by Riley Flynn
“DOOWWNNN!” he bellowed, not knowing if it would do anyone any good. He and Hayley were at enough of an angle that they were effectively out of range, but he had no idea where anyone else was.
The rat-a-tat-tat of the Vulcans echoed throughout the space as hundreds of 20-millimeter rounds tore through everything in their path. Jax’s hands were on Hayley’s ears, leaving his own unprotected against the deafening noise. But worse—far worse—was the coldness in his soul that came from knowing that Hayley would live with the memory of this moment for the rest of her life. She’d still wake up screaming years from now, reliving it, her heart galloping in her chest.
But at least she would be alive.
The staccato rap of the guns lasted an eon in Jax’s mind—surely entire civilizations rose and fell in the time it took them to empty their ammunition belts, all while he held Hayley’s ears and shielded her body with his. His mind’s eye filled with images of Roth and his men being ripped to hamburger by the storm of gunfire.
When silence finally fell, it was like a physical force against his ears. He took a deep breath and braced himself for the pain that was about to rake his esophagus.
“HOLD YOUR FIRE!” he screamed. “IT’S BOOTH!”
The shout combined with the smoke and dust to give him a coughing fit. Beneath him, he could feel Hayley’s body trembling with her own hacking sobs. It was awful, but it was motion, and motion meant she was alive.
He heard Cruz’s startled voice from somewhere near the hole in the wall: “Captain? Holy shit, Captain, are you in here?!” She hollered to the outside: “Hold your fire! Jesus Christ, hold your fire!”
Jax let out the breath he’d been holding. “Lambert and Grant are over near you!” he rasped. “Find them!”
As shouts echoed around them, he sat back and let Hayley move. Her hair was a rat’s nest, her face smeared with blood and streaks of dust and debris. Her wide eyes were damp and red-rimmed, her face pale with shock.
It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
“Is it over?” she whispered.
Jax pulled her to his chest and squeezed her tight, as if he needed to make sure she was real. Then he let go and started inspecting her, turning her over and checking every inch.
“It’s over,” he said. “Are you all right? Does it hurt anywhere?”
“My face. I think I cut my forehead.”
“Anything else?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Your leg is bleeding.”
Jax looked down to where she was pointing and saw a gaping hole in his left calf muscle. He’d need a tourniquet, and soon, or he’d likely pass out. But it was the furthest thing from his mind right now.
Two dozen more men swarmed through the hole in the wall behind Farries, rifles at the ready. Shouts of “Clear!” echoed around them, no doubt as they recognized that any threat there might have once been was long gone. Jax would have been astounded if any of Roth’s men had survived.
Cruz appeared next to them and crouched down, frantically groping Hayley for injuries.
“Oh, my girl,” she whispered. “Please be okay, please be okay…”
“We’re not critical,” said Jax. “What about Lambert and Grant? And the guard, Stratch?”
“Same, injured but not critical. We’ve got a truck with us; we’ll get you all back to base. Pardon my French, sir, but what the fuck were you doing here?”
“It’s a long story.” He paused a moment. “Wait a minute—base didn’t tell you we were here?”
Cruz shook her head. “Our orders from Col. Smith were to attack the building with extreme prejudice first, retrieve the weapons second. No hostiles were to make it out alive.”
Hostiles, Jax thought. Fucking beer league wannabe soldiers are hostiles now.
That wasn’t the worst thing on his mind at the moment, but he would have to hold onto that for later.
Cruz helped Jax to his feet and propped him up with an arm across the shoulder. Hayley took one of Jax’s hands and one of Cruz’s and shuffled along beside them toward the front doors. As they passed, he noticed Hayley steadfastly avoiding looking at the floor and the chewed remains of what had a few minutes ago been men.
She’s been forced to grow up faster than anyone should ever have to.
“Motherfucker!”
The sound of the word coming out of Carly Grant’s mouth startled him. A member of Echo had a hand on her elbow and another on her upper back; Jax deduced that he’d just popped a dislocated shoulder back into place.
Beside her on the floor amidst the rubble, Ruben was holding a wadded towel to his scalp. It was almost completely crimson, but he still managed to smile at Hayley as they approached.
“You okay, Princess Hayley?” he asked.
“Roger that,” she said. Her voice was flat, but at least she was talking. Jax took that as a win.
Cpl. Farries appeared and saluted Jax. “Sir, we’ve radioed ahead to base. They’ll have the infirmary ready for all of you.”
He nodded. “Thank you, Corporal.”
Should have told them to get ready to add a dozen more corpses to the pile as well, he thought, but he kept that to himself.
Chapter 29
“I still don’t get it,” Jax said, bewildered. “The pants fit all of the girls, even though they’re not the same size? How is that possible?”
Hayley looked at Cruz, who rolled her eyes comically. “Boys,” said the sergeant. “They just don’t get it.”
“It’s just a story, Jax,” Hayley sighed. “It’s not about the pants, it’s about friendship.”
She giggled softly, and Jax thought the sound was like music. Her resilience was downright amazing in the aftermath of everything she’d been through. Then again, he supposed, whose wasn’t these days?
