Pete glared back. “Yeah, it was definitely me and not the fact that you repeatedly broke the codes of conduct and tortured enemy prisoners in front of witnesses.”
That shut the interrogator up, but not the rest of the drunken, already on edge squad.
Pete spent the next five minutes trying to talk his squad mates down. Then, although he wasn't sure who started it, people began wandering back to the wake without his say-so, ignoring him when he tried to call them back.
Well that was a stellar start to his position as squad leader.
Torm was one of the last to go, surprisingly. Before the man could escape Pete asked Monty to help a clearly out of it Jack get safely back to the barrack, then called the interrogator over. “Torm.”
The man tensed, catching a hint of his tone, and turned warily. “Corp?”
Pete motioned. Torm reluctantly moved with him out of earshot of the others. “Two things, Private. First of all I've been ordered to lead a team to the United States to deliver classified intel, as well as to offer our expertise in fighting the Locust Swarm. Renault specifically asked that you accompany me, since you have the most expertise to share.”
“Okay,” Torm said. Pete could've sworn he'd seen the man drinking, and not a little, but he sounded stone cold sober. “What's the second thing?”
Pete sucked in a steadying breath. This would be a hard conversation, but better to just jump in. “The work Chavez had you do, questioning slavers. That service is no longer required by Epsilon Squad.”
Torm looked surprised, then for a moment angry before he got control of his emotions. “Because we got caught?”
It really irked Pete to be part of that “we”. “I would've put an end to it either way. It's wrong and I'm ordering you to stop.”
The private's self-restraint snapped. “As the temporary leader of a squad that's about to get reassigned,” he said with a contemptuous curl of his lip. “Which is great for you. You were always too squeamish to do what needs to be done.”
Pete sucked in a breath to control his own temper. “In line, soldier!” he snarled.
Torm didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. But he reluctantly squared off and stiffened to attention. Pete let him hold the position as long as he dared, before the man had another flare of insubordination, then spoke softly. “You're right, my position may be temporary. But while I have it I'm in command of this squad, and the practice of torturing prisoners stops. Is that understood?”
“I gave Chavez a lot of good intel. Hidden caches we wouldn't have found. The location of slave camps. Enemy movements. You really want to give that all up?”
“I don't, but I will,” Pete replied firmly. “No torture or other mistreatment. Is that understood?”
“No, Corp, I don't understand you at all.”
Pete bit back a sigh. That was probably the best he could expect from Torm under the circumstances. “If you want to try to transfer to another squad I'll sign you over with a ringing endorsement.”
“You think I'm transferring anywhere after my squad just got publicly dragged through the dirt and reassigned to the company that babysits convoys?” The private sucked in a few sharp breaths, more than just anger in his expression. “I suppose it doesn't really matter, does it, since we won't be getting within a hundred miles of the enemy from here on out so I wont even have the opportunity to question anyone. But I won't apologize for what I did.”
Pete bit back a sigh. “You're a good soldier, Torm. But even aside from considerations of morality, you're a liability to this squad with your current attitude and behavior towards the enemy. Things are going to change and I won't bend on that.” He held out his hand.
“I guess I wouldn't ask you to, Corp,” Torm said grudgingly, accepting his olive branch with bad grace but at least accepting it. “Even if I think you're making a stupid mistake.” The man shook his hand, one quick grip and release, then turned and walked back towards the bar. It was hard to put a finger on, but his posture seemed a bit . . . defeated.
Pete had a feeling it wasn't his order that had done that. More likely the fact that the squad was leaving the Chainbreakers, leaving active combat for all intents and purposes. If Pete had to guess, he'd say a man like Torm needed that.
He'd bear watching. Pete was actually glad the man would be going with him to the US so he could keep a constant eye on him.
Everyone else was gone by this point, back to the wake or headed back to the barrack. Pete was about to head to the barrack himself to find Jack and Monty and let them know they'd also be joining him on tomorrow morning's road trip.
But before he could Lily called him over from the door of The Swamp. “Where's Jack?” she asked worriedly, then hastily added, “And Monty? Are things okay? Your squad mates looked really pissed when they came back in.”
Pete grimaced. “I wouldn't say okay. We've been transferred to the 100th.”
The young woman looked shocked. “To the guys that escort convoys? Epsilon?”
“Yeah, us.” Pete was about to tell her why, then froze. How do you admit something like that? That you were part of it, if not by active participation then by knowing and not doing anything to stop it? “Renault's not happy with us.”
He was hoping Lily would assume he meant because of today's losses, and to his relief she seemed to accept that. Actually she looked pretty happy. “So you guys won't be going into combat anymore? I won't have to tear my hair out worrying for your safety several times a week?”
Well, at least somebody was happy about this. “If you want to put it that way.” He hesitated. “We also received orders to make a delivery to the US. We leave in the morning, me, Jack, and Monty.”
Her face fell. “For how long?”
“At least a week.”
The young woman abruptly threw her arms around him. “But this isn't a goodbye hug,” she said sternly. “Don't leave without telling me in the morning, okay? I want to give you guys a proper sendoff before you go.”
“Yeah, sure.” Pete hugged her back. “Thanks, Lily.”
