Midnight Skills

by William Allen

  “Had a good surgeon, I guess,” Luke replied with a shrug. “I was out for most of it. Took me awhile to get over. You don’t realize how many muscles affect the abdomen until you go and blow a hole in it.”

  “True that. Still, I can see you’re hurting. Want some drugs?”

  Kenzie used a stoner voice for his offer, making Luke have to resist the urge to chuckle again.

  “Got some pain meds in my big bag, if anybody’s recovered it yet.”

  “Under your cot, along with the rest of your gear. And your weapons, too,” Kenzie explained. “But we’ve got some of the good stuff, if you need it.” By ‘good stuff’ Luke interpreted that to mean narcotics, but Luke didn’t feel comfortable enough at the moment to take that route.

  “Tylenol, three is fine,” Luke replied.

  Kenzie fished three of the capsules out of his waist pack and handed them to Luke without comment, watching as the young man dry swallowed the pills. Turning, Luke caught the medic’s eye and gave a thankful nod before continuing.

  “I could really use some water too. And if you could get my pistol belt out, I’d be grateful.”

  Giving him a knowing nod, Kenzie knelt down by Luke’s legs and burrowed into the pile of assorted body armor and weapons, dragging out the web belt with a fastened Kevlar holster. Feeling around, he also located one of the plastic water bottles Luke had stuffed inside his pack. A full one, since Luke taught his guys to only carry them full or empty. The sound of sloshing water carried surprisingly well in the stillness of the night.

  Handing the rig and the bottle up to a grateful Luke, the medic then rose to take his leave. Before he could go, Luke asked his last question.

  “Who was in that last truck, Kenzie?”

  “I thought you knew,” Kenzie replied, and a grin suddenly split his otherwise solemn features before he continued.

  “There was a two-star general I never heard of, and some guy in a Coast Guard uniform, but I didn’t catch his rank. Some lady who claims she was the Secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services. Oh, yeah, and Jeffrey-Fucking-Chambers, former Acting President of the United States of America.”

  Kenzie’s voice rose when he recited the list of notables captured, and he was nearly shouting when he got to the end.

  “That’s a good haul, then,” Luke noted, his own voice suddenly cutting out, though the teen didn’t know if it was from lack of water or, unlikely as it seemed, emotion.

  “We thought so, too,” Kenzie agreed. Then stepping back closer, he asked his question softly, as if worried someone else might overhear.

  “Does this mean the war’s over, Sarge? I’ve heard people saying Chambers was only a figurehead, and there’s more of his Recovery Committee leadership still on the loose.”

  Luke paused, pondering the question as he weighed the implications. As much as he tried to pretend otherwise, Luke’s men quickly figured out the kid had access to levels of information well beyond most buck sergeants. This was confirmed by the way others, like Major Keller, treated him.

  “That’s a good question, Kenzie. I sure hope so.”

  Luke stared off into the dark, and when he continued, his voice was nearly too low to make out, so Kenzie strained his ears.

  “I find I’ve had my fill of killing and revenge, for the moment. I think I’d like to give peace a try for a while.”

  If Kenzie found Luke’s answer confusing or even a little terrifying, he didn’t let on, and he made his departure.

  Luke continued to think about Kenzie’s question until the peace of sleep claimed him once again. He dreamed, but when he woke the next morning, he could not recall the details, only that he’d dreamed of home. And Amy.

  CHAPTER 68

  The next morning, Luke received a visit he was expecting, and half-dreading. He’d just finished eating his bowl of warm mush, provided by a smiling and joking Abbie Winstead, when Sam Messner dropped by to check on his son.

  Gunny Messner looked haggard, with deep circles under his eyes and a face full of graying whiskers to go with his usually neatly groomed beard. He walked with a bit of a limp, but Luke could discern no bandages. Must have pulled something running to get to us, Luke deduced.

  “How are you feeling, son?”

  “Like I’ve been shot,” Luke replied, trying to add a little humor to the meeting. “What’s your excuse? I saw you gimping.”

