Through Many Fires (Strengthen What Remains) (15 page)

O
ne of
the privates in the office grabbed the mic. “Roger Second Squad, we read that
you’re taking fire.” He looked to Brooks expectantly.

Brooks
turned to Caden. “Fourth squad is the duty rapid response unit.”

“
Deploy
them.”

While
the private relayed word that help was coming, Brooks grabbed the mic for the
building intercom then slammed it down apparently remembering the power was
out. Pointing to a PFC he said, “Find Corporal Sanchez and have his team
reinforce second squad.”

Helmet
in hand, Brooks headed for the door.

“
XO,”
Caden said, “I’m coming with you.” Brooks started to protest, but he insisted.
“I need to see the situation.”

He
nodded and left at a jog. Caden hobbled along behind cursing his throbbing leg
and ankle. As they hustled out the building two Humvees sped out the gate.

“
Here,”
Brooks called, “We’ll go in my truck.” He pointed to a red Ford pickup.

Jogging
toward it Caden said, “I didn’t figure you for a pickup kind of guy.”

“
It
was abandoned and I thought it would be useful.”

Sliding
in Caden noticed a shotgun behind the seat.

Brooks
turned the key and the trucked lurched forward, shot out the gate, and down the
hill. Then turning right he sped toward the fight.

Caden
had rarely driven out this way, but he knew they were only a minute or two from
the bridge. “Isn’t there a power plant a few miles up the North Road?”

“
Yes,
beyond the refugee camp, but it was closed last year. It’s a coal-fired plant
and couldn’t meet the new environmental regulations.”

“
That’s
right and the mine is next to it.”

“
The coal
from that old pit is high in sulfur so they closed it down about five years
ago. These last few years they brought coal in from out of state.”

Caden
thought for a moment. “I wonder if we could get the plant back up and running?”

“
We
could try. That might solve our power problems.”

“
That’s
what I’m thinking. And is the city hydroelectric dam functioning?”

“
Just
barely. We drive out with a couple of workers every other day to check on it.”

He
could hear shots now. Brooks pulled off on a simple dirt lane. Fifty yards up
he stopped beside a green tent.

Strapping
the helmet to his head and staying low, Brooks moved forward. “We can see the
bridge from over there.” He reached the position first and, picking up
binoculars, he said, “Those civilians are either desperate or drunk.”

Caden
hobbled up to the sandbagged and camouflaged observation post a moment later.
Borrowing the binoculars he looked down at the fire fight. It was clear what
happened. Some of the refugees got a dump truck, sped it across the bridge and
slammed it into the bulldozer the soldiers used to barricade the road.
Apparently they hoped to smash through the blockade, but the dozer won. The
front of the truck was crumpled and twisted. The bulldozer had been moved a
foot or two or perhaps the soldiers had parked it at a slight angle, either
way, it still blocked the bridge.

The
windshield of the truck had been shattered. Looking through binoculars, Caden
saw several bullet holes in the remaining glass. The body of the driver was
slumped against the door. About half-a-dozen refugees with rifles were behind
the dump truck firing on the soldiers. Caden shook his head.
We’re engaged
in a fire fight with our own people.

Hundreds
of refugees remained on the far side of the river, huddled behind cars and
trees, trying not to get shot. “We’ve got good firing angles on the shooters,
better cover and more men.”
The guys on the bridge aren’t going to break
through the barricade; they’re going to get themselves killed.
Caden said,
“I need to talk to the First Sergeant.”

Brooks
led the way down the dirt lane to the main road. Staying low and following the
gully he led Caden toward the fight. Bullets flew past them hitting the
embankment and trees a few feet above where they stood in the ditch.

Caden
leaned to the left to get a better view of the soldiers ahead.

Brooks
turned. Their eyes met for a moment, and then he slammed to the ground at
Caden’s feet.

“
Brooks…David,
are you okay?” Caden dragged the lieutenant to the lowest point of the ditch
then dropped beside him as blood flowed down his face. Caden struggled to get
the helmet off the wounded man, afraid of what he might see. Finally tossing it
aside he looked for the wound, but all he could see was blood. He struggled to
wipe away the flow with his hand and sleeve.
Where is the wound?
“David
can you hear me?”

His
eyes popped open. “What happened?”

“
You’ve
been hit. Stay still while I find the wound.”

“
Shot...in
the head?” He reached up to the wound and then pulled back with a moan as he
gazed at his bloody fingertips.

“
Stay
still.” Caden moved closer. He pulled a gauze bandage from his ACUs and gently
wiped some more. “Oh.”

“
What
do you see?”

“
You
know head wounds bleed a lot, right?”

“
Yes.”

“
Well,
you have a two inch cut in your scalp. It just sliced the skin, but otherwise
it looks okay.” He took a clean bandage from David’s ACUs, and placing it on
his head, said, “Hold this right here.” He took a roll of gauze and wrapped it
around his head and tied it. “All the blood makes it look like some horrid
wound, but you’ll live.”

Caden
picked up the discarded helmet and examined the bloodstained gash along one
side. Handing it to David he grinned, “It has character now. Are you able to
walk?”

Brooks
nodded.

Staying
lower than earlier, they moved toward the barricade with Caden in the lead. The
First Sergeant fired from a prone position as the two crawled up. Tapping the
soldier on the back Caden said, “Hold your fire.”

The
First Sergeant looked at him and then Brooks. “You okay sir?”

“
Yes,
just a cut. Major Westmore is the new commanding officer. Do as he says.”

“
Hold
your fire,” the First Sergeant yelled. “Hold your fire.”

Within
a few seconds the soldiers ceased firing.

“
Have
any of the soldiers been wounded?” Caden asked.

