Fireteam Delta, J. Halpin [online e book reading .txt] 📗

was working, but they’d been waiting for nearly an hour with no response. “No one’s picking up, either way.”

“Or they’re dead,” Cortez countered.

“Or that . . .”

“Hello?”

Summers turned as the radio buzzed to life.

“This is Oscar Zulu Three. Whoever in god’s name is operating on this channel, respond immediately.” A woman’s voice spoke. “How in the fuck are you still alive?”

Nowak paused a moment before moving for the receiver.

“That is a long story, ma’am, and I’d be happy to tell you, but we have some serious problems of our own here . . .”

“Contact!” Pat called from the other side of the room.

“And I think they’ve just caught up to us,” Nowak finished.

Chapter 40: A Downhill Battle

“Bunker Three, before I can promise anything, I need some ID on your team.”

Summers listened to the voice on the radio intently as Nowak responded.

“Oscar Zulu Three, I need a second to get that to you.” Nowak motioned to Pat. “Get me the green box in the corner, now.” He must have noticed Summers’ questioning look, because he continued. “They’re Rhodess’ papers. Had a list of challenges. We were a part of his platoon. That’s our story until the army tells us otherwise.”

“You sure you want to be lying to Command?” Summers wasn’t looking forward to adding what was probably a felony to the long list of whatever else the army was going to hit them with.

“We can explain later. For now, lying’s easier, safer, and probably our only chance here. I don’t know how many of those things out there were soldiers, and I don’t know how paranoid they are, but whoever’s in command is not going to waste resources on a bunch of nobodies like us.”

“Solving today’s problems with tomorrow’s court marshals. Loving the idea, Sarge,” Cortez remarked.

“If they think we’re trying to pull one over on them, who’s to say they won’t just hit us with a missile or something?”

Cortez scoffed. “There’s no way they have a fucking missile.”

“We saw a tank,” Nowak replied flatly. “If I know the army, and I do, they’ll be bringing in as many big-boy toys as they can. I do not want to give anyone an excuse.”

“Well, whatever we’re going to do, we should hurry it up.” Cortez poked her head out the slitted window in the concrete. “Those things are still just standing around. Don’t expect that’s going to last.”

“I get it.”

Pat returned with the green box a moment later. Summers turned to the others as Nowak started to read off a list of challenges.

Asle was huddled in a small, dug-out room below the bunker, along with Synel. Probably, it had been one used for storage. They weren’t comfortable, but Summers hoped they’d have some degree of protection from the fighting.

He moved to the large metal hatch that would close the hole off from the rest of the bunker. They’d briefly considered closing the two inside for their safety, but decided against it. The thing was two inches of solid steel, and Summers was fairly sure he was the only one who could lift it alone.

“You two doing okay?”

Asle nodded as Synel gave him a small smile back. They both looked tired. Asle was trying to keep a brave face, but they’d been riding hard for the last few days, and a child’s body was not meant to be put through the kind of abuse they’d experienced.

“Everything’s going to be all right. We’ll get this handled and get you to somewhere safe.”

“Oh, worry about yourself. We can handle our own business,” Synel responded. “Besides, this is hardly the worst place I’ve been in.”

“Seriously?”

“Gods no. When we get out, remind me to tell you about the Great Winter.”

Asle smiled up at him, gripping the small pistol in her hand a little tighter.

Summers could only smile back.

“Sure . . .”

Looking around, he saw Cortez along and Orvar watching the growing crowd. Nobody had made a move yet, but they were definitely working their way there.

Nowak was arguing with the radio now, Pat thumbing through the files he’d brought. That just left the twins. Bard sat beside Viggo, muttering something.

“To the embrace of our mothers, our fathers, our sisters, and our brothers. Back, to the beginning . . .” Bard spoke in a low, reverent tone.

“And into the memories of the ones we leave behind . . .” Viggo finished.

The two suddenly realized Summers was watching and bowed their heads in response.

“Apologies, Commander.”

Summers raised a hand, waving away the remark.

“No, sorry. It’s fine.” Summers noticed the white-knuckled grip they had on their weapons. Once again, they were wearing their typical looks of indifference, even if their anxiety was obvious. “Was that a prayer? Didn’t peg you two as the religious type.”

“We are not,” Bard replied. “Not normally.”

“Well, we’re not exactly doing normal shit out here.”

“No, we aren’t.” Bard looked to his brother. “We will not disappoint you. This, we vow.”

That caught Summers off guard.

“Guys, you don’t have anything to worry about. Just following us this far is more than I could ask.”

“Commander, we were farmers before this.” Bard gestured to the hundreds of men and women below. “Poor farmers.”

“I had animals,” Viggo volunteered.

“He had one,” Bard corrected. “A small one.”

“Would have gotten bigger.”

“Okay . . .” Summers started. “Look, from here on out, I’m not your ‘commander.’ That was something Rhodes set up, and if I’m gonna be honest, I’m not really ‘officer’ material. We fight together. That’s the way this works—the way it’s supposed to work, anyway. You get my back, I’ll get yours. Nothing that happens outside of that matters. Understand?”

The two hesitated for a moment, not knowing how to respond.

“That’s an order?” Summers ventured.

“Yes, Commander,” the twins responded in