by Reed, N. C.
“I need you to be still, Copper,” Clay told her softly. “You're okay I think, but there's a piece of shrapnel in your neck that's way too close to doing real damage. The blood in your face is coming from splinters in your forehead and on your cheek, so it's more bloody than bad. Let me wash the blood away again and get a bandage on it.”
“How bad is it?” she asked him quietly, afraid to open her eyes for fear she wouldn't be able to see.
“Well, you're still gonna be the prettiest po-po on the place,” Clay told her playfully. “You'll probably have a nice scar on your forehead, maybe, and almost certainly on your neck, but don't worry. Jake won't care about that so long as you're okay.”
“You think I'm worried about what I look like?” she asked him incredulously. “I'm afraid I can't see!”
“Well, open your eyes,” Clay told her. He reached for his radio and called Jody.
“Go for Tommy.”
“We're out of action at the moment in Sentry Two,” Clay kept it short. “Cover us.”
“On it.” Clay could rest now, knowing that Jody would keep anyone from sneaking up on them. He looked at Sienna, waiting.
“Are you gonna open your eyes or not?” he asked finally.
“You got somewhere else to be or something?” she demanded, trying to put it off a few second longer.
“I do, really,” Clay snorted in humor. “CeCe, open your eyes for me,” he chided her gently, using a pet name that Kandi sometimes used. “Now or later the result will be the same. Let me see.”
Slowly, hesitantly, Sienna did just that, forcing her eyes open despite her reluctance. When she had them fully open, Clay was almost in her face.
“What do you see?” he asked her.
“A redneck with too many guns,” she shot back at once, but smiled slightly.
“Looks like you're fine then,” he chuckled. “Close one eye and then the other, make sure both are working.”
“You'll just tell Lainie I was winking at you, trying to flirt,” Sienna shot back, but slowly did as he requested.
“You're a redneck with both eyes, now,” she assured him.
“Good deal,” Clay clasped her shoulder. “Now sit still, and I mean very still. Like I said, there's shrapnel in your neck. Don't move around and jostle it any. As soon as we can we'll have Jaylyn or Patricia take a look, okay? Until then, try to stay still.”
“Yes, mom,” Sienna promised. “I'm fine, Boss,” she added more seriously. “Get back on your gun.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
-
Stacy Pryor didn't know when he had been hit, only that he had. At some point after taking the Hummer he was responsible for, he'd taken a round in the calf, possibly friendly fire but he had no way of knowing. He had crawled from the road back to his position across the road, staying as low as possible since his leg would not support him. As he made his way through the brush and thicket back into the open, Kurtis Montana ran to him, rifle trained out on the road. The younger man knelt beside him and ripped open his pant leg, looking at the wound.
“I cut myself shaving once,” Kurtis told him as he reached for his own pressure bandage. “Looked a lot like that,” he added, a subtle glint in his eyes.
“Smart ass,” Stacy growled. “You wait ‘til I'm on my feet again. I'll show you shaving cuts.”
“Sure, old man,” Kurtis wrapped the bandage around Stacy's leg and tied it off. “Sure. You just lay here and rest until the nursing home can send someone to carry you back home,” he chuckled.
“I will gnaw your nose off!” Stacy threatened, trying not to laugh. “How are we doing?”
“We got all the vehicles,” Kurtis sobered quickly. “But I'm pretty sure we lost Kade.”
“Lost him?” Stacy frowned. “You mean... lost him, lost him,” he verified.
“I'm almost sure of it,” Kurtis nodded. “Zach saw it happen, went to him, then... erupted, for lack of a better word. Started knifing anyone he could get to, with X right beside him.”
“Damn,” Stacy lay back, closing his eyes. “Keep an eye on 'em,” he drew his pistol. “Get back to them. I can watch after myself. Zach may not be watching for threats and X rarely does anyway. They're both....”
“Unhinged?” Kurtis raised an eyebrow. “Aren't we all? At least a bit?” he picked up his rifle and prepared to move.
“I'm afraid we are,” Stacy said sadly. “Go.”
