and what it’s like.” She seemed determined to convince Stryker that she was back to normal and could now be trusted. He knew better, but admired her bravery.
“Well, the military pretty much remained unchanged, at least with regard to the important things about it, since our country was formed. For the most part, and with a few exceptions, we have always allowed the rich to send the poor to fight our wars. The fact is that if we had mandatory service like some countries, we’d probably get involved in a lot fewer wars.”
“My brother said basically the same thing.”
“I’m sure I’ll enjoy meeting him.” Stryker looked away and then back. “I suspect if the politicians’ sons and daughters had to go off to fight, like everyone else, we’d be a pretty peaceful country. The fact is that if you hold power, and there are no consequences for you or your family, what’s to stop you from doing what’s popular, as opposed to weighing the potential lives lost against the possible benefit to our people?”
“I’ve never heard this from you before,” Haley said. “Are you saying the wars you fought were meaningless?”
“No, I’m saying they were stupidly managed. We are a nation of children who send the adults to do our dirty work. Only, in this case, the children are the politicians, who send the adults, who are the children that die in battle, to do the heavy lifting. It’s never really been any different.”
“I never really thought of it that way,” Annie whispered.
“Don’t feel bad, the military lives in a parallel universe to the civilian population and is probably the most misunderstood of all our institutions.”
“Give me an example,” Haley demanded. She was clearly confused that the man she thought of as the most warlike and fierce person she ever met seemed to be taking a pacifist stance.
“Sure.” He shrugged. “Most people don’t know that only one in ten soldiers or marines is actually a warfighter. The rest are all like roadies in a rock band. They do logistical support and other things that are absolutely necessary for the warfighters to actually conduct the war. Their contribution is every bit as important as the man pulling the trigger. But, the number of actual combat vets is relatively small. In fairness, that is less true of our recent wars where there are no front lines and hence non-warfighters are exposed to danger much more frequently. The fact is that getting out of your cot in a combat zone, no matter what you do in the military, is a risk.”
“But you and Gramps were in combat,” Haley said, “I’ve seen the scars.”
“Of course, but we were Recon and we were warfighters.”
“Why did you join the Marines?” Annie’s voice was so quiet Stryker could barely make out the question.
“Everyone joins for different reasons,” he replied. “Most join because they want the G.I. Bill or training in some skill they can use when they return to civilian status. Another big reason is the economy. When times are bad, the number of enlistments goes up. When they are good, they go down.” He paused.
“A lot who join want a steady job and benefits or early retirement and another career later. Others have no choice. They are stuck in small towns with no prospects and want to get out and see the world. Not that many join to become warfighters and put their lives in danger.”
“But you did,” Erin said softly.
“And other men did as well.”
“Why?”
Stryker paused, again lost in thought.
“I used to talk to Edwards about that every time we got stuck in some shit storm or another. I guess I reached the conclusion that most of us had some need to challenge ourselves. We were born that way, filled with a need to serve and to push ourselves to our very limits.” He again paused. “I thought the Marine Corps would do that to me, but it didn’t. So, I went on to the greater challenge of Recon, and it filled some need I had that I didn’t really know existed. For the first time in my life, I really felt I was a part of something important and noble. Defending my country and its people filled a giant void.” He sputtered to a stop, surprised at his own bluntness and candor.
“What about the combat?” Erin asked. “I used to ask Gramps about that, but he would never discuss it.”
“Well, I guess that is the ultimate challenge, isn’t it? Most people go through life without having much to lose. You can lose a job or a spouse and that’s considered pretty bad. In combat, it’s all or nothing and you can lose everything every single time you wake up. It’s neither a good thing nor a bad thing in the grand scheme of things, but some people want that challenge. I’m not sure I was one of them, but it did do something for me that turned out to be very important.”
“What’s that?”
“It tamed the darkness in me. I guess it did for Edwards as well, although he always remained a wild card. The guy looks like a bowl of porridge when he’s not fighting, but turns into a raging lunatic when the flag goes up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it.”
“What does that mean—the stuff about taming the darkness?” Annie asked.
“Those men who kidnapped you never tamed their darkness because they always took the easy way. Before the plague, when women became currency, they probably were takers then too. They just stole different stuff. They probably sold drugs and did whatever else they had to just to get by.”
“I’m still not following,” Annie said with a note of confusion.
“Without getting too transcendental,” Stryker said with a self-mocking tone, “Both Edwards and I reached the conclusion that all men are born with darkness inside of them, and they either tame it pretty early on in life, or they carry it with them forever. Combat has a way of sorting them out pretty quickly, and the ones who do gain control of their dishonorable instincts become better people. They care more about others, they act nobly and with honor and they try to do the right thing to the extent they can. They adopt the creed and live by it; it becomes the guiding force in their lives. I think that happened to me. I’m not really sure how, but it feels right to me.”
