The Reckoning - 02 (41 page)

             
“Something on your mind, Top?” I asked.

             
“Permission to speak freely?” he said, formally.

             
“Go ahead,” I said.

             
“I’m just not used to taking orders from a civilian,” he replied, locking his gaze on me.

             
“Look, First Sergeant,” I said, trying hard to keep my tone neutral. “I’m not trying to step on your toes, here. Let’s not turn this into a pissing contest.”

             
“Just so you know,” he said. “Those are
my
Rangers. We’ve got a common goal, right now. Just don’t forget that they take orders from
me
.”

             
My temper started to rise inside me. I had to swallow to keep from returning fire and turning this into an argument. I kept it in check, knowing that it wouldn’t help the situation at all. In fact, it would probably make matters worse.

             
“Look, Top,” I said. “I’m not your enemy, here. When this is done, if you and your men want to leave I won’t try to stop you. Just remember that you’re welcome here. We could use your skills and experience.”

             
“Is that all,
sir
?” he said, anger in his voice.

             
My temper slipped and I snapped back.

             
“Look, asshole,” I snarled. “I took the same fucking oath you did. To defend against all enemies both foreign and
domestic
. I think that the goddamned zombies qualify as a domestic enemy. You want me to respect your people and rank, then you’d better goddamned well show us the same fucking respect.”

             
He took a step back from me, surprised by the anger in my voice. Before he could muster a response, I pressed on.

             
“The military has always answered to a civilian authority,” I snapped. “Well, guess what, asshole! I AM the civilian authority around here! And let’s not forget that I’m risking my people and my own ass to help you fulfill YOUR mission. Now, we can either make nice and work together, or you can take your Rangers and some supplies and get the fuck out of my AO
[24]
.”

             
“Not to mention,” said Southard, venom dripping from his voice, “our last dealing with the military didn’t end well. They executed everyone at the Evacuation Centers. They executed my family!”

             
I let that particular comment hang heavily in the air for a moment. All eyes were on Southard. The Rangers looked shocked at what they’d just heard. It hit me right then that not even everyone in the military knew what had been done in the name of containment. The looks of horror in their eyes told me all I needed to know.

             
“He’s not lying,” I said. “Elements led by a Military Intelligence Colonel executed hundreds of people from the Evac Center. We found the bodies, ourselves.”

             
Both groups of people were watching us and fidgeting with their weapons. No one had raised a gun but you could feel the tension that hung heavily in the air. All eyes were fixed on the First Sergeant and me. Both teams were ready to follow our lead if things turned ugly. We were standing on a pile of gunpowder and my temper could easily be the match that set it off. We stared each other down, waiting for the other one to blink.

             
“Alright, Sheriff,” he said, after a moment. “We’ll play this your way. You know the area and the enemy better than we do. I’ll follow your lead. For my part, I’m sorry about your people. We had nothing to do with that. None of us would have followed that order.”

             
I felt the heat in my temper start to dissipate. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The tension in the area began to subside and both teams seemed to relax.

             
“Look, Top,” I said, much calmer now. “This isn’t about me being in charge. It’s about respect. I know you’re men are Rangers. I know what that means. I think that if we can get together on this, you might just come to understand who we are and maybe have some respect for us. We’ve survived this on our own, up till now. We’re not some group of helpless civilians that needed to be rescued.”

             
“I’m sorry,” said the First Sergeant. “This is something that neither of us need, right now. I guess I’ve been so wrapped up waiting for you all to defer to us for help that I didn’t even consider you might not need it.”

             
“Don’t get me wrong,” I replied. “We could damned sure use your help, but we will survive without it. If you stay with us when this is over, you need to accept that.”

             
“Fair enough,” he said.

             
“Now, we have more than enough of a fight ahead of us without fighting amongst ourselves,” I added. “Agreed?”

             
“Yes, sir,” he said.

             
This time he said “sir” like he meant it.

             
“When this is over,” I said. “I really hope you decide to stay. I’d like the opportunity to earn your respect, Top. To show you we’re not just a bunch of hillbillies with guns.”

             
He smiled when I said that.

             
“If I run into problems, I won’t hesitate to ask your advice,” I said. “And if you have an idea, I’ll gladly listen to it. The most important thing is completing the mission and getting my team back home alive.”

             
“On that we’re in total agreement,” he said.

             
“Outstanding,” I said. “We’ve got some common ground, after all. Let’s build on that and get this show on the road.”

             
“Hoo-ah,” he said.

             
He snapped me a crisp salute which I returned. Then he executed a perfect about-face and headed for his Humvee. Seconds later, we were all inside our vehicles and heading for the ramp to the surface. Bowman and Packer slid the gate open as we came up the ramp and we exited without hesitation. I could see them securing the gate behind us as we sped on up the road.