“Going,” Kurtis made sure Stacy could reach his own rifle and then was on his feet and moving away, leaving Stacy Pryor on the ground, wondering who else had been lost. And how expensive this battle was going to be.
-
The driver in the lone MRAP knew a bad deal when he saw it, and this whole day had been a bad deal, one card after another. Deciding to cut his losses, he began trying to move his vehicle out of the line and escape. Only he and the gunner remained in the vehicle, their three comrades having dismounted to help 'fleece the sheep' as they had called it. He snorted at that, thinking they had truly found the wolves in sheep's clothing his mother had always warned him about.
Being near the center of the column, he eased his vehicle forward against a dead Hummer, shoving it forward to give him more room to maneuver. Next he backed into the idle gun truck behind him, knowing he wouldn't be able to move it but using every inch of room he had. That done, he angled the vehicle to the left to gain some room, then again in reverse, backing onto the soft ground of the farm that now lay behind him. If he could just get turned around, he could get this beast moving back the way they had come. Dill, his gunner, would be able to discourage any pursuit, and they could get back to Peabody and what remained of their 'unit'.
He was still thinking that when a lightning bolt hit him.
-
Kurtis Montana had one remaining stun grenade. All of them had been given two, just in case, but the plan had only been to use one and then retreat to cover. Kade being hit had led to Zach and Xavier going nuts on the rear of the enemy convoy, and with Stacy Pryor down that left Kurtis alone. He had been using his rifle to provide cover fire as best as possible but now he saw something that his rifle couldn't help with.
The MRAP was pushing and shoving its way out of the line, trying to turn around. The gunner was behind a shield similar to those on the farm's own MRAPs, which meant even the big fifty caliber rifles were going to have a hard time getting at him without the right ammunition. Kurtis didn't bother to try, knowing that his rifle wouldn't make a metaphorical dent in the armor on the Cougar. Laying his rifle aside, he took his remaining stun grenade from his harness and crawled through the concealing brush to the edge of the road.
The MRAP had succeeded in moving the Hummer in front of it and was now working its way around in the road to head back toward Jordan. Kurtis took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he studied the situation.
“Oh, Kurtis, this is a bad idea,” he told himself. “You do not wanna do this, Kurtis.”
But Kurtis refused to listen to himself as he pulled the pin on the flash-bang and erupted from his concealment just as the MRAP aimed its nose at his hiding place.
-
The driver was concentrating on his positioning more than anything else, so he didn't see the man coming from cover. He had the vague impression that someone or something was blocking the light from the windshield and then there was nothing as the lightning hit, followed by the thunder.
After that, there was nothing.
-
Kurtis slid from the hood of the MRAP and opened the door, surprised to find it unsecured. He wasted no time celebrating as he pulled the driver from within, shooting him in the head as he hit the road beneath. Stepping into the compartment, he slammed his left foot on the brake to stop the vehicle as he turned to see the gunner struggling to get back to his feet, holding his ears. A trio of pistol shots stopped him, permanently.
Kurtis put the vehicle into neutral, killed the engine and engaged the emergency brake, or whatever they called it on a m
ilitary truck, and then bailed out once more, running through the brush back to his rifle.
The entire thing had taken only twenty seconds.
-
“How do you think it's going?” Titus asked quietly as he and Kevin Bodee sat in the hole beneath the water tower on the hill.
“It's at least going well enough that we aren't getting any action up here,” Kevin shrugged. “This is part of it, kid,” he told the teen. “Sometimes, your job is just to hold a position, just in case. You may not be needed, but if you are, then you gotta be where you're supposed to be. This is where Boss and Poncho both wanted us, so here we are. If they need us, they know where to call. And if someone tries to come the back way, then we're here to meet 'em.”