“And is that really you? How can you be sure that it’s not just what you want to be?” Haley asked.
“I certainly hope so. I don’t know why some men crumble under the pressure of combat and shirk their duty. I only know that it wasn’t an option for me or most of the men I fought with. It’s odd how narrow the distance is between being a coward and being the guy you want next to you in battle.” He stopped and glanced at Annie. “I like what I see from you, Annie. They beat you down, but you want to get up again and be a part of the group. I can only imagine how hard that is for you, but we all want you to recover and live whatever life you can live, and be free of fear and doubt.”
“She’s doing fine,” Erin replied.
Haley nodded. “Yeah, she’
s on the mend.”
“Good.” Stryker again glanced at Annie and saw the doubt on her face. She was clearly agitated and he fought the urge to hug her. Erin came to his rescue. She stood, walked to Annie’s place at the table, and hugged her from behind the chair.
Annie started to weep gently, sobbed once, and then looked at Stryker with a question in her eyes.
“Yes?”
“And, the ones who don’t tame their darkness?”
“Hopefully they end up like Tom and Fred.”
She just nodded.
CHAPTER FIVE
Erin, Haley and Annie emerged from the cabin in a group, all carrying mugs filled with more bad MRE coffee. They sat on the settee and watched as Stryker stood hunched over the hood of the pickup, using a protractor and straightedge, and drawing on the atlas he used to navigate their trip.
“What the hell do you suppose he is doing?” Haley asked.
“Probably figuring out the route for today.” Erin sipped her coffee. “He’s comparing the road map to the topographical map and deciding where possible ambush points are, which route to take to avoid potential trouble, escape routes if we do run into trouble, and a host of other things that I haven’t thought of yet.”
“Are you serious?” Haley asked.
“Totally; he usually does it at night when we’re asleep, but I’m guessing the detour threw a wrench into his planning so he’s making up for lost time.” They watched him making notes on a pad of paper and then going back to the two maps, occasionally stabbing a finger on one or the other.
“Don’t you find it a bit odd that he refused to take a seventy mile detour to avoid a confrontation yesterday, and by late afternoon he is talking about how time really doesn’t matter, and now is tacking on hundreds of miles to our trip?” Haley said.
“Not really. He doesn’t really feel like he needs to make sense to anybody else, and when the facts change, he changes his mind. He’s got a different set of problems today than he did yesterday, so he’s just dealing with it.”
“I still think it’s weird.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t, I just said I don’t find it odd. I’m used to it.”
Haley shrugged and turned to Annie. “Are you nervous about your brother and daughter?”
“Terrified,” she admitted.
“I get that, but try to stay optimistic. You know they very well might be alive. You are, and they have a good chance as long as they are your blood relatives.”
“I know that, but the fact is I won’t know until we get there and I just want to get on with it.”
Stryker looked up, saw the women on the porch and yelled, “Annie, do you know how to shoot?”
“No,” she yelled back.
“Erin, get an M-4 and take her out back. She needs to have basic skills so let her go through a few magazines until you think she can at least defend herself.” He leaned back over the map and continued fussing with the route, then again stood to face them. “And, both of you wear earplugs, I don’t want to have to shout at you on the trip.” He turned away and leaned over the hood again.
“Sometimes that guy is really weird,” Haley muttered.
“Remember he has saved our asses more than once,” Erin replied.
“I just find him scary,” Annie added.
“We all do, but in a good way.” Erin beamed a smile at her and went to the trailer hooked to the pickup, grabbed two M-4s and led Annie around the back of the house.
Stryker listened to the sporadic gunfire coming from behind the house, stood up, stretched his back, and grinned broadly. He could faintly hear Erin’s muttered curses from behind the house, and imagined it was Sarge training Elle how to shoot shortly after they rescued the women from the slave traders. His granddaughter was an apple that fell not far from the tree and had the same intolerance for ineptitude in anything. It was comforting in an odd way.
“You want more coffee?” Haley yelled from the porch.
“Does a vampire drink blood?” he replied, again leaning over the hood.
He tried to work on the map, but Erin was clearly having a difficult time with Annie, so he walked behind the house, and watched the shooting instruction for a few minutes before intervening.
“She’s way too tense and won’t keep her eyes open when she fires the weapon,” he said.
“I know,” Erin sighed. “We’re working on it.”
“Try having her put her back to the target, turn and then fire. It usually helps because the shooter can’t anticipate the recoil because they are trying to find the target. Also, move the target every so often so she has to acquire it in a different location when she turns. If you make it less predictable, she will have to keep her eyes open.”
