Divided We Fall (14 page)

“Patience, grasshopper,” Dan whispered back.

Frustrated, Joe pushed away, resting on the backs of his heels as
he watched the group of strangers. The fat one shoved one of the others ahead
of him and the man approached the fence. Joe recognized him as one of the
younger men that carried in the deer. Another man stepped to the side, the
hunter with the crossbow. He raised his weapon and approached to within feet of
the gate then waved the young man forward.

Crossbow froze and then spun, searching the outside. “He’s
handcuffed!” he yelled.

“What ya mean handcuffed?” Chuck asked.

Crossbow looked back, irritated. “He’s
handcuffed
… not many
ways to explain it, Chuck!” he retorted. “Get some bolt cutters.”

The young man dropped back and disappeared from view while the
others moved forward, gathering around the gate but still staying inside the
fence.

Dan adjusted his position, rising up on his elbows and pressing
his eye to the scope. “See how they move? This group is used to being in
control; even after what happened yesterday, they feel safe. No guards posted,
no patrols… even that hunting party with the deer was lightly armed and
careless,” Dan whispered.

The young man returned carrying the bolt cutters. He stepped up
between Shirtless and Crossbow and approached to the gate. Chuck moved up
behind them to get a better view. “Cut him down,” Chuck said, his MAC-9 still
at his side.

Joe heard Dan click the safety off on his rifle. “These guys are
really stupid,” Dan whispered.

“You sure we need to kill ’em, Dan?” Joe said.

Joe pulled the rifle in tight. “Yeah; if we don’t, they will come
back up the mountain. I’m not willing to stake Amy and the others’ lives on
it.”

The young man tried to maneuver the bolt cutters through the chain
link to get at the handcuffs. Chris—wounded on the other side—was hanging by
his arm now, the tension making it even more difficult.

Chuck stepped ahead and pointed at the latch. “Open the gate,
dummy; you ain’t never gonna cut it from out here.”

Shirtless lowered his rifle and fumbled with the gate’s latch; he
pulled it in and the young man with the cutters stepped out. The posture of Crossbow
immediately shifted to panic. “Grenade!” he screamed as the gate’s motion
popped the pin of the grenade, a tiny spring throwing the spoon free and
clanging into the air.

Crossbow stepped back, Dan’s rifle barked, and a heavy .300 Win
Mag round hit Crossbow square in the chest a millisecond before the grenade
exploded and obscured the group in a flash of dirty smoke. Dan shifted his
position; rolling from the truck, he fired again into the smoke. He then rose
to his knees, firing a third round. Joe searched the gate area but couldn’t see
anything through the smoke.

Dan got to his feet and grabbed Joe before running through the
back of the parking lot and into the dense brush. They climbed into the thick
trees partially up the hillside before stopping again.

Dan pointed a finger toward the small trail they traveled earlier.
“Keep watching our six,” he said as he got back on the scope and searched the
gate; he fired again, then again.

“What are you shooting at, Dan? I can’t see shit,” Joe said.

“Just keeping their noggins down so they can’t maneuver.”

Screaming from inside the compound intensified and someone fired
their weapon, the MAC-9 letting out a long burst. As the smoke cleared, Joe
could see bodies at the gate. The wounded man now lay limp, though still
attached to the now mangled gate. Shirtless and the young man with the bolt
cutters were down—lying together in a lump—and Crossbow was on his back with
his legs apart. He searched and spotted Chuck sitting with his back to the
building, his left leg twisted oddly. Chuck had a bloodied bandage tied around
his knee in a hasty tourniquet.

“There he is… by the building,” Joe said.

“I see him,” Dan answered.

They could hear Chuck screaming as he raised his weapon and fired
another wild stream through the gateway, the rounds harmlessly smacking into
the dirt and pinging off the gate. A man peeked around a corner; Chuck turned
and yelled at him. The man peeked out again, and then ran to Chuck’s side,
grabbing his arm, and prepared to drag him when Dan’s rifle fired again. The
man slumped and fell across Chuck’s lap, causing him to scream out yet again.
Chuck wrestled with the body and rolled it off him.

Chuck tried to roll away from the wall and crawl to cover; he lay
on his belly, grabbing dirt and trying to pull himself away. He barely moved,
his broken leg refusing to cooperate. He rolled to his back and looked up at
the sky while shouting more orders.