“It sucks just sitting here, though,” Titus sighed. “It sounds like a hell of a battle, and my friends are all-,”
“Every friend I have on this planet is down there right now,” Kevin nodded. “I know exactly how you feel. But if you're going to do this kind of work, kid, you have to follow some rules. One of them is to be where you're supposed to be, when you're supposed to be there. If you ain't then bad things can happen. So, learn to accept when you have to be somewhere else while your friends, your brothers,” he stressed the word, “are in the shit. They know where you are, and that you have their back. Today, that’s our job. To have their back. They depend on it. Understand?”
“Yes sir,” Titus nodded. “I don't like it, but I don't have to like it to understand it. Or do it.”
“Good man,” Kevin slapped Titus' back.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The firing died out sporadically, falling off until there was nothing but quiet left.
It was deafening.
Clay was the first to emerge, telling Sienna to remain where she was and stay still. She nodded carefully, her back against the wall and her eyes closed. Clay walked into the open, joined shortly by Greg Holloway and Mitchell Nolan.
“Operations, this is Doc,” Clay heard on his radio. “I need medical transport to Sentry One right away. Advise medical that two gunshot wounds are en route, one critical on loss of blood. Type A positive. Both are tagged.”
“Operations copies all,” Leon Tillman replied, his voice as calm as ever despite the strain he had to be under. “Poncho inbound with medical ATV.”
“Doc, this is Bossman,” Clay keyed his own radio. “One wounded in Sentry Two. Shrapnel to the face and neck, one piece near the jugular. Patient is bandaged and ordered to remain still.”
“On the way,” Tandi replied at once.
Clay, Greg and Mitchell walked forward, covered by Nate Caudell and Gordy Sanders from the bunker. Soon he saw Kurtis Montana, Xavier and a very bloody Zach, knife still in his hand and even at a distance Clay could see murderous intent on the teen's face. As Clay watched, Zach found someone alive and fell on them without mercy, knife slashing. Xavier knelt and coaxed him into stillness, carefully taking the blade from him, cleaning it, and then returning it to the sheath on Zach's harness.
Clay started their way when he saw movement to his right. Looking, he saw a man missing part of his leg and cradling a ruined hand trying to crawl away. Recognizing him as the man who had demanded his rifle as part of the martial law declaration, Clay changed directions, walking over to the man and looking down at him.
“Still want my rifle?” Clay asked him casually. He knew from looking that the man didn't have long without medical attention he was unlikely to receive.
“Wh-who are you?” the man gasped out.
“It wouldn't help you to know,” Clay told him. “Where are the women and children you kidnapped?”
“Why?” the man laughed harshly. “You gonna be a hero now?”
“No,” Clay shook his head, refusing to rise to the taunt. “But those people belong here. To us. Now your passing can be easy, or it can be very, very painful. I'm offering you a chance to go quietly into the good night, but that depends on you telling me what I want to know. Where did you get this gear, and where are the women and children you've taken? You're not a real military unit or you wouldn't be out killing and kidnapping innocent people. That makes you nothing more than a flesh peddling bandit. Do you know what they do to people like you in Africa?” Clay knelt down to look the man in the eyes. “How about in the mountain areas of Argentina? The outer islands of the Philippines? Cause I do,” Clay allowed some venom to creep into his voice. “I've seen it. With that in mind, do you want to talk to me now?”
-
Zach looked around him as if hoping to find more of them still alive.
“Zachary,” Xavier said gently. “Zach!” he repeated more sharply when Zach didn't respond. The teen slowly turned to look at him, his eyes burning with hellfire. Xavier recognized the look. He'd seen it in the mirror many times.
“Listen to me, young Zachary,” Xavier kept his voice calm and quiet. “There is a time and a place to lose that demon you carry. Always a time and a place. That time has passed for now. Do you understand me? We cannot carry on in full view of the public the way we would in combat. You cannot allow them,” he waved a hand at the homes in the distance, “to see that. Ever.”
“So, you must learn to tether it,” Xavier continued. “Control it. Learn to release it when needed and then put it away. It takes discipline, Zachary, and it takes time. Today we do not have the time and you must simply do it, force it to happen. Smother that fire for now and let it simmer. I promise you there will be another time, another place, where you can let it run wild. But today, now, is not that time. Do you understand me?”
