The Vagabonds (The Code of War Book 4)

by Jim Roberts

  Liza gestured to the many small, handmade creations scattered here and there around the house. “Times haven’t been great, but a lot of people were hit worse than us. Joe sends back a sizable chunk of his paycheck to help as well, even though his Father’s told him many times to stop.”

  Jade smiled to herself. She’d never asked Joe what he did with his Army pay. Her man practically lived like a hobo at times. Joe’s version of home was aircraft cots and dingy Rosaryville motels.

  Liza realized she was dominating the conversation, “Oh enough about me, what about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, how did you come to meet that boy out there?”

  Jade looked down at her potatoes. She remembered the day she’d first met Joseph, in the war zone of Sadoma City. After the death of her husband, Jade had been acting as a lieutenant for the rebel force of Donald Muzenda against the tyrant David Musabe and his regime. Her life at the time had been filled with blood and death.

  And then Joe had ambled into her life with a world’s worth of burdens on his shoulders. Since then, nothing had been the same for Jade.

  “You could say he sort of fell into my life. I was serving in the UN as a Peacekeeper when I met him. I wouldn’t say it was love at first sight, though.” Jade smirked at the memory, “I had to snap one of his fingers back into place.”

  Liza turned white. Jade knew she’d said too much and immediately changed the subject. “We just feel right together, you know?”

  Out of the kitchen window, Jade could see Joe helping his father mend the broken down chicken coop. The weather outside had begun to cool as evening approached. Joe now wore an old jean jacket he’d found in his room, still his size.

  Liza looked up and saw Jade peering out the window. “He has such a good heart, that boy. But he seems so different now.”

  “He’s seen enough pain for a lifetime.”

  “That’s the way of war, isn’t it?” Liza said, placing a hand on Jade’s shoulder, “Did you know Tom was an early recruit in Vietnam? He had about two months of training in a parking lot before they shipped him to that place. He was green as a bean, but he never complained. He knew he wanted to defend his country—wanted to do what his daddy had done before him. And he wanted to impress me.”

  Liza smiled whimsically as if to some private joke. “I was a foolish flower power child then. I wanted the war to be over as quick as possible and the thought of Tom there was more horrible than anything. He lost his arm while on duty in the jungle. Caught the business end of a mine. His whole team was killed. Tom trekked for a week, no food or water. When he was found by a PBR, he was out of his mind with gangrene,” Liza took a deep breath, “War leaves its marks on our loved ones, that’s plain enough. But I thank God every day for bringing him back to me.”

  Jade felt her smile return.

  Liza resumed cutting the vegetables, “We adopted Joe in ’83 when it was clear we weren’t gonna have a kid of our own.”

  “Did you know his real parents?” Jade asked.

  “No. Just some poor woman in Wichita who couldn’t manage on her own, we were told.” Liza looked out the window at her two men, “He really isn’t like either of us, really. At times I think Joe tries to carry the fate of the world on his back.”

  Jade took a moment before responding, “He lost someone about a year ago…someone important to him. Like a brother, really. He tried everything to get him back, but just…couldn’t. It eats him up every day.”

  “He’s still got you,” Liza said, trying to lighten the mood, “That should count for something.”

  “Miss Braddock, there’s something—” Jade halted mid-sentence.

  “What is it, hun?”

  “Oh nothing. Can I help set the table?”

  “Sure! Plates and cups are in that cupboard behind you.”

  As Jade went about setting the table, she placed a hand on her stomach briefly.

  She smiled softly.

  All in due time.

  * * *

  “Come on boy, I can’t hold this thing forever!”

  Thomas Braddock held a wooden stake level while Joe stretched a length of poultry wire toward it.

  “Keep your pants on, Dad. I got it.”

  Joe fastened the chicken wire onto the stake, then gave it a good tug, testing it for sturdiness.

  Tom smiled under his Scouts cap.

  As Joe moved to pound another stake into the ground with a sledge, he gestured at the battered cap, “I can’t believe you’re still wearing that thing?”

  “It’s my favorite hat. Why would I get rid of it?”