They were at his bedside in the infirmary the next day. He’d lost a lot of blood, though not enough to need a transfusion, and his stitched left calf looked like something off a cadaver after an autopsy. But he was on intravenous fluids, and the medic who had treated him said he’d be discharged by morning, which was all he could have hoped for.
“Are you talking about the Sisterhood books?” said a familiar voice from the doorway. It was Carly Grant, sporting a sling to hold up her damaged shoulder but otherwise none the worse for wear.
“Uh-huh,” Hayley grinned.
“I used to love those when I was your age!” She sat down in a chair next to Hayley and Cruz. “How’s our fearless leader?”
“He’ll live,” said Jax.
Hayley gripped his hand. “I’ll take care of him and make sure he does what he’s told. You guys can’t give him orders, but I can.”
He smiled and saluted with his other hand. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Speaking of orders, that’s why I’m here,” said Carly. “Col. Smith wants to see you as soon as you’re discharged.”
Jax nodded, frowning. “Good. I want to see him, too.”
***
The cane took a little getting used to, but it helped with the pain as he walked. Dr. Whitelaw, a civilian physician in his 80s who’d somehow managed to survive the epidemic and offered his services to the army, had warned him against painkillers.
“Dope is like land,” the doc had said. “They’re not making it anymore. Sure, there’s a lot of it lying around, but once it’s gone, it’s gone. I was in Vietnam, and I saw what happens when you run out in a really bad situation. If you’re not screaming, you don’t need it, if you get my drift.”
Jax did get his drift. He’d been wounded before—he had the Purple Heart and a couple of bronze oak leaves to prove it—and he’d never taken anything after being released.
Now, as he approached Smith’s office, his leg was the last thing on his mind. The door was open, so he knocked on the jamb.
“Come,” Smith said without looking up from his papers. From this angle, Jax could see some silver hair creeping in on the top of his head.
“You wanted to s
ee me, sir?”
Smith glanced at him. “Captain. Yes, come in. Close the door behind you.”
Jax did as he was told and hobbled to the chair in front of Smith’s desk. He winced as he lowered himself to sit.
“I read your report,” Smith said in his usual monotone. “Just wanted to clear up a couple of points.”
“Yessir.”
“You, Lambert and Grant were abducted by Roth and his men at gunpoint, correct? Were any of you carrying your sidearms at the time?”
Jax glared at him. “If we had been, we obviously would have tried to use them.”
“Why didn’t you have them?”
“It was a recruitment drive. The whole point of what we were doing was to appear less threatening so that civilians start to respect us instead of just being scared of us. Sir.”
Smith nodded. “I get that, but from now on, sidearms are part of your uniform. Understood?”
“Is that from you or from Gen. Archer?”
Jax squared his jaw as Smith leaned back in his seat. It was open insubordination, and they both knew it. He didn’t care; Smith was lucky Jax hadn’t given in to his rage and pummeled him the second he walked in the door for putting his team—and more importantly, Hayley—into the line of fire needlessly.
Smith eyed him for several moments before speaking. “Those are my orders, Captain. And I expect them to be followed.”
“Of course, sir. I was just wondering. Though I doubt a pistol would have helped much, considering Roth’s man had already kidnapped my ward. He had me over a barrel.”
“About that. This girl—”
“Her name is Hayley Moore, sir. I’m her legal guardian.”
Smith’s bland expression didn’t change. “I doubt that, Captain. You and her mother weren’t even engaged before she died. The legal process of gaining custody takes months.”
Jax’s heart gave a hard thump against his chest but he kept silent.
“That means you brought her to the U.S. under false pretenses,” Smith continued. “And she got an Eko inoculation that could have gone to military personnel. And she’s living here at Cheyenne, even though she has no legal or family ties here whatsoever.”
The two men stared at each other for several beats, neither blinking. Jax knew this was a standoff. How it would end was anyone’s guess.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” he said finally. “But what’s your point?”
Smith leaned forward and propped his elbows on the desk between them.
“I’m saying that having this girl here is an indulgence on my part. I’ll look the other way—for now—but we can’t have her being used as leverage against you the way Roth did. You’re the commander of Echo Company, which means you need to be beyond compromise. Am I making myself clear?”
Jax nodded. “Crystal, sir. I appreciate your sensitivity in the matter.”
Smith surprised him by smiling. “I’m not an ogre, Captain, despite what some people seem to think. I understand that this is a unique situation. But Eko has left us with no shortage of orphans, and I can’t be seen as giving preferential treatment. We’ll play it by ear, if that works for you.”
“Absolutely, sir. Thank you.”
“Good. Now, unless you have something else to add, you’re dismissed.”
Jax grinned. “As a matter of fact, there is something I was hoping to discuss with you.”
Smith glanced at his watch. “Go ahead. I’ve got a few minutes.”
“I just wanted to get a couple of things clear in my head about the incident at Schriever.”
“All right.” Smith’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll give you what I can.”
“My men said their orders were to shoot first and ask questions later.”
“Essentially. They were told to keep those weapons out of enemy hands at all costs.”