“I’ll try it.”
Stryker walked back to the front yard, heard more sporadic shots, then the rhythm grew increasingly steady. He heard them move to burst fire, and the spacing was correct. He smiled and went back to his maps.
They finished firing, and Erin was satisfied that Annie was a mildly competent trigger puller. She showed her how to disassemble and clean the weapon, and was reassembling her own when Annie looked at her, her gaze a bit questioning.
“Just say it.” Erin smiled.
“You guys are lovers, right?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t find him a bit…”
“Ugly?”
‘Well, yes.”
“I saw that in him once. He wasn’t easy to look at. He looked like a cross between the Neanderthal man and a gorilla. But, I just don’t see that anymore.” She paused for a second, feeling a warm glow form around her at the thought of him.
“And?”
“I see a man who would do anything for me and mine. I see a smart, brave, honorable man who would never leave me and never let me down. I see a man who is strong and gentle when that is required, and who is brutal and unforgiving when that needs to come to the forefront. He is a hard man with a soft spot for the weak and vulnerable. In short, he is the kind of man you would expect to meet fifty years ago. They don’t exist anymore. He’s a throwback to another time that was far better than the times we live in now. So, no, I just see a man I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
She slammed the mag back into the M-4 and beamed at Annie. “Any other questions?”
“No.”
“Good, let’s make this the last discussion we have on that topic.” She smiled, but it contained a measure of warning, and Annie got the message. . She would defend her man the same way he would defend her.
CHAPTER SIX
They left the cabin mid-morning and soon drove across what had been a wheat-covered expanse of the irrigated fields that once blanketed much of Texas, but now lay fallow. Combines and tractors stood abandoned in the middle of barren fields by the now-dead landowners.
They seemed to sail between the high desert prairie and long flights of returning Canadian geese, watching them trail off in thin, high v-shaped lines to the south and listening to faint honks trickle down from above. Stryker glanced up once, grateful that the geese, at least, had survived the plague.
The ladies chatted for the first few hours, all seeming excited to get on with the trip, but soon petered out and the truck’s cabin grew silent as they nodded off in turns.
The two-lane highway seemed to stretch on forever. They passed through what seemed to Stryker to be vaguely familiar small towns, each with its tiny square, abandoned Main Street, and modest church spire. He remembered how it was the last time he drove through the area. Coveralls and John Deere baseball hats were everywhere and pick-up trucks, laden with every option, rumbled down narrow roads kicking up faint signatures of dust.
Stryker had forgotten that the farmland was so similar from mile to mile, filled with identical farmsteads and the unending bleached sky above. Before the plague, the same land was covered with delicately swaying crops that blanketed every available inch of terrain. This was the place where wealth and success had found
their definitions in acres of tillable land wrested from intransigent soil.
It was not that place anymore. The fields were covered with weeds and appeared packed down by the sun. There were no plows churning up the earth.
Stryker was listening to McKinley Morganfield, aka Muddy Waters, on his mental CD player. Shreveport Blues was playing, and the song was hauntingly evocative of a man fashioned by desperation and despair. The voice carried a note of ineffable regret, like a man who begrudgingly recognized a fate he was unwilling to contemplate but forced to accept. It was a familiar feeling to Stryker and he felt himself drawn into the song.
He let the guitar solo go by, with its wailing notes seeming to give testament to the forlorn lyrics, before glancing into the back seat. The ladies were all still asleep, heads bent over against car doors and looking content. Erin rested against the passenger door, her mouth slack, gently snoring. Stryker smiled and wished he could film her with his phone and show her the recording.
He decided that wouldn’t be a good idea.
His eyes clicked to the four points of the compass relentlessly, always alert and in an unending rhythm of movement. It was a mechanical motion, learned from years on battlefields, and it didn’t intrude on his musical enjoyment or his driving skills.
The miles drifted by, only punctuated by the occasional snore from one of the women, and they passed the Welcome to New Mexico sign and continued west.
Stryker glanced to the west. The beginnings of a storm formed on the horizon, and headed toward him. The clouds grew black and angrier looking as they got closer, marching toward them like an invading army.
After another few miles, the storm became a wall of black clouds, with lightning splitting them and reaching the earth. A loud thunderclap followed one of the strikes.
“Shit.” Stryker sighed.
“What is it?” Erin awoke with the sound of thunder in the distance.
“Get them up. We’re going to have to find a place to wait out the storm. It’s going to be a bad one and we need to find some high ground. Everything around us is flat and I don’t want to get the engine wet if we have to pass through some low areas.”
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