  “Well, getting old sucks. Parts you thought you could rely on start to wear out,” Sam admitted. “And seeing my only son acting like a lunatic, running around on the battlefield the day before yesterday, didn’t do my heart any good either.”

  “Sorry about that,” Luke replied more seriously. “I couldn’t just sit there, not while they were killing my men. Not when I saw where I could make a difference.”

  Sam nodded. He’d been in that position himself more times than he could count, and it was one of the reasons he preferred being a squad leader over taking a higher leadership position. At least there, you could do something, rather than trying to manage the battle space.

  “I’m sorry for your losses. Luke,” Sam intoned solemnly. “I’ve been in your shoes before, and I know how hard it is to lose people you’re close to, especially when it was your orders that put them in danger.”

  Luke knew his father got it, and he tried to fight back the unshed tears threatening to fall. He rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, willing the sting to dissipate.

  “I wasn’t out of control, not like I’ve done in the past,” Luke finally said, breaking the silence. “I just saw an opportunity and took it.”

  “I heard. I was listening in, before. And you were right about rocking the truck. That’s what made Chambers and his cronies fold up their tent. Even that cocksucker Collins was pissing in his pants when we got him cuffed.”

  “So, what the heck happened?” Luke asked, and his father knew what he meant.

  “Bad luck, more than anything. Our scouts at their secure facility had to pull back at the last minute. Chambers was offsite when the attack hit his headquarters, and he and his security contingent hunkered down and headed for one of his escape routes.”

  “The boat,” Luke guessed, but it really wasn’t a guess.

  “Bingo,” Sam replied, touching his finger to his nose. It was a familiar gesture, one that Luke remembered from his childhood. In fact, he suddenly recalled his mother saying it was something she thought was truly hilarious about her husband. This big, imposing Marine doing something so childlike always made her laugh.

  Thinking of his mom made Luke’s stomach clench, but he didn’t feel the expected surge of pain like he usually did. Instead, he just enjoyed the pleasant memory and offered his father a small smile as he continued.

  “The boat was nothing special, but we should have noticed it was stocked with supplies and had a working radio. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, but still, all the clues were there. Anyway, Chambers and a select few of his inner circle were supposed to catch a ride to an alternate location, while the rest of the security detachment was tasked with laying a false trail.”

  “Think it would have worked?”

  “Probably,” Sam confirmed. “If we hadn’t been here, Chambers would have just scurried away and set up shop at another hardened site.”

  “Is it okay to tell the rest of my squad? I want them to know, to really know, that Drew, Cameron, and Gus died for something important. Something that might mean the end of the war.”

  Again, Sam understood, and he nodded in agreement. “I’ll tell them myself, but I think they already know.”

  “How about the pickup? Are we still waiting for the trucks, or is Higher planning on sending us back? To Joplin, I mean. I expect you’ll be heading home now.”

  Sam offered his son a tight grin before answering.

  “Son, your squad is being sent back with us. To Texas. You got three effectives left capable of fighting, and one of your wounded is going back with Major Keller.”

  Lu
ke thought about that for a moment, then laid his head back against the flat pillow of his bunk. “What about the people we liberated here? The women? What’s going to happen to Staff Sergeant Pfahl and her kids? We can’t leave them here, Dad. We can’t.”

  Sam cleared his throat.

  “Luke, I don’t blame that poor woman for what she did, and clearly she was being blackmailed into cooperating, but Captain Bishop is busy debriefing her.” Seeing Luke’s brow furrow, his father held up a hand. “Gently. Garza is in with him, and the lady is proving to be a wealth of intel. She listened closely to all the traffic and has a near photographic memory. The other side made a grave error in terrorizing her.”

  “I want her and the kids to come back with us,” Luke said softly. He stopped talking for a second, thinking on what he wanted to say. “I almost killed those children. Would have been easier and quicker to complete my mission, but I stopped myself.” Again, Luke stopped talking, and looked up at his father, his face showing his misery. “I thought about you, and what you would think, and that stopped me. I couldn’t live with the thought of you, or Amy, finding out I’d done something like that. But it was so close. So damned close.”