Joe saw movement from farther down the road and tapped Dan’s
shoulder. Dan lifted up and looked far down the road with his scope. “I
wondered how long before they showed up,” Dan said.

Joe squinted, looking down the road; he could tell by their movement
they were infected. A tall barrel-chested one led the group. More fell in
behind the leader; they approached boldly, not stopping. The leader let out a
loud moan that echoed up the valley and seemed to excite the others. When even
more materialized out of the woods, the mass began jogging then quickly moved
at a full sprint, the small group rapidly becoming a horde. Chuck’s panicked
screams joined the sounds of the approaching pack.

Dan and Joe turned to look back at the group of buildings; Chuck
was gone. Dan got back to his feet, turned to climb up the hill then stopped
and looked back at Joe. “Let’s go; we need to be getting back.”

“What about Chuck?” Joe asked.

“I’m sure that’ll work itself out; come on, we need to move before
the infected get any closer.”

Chapter 22

He wiped the dirt and sweat from his face with the back of his
sleeve. He was riding in an open-topped HUMVEE—an older model with the soft
skin removed. Brooks was in the seat next to him, the other men crammed into
the cargo compartment at the back. They were inside a smaller containment area
now, full of long grassy fields, located around an airfield. Most of the open
spaces now congested with green structures—a newly formed tent city. The outer
parts of the camp were designated as hostile; no foot patrols permitted outside
the wire, only up-armored, two-vehicle patrols.

Helicopters buzzed overhead, some swooping in low and moving back
toward the auxiliary airfield for refueling ops before going back out on
missions. The driver slowed as the vehicle passed through a zigzag of barriers
and hasty checkpoints comprised of a group of soldiers standing behind strands
of barbed wires and sandbags. Just behind them, a battery of field artillery
guns sat silent as weary soldiers clustered on the ground, eating meals from
plastic pouches. Others removed rounds from tubes and positioned them near
their guns.

The young MP at the roadblock looked at the passengers closely
then pulled wire out of the way to wave them through. On the other side, the
HUMVEE pulled to the side to stop, dropping Roberts, Boone, and Axe to rejoin
the others. The goodbye was nonchalant, no hugs or trading of emails. A quick
travel
safe
and a slap on the back, and the trio were off to locate the remnants
of their units. Brad wished them well and hoped they would be able to stay
safe.

The vehicle pulled off again and parked in a muddy motor pool
crammed full of a variety of vehicles. The driver pointed down a walkway made
of stacked pallets with green tents positioned on both sides. “Just follow that
all the way up. You will find the TOC at the end, which is where the old man
is. I need to top this thing off with fuel before they run the tanks dry.”

Brooks nodded and stepped away from the military vehicle, throwing
his pack over his shoulder and grabbing his Kevlar with a free hand. Brad
joined him on the wooden walkway. The sun was creeping up, the heat beginning
to burn off the light fog that blanketed the grounds. Generators were running
all around, the steady hum mixing with the sounds of aircraft coming and going.

“Feels strange to be back on a camp like this,” Brad said.

Brooks looked around and kept his pace. “Yeah, like we’re back in
the sandbox; some things never change.”

Another pair of guards stood at the end of the path. They looked
suspiciously at the two mud-and-blood-covered strangers. One held up a hand and
approached them cautiously. Brad spoke before the man could ask a question.

“I’m Sergeant Thompson; the colonel sent for me,” Brad said.

The man’s eyes went wide. “Wait here; I’ll let him know you’ve
arrived.” The man backed away and disappeared under a tent flap then quickly
reappeared with a female lieutenant in a fresh uniform and a butter bar on her
patrol cap. “Sergeant Thompson,” she said, looking at Brooks. He grinned at her
and pointed an index finger to Brad.

“I’m here; can you tell me what this is all about?” Brad asked.

She looked Brad up and down, frowning at his appearance and foul
scent. Brad clenched his jaw. “I’d have changed into my church clothes, but I
came right from the playground.” His tone caused Brooks to chuckle. “Sorry, ma’am—I
was under the impression this was important. If you’d like, I could come back
later?”