Zach looked at Xavier in silence for so long that Xavier was about to decide that his speech had been wasted. But before Xavier could say anything else, Zach spoke. Spoke two simple words that he had never said to anyone before in his life where this was concerned.
“Help me.”
It was almost a whisper. Almost a plea. It wasn't, and Xavier realized it at once. Zach would not beg for help, and in fact would likely never again ask Xavier for help. Fortunately for Zach, he wouldn't have to.
“I will, Zachary,” Xavier promised. “I will, and so will Byron. I promise you. But for today, you have to do as I say. Understand? For today, you have to crush that fire beneath your feet if necessary, in order to keep it under wraps and under control. Can you do that?”
Zach smiled suddenly, and it looked positively demonic with his face covered in the blood of both his friend and his enemies. Xavier found himself smiling in return.
“Sure,” Zach was suddenly his old self. “I can do that.”
“Good man,” Xavier slapped his back firmly. “We shall say no more of this until our work here is finished. Stay near me or Byron and tell us if you begin having difficulty. We can and will help you, Zachary. We have already discussed this. Alright?”
“Works for me,” Zach already sounded his normal self, a carefree, light spirited teenager.
“Very well, then,” Xavier nodded. “Come along and let us see what we have-” He stopped as he heard a thumping sound coming from one of the Hummers.
“Well now,” Xavier smiled brightly. “There may yet be work to do today!”
-
Greg Holloway beat them to the noise and was standing at the rear hatch, rifle poised, when the two arrived.
“Kick her open and let’s see whos’s home,” Greg told Xavier, who nodded and released the hatch, stepping back to ready his own rifle.
But the rifle would not be needed. Greg stood there for just a second, almost stunned, as he looked at the figure of Talia Gray, bound hand and foot and gagged, lying in the rear of the Hummer. After the initial shock left him, Greg quickly lowered his rifle and stepped forward, cutting her bonds and releasing her, then helping her to sit up.
“Water... please,” she gasped as the gag was removed, and Zach stepped forward with a canteen. She took it and drank greedily, guzzling the water as fast as she could.
“Easy there,” Greg took the canteen from her for a
minute. “Not so fast. Guzzling it like that will make you throw up. Take a breath and then get another drink.”
“Are we at your farm?” she asked him. “I tried to make them think nothing was down here, but I don't think he believed me.” Suddenly she coughed, grabbing her ribs on her left side as she did.
“That seems to be painful,” Xavier stepped forward. “Allow me, please?” he looked to her for permission as he took the hem of her shirt and gently pulled. She hesitated, then nodded, allowing Xavier to pull her shirt up enough to see the motley bruise forming on her side and abdomen.
“That needs medical attention,” Xavier said at once with Greg nodding agreement. “Your ribs are certainly fractured if not broken, and this discoloring indicates you have capillary bleeding beneath the skin much worse than mere bruising. What happened to you?”
“There was a blast of some kind,” she shook her head, then reeled from the effects of doing so. Greg reached out and grabbed her shoulders and she latched onto him, steadying herself.
“There was a blast and all I could hear was ringing,” she started again. “I still hear it, but not as bad. I had double vision it seemed, or at least my vision was unsteady. Wobbly, maybe. I wasn't exactly unconscious, but I was... out of it. Like I was seeing what was happening, but as if it were someone else and not me. I know that doesn't sound right-,”
“Actually, it sounds very much like a concussion, among other things,” Xavier interrupted gently. “The blast, or at least the shock wave it produced, either gave you a concussion or perhaps knocked you into something that did so.”
“Go on,” Greg urged her.
“I honestly don't know how I ended up with them. I came to myself, back to myself sort of, while being jerked along to see someone they called 'Captain', my hands tied behind me,” she continued after another pull at the canteen, though her right hand remained locked on Greg Holloway's arm. “I was starting to come around by then, and he didn't like my answer so the guy holding my arm hit me with his gun,” she touched the terrible bruise on her ribs. “With my hands tied, there was no way to protect myself.”
