by Riley Flynn
Jax looked at her little feet dangling above the floor and was hit with a sudden wave of something bordering on panic: Who the hell was he to think he could take care of a child? Especially this one, who was the entire world to the woman he’d loved and now lost? There had to have been child services agencies in Stuttgart that could handle this. She could have gone to the consulate in Frankfurt. Anything that meant she didn’t have to rely on him.
Is it really about her? he asked himself as he sat down beside her. Or are you just scared?
Before he could go any further down that path, Ruben appeared in front of them with a dark-haired woman in tow. Valentina Cruz had been a sergeant in Echo for a year, and was one of the first women accepted into active Special Forces combat duty after the ban was lifted a decade earlier. As always, her khaki T-shirt was straining against the enormous breasts and rippling muscles underneath it.
Jax nodded to the duo. He understood the plan immediately: Hayley would appreciate a female presence, and Val was pretty much it for the company.
“I’m Val,” she said, kneeling in front of the girl’s seat. “You’re Hayley, right?”
Hayley nodded. Her eyes were wide as she looked over the woman’s chiseled frame.
“I was going to go get a hot chocolate,” Val said softly. “Sometimes hot chocolate helps me when I’m feeling rough. But I’m scared to go by myself—Will you come with me?”
“You’re not really scared,” Hayley said with a tentative smile.
Val returned the smile and leaned in close. “You’re right,” she hissed in a stage whisper. “I just don’t want to hang around all these smelly boys. So you wanna come with?”
Hayley looked up at Jax, who nodded. Val took her hand and led her toward a coffee kiosk about fifty years away.
“Thanks, man,” he said as Ruben took the vacant seat next to him. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I can’t look after a kid.”
Ruben shrugged. “She’s still alive. That’s something.”
“Very funny.”
“It was Val’s idea. I told her what happened and she said she wanted to help. She lost her own mom at a young age.”
“So did I,” said Jax. “That’s not helping me with Hayley.”
Ruben looked around the terminal and let out a long, slow breath.
“That’s some 9-11 shit right there,” he said, nodding at the windows.
“I was just thinking the same thing. My memories are pretty fuzzy from back then, but I distinctly remember my old man saying ‘It ain’t right to have that many birds on the ground’.”
A bank of television screens over the seats opposite them showed a pair of local hosts on a Stuttgart morning show. English subtitles told a broken story of how there was only local news today because all of the wire services were down. The duo—a young blond woman and an older man with long black hair and odd square glasses—chatted as if this happened all the time, but Jax thought their smiles looked like the kind you’d see on the faces of people on a rollercoaster.
“I’ve never seen an airport this empty, either,” said Ruben. “I mean, there isn’t a single Chinese tourist anywhere.”
“That’s racist.”
He flipped Jax the bird. “I’m serious. When was the last time you were in an airport here and you didn’t see a group of passengers from China milling around?”
Ruben was right. Germany had become a mecca for Chinese immigrants and tourists alike after the Europeans signed the free trade deal back in 2022. It had been an economic boon for both nations and brought billions in investment to Europe. Jax had read that BMW expanded its factory in Shenyang threefold to keep up with demand.
America hadn’t fared so well. He and Ruben hadn’t been stateside in six months, and things hadn’t been looking too good back then. The economy was stumbling and the people seemed to be angry about everything, all the time. Jax wondered what was waiting for them when they got back home now.
“I don’t think we’re getting the full story on this virus,” said Ruben, still staring out the window. “It’s gotta have something to do with this Internet thing. I mean, look at the TV. Even the news people can’t get online. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole damn country is down.”
As if on cue, the screens above the seats went blank, then were replaced with a cartoon image of a man swearing at his television set. Jax’s German wasn’t great, but he knew what the words on the screen meant: Technical difficulties, please stand by.
“Great,” he said. “Now you’ve gone and fucked up the TVs.”