  “The Scouts haven’t been a hockey team since the Seventies, Dad. Get another hat.”

  Tom Braddock removed the cap to wipe some sweat from his brow. “I’ll get a new hat the day you settle down, boy.”

  Joe chuckled while he pounded the next stake, “That’ll be the day.”

  “That’s a mighty fine lady you have there. Didn’t want to say anything in front of your mother, but Jade reminds me of her—your Ma I mean.”

  “Well, they say men marry women that remind them of their mothers.” Joe gave the stake a few more taps. “Too bad Jade doesn’t remind me of Mom.”

  “Now don’t joke, son, you’re not good at it. You ain’t gettin’ any younger. And whatever you’ve been up to these past few years doesn’t seem to have done your complexion any favors either.”

  Joe’s first instinct was to deny his father’s statement, but he stayed quiet and let him finish his sermon.

  “When you told us two years ago that you were joining some new Unit and you couldn’t contact us, we didn’t complain. Your mother and I trust you and your decisions. We just want you to be safe, is all.”

  “You don’t need to worry about me, Dad.” Joe said, recognizing this as one of those ‘father’ moments he had to endure from time to time. His Pa was on a roll now, and nothing Joe could say would stop him.

  “Look, son, I saw things too, when I served. It’s hell out there, I understand that. But if this life isn’t for you, we’ll never judge you for making a new choice. It isn’t too late.”

  Joe dropped the mallet and picked up the stapler, “Dad, what is it that you taught me? Huh? Serve your country. Help those who can’t help themselves. It’s all I’ve ever tried to do. It’s all I know how to do. What am I if I’m not a soldier?”

  Tom Braddock grasped hold of the stake with his only hand. “I’m sorry, son. I’m no good at this. I’m just trying to say that your destiny may not be in the army, that’s all.”

  Joe pulled across the poultry mesh and began fastening it to the stake. “If you’d seen the things I have, Dad, you wouldn’t ask me that. You’d realize someone has to stand up against—” Joe stopped himself before he could say too much.

  “What, son?”

  “Nothing.” The stapler clicked in his hand, “I have thought about leaving, Dad. I…I love Jade, I know I do. But I just can’t let go of what I am.”

  Tom fell silent. There seemed more the old farmer wanted to say, but couldn’t vocalize his feelings. There was a rumble from the west, as dark clouds formed amidst the orange rays of sunset.

  “Looks like we’ll get a good rain tonight,” Tom said, changing the subject, “Soil needs it.”

  Joe finished clamping the rest of poultry mesh to the stake. With that done, Tom clapped Joe on the shoulder, “That’s good enough for today. Let’s go see what your Ma and pretty lady are fixin’ for supper.”

  Joe nodded. He collected the tools and began walking back to the house, his Dad by his side.

  Tom put his hand on Joe’s shoulder, “It’s good having you home, Joe. Stay as long as you like.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “There is one thing I don’t get, though.”

  “What?” Joe asked.

  “I’m surprised you picked one so skinny.”

  “Dad…”

  “A woman needs some meat on her bones, son. What else are yo
u gonna grab when you’re—”

  “Dad!”

  Tom Braddock laughed as he jogged toward the house, with Joe hot on his heels.

  * * *

  AFTER DINNER, the group sat in the living room, chatting about all manner of interests. Joe had missed the simple company of his parents and just enjoyed listening to them toss out anecdote after anecdote about times long past. Jade had already taken to his mother, something Joe had hoped would happen. Liza Braddock had a talent in bringing out the best in everyone and the two ladies were talking like they’d known each other for years.

  As night fell, rain started to pour outside. Joe’s parents took the opportunity to excuse themselves for the night. Joe told them they wouldn’t be far behind, as he wanted to catch up with the news. In the warmth of the small living room, tastefully decorated with Liza’s trinkets and Tom’s war memorabilia, Jade and Joe snuggled in front of the small tube TV.

  Jade stretched her arms, stifling a yawn, “Well I’m beat.”

  “Me too.” Joe said, channel surfing, “Looks like you and Ma got on pretty well.”

