Bound By Honor: Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

by W. J. Lundy

  Shane pointed at clear, black sky filled with bright stars. “Temperatures are dropping; I thought you could use something to warm you up.” He moved past her and leaned against one of the large fence posts that supported the barrier. “I still don’t know why we bother with a guard force. We’ve never seen one of them this far up the valley.”

  She smiled and took another swallow of the soup, then held the cup, letting the heat warm her hands. They had had the argument before, but it was part of their life now—it was the price for living in the free territories. She knew Shane would prefer to take Ella south to Texas, to live in the fortified safe areas—she also knew that Shane would never go without her.

  Chelsea drained the last of the cup and replaced the lid to the thermos. She moved closer and leaned against the fence, looking out over the snow-covered lake. She put a hand on his shoulder and he moved closer, sheltering her from the wind. “We should leave,” he whispered. “Go south so we don’t have to face the winters.”

  She held up a hand, silencing him. A flash of light in the far tree line caught her eye. She squinted and leaned in, trying to focus on the dark spaces beyond the lake. Without looking away, she reached for the binoculars hanging from her neck.

  “What is it?” Shane asked.

  “I don’t know, I—” She gasped; several shadows moved through the trees, using them as cover to move around the lake. She pivoted to the left where the trees converged into the short field that separated itself from their perimeter fence. She just caught a glimpse of a man breaking cover and running through the tall grass. Pushing out and looking farther left, she saw more gathered around a distant observation tower. The guard was dead; his body hanging over the side. She then spotted the men that were climbing the walls.

  “The alarm, Shane, sound the alarm!” she gasped again.

  With fear in his eyes, he obeyed her order, reaching for the flare gun secured to the post by a length of nylon cord. He aimed it overhead and fired. A red starburst flare flew into the air and popped. The flares had a double effect, they would warn the other towers of an attack, and it would draw in nearby Primals to attack anything outside the protective walls. Moments after the flare, tracer rounds arced in from the tree lines and the camp exploded with gunfire. Chelsea ducked behind the log barrier then stood, leveling her rifle. She fired off an entire magazine into the source of the tracers.

  Shane grabbed at her jacket, pulling her back into cover an instant before the logs shattered with the impact of return fire.

  “We have to go! We have to go now!” Shane shouted. More rounds exploded into the wall, the camp filled with screams and gunfire, and the sky above them became painted with flares from all along the perimeter fence. Chelsea lurched back, falling into the snow, and looked at him; he had his pistol out, aimed somewhere beyond her, and fired three shots. She turned in time to see a man dressed in gray camouflage fall to the ground.

  “We have to get to Ella,” he screamed at her.

  She nodded furiously and pushed him ahead of her, swapping magazines in her rifle as she followed. Turning, she spotted four men running in their direction; one stopped to fire. She raised her rifle and yelled for Shane to run. The scream caught the attacker’s attention and the man turned his rifle in her direction and fired, the shot going high. She dove forward, the deep snow smacking into her face, then crawled ahead, pulling herself up to her elbows. Taking cover behind a wooden cart, she rose up and squeezed the trigger, hitting the shooter twice in the chest.

  She saw Shane across the open space at the corner of a building. He was leaning out and firing at the approaching men. More had joined the fight and were returning fire; rounds smacked into the log walls and the hard-packed snow.

  “Go get Ella!” she screamed at him, knowing she was pinned. Chelsea pivoted and focused on the new targets. Two men broke cover and ran forward. She pulled the trigger rapidly, watching the men spin out of control and crash to the ground.

  Rounds impacted deep in the snow all around her. She looked back to the front and saw a gunman closing on her; she pivoted back and fired blind, watching the point blank shot enter just below the nose and exit through the back of his brain. The whistling of mortar fire and a blinding explosion from the left turned her away. The ground around her exploded with gunfire. She refused to back off, holding her position, firing and changing magazines as the men closed in on the camp’s buildings.