“This is serious. There’s shit going on behind the scenes that we don’t know about.”
A sudden wave of exhaustion and frustration finally hit Jax, and his next words came out harsher than he’d intended.
“We’re in the United States Army,” he snapped. “There’s always shit going on that we don’t know about. It’s not our job to question it; it’s our job to follow orders.”
Ruben looked like he had something more to say, but he kept his mouth shut. They were best friends, but Jax still had two silver bars on his shoulders to Ruben’s single silver and black one, and arguing with the company commander was frowned upon in public places.
They were saved from an awkward silence by Hayley and Cruz, who emerged from the concourse each carrying a deep blue Tchibo cup. Hayley still had her panda clutched in her other hand, but she looked marginally less catatonic than she had earlier, which Jax took as a win.
“Better?” he asked as the two joined them. Hayley nodded and sat down, but said nothing.
Cruz knelt over the girl and whispered in her ear. Hayley nodded and whispered something back. The sergeant locked eyes with Jax and tilted her head slightly as she stood up, a cue for him to follow her.
“I’ll be right back,” he said to Hayley. “Stay with Ruben.”
Jax rendezvoused with Cruz near a charging station. “Thanks, Val, I appreciate that.”
“Mind if I offer some unsolicited advice?” she asked, hands planted on her hips. Jax noted absently that her biceps were almost as big as his own.
“Go ahead,” he said.
“That girl is broken, and you’re treating her like some kind of burden. If you’re not up to taking care of her the right way, you should pass her along to someone who can before you do any permanent damage.” She caught herself after a beat and added: “Sir.”
Jax ran a hand down his face, feeling the sandpaper on his cheeks. She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know.
“That’s good advice, Sergeant,” he sighed. “And if you can find me anyone who can do that right now, I’ll gladly take you up on it. But as far as I can see, there aren’t even airport staff in this airport, let alone children’s services. Until we can get her to her grandparents, she’s my responsibility. I may be the last person she needs, but I’m the only one she’s got.”
He glanced over to see Ruben bent over in his seat, elbows on knees, talking to Hayley. She was responding instead of staring into the distance, at least.
“She’s got me and the chief,” said Cruz. “Remember that, all right?”
He nodded. “I will. Thanks.”
She touched his arm briefly and left to join some other NCOs who were talking in a group near another seating area. That kind of behavior wouldn’t fly in a lot of military situations, but Echo Company was unique. They spent too much time in the sights of terrorists to worry about the formalities of protocol. NCOs and officers might not have spent a lot of time together outside of work, but anyone who had your six in some dusty rat’s nest in Mosul or a burnt-out apartment building in Damascus was family, regardless of rank.
“Booth!”
The sound of his name brought him out of his reverie. He looked across the concourse to see Col. Archer marching toward him, his bullet head gleaming in the noon sunlight that poured in through the windows. Twenty feet to his left, Ruben looked up at Archer and then at Jax before turning his attention back
to Hayley.
“Sir,” Jax replied. He inhaled deeply, let it out again. Time to face the music. “I can explain.”
Archer frowned as he pulled up alongside him. His uniform looked somehow larger on him, as if he’d lost weight since Jax had last seen him. Between his own time with Rachel and the colonel’s recent posting to U.S. European Command here in Stuttgart, they hadn’t been in the same room in weeks.
“Explain what?” Archer asked.
“The girl.”
“What girl?” The colonel shook his head. “I don’t care about a girl. We need to talk about what’s waiting for us stateside.”
Jax’s spirits rose a tiny bit. Maybe, just maybe, he could pull this off and get Hayley where she needed to be.
“Sir.” He nodded. “Awaiting orders.”
“I don’t need to tell you shit’s gone sideways here,” said Archer, unknowingly echoing Ruben. His eyes danced around the room, taking in everything around them. Jax had never seen the old guy so agitated.