She looked up at him quizzically. “For what?”
“For everything.”
Beaming, the young woman leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Glad to have you back, Kid.”
* * * * *
Jack was a miserable mess the next morning.
It was nobody's fault but his own, although pretty inconvenient for Pete considering he had to drag the man off his cot and bludgeon him into making the few preparations needed to leave. He definitely wouldn't be having his friend drive today.
It didn't help that the idiot had wandered off last night after Pete told him about the trip. Pete had no idea where he'd gone, and just hoped he hadn't left to find more booze.
But with some effort Pete had Jack, Monty, and their stuff gathered outside the barrack, waiting for Torm to bring around the car Renault had promised to provide.
Lily was waiting with them. She'd already hugged them all goodbye and had even given them a care package, some snacks and other things they might need on a car trip. She seemed much sadder about seeing them go than Pete had expected, but then again he supposed they were some of her best friends, and part of the core of her social life.
Jack's drinking the previous night had been kicking his butt since Pete dragged him out of bed. He was pale, sweaty, and swallowing repeatedly like he was about to hurl. Finally he had to excuse himself to the camp's facilities before he made a mess all over himself. Pete watched as he bolted away, hoping he would make it in time.
Not long after that Torm showed up with the car. As he stopped it in front of them Lily gave Pete and Monty final hugs. “I've got to get to work. Be safe, guys. We'll have to do something big when you get back, like a movie marathon or something.”
“Cya, Lily,” Monty said, grabbing his stuff and heading for the trunk to stow it.
Pete followed the man, giving the young woman a final wave as she wandered off. It didn't take long for them to get everything packed away, a
nd within minutes they were pretty much ready to go, just waiting for Jack to get back.
Pete was starting to worry that his friend might not be up to traveling today, and they'd have to leave him behind and bring someone else. After almost fifteen minutes he made an irritated noise. “I'm going to go get him.”
Torm scowled at him. “Yeah, baby your buddy. Planning to be selective with your discipline now that you're in charge?”
Pete responded with a rude gesture and headed towards the facilities Epsilon shared with a few other squads. But as he rounded the side of the barrack he froze midstep, nearly falling flat on his face.
Jack had Lily pressed up against the wall of the building, giving the young woman the most thorough goodbye kiss Pete had ever seen.
Absurdly, the first thing Pete thought was that he hoped his friend had used mouthwash. The second was that he was going to kill him.
For an eternal few seconds he stood rooted in pure shock. Then his mind caught up and he looked away, embarrassed at himself for staring. A whole slew of emotions were surging through him, most of which were perfectly normal for a guy in this situation but that he was still annoyed for feeling.
Suddenly a lot of things made more sense. The fact that after Pete stopped going to the gatherings neither Jack or Lily had pressed very hard to convince him to change his mind. The things Jack said to him about what Lily had been thinking or feeling recently, stuff she'd only be comfortable telling someone in a deep, intimate conversation. The fact that Lily had suddenly tried to hook him up with Ellen, or that Jack had stopped making teasing comments about how Pete really felt about Lily. The more intimate way the two had been acting around each other, just short of full-blown public affection.
All there if he'd been looking, clues pointing to the fact that they were together.
And what about it? Lily was like his kid sister. Jack was his best friend. They were both good people who deserved to be happy, and he couldn't think of a better way than with each other. So why was he so pissed off?
Pete started backpedaling around the corner, hoping to avoid notice.
Too late. He heard a gasp from down the street, and looked up to see Lily staring at him, green eyes huge in her surprised face. As for Jack, he was as frozen as Pete had been a couple seconds ago, an expression of mingled defiance and guilt plastered across his face.
Mind scrambling for something to say, Pete could only manage, “Uh, we're ready to go.”
Jack hastily stepped back, giving Lily room to straighten away from the wall and fuss with her hair. “Yeah, okay. Just, um, give me a second.”
“Sure.” Pete retreated to the car, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut.
Monty noticed his expression. “What?”
Pete just shook his head.
A few minutes later Jack appeared, looking like much less of a wreck. With a quick, guilty glance Pete's way he headed to the back of the car and began shoving his stuff into the trunk.
Pete followed him over. “So, you and Lily.”
His friend flushed. “Yeah.”
“And that stuff you said about the Bro Code?” Pete demanded, only half sarcastically, as his friend pretended his complete concentration was on loading his stuff.
Jack looked away, trying to play it off as a joke as he leaned in to rearrange a few things to make room. “Turns out way fewer guys follow that than you'd think.”
Pete swore at him and slammed the palm of his hand against the car near his friend's head. “Seriously, man? She's a kid!”
After jumping slightly Jack straightened, looking as annoyed as Pete felt. “She's eighteen, man. I can't help it if you're trapped in the past still thinking of her as a thirteen year old. You may not like to hear it but I'm not her first, either.”
Jack was right, Pete really didn't want to hear that. “You're six years older than her!”
