They mumbled their agreement and understanding.
“Okay,” said Skull, “Let’s unload and sink the USS Skull.”
“The what?” asked Evans.
“Never mind,” answered Skull handing their gear to a few of the men now on the bank. Once the boat was emptied, he unhooked the trolling motor and battery and handed them ashore. Then he pushed the boat near the rock overhang and, while holding onto the rock surface, stood and walked to the front of the boat. Skull pushed down, using the rock surface as an anchor for his upper body until the edge of the boat was under the river’s surface and began to fill with water. It was slow at first, but picked up speed. After several minutes the boat rested on the river’s bottom and Skull stood atop it in waist-deep water. When he tried to step off, the boat started to rise again.
“There’s air in the seams,” he explained. “Damn fine boat. Pass me some good-sized rocks.”
They did and he laid them around the edges of the boat until it no longer threatened to rise, and then added a few more for good measure. Then he climbed out of the water and retrieved his gear.
“Let’s go,” he said simply and started walking west.
After about an hour they began to see lights. A few minutes later they came to the edge of a town and moved toward the courthouse in the distance, highlighted by the rising sun.
People were already going about their business. Skull and the group kept expecting to be challenged, but no one seemed to notice they didn’t belong. Many even nodded or said good morning.
“Pitiful security,” Skull said disapprovingly. He turned to Evans. “You can note that in your report. If someone wanted to they could infiltrate a full company of commandos before anyone noticed.”
They continued to walk down the street. Skull saw a large tent with the smell of breakfast emanating on the gentle breeze. “Come on,” he told them and then got in line.
They received a simple breakfast of eggs and toast with coffee and milk. Skull led them to an unoccupied table and they sat down, dropping their packs to the floor around them. Within seconds they began digging into their food.
“Not bad,” said one of the men around a mouthful.
Skull nodded in agreement and looked at Evans pointedly. “They’re not hurting for food. Either in quality or quantity. Maybe in variety. No bacon, no ham, no sausage.” They all ate quietly, looking around at the tent filled with men and women of all ages.
“What the hell does a man have to do around here to get accosted?” Skull wondered out loud. Then he spotted what he was looking for: a sergeant major in uniform.
Skull waved at him and put on his biggest smile.
The man made a beeline for their table.
“How’s it going, Smaj?” Skull asked. “Did you get some of them eggs? Those were delicious.”
“When was the last time you men shaved?” the hard-bitten senior NCO asked. “And where are your uniforms?” His nametag read Landers.
“Don’t have any yet, Smaj,” Skull answered taking a bite of buttered toast.
“Who’s your platoon sergeant?” Landers asked sternly.
“Don’t have one yet, Smaj,” Skull answered, still eating. “We just got here. Walked in on Route 16 and thought we would eat some breakfast. Damn glad we did too. We’re hungry.”
The sergeant major got pale, and then turned red. He started quivering, spun, and then took a step away from them before reversing course and coming back to their table.
“Do you mean to tell me you men just walked in from outside of our lines, sat down to eat breakfast, and no one stopped you?”
“Yeah, Smaj,” replied Skull. “Pathetic, huh?”
Landers looked at them in amazement. “You men wait here. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
“Think he would mind if I got seconds?” asked one of the men.
“Not at all,” Skull said. “You men eat all you want.”
All of them except Skull and Evans went back for more.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Evans asked.
“Not in the least,” Skull smiled. “There’s a very strong chance we’re all going to die a slow and painful death. Especially if you decide to open your mouth and speak.”
Evans started to respond, but by then the men were returning with plates piled high.
A few minutes later, Landers approached with a lieutenant colonel and two captains in tow. “Here they are, sir. Just like I said.”
Skull stood and took note of the nametag of the man in charge. “Lieutenant Colonel Deets. I’m Jonathan Winston and these are my friends. We came here all the way from Calhoun County after hearing what you’re doing here. We’d like to join up.”
Evans choked on milk beside Skull, so he slapped the small man in the back helpfully.
“You men want to enlist in the Homeland Defense League?” Deets asked.
“Yes, sir,” said Skull with a smile.
“And you’re committed to helping the Arkansas Free State?”
“You bet.”
“Maybe we should learn a little more about these men and how they got here, sir,” said the sergeant major.
“Yes, yes,” Deets answered, “but we’re short men and got to take what we can get.”
“We’re your men,” said Skull.
“What do you think?” Deets asked the two captains behind him.
“Sir,” said one. “They’ll need to go through our initial training unless they have military experience already.”
“Any of you have that?” Deets asked.
“None but myself,” Skull answered for them. “I’m retired Marine Corps. Force Recon.”
The four men all raised their eyebrows.
“Very impressive,” said Deets. “We might use you to help with training the new recruits.”
“It would be my pleasure, sir.”
“All right then,” he answered with a smile. “My exec and ops officers here will get you boys assigned to a platoon and inprocessed. Welcome to the Free State.”
“Thank you, sir,” Skull answered for them.