“This situation gives a whole new meaning to FUBAR, Booth. I’ve seen more than my fair share of bullshit during forty years in this man’s army, but Christ. Half of fucking EUCOM is out sick with this fucking virus.”
Jesus. Half of them? Jax was suddenly grateful for the little knot that had emerged in his arm where the needle had landed earlier.
“That’s why it’s just Echo Company on this mission,” said Archer. “Top brass was asking for only the best we’ve got, and you people are it. Besides, the Boblingen base’s infirmary is starting to see its first virus cases from 1st Battalion members.”
Jax’s stomach dropped. “Is there any intel on where this thing came from, sir?” he asked.
“They’re telling me North Korea, but who the hell knows? It’s like children playing the old telephone game, especially now that communications are in the shitter. All I know is that we need to be ready for anything when we get into Colorado.”
Jax nodded. “We always are, sir.”
Archer gave him an appraising look, as if weighing whether he could trust his captain, then turned his gaze to the window walls looking out on the tarmac. The two had known each other for years; what was all this about? When the colonel finally spoke, the gravity in his voice was palpable.
“You’ve always been ready to face our enemies abroad,” he said. “The ones who point guns at us and scream ‘death to America!’”
Then he turned to face Jax, and his weathered face seemed to age even more, right before the younger man’s eyes.
“Are you ready to stare down your fellow citizens on American soil, Jax?” His voice was gentler now. “People who are looking to you to save them from whatever the hell is going on? Are you ready to fire on them? Because, God help us, I think that’s where this is headed.”
Jax had only a moment to consider before a voice over the public address system told them it was time to board the plane to Atlanta.
Chapter 3
If Stuttgart Airport had been chaos, Hartsfield-Jackson in Atlanta was bedlam. The moment Jax got to the door of the plane, Hayley in hand, he could hear commotion coming down the gangway beyond. When they emerged into the arrivals area, they were met with a swarm of people in white lab coats and surgical masks.
The eleven-hour flight had been a welcome reprieve from the crushing strangeness of the previous two days. Hayley, exhausted, had fallen asleep beside him in the window seat. Jax had followed suit, despite the constant chatter going on around them.
Archer and other mid-level brass had spoken in hushed tones in the business class seats at the front throughout the flight. Jax had noticed absently that the curt man who’d given him and Hayley their boarding passes was sitting in one of the dozen first-class seats as they entered the 747, but he forgot it almost instantly as they made their way to their seats in the rear.
Now, deplaning, Hayley clutched his hand tighter as Jax pushed his way through the sea of white. Ahead he could see a bank of unmanned customs kiosks, chained off and patrolled by armed men in what looked to be police riot gear, also wearing masks.
“It’s okay,” he told her, not believing his own words. “These are emergency people. They’re here to help.”
To his left, he saw Archer and a couple of the other brass he didn’t recognize arguing with one of the whitecoats. The colonel’s entire head seemed to be glowing red.
“I’m going to tell you this one more time,” he growled. “Our orders are to continue on a United charter to Colorado Springs at 1630 hours. Anyone who gets in our way will be dealt with physically. Is that clear?”
The subject of his abuse, a woman with huge, owlish glasses and hair as white as her coat, shook her head.
“The Center for Disease Control has authority here,” she said archly, her voice muffled by the cloth mask. “I told you, this is a quarantine zone.”
Archer pinched the bridge of his hawk nose. “And I told you they’ve all been vaccinated.”
“We don’t have records in our database...”
“Of course you don’t!” Archer snapped. “We only have handwritten papers here with us because the electronics in Stuttgart weren’t working worth shit. So even if the electronics here in Atlanta are magically working just fine—which they’re not—you’re not going to see that information any time soon. And regardless of the situation, this company will be on that flight at 1630 hours. Is that clear?”
The woman blinked at him silently behind her comical glasses.
“All right then,” Archer said.
He turned to face the crowd that had formed as the rest of the passengers were blocked by whitecoats. When he spoke, his voice made the woman in the glasses jump.
