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

“He saw the fog. Didn’t run. He didn’t know,” Summers repeated.

Cortez watched Summers, an almost pitying expression on her face. Summers was aware of the look she gave him, and that a part of him should care. He didn’t.

“So, you don’t know if it’s permanent?” Cortez asked.

“No.” Asle curled her arms around her legs.

Summers made no response.

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They crested a large hill on their seventh day in the valley. Fortunately, they hadn’t run into the strange, poisonous fog again. Looking at the road they’d left behind, it was obvious they’d gotten lucky—very lucky. The forest below them was covered in patches of white. The source seemed to be a crater nearly half a mile wide to the west, or rather, a hot spring. But although they had no idea what was causing the fog’s odd symptoms, they had little desire to find out, either. Not if it could be helped.

They’d only considered the fact the Humvee might have some leftover residue on it after they’d made their escape. The fact that they were all fine after that first day was another stroke of luck, and the only reason Nowak had been convinced not to torch the Humvee or the rations they carried on the spot. That, and the threat of starvation. He had at least left a standing order not to lick any exposed surface before they’d had a chance to scrub it down, but that was mostly directed at Asle.

Summers was nearly back to his old self by the time they were out of the valley. He could talk normally again and felt more lucid, though he did still have the lingering taste of wolf in his mouth and didn’t expect it to go away any time soon.

He’d also noticed that at some point his arm had taken some very big, very painful-looking gouges in it, likely from the wolves he’d encountered. It didn’t hurt, though. Not even when Nowak had stitched it up. That should have been worrying, but Summers had just accepted that whatever drug was in that fog must have had a numbing effect. Compared to everything else he’d experienced in the last few days, it was something he barely registered.

In fact, the only thing that had been bothering him was the smell. Summers couldn’t quite place it, but something about the Humvee was off. It was like someone had dumped a bottle of Febreze into it—not really an offensive odor, but an overpowering one. No one else made any comments, so Summers could only assume that they were dealing with the predictable result of jamming seven people into a tight space for so long.

That night, Summers felt lucid enough to help set up camp. They’d found a cliff wall to put their backs to, and the thick vegetation around them shielded them from the main road. He was laser-focused on trying to wire one of the lights to the Humvee, with mixed results.

For some reason, the fog had sharpened some reflexes and senses, but made doing literally anything else difficult. It was as though his body had little interest in anything that was not immediately related to violence. It was frustrating to not be able to use something as simple as a fork, and the frustration made him feel as though he would lose control of himself again. He didn’t, but the constant resting bitch face he now had was not a comfort for his friends. Needless to say, despite his progress, the rest of the camp was keeping their distance from Summers. And he didn’t blame them.

So, he was angry, alone, staring out at the vast forest still in front of them. He’d only slept in short, fitful bursts for the last few nights. And nothing smelled or tasted like it should.

Summers looked over to where Nowak stood, still looking at the map they’d found. It had no actual scale and was more reminiscent of a nine-year-old’s treasure map than an actual road map. Still, they knew they were on the right track. A crossroads they’d passed earlier corresponded to one shown on the map itself. After that, the road got a lot smoother.

Summers finally finished stowing a solar panel—a feat that took about five times longer than it should have—when he found Asle standing beside him. The girl was looking up at him, clearly waiting for his attention.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long time,” Asle responded. He really needed to pay more attention. Maybe add tunnel vision to the list of side effects? The girl just kept looking at him expectantly.

“Uh, what’s up?”

Asle just tilted her head at that question. Summers made a note to teach her slang at some point.

“What did you want to talk with me about?”

“Are you, you?”

Summers considered that. Part of him wanted to be offended; that part of him, however, was a child. After how they’d found him, it was more than a valid question. Hell, if he were in Asle’s shoes, he might have brought a gun with him, just in case.

“I think it’s out of my system now. Mostly, anyway.”

Asle took a moment before she stepped back. Then, to his surprise, she bowed to him slightly.

“Tosan tak.” She looked up. “It means thank you. Many thank-yous. So . . . thank you.”

“I’m going to assume this is about what happened in the town?”

She nodded. Oh good, he thought. She learned nodding.

“You saved us first by warning us. So, uh, thanks for that?”

“Welcome.” Asle looked back at him, still expectant.

Summers just stared back. There was definitely something wrong. She looked nervous somehow.

“Look, I’m better, all right? You don’t need to worry.”

Asle didn’t respond. She just kept staring, her back tense.

“Was there something else?” Summers ventured. He felt like he was missing some context here, and he couldn’t figure