Deets walked away with the sergeant major. One of the two captains turned to them. “Go ahead and finish your breakfast, and then report to that building over there,” he pointed to a small grey structure to the left of the courthouse. “We’ll get you settled in there.”
“Roger that, sir,” answered Skull as the two captains walked away.
“What just happened?” Evans asked.
Skull sat back down and leaned over close to the small man. “Remember when we first met and I told you I would soon be stomping your ass? Well it turns out I don’t need to do that.”
“Why?”
“Because these local boys are going to do it for me,” Skull answered slapping the advisor on the back and laughing. “Welcome to boot camp.”
Chapter 17
Skull, Evans and the other six were all assigned to a newly formed platoon, part of a company composed of recruits. Filled with mostly young men, it also included teenagers. Two were brothers named Anson and Kevin.
Because of his experience, Skull was brevetted to Sergeant in order to help with training new recruits like the men who arrived with him. He didn’t bother to tell anyone he’d retired with twenty years in the Corps as a gunnery sergeant, two ranks higher. To the Free State’s Homeland Defense League, he was still just a new guy and had to prove himself. Besides, he already had all the responsibility and authority he wanted.
Skull’s platoon was led by Staff Sergeant Talbot, who was only too happy to give Skull free rein and allow him to do as he pleased when it came to training. While Skull had never been a drill instructor or really any kind of formal trainer, he was surprised to find he enjoyed teaching young men how to fight and stay alive.
All of them, veterans and trainees alike, felt a battle coming, and there was no question they knew Skull’s training might save their lives.
Skull primarily focused on small unit defens
ive operations. It was unlikely they would go on the offensive, as any conceivable enemy would likely have them outmanned and outgunned. As a matter of fact, the overall strategy of the HDL seemed to be to hold on until the Texans came in to save the day. Exactly why anyone thought the reconstituted Republic of Texas would leave its borders and come to the rescue of a piece of its old rival Arkansas was anyone’s guess.
Much of their training involved constant digging of fighting positions, barriers, bomb shelters, latrines, and mantraps. The young men and boys came dragging in at the end of each day tired and dirty. Evans was usually the last of all and sometimes had to be carried. Skull hoped each day that he wouldn’t return, that the little man’s heart would explode while digging ditches, but no such luck.
As the days passed, Skull could see that the HDL was woefully ill-prepared to withstand an attack of fleas – as a matter of fact they were already overrun with them – much less a concerted attack by a real military force. Discipline and hygiene were incessant problems and the force was marked by constant desertions, increasingly severe punishments for minor infractions, and a medical tent spilling over.
Plenty of civilians mixed with the troops, but generally as transients, hangers-on, and contractors. Some delivered supplies or food, some “encouraged” the men, often after dark, and some just visited, and then went back home.
Opportunities for recreation or down time were rare, but they did exist. The Homeland Defense League commander had outlawed alcohol to anyone who had not completed their initial training, but a small tent had been set up with soft drinks, snacks and equipment to watch television, movies or play games.
One night when Skull made his usual rounds at the morale tent he noticed a flurry of excitement. Evidently, there was a new Daniel Markis video on the web and they had gathered to watch it.
Oh, hell, thought Skull, what now, Markis? He slid into a place near the back where his height allowed him to look over the heads of most there. “Down in front!” he snapped, and some of the young men sat down to make it easier to see.
The room got quiet as the lights were lowered a bit. A projector attached to a laptop illuminated the large screen at the front of the tent. Suddenly, Daniel Markis’ face stared straight at him.
Son of a bitch looks younger than the last time I saw him, thought Skull. Guess sitting on your ass in Colombia is relaxing.
“People of the world, many of you know me already, but if not, let me introduce myself. I’m Daniel Markis. I’m recording this video from one of the many Free Communities that we’re establishing around the world. Some, such as the Colombia Free Community, are congruent with their former nations. Others are new states within states, such as Roraima in northern Brazil, or the Republic of Texas in the United States. These Free Communities are a loose alliance of sanctuaries for any Edens. If you are being harassed, persecuted, hunted, arrested or are in fear for your life, know that there are places where you will be safe and welcome. Click on one of the links below to find a sanctuary you can reach. You will be able to verify your Eden status online with one of our resistance specialists, and then get personalized support.”
Sounds like one of those TV ads for home insurance, thought Skull.
Markis continued, “To the governments of the world who have not joined the Free Communities structure, I urge you to protect the Edens within your borders just like any other citizens. Do not allow them to be persecuted. Follow the examples of New Zealand, Australia, Argentina, Colombia, South Africa, Texas and others on the list below. Enlightened leaders of these nations refuse to believe the vile propaganda about the Eden virus. Please do not be fooled yourself.”
The video cut to images of a young barefoot boy playing soccer with other laughing children. The caption below the video read Ravi, age 8, Calcutta, India. “Ravi here is an energetic kid, but less than six weeks ago he was crippled and confined to a wheelchair until his parents gave him the Eden virus.”
The view changed to show a teenage girl playing ping-pong, and then painting a brilliantly colored sunrise. The caption read Jeanne, age 17, Galveston, Texas. “Jeanne here is an incredibly gifted artist. Her paintings show an insight into colors and depth that is typically only seen in the great masters. Is she a prodigy? She is more than that. She was born blind. Ten days ago she chose to receive the Eden virus and could see within one day.”