  A blast in her chest knocked her back. She felt the warmth of blood leaving her body. Her legs grew numb; she rolled to her side in an attempt to reload her rifle. Coughing blood, she winced at the white-hot pain from her broken ribs. She collapsed to the ground, struggling to turn her head. She saw the building where Shane had stood; it was in flames, and he was gone. She fell back, too tired to move as men in gray parkas ran past her, ignoring the bleeding body on the ground.

  Chapter 5

  The Outpost,

  Free Virginia Territories

  “What’s with this guy?” Brooks asked.

  The Ranger sat beside Sean at the table; the Texan used a bowie knife to slice through the slab of rare meat on his plate. He stuffed a chunk into his mouth and chewed. They were in a large mess building in the center of the outpost. The men of the patrol gathered inside, sitting at tables around a large communal fireplace. A slab of wild boar was roasting over the flames as a cook sliced chunks from the carcass.

  Sean reached across the table for a pitcher of water and filled a drinking glass before pushing it toward Burt. “Okay, this is about as safe as it gets. Now tell me what this is all about.”

  Burt chewed then reached for the glass and drank thirstily, placing the empty back on the table. The man looked left and right and could see that the others in the room were preoccupied with their own meals. “Okay, but I have to warn you, I was sworn to keep these secrets. You won’t like the truth.”

  Brooks stabbed his own knife into the tabletop. “Just spit it out. This is more than a routine patrol to the North.”

  The Ranger clenched his jaw and nodded. He was playing his cards close and it was visibly agitating Sean. “We are on the brink of war—well, judging by what happened today, we may already be at war,” Burt said.

  “The hell are you talking about?” Sean asked, refilling the water glass.

  The Ranger dropped his knife and pushed the dinner plate away. He exhaled loudly and again let his eyes sweep the room. He dug through a shirt pocket and pulled out a cigar; he stuck it in the corner of his mouth, leaving it unlit. “Tell me, Chief, what do you know about what’s happening in the cities up north?”

  Sean scowled; he looked over at Brooks then back at the Ranger. “We’ve had refugees pass through on the route to Texas. Hungry, tired—they don’t say much; just that they are looking for something better. It’s been months since the last one though.”

  Nodding, the Ranger wiped his chin and used a match to light the cigar. “I think you’ve heard more than that, but don’t want to hear it. The North is falling apart, Chief. The government’s collapsed, people are starving.” The Ranger paused, allowing Sean to digest his response.

  “What do you mean the government’s collapsed?” Sean asked.

  Burt smiled. “You really haven’t heard; I thought you were just messing with me.” He laughed. “You all really are out here in the dark! Damn, Chief—New Philadelphia is gone; the governor’s council is all dead. The Alliance is breaking.”

  Sean looked up at the mess hall’s rafters as though he were studying a complex problem in his head. He rubbed the stubble on his chin with the back of his hand and said, “If this is true, why the hell didn’t you tell us before asking for a guide to take you north?”

  Burt slid back in his seat and crossed his hands on the table in front of him. He looked at Sean, considering his reply before he spoke. “Because we knew you’d refuse if we came out and said it. It’s you all’s fault really. Dan Cloud and his damn efforts to stay neutral.”

  “So this tr
ip north, it’s all a charade? If it wasn’t to barter for peace, then what’s it really about?” Brooks interrupted.

  The Ranger leaned forward; he was beginning to show annoyance at being so thoroughly questioned. “Listen, the peace mission is real enough; it’s just more complicated than that. The Midwest Alliance has split in half. Not really split, I guess, more like been reduced. Shit like that happens when you run out of food and resources.”

  Brooks squinted and leaned in. “So, if the governor’s council is gone, who were we going to meet?”

  “That’s the thing, boys; the entire government isn’t gone. Like I said, it’s reduced. We still have the strongholds in Michigan looking for help, begging for our protection.”

  Sean raised a hand. “Help? Protection? From who?” he asked.