The First
Sergeant smiled at Brooks, “Just the lieutenant.”

It was
a long half-minute before the civilians stopped firing.

When
there was silence on the bridge Caden called out. “Your position is hopeless.
Retreat off the bridge and you will not be harmed.”

A voice
called out. “How do we know we can trust you?”

“
You’re
just going to have to.”

Another
deeper voice said, “We’ve got women and children over here, but no food. There
hasn’t been any for days.”

Caden
rubbed his forehead in despair.

“
We
have pregnant women and sick children here. We’re all starving. What have we
got to lose?” the deep voice declared.

Caden
turned to Brooks, “Get a medic and a deuce and a half down here…and fifty
MREs.” Then he shouted, “Don’t shoot I want to talk.”

Both
Brooks and the First Sergeant started to object, but Caden shook his head. Eyes
fixed forward he rose slowly, spread his hands apart, and stepped over a line
of sandbags. “My name is Major…ah, Caden. You, with the deep voice, what’s your
name?”

“
Neil…Neil
Young.”

“
Please,
come forward and talk to me.”

Seconds
later, a big bull of a man with a scraggly beard stepped from behind the dump
truck.

Caden
held out his hand as the big man neared. “Hi Neil. I arrived here yesterday to
find out what is needed and try to organize help.”

The
big guy looked at his torn and bandaged leg and then at his bloody hands and
sleeve. “I guess it’s been a rough couple of days.” He shook Caden’s hand.
“What did you want to say?”

“
Conditions
are desperate everywhere, but if there is a way to help I’d like to try. How
many pregnant women are in your camp?”

“
About
twenty and maybe twice that many really sick kids. The doc says its dysentery
and typhoid.”

“
You
have a doctor? That’s good to know.” Caden sighed. “I’m trying to get food,
fuel and even steady electricity, but I can’t promise much. If nothing changes
in a week, maybe two, the town will be out of food.”

“
We’re
a week or two ahead of you. When you run out of food, we’ll already be dying of
starvation and disease.”

“
Here
is what I can do right now. If someone needs to be hospitalized, we’ll do it.
I’ll get a medic down here to work with your doctor. I’ll get a tent and
supplies so we can set up a rudimentary field hospital. We’ll transport the
seriously ill to the Hansen hospital. I’ve ordered food to be brought here, not
much, but I will try to get more. That is the best I can do.”

Neil’s
eyes grew tired. “I believe you, but I’m not sure everyone will.” He sighed.
“I’ll get the doctor, the pregnant women and the sickest kids to the bridge.”

The
two men shook hands again and parted.

Caden
told the First Sergeant to have the medic work with the camp doctor, get the
sickest to the hospital and distribute the fifty MREs to those who needed it
most.

As the
two walked back toward the pickup Brooks held out his keys. “I think you should
drive.”

The
lieutenant’s complexion was pale, in stark contrast to the dried blood that
still covered part of his face.

Caden
took the keys. “Yeah, let’s get back to the armory and get some coffee.”

Looking
off in the distance Brooks said, “I noticed the combat badge on your uniform.
Were you in Afghanistan?”

“
Yeah.
Two tours.”

“
Was
it bad? Did you….”

Caden
stopped.

“
Sorry,
I shouldn’t have asked.”

“
No. It’s
okay, David.” He sighed deeply. “I was in combat multiple times on both tours
and yes, I’ve killed people.”

“
Does
it get easier? Do you forget their faces?”

“
Combat
is never easy, but yes, I think it gets easier.” He slowly shook his head.
“About the other thing…I’ve never forgotten the faces of those I’ve killed or
my friends who have been killed.”

Brooks
took a deep breath. “Thanks. I thought it was just me.”

Caden
opened the truck door and then paused. “You know, Churchill once said, ‘There's
nothing quite as exhilarating as being shot at and missed.’ Maybe you should
look at it that way. You’re alive and that is a good thing.”

“
Today
isn’t the problem.”

“
Oh?
The looters at the hospital?”

Brooks
nodded.

So
it was you that killed them.
“Let’s get that coffee.”

The
generator was running by the time they got back to the armory. Brooks opted for
a long shower before getting coffee. When he returned to the office his
complexion had improved. Except for the bandage on his head, he looked like a
typical young soldier.

Taking
the last sip of his coffee Caden said, “I want one of us here at night.”

“
I’ve
been living at the armory since the Atlanta bombing.”

“
Well
then I guess you need a night off?”

“
I’m
fine. I’ll stay. I think I need an early night anyway.”

Caden
wrote down his phone number and then added his address and a simple map to his
house and handed it to Brooks. “If anything happens, call me or come get me.
Otherwise I’ll see you in the morning.”

With
the electricity still off, and the sun setting early that time of year, the
roads were dark and lonely. As he drove down the main street he shared the road
with a single sheriff’s car. Candlelight shining in the window and the smell of
wood fires greeted him as he passed by homes on his way out of town. Snow
flitted in the air. It would have been pretty, almost Christmas like, if he
didn’t know the tragedy, hunger and cold that caused it.

Candles
and lanterns shone through the windows, casting the living room and kitchen in
a soft, yellow glow as he stepped from the car in front of his family home.
Waving his arm he announced, “It’s me, Caden.”
Don’t need any more shooting
tonight.

Maria
stepped out the door with a wide smile.

Caden
sighed.
Totally forgot about Valentine’s Day.

As he
limped into the light her smile changed to fright. “Are you okay? Where are you
hurt?”

“
Oh,”
he said looking at his bloody sleeves. “I’m okay. It’s someone else’s.” He came
up the steps and hugged her. “It’s good to be home.”