Jax nodded. “Cruz said that they saw Roth’s men, armed, coming and going from the building when they arrived, so she assumed they were expected to level the building and take out the enemy.”
“So what part of this is unclear, Captain?”
“Pvt. Perry radioed in the situation to base while Roth and his men were in the process of loading the weapons. He was killed in the process.”
Smith shrugged. “Again, what’s unclear?”
“Here’s the thing,” Jax said, leaning back in his chair. “I was next to him when he did it, and I distinctly remember hearing him say ‘Captain Booth and his team are here.’ And yet when Echo arrived, Cruz said they hadn’t been told about us. Just the dozen hostiles.”
The colonel’s face didn’t betray anything.
“Obviously there was breakdown in communications somewhere along the line,” he said evenly. “Dispatch that relayed the message must have missed that part of the transmission. Or maybe the radio cut out.”
Jax nodded. “I suppose anything is possible, sir. But here’s the funny thing: Perry mentioned us before he mentioned the number of hostiles. So somehow that part of the message got missed, even though it was right in the middle.”
This time, Jax thought he saw something in Smith’s eyes.
“Again,” said Smith, “a breakdown in communication. When I gave my orders, I didn’t know your team was in the building. It’s an unfortunate oversight, but that’s combat. You should know that better than anyone, Captain.”
“Absolutely, sir. Nobody in this army uses the word FUBAR more than me. But there’s one thing I can’t reconcile here.”
He made Smith wait for it again. It was petty, but it made him happy to put the bastard on edge.
“And what would that be, Captain?”
“Even if they missed part of the transmission, dispatch had to have known that Perry was in the building; he called in the situation. Which means you had to have known there was at least one soldier in there, and likely two, given that there were two men assigned to the duty.”
Smith was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, there was an undertone of anger that Jax found oddly satisfying. The guy was as cool as they came, but he did have emotions after all. Real ones, not the fake smiles.
“Just get to the point, Captain,” Smith said curtly. “I don’t have all day.”
Jax pushed himself into a standing position and grabbed his cane.
“I just think it sounds an awful lot like the orders you gave me when we were sent in to stop the riot in Colorado Springs. You specifically told me to make sure that any supplies were given priority. I can’t help but think the same orders applied to the situation at Schriever: Kill the enemies, save the weapons, in that order. Fuck the personnel in the line of fire.”
Smith said nothing, but his glare was ice cold. Jax took the silence as his cue to continue and leaned forward against the desk.
“I get that we don’t negotiate with terrorists,” he said. “Although I don’t know if a dozen civilians under the loose command of a single military man can be considered terrorists. But to throw the safety of loyal soldiers to the lions in the process isn’t what this army is about. Never has been, and under my watch, it never will be.
“What that tells me, Colonel, is that you don’t have combat experience. If you did, you wouldn’t just know the phrase ‘no man left behind’; you’d live it. In this new reality we find ourselves in, we don’t have the luxury of seeing casualties as numbers. I don’t give a shit whether it’s soldiers or civilians, friend or enemy. There’s something on the order of five and a quarter million corpses lying around in this state alone. I don’t see how adding to that is going to move this new republic forward. Sir.”
Smith took a deep breath, let it out. Then he tented his fingers under his chin. Jax braced for the blowback that he knew would be the result of his actions. He was ready for anything—or so he thought.
“You make a good point,” said Smith. “Duly noted.”
Jax blinked stupidly. He was spoiling for a fight and Smith had rolled over on his back, or as close as he could ever come to that.
“Now: anything else? I really do have other things on my plate.”
“There is one last thing,” said Jax. He knew he was about to push it, quite probably over the edge, but he wasn’t quite done with Smith yet.
“Fine,” Smith sighed. “What is it?”
“I know that you’re not looking the other way on Hayley out of the goodness of your heart. You obviously know about my relationship with the president. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d already brought it up with him and he told you not to pursue it.”
Smith’s face was stone.
“Now that I know that, and given the circumstances of the last couple of days, I feel I need to pass along some critical information to you.”
He leaned farther forward on the desk until his face was just inches from the colonel’s.
“I say this knowing full well I’m risking a court martial,” he hissed. “But make no mistake: If your actions ever put my daughter in the line of fire again, I will kill you, as quickly and with as little regard as you did those men in the Atlanta airport. Sir.”
The two men stared at each other in silence for a full ten seconds. Then Smith gave Jax his biggest surprise yet: a sincere smile.
“Duly noted, Captain,” he said with a nod. “Now get the fuck out of here before you really piss me off.”
Chapter 30
Jax tried to concentrate on the book Ruben had brought him, but it was no good. He’d never been much of a reader; he preferred to move, to think, to act. Sitting and imagining what other people were doing just wasn’t in his wiring. Besides, the book—The Bourne Identity by Robert Ludlum—was nothing like the movie he remembered from his childhood.
He dropped it on the table by his bedside just as he heard a knock at the door.
“Come in,” he said. He’d received a steady stream of visitors since his visit to Smith’s office. He’d given Ruben and Carly some of the details of the meeting, but most of the people who stopped by just wanted to wish him a speedy recovery.