  Burt removed the leather satchel from the pack at his feet and placed it on the table to his front. “He calls himself General Carson. He is not on our books; no pre-war records of him. Best we can figure, he was a member of one of the militia groups,” Burt said. “He’s managed to organize a large group, taking over small camps like this one as he moves east toward Michigan lines. He’s running a scorched earth campaign, sending everything he takes back to New Philadelphia—or what he now calls Carsonville.”

  Sean was still pondering the problem, but began to show the realization of the situation they were in. It was not their first time being used, or trapped between warring groups. “Back there on the mountain, you said we were in it now; what the hell does any of this have to do with us?” Sean asked.

  Burt flipped open the satchel and removed a stack of papers. “The MWA has agreed to join Texas. This is the signed treaty. This makes it official; it puts us at war with Carson.”

  Brooks scoffed. “What the hell does a treaty like that matter out here?”

  “I get that it’s symbolic, but it matters to the people.” Burt took in a deep breath. “Just them knowing we’re still something more than a third world shantytown helps keep them going, and stops them from surrendering to this asshole. This agreement is a start to rebuilding the Republic. It’s more than peace; it’s a new start.”

  “Nothing like a new enemy to bring people together.” Sean shrugged. “Guess it makes no difference now because we’re not going anywhere until we talk to the colonel. You’ve misled us.”

  The Ranger’s eyes glimmered in the low light. “Like I said, you’re in it now. Without Texas, you won’t be able to stand against them; they’ll be after your things.”

  Brooks grunted again. “What things?”

  “Based on reports, everything you got. Carson is no gentleman. He will kill off every man you have, take every woman and child. He will take your food, your weapons, and your territory. Any man that he decides to let live will be forced to join his ranks.”

  “You know, you should have led with that,” Sean said.

  “I’m sorry, but we couldn’t let anyone know we were transporting the signed treaty.”

  “Well, secret’s out,” Sean said. “So, this Carson… what makes you think he’ll come after us?”

  The Ranger nodded, his face suddenly turning hard. “Carson wants to stop the Midwest from joining Texas; he wants to keep our military and the Rangers out of his little Civil War he’s got going. They hit us on the trail to try to intercept the treaty. However, from the looks of the GPS, they have been here for a while. I’m sorry, but none of your people are safe. You won’t be able to stay out of this fight.”

  The door flew open and a stocky man barged into the room. A panicked voice echoed.

  “Is that Joe-Mac?” Brooks asked. “What the hell is he doing here?”

  The young man locked eyes on the group at the table and ran through the crowd. Sean and Brooks looked up at Joe-Mac, who rested his shaking hands on the table, leaning hard to stay upright. His eyes were blood shot, his clothing stained with mud.

  “Hell, son, I thought you were down at Camp Cloud,” Sean said.

  Joe-Mac nodded, gulping in air. “I was, Chief. I came as quick as I could.” A series of gunshots echoed from outside. Joe-Mac turned to look behind him. “It’s okay; some Primals followed me up, but the guards can handle it.”

  “You traveled in the dark?” Brooks asked.

  Joe-Mac nodded again. “Dan sent me, I took my truck—listen, Chief, the camp’s been attacked,” he gasped.

  Brooks stood up and faced the young man, then asked the question he already knew the answer to. “Was it Primals?”

  Joe-Mac did not immediately respond; he lowered his head, then looked back up. “No, sir, it was raiders. Everyone is dead or gone.”

  Sean stood, his arms and legs suddenly weak. The blood drained from his face as he walked to the young man and put a hand on his shoulder. “Slow down and tell me what happened.”

  “That’s the thing, Chief; we don’t know. Our lookouts saw the flares from the main house. The flare, that’s how we knew it had to be Raiders; we never use flares during a Primal attack—that just makes it worse. Dan got every available man organized and sent us out. We took the trucks and went straight there, but—”

  “But what?” Brooks asked.

  “It’s gone, Chief. They killed all the men, took the women and children. Stole all the stores, burned the buildings.”

  Burt stood and stuffed the leather satchel back into his pack. “That’s Carson. He takes hostages, and sends them back east to repopulate his cites. Were your people vaccinated?” he asked.