The young second lieutenant rolled her eyes and gave them both a
disapproving glance. “Follow me,” she said. She turned and pulled away the tent
flap, stepping into the Tactical Operations Center. The tent had field tables
going all along the walls with soldiers stooped over them, working radios and
processing intelligence. At the end of the room was a tall white board with a
map of the outpost. As Brad and Brooks moved in, Brad saw Colonel Ericson being
briefed by a number of junior officers. They pointed at divided areas of the
map where colored status symbols indicated threat levels.

The colonel made eye contact with Brad for a moment then diverted
his eyes back to the map, listening to his operations officer. He asked a
number of questions then dismissed the men before turning to the young lieutenant.
“Is this him?” he asked.

“Yes, sir; they came in on the south perimeter just minutes ago,”
she answered.

The colonel turned and looked Brad up and down. “How is it out
there?”

“It’s bad, sir,” Brad answered.

“I understand you were with the two-two element when they were
ambushed; we’ve been looking for you for a while now,” Ericson said.

“Yes, sir; we were hit just outside of the village. I don’t kno—”

“We know about the attacks. Your situation wasn’t unique; we were
hit by these raiders all over the compound. The perimeter has been compromised;
we have Primals in the wire.”

“Sir, I—” Brad stuttered.

Ericson paused and took a deep breath, pointing his hand to
silence Brad. “Don’t worry; that’s not why I brought you here. Follow me,
Sergeant.” The colonel stepped off briskly to the rear of the tent and, lifting
another flap, stepped out the back. Brad turned to Brooks, who shrugged and
quickly moved out to catch up with the colonel.

When they got outside, the man was already swiftly moving to the
airfield with two MPs dressed in full battle rattle flanking him on either
side. He stopped just at the edge of the tarmac and waited for Brad to join him
at his side.

The colonel turned to face Brad and then shot a knife hand at a
large military transport aircraft resting diagonally across one end of the
airfield. Two MRAPS and a Stryker vehicle surrounded it. “Sergeant, can you
tell me why in the hell this aircraft decided to park in my backyard, and why
it is refusing to move until the man on board speaks with either you or Chief
Rogers?”

“Sir, I—”

“Well, I think it’s time you went and found out.”

Brad stood looking at the aircraft, unsure what he was expected to
do. He turned and looked at Ericson.

“Sergeant, go find out what they want,” Ericson said again, losing
patience.

“But, sir… Chief Rogers…? Where is he?” Brad asked.

The colonel softened his tone slightly. “We’ve located him. Birds
spotted him several hours ago in one of the perimeter towers, and we’ve already
sent out a patrol to get him back here. In the meantime, I’d love to get that
thing off my operational airfield. These men will escort you on board.” Ericson
turned to the escorts. “Corporal Smith, make sure these men receive all the
support they need.”

The two MPs stepped aside; one waved a hand forward, and Brad led
the way with Brooks moving next to him. Brad spoke softly without turning his
head. “You have any idea what this is about?” he said.

“Not a clue, brother,” Brooks answered.

The MP marched them down the edge of the tarmac. “Can you tell me
what’s going on?” Brad asked one of them. The corporal did not respond; he just
continued forward, walking past the Stryker vehicle, and moving along the body
of the aircraft to a set of portable stairs leading to an open door. The MP
stopped and pointed a hand to the top. At the entrance to the aircraft stood a
man dressed in black—same as the ones they’d faced near the school and again on
the road—same as the ones who evacuated on the helicopter.

“What’s this?” Brooks said, putting up a hand, preventing Brad
from stepping closer. He turned sharply to one of the MPs. “Do you know who
these men
are
?” Brooks said, nearly shouting.

The man in black at the top of the ladder stiffened his posture,
drawing his submachine gun against his body. Brad hesitated; pulling back, he
turned back to the MP. The escort faced him and said, “Look, we don’t know
what’s going on. They landed a few hours ago and refused to allow anyone on
board.”

“Who are they?” Brad asked.

He looked at Brad, raising his head in shock. “Damn… you really
don’t know. They are with the CNRT, the closest thing left to a federal
government. The colonel isn’t really fond of them, so we’ve backed away from
most of their agendas recently.”

“So why are they here? You know they probably caused all of this,”
Brooks said.