Next, a baby in a crib filled the screen, teetering on chubby toddler legs and gripping the edge of the playpen in one hand, a stuffed turtle in the other. He shook the turtle vigorously and made happy, eager baby noises. The caption read Timmy, age 8 months, Canberra, Australia. “Timmy is an adorable and healthy baby boy, yet he is a true miracle. Timmy was born four months premature when his mother tragically leaped from a five-story building and killed herself in a drug-induced depression. Worse, little Timmy was born HIV positive and addicted to heroin and other narcotics. Doctors had given up hope and decided to take Timmy off life support, but a brave nurse took matters into her own hands and fed Timmy a tiny drop of the Eden virus. When the doctors took him off life support, he did not die as expected, but continued to recover and is now the joy of the young family that adopted him.”
Markis’ image filled the screen again. “I know this makes some of you uncomfortable. Giving people diseases to save their lives, or make those lives worth living, goes against every intuition we’ve grown up with, as does treating even crippled children against their will. However, these are but a few of thousands of such stories. The Eden virus is a blessing to all who do not wish to do evil, and a miracle to the sick, lame and blind. Don’t believe those who fear the unknown. Consider this option if you or a loved one is sick, or very old, or suffers from a disability. Modern medicine may do nothing further for you, but the Eden virus can.
“If you wish to be a part of the miracles you have seen, you need only find an Eden. The virus is passed from one person to the other through any bodily fluid. Or, you can make your way to one of the Free Communities or Eden Sanctuaries and receive the treatment at any medical facility.
“For those persecuted Edens out there, please know that you are not alone. For those who choose not to take the virus, please know that we don’t bear you any ill will. Let the persecution and fear end, we all know there is a better way. Thank you for your time.”
The screen faded to a beautiful sunrise on a perfect white beach.
Typical Daniel Markis, thought Skull. Idealistic and syrupy sweet. The beach scene at the end was a nice touch, a positive psychological anchor. Does he really think these videos will change anything?
The room was quiet as the lights came back on. A tall, crew-cut man stood up at the front of the room. “I’m convinced. Someone kiss me.” He then went to the most beautiful woman in the room and bent down with his lips pursed. She slapped him across the face and the room erupted in laughter.
This broke the paralysis and the men and women went back to their normal routines: drinking, dancing, talking, and doing their best to enjoy themselves.
Skull had an early morning and decided to call it a night, so he slipped quietly into his tent. It was dark and filled with sleeping recruits, as he was the only one allowed in the morale tent. He was also the only one not brutally exhausted.
Sensing someone in the shadows near his bunk, he struck with a vicious sidekick, feeling his foot connect and the target give a loud groan. Skull pounced on the crumpled figure and twisted an arm up behind the small man’s back until he could feel it was on the verge of dislocation.
“Stop,” hissed the voice weakly. “Please, it’s me, Evans.”
Skull held on for a moment longer and even increased the pressure, wanting to hurt the man, but eventually released him. “What the hell are you doing?”
Evans lay back against Skull’s cot, one arm cradling the other across his stomach. “We need to go back. It’s time.”
“Why do you say that?”
“We’ve learned all we can learn,” Evans insisted.
“We have to tell them what is going on.”
Skull studied the small man. He’d lost probably fifteen pounds and wasn’t heavy to begin with. His eyes seemed hollow and weak. Haunted.
“You’re quitting,” Skull said. “This has nothing to do with the mission; you just can’t hack it.”
“So what if I am?” hissed the man. “This is my mission. I’m in charge and I say it’s over. That’s it. Let’s go.”
“No,” said Skull.
“What do you mean, no?”
“You’re not going anywhere,” answered Skull. “That’s what I mean. If you get caught it will endanger the integrity of the mission.”
The man’s old arrogance returned. “I don’t need your permission. The other men want to leave too. We know where the boat is and can get out on our own.”
“Then you better be very fast and very quiet when you finally make your move,” Skull said ominously.
“And why is that?” Evans asked. “Afraid we’ll get caught and give you away.”
“No,” answered Skull. “You won’t get that far.”
“You don’t know anything.”
Skull pulled his knife from the small of his back and laid it on the small man’s cheek just under his eye.
Evans whimpered and tried to pull back.
“Let me be clear,” Skull said leaning in. “If you try to leave without my permission, I will catch you and stick this knife in your face. Many, many times. Until I’m tired of doing it or I get tennis elbow. You understand me?”
“You can’t get away with talking to me like that,” Evans whined.
Skull had grown tired of this. “Get back to your cot and get some sleep. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”
Evans stood slowly and slunk off to his bunk.
Skull sensed eyes upon him and looked up into those of the young boy Kevin. He looked as haunted as Evans.
“Go to sleep,” he told the boy. “It will be better tomorrow.”
“No, it won’t,” the boy answered before turning away from Skull.
Skull's Shadows (Plague Wars Series) Page 11