  “Oh, she’s awesome, Joe. I can see a lot of her in you.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

  Joe paused his surfing when he reached CNN. The hourly news was focused on a breaking story. The bottom graphic read Venezuela in Chaos.

  The reporter covering the situation was quite familiar to Joe.

  “Hey, look who it is!” Joe pointed at the female reporter, speaking in front of a massive crowd of demonstrators. Her auburn hair was pushed up tightly into her PRESS cap, and she wore an earpiece headset to speak.

  “This is Sarah Anders, and as you can see behind me, Venezuela has been sinking further into anarchy. Thousands of protestors have gathered to condemn a recent decision by President Manuel Ortega to purchase a contract with the Olympus Private Military. With recent clashes between government forces and members of the Venezuelan People’s Army growing extremely violent, the move is being seen as a massive misappropriation of government funds.”

  “Christ, now Venezuela. What the hell?” Joe cursed. All of the good vibes of the evening were shot down the toilet.

  Jade sighed, “It’s been going way downhill there for the past few months. General Walsh had a hunch that would be Olympus’s next target.”

  Sarah Anders continued her report. Behind her, the protestors had begun throwing objects at the government barricades.

  “We now have reports that the mercenary company known as the Vagabonds have been aiding the People’s Army against the government. As you can see by the graffiti here, the people believe the mysterious group are their only protection against the Olympus Private Military.”

  The image shifted to a wall covered in spray paint depicting a logo resembling a skull wearing a beret amidst a coat of arms of crossed rifles.

  Joe frowned. “The Vagabonds? I’ve never heard of them.”

  “They’re some sort of fringe group of mercs.” Jade replied, “They attacked an Olympus staging ground in Egypt back in August—devastated it to a man. From what we know, they’re a tough bunch.”

  The TV report continued, “More and more, as the Government loses control over the people, it’s looking like Venezuela is approaching anarchy. Sarah Anders, CNN, Caracas.”

  Joe shut off the television. There was a renewed weight on his heart, one that came when he realized he was helpless.

  Jade sensed what he was feeling, “It’s not your war, Joe. You aren’t ready to go back.”

  Joe managed a weak smile, “I know, babe. But where the hell does it end? Zimbala, Syria, and now Venezuela. It just never stops.”

  Jade leaned close to her man, nudging her forehead to his, “Let’s not think about this.” She kissed him on the cheek, “Let’s go to bed. You’ll feel better in the morning. I promise. Oh wait, I forgot…”

  “What?”

  Jade got up and fished something out of her duffle. Plopping down beside Joe, she handed him a small package wrapped in gift paper.

  “What is it?” Joe asked, taking the package.

  “It’s a present, what do you think?”

  “What’s the occasion?”

  “No occasion. Just thought you might like it.”

  “Can I open it now? Or do I need to wait until Christmas?”

  “Now, you dummy.”

  Joe ripped off the paper to reveal a small leather bound first edition of a book.

  “‘The Red Badge of Courage,’” Joe read the title aloud.

  “I found it in that little bookstore in Rosaryville. My mom always told me there was nothing like a good book. You’ll like it.”

  “Thanks. Maybe I can get to it if my Dad doesn’t crucify me with farm work over the next week.”

  Jade laughed quietly as she pulled Joe to his feet. He kissed her, reveling in the warm sensation of her lips against his. In this place he’d once called home, with this woman he cared for very much, he felt at peace with the world.

  He prayed it would last forever.

  But in Joseph Braddock’s world, peace always came with a price.

  Chapter 4

  New Arrivals

  The Cottage, Rosaryville, Maryland, October 1st

  “You throw like sick bird. Try again!”

  Krieger stood behind Packrat, as the Peacemaker’s designated pilot focused on the target twenty feet away. The Louisiana born and bred flyer gripped a stainless steel throwing knife in his sweaty hand as he aimed carefully at the fiberglass target Krieger had set up in the personnel lounge of the Cottage. Across from them, through a plexiglass window, was the second-floor basement of the Command building. At one time a hardened bunker used for Naval training exercises, the Peacemakers had recommissioned the complex to house its formidable collection of vehicles and advanced weaponry.