  Sam nodded, the motion of his head barely visible in the dim room. Sam could tell Luke was fading from the small exertion of sitting up. He needed to go, what with so many things left undone to do, but Luke needed to hear the words, and believe. Otherwise, Sam feared he might lose his son forever.

  “Sometimes we have to do the hard things, Luke, but you know this better than anybody,” Sam responded slowly, his voice filled with emotion. “I know what you are worried about, Luke. You didn’t have to kill those kids, and so you didn’t. You are not a monster. Never have been, and never will be. Now get some rest, and I’ll see you later.”

  Luke pondered his father’s words and gradually started to drift off, but then he heard Frank calling to him from the next berth.

  “Hey, Sarge, you still awake?”

  “Yeah, Frank. I’m here,” Luke called back. “Look, I’m sorry about Gus. He was a good guy.”

  “Yes, he was,” Frank replied. “Good fella. Terrible poker player, though. Man couldn’t bluff to save his…well, you know.”

  “I know,” Luke replied, letting the older man off the hook for his use of the expression. Sometimes the wrong words just slipped out. “He was good at watching my back, though. I wish there was something I could have done to keep him alive.”

  “He was a grown man, Sarge, and he volunteered to come here. Major told us it was a dangerous mission but needed doing. I still think he was right, and that doesn’t even count catching that polecat Chambers,” Frank said, his low voice still sounding like a cement mixer. “The thing is, I was wondering. About those women we rescued here. What happens to them when we leave?”

  Luke realized what Frank meant. Freeing them from their chains wouldn’t do much good, if they starved to death in the weeks that followed.

  “How many?”

  “We rescued eight here, and the guys over in Elevator Two saved another ten.”

  Luke set aside his own woolgathering and focused on the problem. He knew they could feed Suellen Pfahl and her two kids through the spring and into the harvest, but eighteen extra mouths to feed? He just wasn’t sure. Then he thought about Frank once again, and where he’d come from.

  “Hey, Frank? Holler at me when the major comes by to see you next. I think I have a solution.”

  “Really? I feel bad I can’t help them, but I’m still headed for a Guard unit once this freaking ankle heals. I got no way to support them.”

  “Don’t sweat it. I’ll talk to Major Keller. He’ll make sure they go back with you guys. Even if Scott can’t find them something to eat, I’m sure his brother Darwin and sister-in-law Hazel can. While they are getting fed, I’ll bet Sarah will help them with the other things.”

  “You know the major’s family that well, Sarge? How’d you manage that?”

  Luke suppressed the urge to laugh, thinking about something General Hotchkins said to him recently.

  “Frank, didn’t anybody ever tell you that life is like a box of chocolates? You never know what you’re going to get.”

  CHAPTER 69

  The scent of dogwoods filled the air while Luke crouched precariously, leaning into the crutch as he reached to brush his fingers over the words etched in the wood of the grave marker. Later, his father promised, they would erect granite headstones, but for now, slabs of sanded and sealed oak would suffice.

  BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER

  “You going to make it?”

  Scott Thompson’s words cut through Luke’s sorrowful mood, and he straightened, careful not to stress his recovering leg too much. In addition to tearing up the muscle in his calf, the bullet also managed to fracture the fibula as well. He still had awhile to go before he would be able to get around without some help, but Luke couldn’t wait to progress past crutches, so he could use a cane instead.

  Glancing down, he saw the small offering of fresh flowers in a simple clear vase, bright yellow daffodils he knew were his mother’s favorites, and the dam broke. He cried without shame when he remembered the way he saw her at the end, burned and battered. For months, that image haunted his nightmares, and he’d discovered he couldn’t get away from that picture in his mind, no matter how many men he killed. He’d discovered the hard truth that grief couldn’t be expunged with a blood sacrifice, because God only knew how much blood he’d spilled in that pursuit. The hurt only eased with the passing of time, and as a result, Luke still suffered the occasional sleepless night.