The MP looked him in the eye. “The colonel has his suspicions
about the attacks, but that’s what you’re here for. Colonel wants his real
estate back and this aircraft moved. Here… you better hand over your weapons.”

“They want our weapons?” Brad asked, astounded. “What kind of
meeting is this?”

The corporal leaned in. “Sergeant, you give the word and I’ll be
up those stairs to back you up, but for now we play by their rules.”

Brad chewed his lip, not exactly reassured. “Okay,” he said. He
unclipped his M4 and passed it off to the escort then removed his M9 from the
drop holster on his right thigh—neglecting to take the Sigma pistol from the
paddle holster hidden in his waistband. Brooks handed off his weapons to the
second MP, under the watchful eye of the man in black at the top of the ladder.

Brad turned away from the escorts and moved up the stairs with
Brooks close behind him. At the top, they were greeted by the first of the
recovery team, a tall man with an MP5 strapped to his chest and a balaclava
rolled down around his neck. The man’s black sleeves rolled up past his
forearms, revealing tattoos and a dive watch. Brad walked past the guard while
Brooks stopped to stare him down for a brief second. The man waved them inside
and turned them over to a second man in black.

Brad stepped into the fuselage and paused to assess the surroundings.
He’d entered near the front of the plane; the seating area was filled with
people, all rows occupied with the exception of the first three at the front.
The rear cargo area congested with others, including women and children. As
Brad’s eyes focused in the dark light, he realized some of the people in the
cargo area were in mixed uniform. When he recognized his men, Brad’s face broke
into a smile, and he turned to rush to the rear. Mendez stepped forward with
his arms up, moving to the front of the aircraft before quickly being halted by
another man in black.

Brad sidestepped the guard next to him, seeing more faces he
recognized. Cole, Henry… all his men were there. The guard at the door quickly
moved in front of Brad, preventing him from moving to the back.

“What the hell is going on here?” Brad asked.

From the front of the aircraft, a silver-haired man in uniform
stepped into the space. Brad turned to the movement and spotted the older man
before seeing Sergeant Turner at his side.

“
Turner?!
” said Brad, his jaw dropping. He lunged past
Cloud, grabbing the man in a bear hug. “How…? When…?”

Turner squeezed him, chuckling. “It’s a long story, brother. I
think you should talk to Colonel Cloud.”

Brad looked at the silver-haired man. “Cloud?”

“Good to put a face to the name,” Cloud said, sticking out his
hand.

Brooks pushed Brad aside. “Ain’t you the son of a bitch that left
us to die on that oil platform?”

Cloud nodded his head slowly. “Yes… That would be me,” he
answered. “I’m Lieutenant Colonel James Cloud; I’m in charge here. Maybe you
felt abandoned—I understand your heartbreak—but the real world isn’t as
accommodating as you might want it to be.”

Brooks took a step closer, pressing his forehead next to Cloud’s.
“You left us.”

Brad put his hand on Brooks’ shoulder, trying to calm him. A guard
stepped from the back, dressed the same as the others, and jutted forward a
thickly stubbled square jaw. “Can we get this prisoner exchange made and get
the hell back to the Mountain, sir?” the man said.

“Prisoner exchange?” Brad said, turning to the man.

The man pushed himself closer. “You do have the girl, right? Get
her onboard, and we can drop the gate and unload your people—”

Cloud raised his hand, cutting the guard off. “We haven’t gone
over details yet, Mr. Walker. If you wouldn’t mind standing down with your men,
we can work this all out.”

Brooks turned on his heels, finding a new target for his
frustration. He pushed against the guard so quickly that the man had to take a
step back. “So who the hell are these chumps?” Brooks said sternly.

The man showed his teeth in a forced smile, pressing his face back
at Brooks. Cloud moved closer and put a hand on Walker’s shoulder, easing him
back. “This is Mr. Walker and his team; they are… well, they are contractors.
They take care of company business.”

“Mercs?” Brooks asked.

Walker hissed, “I’m a businessman. Most of you military types
ditched your post when the balloons went up. We do the work you’re afraid to.”

“You’re a punk,” Brooks snarled. “I’ve seen your handy work.”

“Okay, gentleman,” Cloud said, trying to break the tension. “Mr.
Walker, if you could give us some space, we can work this out and be on our
way.”