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

in your head. You got that?” Cortez held a finger on the trigger.

He saw Pat and the others beside him, their own weapons raised.

Summers felt secure enough to tear away from the thin man’s arm, moving back as quickly as he could. The thin man, thankfully, didn’t follow.

That was good, as Summers was beyond exhausted. He could only watch as the other man raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

All with the most alien smile still painted on his face. He was looking directly at Summers.

“We were right to watch you . . . you’re quite the treat.”

“Get one of those suited fuckers.” Cortez nodded to Pat, who ran for the Humvees in the distance.

Summers got to his feet a bit uneasily. Everyone in their group was more or less unharmed. Their APC was on its side, though, a group of soldiers staring at the partially caved-in front.

It seemed like one of the Humvees had somehow run headfirst into the vehicle. Something told Summers the thin man may have had something to do with that.

As he watched the soldiers approach the thin man, something occurred to him. None of the others under the hamr’s control had hesitated to throw their lives away. Hell, that might have just been a way for the infection to spread even further. But the thin man was different. He was willing to surrender if it meant protecting his own life. And it was clear he had some kind of connection to the colonel and the others, enough so that the woman hadn’t killed him on sight, despite the risk. It was also doubly clear he didn’t want to go back to them.

Summers managed to catch his breath, looking up to find Colonel Rivers just a few feet away, more than two dozen of her soldiers behind her. To his surprise, she wasn’t looking at the thin man, even as her men manhandled his already twisted form to the ground. No, she was watching Summers.

And there was something about her expression that worried him.

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Asle rubbed at a bruise that was quickly forming on her shoulder.

“You two okay?” Nowak leaned out from the driver’s seat of the APC.

Asle only nodded in response. She and Synel had been strapped in pretty tightly during the impact, so they’d avoided being seriously hurt. The only thing amiss was the large, strangely square hole left beside her, where Summers used to be. Also, her hair was a little shorter on one side now, but that wasn’t much of a concern. Hair grew back, after all.

“Managed to talk them into letting us handle the problem. They got that asshole outside, and Summers isn’t in any shape to explain. You gonna be all right on your own?”

“We’ll be fine,” Synel answered for them.

Asle agreed, even if she had been inches away from death a few moments before. At this point, that was becoming normal for her.

Synel unbuckled from her seat, then started helping Asle with hers.

“Come along. We should make ourselves useful.”

Asle eyed the upended APC skeptically.

“I don’t think we can fix this.”

“I’ve taught you better than this,” Synel started. “What we just saw was not an accident. That man out there offered us a deal earlier, didn’t he?”

“Yes?”

“And he said he’d made the offer to others? Soldiers, like our friends?”

“I . . .” Asle trailed off before realizing what her teacher was getting at.

“Exactly. He never said the deal was with the men he was controlling. Which leaves two possibilities: either the medication wasn’t enough—which I doubt, since it’s quite clear these people have prior experience with this prisoner of ours—or . . .” Synel gave Asle a meaningful look. “It was sabotage. And if I’m right, then we need to find the one responsible.”

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Men had come from the base to help Summers’ group the rest of the way. He'd lost track of his friends during the shuffle, though given his current state, that wasn’t surprising. He couldn’t do much more than lay on the stretcher they’d brought him.

The inside of the base was, unfortunately, just as bad as the outside. Buildings were demolished, tents set up—all in all, it looked as though the few soldiers they’d met were lucky to be alive.

As for the thin man, he’d come along for the ride. He, however, was in view of every soldier there. They’d taken the tarp off one of the two trucks that was following the convoy, allowing everyone to see the twisted man strapped in the back. That was both reassuring and worrying at the same time. Summers was tired, but he still remembered what the man had looked like before they’d put him to sleep. He’d broken his arms, his spine, and probably quite a few other things, but he’d still managed to escape his restraints, which were shredded beyond recognition, and nearly overpower Summers.

Then again, that might have been the point. From what he’d seen in the city, the hamr could take and leave whatever parts it needed at will. If his goal had been to take what he needed from Summers, then he was very, very lucky.

As he was carried, Summers suddenly became aware of something. He turned to a small cement building at the center of the base. It was odd. The building looked completely unremarkable, but Summers could feel some odd sensation goading him toward it.

“Corporal Summers?”

Summers heard the man beside him speak up—Jacobs, by the torn tag on his uniform. Summers only vaguely recalled the man had worked on him for a handful of minutes when the army first arrived. A medic then, or maybe a doctor. It was hard to tell, given the state of things. He must have been talking, but Summers was too exhausted to notice.

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you had any