  Luke dreaded this visit to the cemetery the whole week it’d taken for the trucks to wind their way home. In addition to Luke’s decimated Second Squad and the soldiers his father mustered from the Home Guard, General Hotchkins negotiated with his Oklahoma counterparts to make sure they’d had a whole platoon of Oklahoma Guardsmen to escort the weary troops to the Texas border. Luke hadn’t known any of the men, but they soon found they had friends in common, and then spent the rest of the trip swapping stories. Well, as was his custom, Luke didn’t say much, but his men hadn’t let that stop them.

  They’d picked up Amy and the others on Day Two, and Luke was never so happy to receive a tongue-lashing from his girl when they pulled up to the hangar complex. He knew he had it coming, for not allowing his father to include his injuries when he’d radioed ahead for their contingent to prepare for movement.

  Amy looked good, clean-scrubbed and well-dressed for the cold, but her good humor faded when David led her over to where Luke was resting in the back of one of the Humvees, his bad leg propped up. When she’d finished with her verbal flaying at his callous disregard for common sense and his own safety, Amy had buried her face into his neck and simply whispered, “Can we go home now?”

  Home. That word never sounded so good. Now he was home, and the emotions he’d worked so hard to partition off, to deny, came flooding to the forefront.

  Forcing himself to move on, Luke took a few careful steps. Close to his mother’s grave, Luke stopped again to look at the markers for his grandfather, buried next to his beloved wife, and his Uncle Billy. A few yards away, Luke came to where the wrought iron fence of the family cemetery had been dug up and moved to accommodate all the latest additions.

  He paused again to press his fingers into the wooden crosspiece of another marker, leaning on the memorial for Angeline Stanton, Alex’s mother.

  “I kept my promise. Alex stayed here instead of running off with me to fight,” he whispered to the grave, feeling the tears threaten once again. Losing both Claire Messner and Angeline Stanton at the same time gutted the morale of everyone staying at the Messner ranch, even more than losing the old farmhouse that’d been the public face of the operation.

  Moving on, he nodded his respect to poor Maggie Cartwright, rescued from one terrible fate only to succumb to another. Luke had helped to save her from a band of roving bandits, but there had been no w
ay to deflect a Hellfire missile. She’d been helping in the kitchen when the attack came, and Luke sadly knew the one-time pain-in-the-ass neighbor boy Tim died that same day, simply because he wanted to spend more time around the pretty but troubled young lady. Scott knew the story and didn’t say anything.

  When he saw the grave for little Rachel, he broke down again. Luke never knew he actual age, or her birthday, or even her last name. When the unknown hand inscribed the message for Rachel, he was grimly gratified to note the name and the simple message.

  RACHEL MESSNER. GONE TO DWELL WITH THE ANGELS.

  He stood and cried fresh tears, and he silently cursed God for what He’d done to this innocent child, and to all the innocent children. In his heart though, he knew the cause wasn’t God, but the sins of man. Scott stood by, a steadying hand placed gently on Luke’s shoulder while the teen shed tears he’d sworn he no longer possessed. He felt the rage pour out with the grief, and he finally staggered away and wiped at his eyes with the cuffs of his shirt.

  Stepping through the rows, Luke halted in front of his old mentor’s final resting place. Gaddis Williams wasn’t even supposed to be there that day, but the crusty old blacksmith wanted to get the measurements for a pipe fitting in the basement and stopped in unannounced with his tape measure and notebook. No one knew he was in the house until the next day, when his corpse was discovered in the half-buried basement. For Luke, it’d been the last in a series of body blows that’d threatened to drag him down into chaos.

  “I wetted down that knife real good,” Luke confided to the shade of the dead blacksmith. “Bathed it in the blood of our enemies. I hope you were able to look down and watch. Or up. Fare thee well, my friend.”

  “Or up?” Scott asked, unable to resist.

  “Gaddis wasn’t sure Heaven was ready for him and his heathen ways,” Luke replied, looking down to study the nails in the cross. “He was a good man, but prone to drink and carousing and casual profanity. Especially since his Erin died. He wasn’t a Catholic, but he thought the idea of purgatory was a great invention of man and he hoped it was a real thing. He said he figured he was going to be spending plenty of time in the penalty box. I pray he is happy, wherever he is.”