  Sean remained silent, still processing the information, his fists balled as he nodded his response.

  “That will make them even more valuable to a man like Carson,” Burt said.

  Sean snarled and spun toward Burt; the men faced each other, only inches apart. “You knew this would happen and you didn’t warn us.”

  “No, that’s not it at all,” Burt paused looking down at the table. After he collected his thoughts, he looked back up at Sean. “The papers can wait. Let’s get your people back.”

  Sean grabbed his rifle that was leaning against the table. When he surveyed the room, he could see that his men had drawn in close and heard everything. Sean knew the men in the group had families in the camp. “We’ll get them back. You can count on that.”

  Chapter 6

  8 Miles North of the Outpost,

  Free Virginia Territories

  Lying on the stone floor, the man’s body atop him, Brad woke to the sound of the Primals. He squirmed and rolled the corpse to the side, then pulled himself away. He reached up and felt the throbbing lump on the front of his head. He felt his face; his nose was crusted with blood, but not broken as he’d initially thought. The room was cold and dark, the fire in the stove had gone out. He pulled himself into a seated position and searched his pockets for his lighter; flicking the flint wheel, it ignited and lit the space.

  The flames reflected off the glazed eyes of the bearded dead man. Brad shook his head slowly and crawled over the body. Opening the stove, he stirred the coals and added fuel to the fire. Soon it was again blazing bright and illuminating the interior of the cabin.

  He searched the bodies and dumped the contents of their pockets. Placing them on the table, he carefully sorted through the objects. It was mostly garbage, aside from a wedding ring and a scrap of folded paper. Brad chucked the ring into the fire and unfolded the paper. It was an intricately drawn map of trails and geographic references, but most alarming was that it had the precise location of The Outpost, Camp Cloud, and the main house. When Brad turned the page over, he found a detailed drawing of Camp Cloud, identifying ranges and the tower locations, even the number of guards that would be on duty.

  “Fuck,” Brad whispered. “He was telling the truth.”

  Brad folded the paper and stuffed it in his breast pocket. He rummaged through the men’s packs and transferred all of their ammo to his own. He took the tall man’s shotgun and a half box of buckshot shells from his shirt pocket. He sat the weapon aside and moved back to his
pack. Inside, he had a pair of night vision goggles; they were beat up and worn, but still serviceable. He removed them from the black carrying case and inserted his last set of batteries. Placing them on his head, he panned the room, then lifted them so that they rested above his eyes.

  The Primals still howled and scratched at the door. They were agitated and looking for the food that they knew was inside. Brad looked past the bodies on the floor and thought of the map in his pocket. If the dead man had been telling the truth, Carson’s men would be somewhere close; there were only a few other safe houses nearby, and an old livestock barn three miles up the road would be the most likely. As much as Brad would like to travel to the barn, he knew had to warn the Outpost.

  He opened his pack and dumped the contents onto the bed. Forced to travel at night, he would have to be moving fast, so he needed to lighten the load. Brad removed the canned goods and his normal camping kit, leaving only ammo and water. Unzipping a front pouch, he removed two suppressors and attached one each to his M4 and M9. He put the Sigma in the rucksack and secured the straps. There was another series of bangs at the door, reminding him that he still had to contend with the Primals before he would be going anywhere.

  Brad went back and retrieved the shotgun. A Remington 1100 with the barrel chopped. Brad unloaded it then reloaded, counting the five rounds going into the extended tube before he put the rest in his shirt pocket. He verified one in the pipe, then put on his pack and stood by the door. He clipped the M4 to his chest and used the shotgun stock to bang on the door. He wanted them all out front when he opened it.

  He moved back to the stove and opened the cast iron door. Using a poker, he dumped hot coals to the floor then kicked them to the stacked firewood. He dumped the contents of the kindling box and watched as the dried material caught fire and quickly spread to the log walls. He hated to destroy the place, but he needed the fire to distract the Primals if he was going to get back to the Outpost. Brad grabbed bedding and added it to the flames.