  Packrat held the knife out at length, sighting the humanoid target. He was about to throw when Krieger decided to chime in.

  “Don’t hold breath. Very bad. Keep breathing, one-two, then throw.”

  “Would ya’ let me do this?” Packrat said, irritably.

  “Just trying to help, little friend,” Krieger smiled as he stepped back. The team’s ace pilot—one of the best in the world at handling VTOL aircraft—seemed less than enthused at taking lessons from the shaggy mercenary. Having been forced to bond—more or less—with the musclebound Russian during the Syria operation, Packrat had become the butt-end of Krieger’s many awful jokes. And now, rather than working on the retrofit for the Spirit Walker like he wanted, Packrat was being forced to throw knives. It always seemed like it was up to Krieger to get his teammates to have a little fun once in a while.

  Behind the two men, running on one of several treadmills spread throughout the lounge, was the team’s new mission analyst and handler, Brianne ‘Headcase’ Williams. A recent addition to the Peacemakers, Headcase had been recruited to the team due to her extensive knowledge of surveillance technology. A former analyst for the CIA, she’d been a coup for Walsh’s Unit. A trained judo expert, the beautiful woman was perfectly capable of handling herself in a tussle.

  In a chair off against the far wall of the roomy lounge, Specialist Clive Rourke, one-time Navy SEAL, now the team’s resident sniping expert, sat reading a copy of John LeCarre’s Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. A devout spy novel fan, the SEAL was seemingly uninterested in what was transpiring between Packrat and the Unit’s resident bad boy.

  “Come on, Rat. Don’t think. Just breathe.” Headcase’s voice was labored as she jogged in place.

  Krieger nodded his agreement, “Yes my friend, listen to her. Breathing is everything. In two-three, out two-three—”

  “Would everyone just be quiet!” Packrat bellowed.

  Krieger stepped back, a smirk on his face. “Just trying to be helpful, Rat.”

  Packrat gritted his teeth and pulled his arm back.

  He threw the blade—

  —and missed by nearly three feet. The knife sailed
past the target to embed itself into the doorframe of the lounge entrance, just as Lieutenant Brick entered the room.

  “Bugger me!” Brick swore as he stared at the knife blade that had missed him by mere inches.

  All of the blood drained from Packrat’s face. Beside him, Krieger—who still held the other throwing knives in his hands—threw them to the ground and pointed at Packrat.

  “It was him. I know nothing of these knives!”

  Brick scowled. “Why the hell are you doing this facing the door? In fact, why are you doing this at all, and in the lounge…ah never mind. Orchid’s chopper is here. I need you all on deck to offload it.”

  Krieger sniffed, “Why us? You have, what nearly five hundred techs down there that could help—”

  “Only those with security clearance Level 4 are to assist the unloading: that’s you four. Now meet me on the parade ground in five minutes!” With that, the new second-in-command left, slamming the door behind him.

  “Touchy, isn’t he?” Krieger picked up the knives, playing with one of the steel blades deftly in his hand. It was then he felt the quiet form of Rourke step up behind him.

  “You could use a bit of discipline, you know that, Russian?”

  Krieger frowned. A year since he’d met the SEAL and he knew less about the man than ever. “What do you know of discipline, bashka?”

  Rourke took one of the steel knives Krieger was holding. “Discipline is what holds a team together. Without it, we each fall one by one. Remember that next time.” His eyes firmly on Krieger, Rourke flung the knife straight into the head of the practice dummy. Krieger stared, dumbfounded at the incredible throw.

  Without another word, Rourke followed after Brick, leaving Krieger with Headcase and Packrat.

  Krieger jerked a thumb in the direction of the departed ex-Navy sniper.

  “What flew up his nose?”

  Packrat shook his head as he picked up his things and made for the elevator, “No clue. He’s been actin’ all mopey since we got the budget increase.”

  “Mopey?” Krieger said, frowning, “How can you tell with him?”