             
No one said much as we headed back into town. The mood was somber as we passed the burnt out wreckage of our vehicles that were lost in the ambush. The area was strangely clear of zombies. As we shot across the intersection, I could see a large crowd of zombies to the north of us. It looked like they were heading away from us as if they were following something. I didn’t think about it for long, though. I had other things on my mind.

             
When we passed the National Guard and Reserve Center, I could see that the building that held the MRE’s was now open. I knew that we had closed the door when we raided it on the day this all broke out. I could only assume that the
Freemen
had raided it sometime in the last couple of days. I smiled in the knowledge that we had beaten them to the armory. It was a small victory, but I was happy to take it.

             
When we turned down the side street that would take us back to the jail, I slowed almost to a stop. The road looked clear and I’m not sure why I hesitated. Spec-4 leaned over and looked at me. I didn’t meet her gaze, but took a deep breath and slowly released it with an audible sigh.

             
“What’s wrong?” she asked.

             
“I’m not completely sure,” I said, slowing to a complete stop.

             
I sat there for a moment with the engine idling before my radio came to life. It was the First Sergeant’s voice I heard loud and clear.

             
“Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, over?”

             
I turned and looked out my window as the other Humvee pulled alongside us and stopped. The Corporal they called Jackson was on the SAW. Southard was on our SAW and leaned back inside to glance at me.

             
“Yeah, what the fuck?” he asked, grinning.

             
“I’m not sure,” I said, both to Southard and into the radio. “My gut’s warning me about something. I can’t say what, for sure.”

             
“How accurate is your gut?” asked the First Sergeant.

             
“I trust it,” said Spec-4, reaching over to key the mic. “He hasn’t steered us wrong, yet.”

             
“Copy that,” said the First Sergeant. “What’s next, then?”

             
“Wilder, take the wheel,” I said, getting out of my door.

             
“Wylie?” she said, anxiously. “What the hell are you doing?”

             
“Just stick close in case I have to get back inside fast,” I said, slipping on my pack and checking the load on my weapons.

             
Then, as an afterthought, I slipped the hammer into my belt. Bringing my M-4 into a ready position, I headed off down the street. I kept sweeping the road in front of me and the houses on either side. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but I had a feeling that something was definitely wrong. Spec-4 slipped the Humvee back into gear and crept along behind me. Both gunners brought their weapons to bear and covered the sides of the road.

             
I kept my left hand on the tactical grip on the front of my weapon and my right hand on the pistol grip. I was careful to keep my finger off of the trigger, but I went ahead and switched the weapon from safe to semi. I brought the weapon tight against my shoulder and started sweeping with the sights of the weapon. With every step I took, the feeling of danger increased until it was almost a buzzing in my head. Something was very, very wrong.

             
“This is a waste of time,” said Southard. “Get in the vehicle and let’s get the hell out of here.”

             
I just waved him off with my left hand and continued sweeping from side to side. I could hear a brief exchange behind me which ended with Spec-4 whispering just loud enough that I could hear her.

             
“Give him a minute, Chuck,” she hissed. “He’s not the type for wild goose chases.”

             
As we approached a section of road that had several cars parked along both sides, something caught my eye. I froze, mid-step, and crouched down. I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach as I found what I’d been looking for. It was a trip wire made from what looked like fishing line. It was almost invisible to the naked eye. If I’d been driving, I never would have seen it in time to stop. I probably wouldn’t have seen it at all.

             
Releasing the tactical grip with my left hand, I checked the tension on the line. It was taught and didn’t have any play to it. It had been set very well. Whoever had done this was a professional. That didn’t make me very happy. Fortunately, I had a professional of my own.

             
“Ramirez,” I said into the radio. “I need you up here. Bring your kit.”

             
“Copy,” he said, in his thick Hispanic accent. “I’m on my way.”

             
Seconds later, he trotted up next to me with a bag in his hand. He was smiling his perpetual smile and wearing dark sunglasses. He was one of those guys that looked good in anything.

             
“What you got, man?” he asked, putting his right hand on my left shoulder.

             
“Trip wire,” I said, pointing. “Looks like fishing line.”

             
“
Madre de dios
,” he said, taking off his glasses. “Remind me to never question your gut,
jefe
.”

             
“What are we looking at here?” I asked. “How bad is it?”

             
“Give me a second,” he said, handing me his glasses and weapon. “Cover me while I take a look.”

             
I motioned for the others to cover the area while I covered Ramirez. He crawled along the trip wire and looked under the vehicles. Although it wasn’t very warm, I was sweating profusely while I waited and covered the area.

             
“Wylie,” said Spec-4, “we’ve got company. I count a dozen or so zombies heading our way from the south, ETA five minutes at their current speed.”
H

             
“Copy that,” I said. “Maintain positions.”

             
Ramirez stood up and came towards me, shaking his head. He didn’t look happy, anymore. In fact, he looked shocked.

             
“Look, 
jefe,
” he said. “The guy that did this really wanted whoever tripped it to die. There’s enough claymore mines and C-4 under those cars to put us in orbit.”

             
“Can you disarm it?” I asked.