“Attention, Echo Company!” he barked. “We’ve got less than thirty minutes to hike about two miles to the domestic departures terminal and meet our connection, so start marching. If anyone gets in your way, you are to remove them. Anyone who is not at the gate at precisely 1630 hours will be left behind and court-martialed. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir!” the crowd shouted in unison. Jax thought it felt good to finally do something familiar, if only for a few moments. Acknowledging orders, marching double-time—that was normal.
Hayley’s eyes stared up at him under a furrowed brow. “Two miles? I can’t—”
Before she could finish, Cruz appeared next to them and picked Hayley up by the waist, hoisting the startled girl over her head and onto her wide shoulders.
“No worries, soldier.” Cruz turned to Jax. “We’ll meet you at the gate, sir?”
He nodded, resisting the urge to sigh with relief. Fighting his instincts, he reached up and squeezed Hayley’s hand. It’s what Rachel would have wanted him to do.
“We’ll get you to your grandparents,” he said. “Me and the rest of Echo. You’re one of us now.”
She nodded and squeezed back. Cruz marched off through the crowd of whitecoats, shoving them aside as she passed. Dozens of others followed suit, eventually forming a moving wedge that pointed its way to the other side of the airport. Over by the customs kiosks, the men in riot gear looked nervous.
Ruben sidled up to Jax as he watched a handful of whitecoats join the woman with Archer and the other brass.
“This proves it, man,” Ruben whispered. “This virus is way worse than they’ve been telling us.”
“CDC’s trying to take command of the situation,” Jax whispered back. “Archer’s telling them to piss up a rope. Come on, we need to get moving.”
The two shouldered their packs and joined the others making their way through the whitecoats. As they passed Archer and crew, they noticed the man who’d checked them in back in Germany handing a satellite phone to the older woman from CDC.
“I know that, but…” Jax heard the woman say. There was a pause and then a terse: “Fine. Whatever.” The last thing he could make out as they faded into the distance was: “…insanity… your funeral, not mine...”
“You see that dude sitting i
n first class on the way here?” Ruben asked, lifting his chin in the direction of the man Jax now suspected wasn’t an ordinary admin.
Before he could answer, Jax heard Cruz raise her voice ahead of them.
“You heard the colonel!” she barked. “Move or be moved!”
Suddenly the troops in front of him started moving outward in a circle; the space in between them opened up as they did, and Jax’s stomach dropped as he caught sight of Cruz and Hayley facing three of the men in black who’d been stationed at customs. The men’s AR-15 rifles were raised and pointed at the pair.
“The kid isn’t in the army,” said the man in front. “She’s got no business going with you.”
Instinct and training launched Jax forward, elbowing his way through the throng of soldiers who were surrounding their comrade in solidarity. He couldn’t see any good outcome to this if he didn’t de-escalate right fucking now.
“Stand down!” he ordered. Then he pointed at the three cops. “That goes for you, too! Stand down!”
“You’re not in charge here!” countered the one in front, a stocky guy in his twenties with rivulets of sweat running down his wide face. His rifle was now pointed at Jax. “We’re running shit, and I say the girl stays here.”
His gut told him this kid had just been given a taste of power thanks to the shortage of able bodies, and he was enjoying it a little too much. Again, training told Jax to appear more in command than his opponent. He fixed his eyes on the man with a stare that would have drilled through concrete.
“Son, do you really want to piss off an entire company of elite Special Forces counter-terrorism specialists?” he growled. “Because that’s what you’re doing. Lower your weapons and let us pass. Now!”
He knew he was bluffing—none of Echo were armed—but he hoped the guy was intimidated enough that he wouldn’t think about that.
He wasn’t.
“I told you already, G.I. Joe,” said the lead man in black, advancing until the barrel of his weapon was just inches from Jax’s chest. Behind him, Jax heard Hayley gasp. “You’re not in charge here.”