His friend looked away. “Back to my previous point about her being an adult. Age starts mattering a lot less after that, right?” He looked back and caught Pete's glare, and his back straightened defiantly. “I'm not going to apologize, Pete. I know she means a lot to you and you want to look out for her, but you should know the kind of person I am after all this time. That you can trust me to sooner die than do anything that would hurt her. I like her and she likes me, and we're happy together.”
“I could live with that, Jack, if you weren't sneaking around like you have something to apologize for!” Actually Pete wasn't sure he could, but that was something he'd have to sort out when he had some time with his own thoughts, before he lost it and ended up beating his best friend to a pulp. “How long?”
“A, uh, few weeks now.” His friend shifted guiltily. “It's not that we wanted to keep it a secret. You know you've been frosty with her ever since she started trying to get you to talk to her about Abella. She really cares about you, and she didn't know how you'd react to something like this on top of everything else. We just wanted to find the right time to tell you, that's all. But then you stopped coming to the gatherings and started avoiding her . . .”
“Which gave you the perfect opportunity to swoop in like a vulture, right?”
Jack took a few deep breaths, eyes on the horizon in front of him. “Dude, at least try to be cool about this.” He walked off.
Pete slammed the trunk and hopped into the front passenger's seat. A few moments later Jack took the backseat behind him. The car settled into frosty silence, even Torm looking slightly uncomfortable.
After almost half a minute Monty spoke up uncertainly from the other backseat. “So, uh, didn't mean to overhear but it sounds like the cat's out of the bag. Does that mean I can stop being selectively blind and deaf around my two best friends and not have to worry about what I can and can't say?”
Well, Pete supposed he shouldn't be surprised the new kid knew too. He leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, willing himself to stay calm.
Jack sounded rueful as he answered. “Well considering he walked up on us when I had her pinned against the wall of the barrack with my tongue halfway down her throat, I'd say all the cards are on the table now.”
“Holy cow!” the young recruit said. “And you still decided to come with us? If I got a sendoff like that I'd seriously consider going A.W.O.L.”
“Noted,” Pete growled, eyes still closed.
Monty coughed uneasily. “I didn't really mean-”
“No kidding you didn't,” Jack cut in. He sounded embarrassed. “Sorry, Pete. I'm used to shooting my mouth off around you, but I'm just screwing everything up here. I know you didn't want to hear that.”
“You're right, I really didn't.” The car settled into uncomfortable silence again, and Pete realized he needed to act a bit leaderly. He opened his eyes. “I mean, I don't want you to think you have to tiptoe around me or anything, but come on.”
Torm snorted. “Don't worry, Corp, I'll be happy to tell you the truth even if it hurts your widdle feelings. Actually especially then.” He glanced in the rearview mirror at the others. “You guys finished hugging it out so we can get going?”
Pete shook his head; this trip was going to suck. “Just drive, buddy.”
Epilogue
New Start
As Trev stepped off the bus, turning to give Deb a hand down, he saw the uncertainty written across her features.
He kept hold of her hand as she stepped down beside him, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Nothing's set in stone yet.”
His wife gave him a firm look. “No, no second thoughts. We've waffled on this for long enough.”
Well that was certainly true. For the last five years and over the course of a dozen visits to different hospitals and doctors in the US, Canada, and even Mexico, they'd gradually resigned themselves to the fact that Deb would never have children. No surgery would change that, no procedure no matter how expensive. Not even the more advanced ones that hospitals were finally starting to be able to perform again, almost as cutting edge as befor
e the Gulf refineries attack.
So here they were in Manti, headed for a park to finally explore the alternative option.
The caretaker of the orphanage they'd chosen, Mr. Morris, had invited them to come and visit, see the children directly. But Trev hadn't felt quite comfortable with that. For one thing it felt oddly callous, like shopping for the best pick of the bunch. And for another he tried to imagine how it would be for the children, the hope of having prospective adoptive parents come and judge them, and how devastating it had to feel if they weren't picked, as if they weren't good enough.
So he'd asked Mr. Morris if he'd be willing to send them brief descriptions of all the children, the basic facts like age, height, weight, and things like that, as well as a bit of their history, how they'd come to be at the orphanage and what they'd been through.
It was an unusual request, and without Matt's help pulling strings for them it probably wouldn't have been granted. There were a lot of orphanages since the Gold Bloc invaded, and there was a lot of motivation to see all those poor children settled in good homes. But the standards for adoption were still strict to protect the orphans, and Trev was glad for that even if it made the process more difficult.
They'd spent weeks going over all the profiles, trying to find a child whose situation resonated with them. It had been a difficult process, both because they were still struggling with reservations about the decision and because hearing the plight of so many innocents made it hard to decide on just one.
But finally they'd agreed on a six year old boy who'd been born in Milwaukee, Deb's hometown, during the chaos after the Gulf burned. His parents had died when he was about a year old, and a friend of the family had taken care of him for a while, until he found himself in a situation where he wouldn't be able to feed the baby any longer and was worried about his health, so he'd been forced go give him up.
The boy's name was Derek. Mr. Morris had agreed to bring him to this park so Trev and Deb could meet him, and since the man hadn't sent pictures with the profiles this would be the first time they saw what their prospective adopted son looked like.
Nuclear Winter | Book 3 | Chain Breakers Page 33