Determination

by Nathan Jones

  “My job is to guard the canyon, Smith, not go running off to save your bacon every time you screw up. I warned you it was a bad idea. Convincing you to call off your ambush is all the help you should've needed from me.”

  Before Trev could respond Davis slammed his hands down on the railing, making them both jump and turn his way. The sergeant's eyes were on road, as if he couldn't stand to look at either of them. “That's enough finger pointing from both of you. The attack didn't go as well as it could've, it happens. Figure out what went wrong and do better next time and leave it at that.”

  The older man immediately straightened. “Of course. I'll get back to the pavilion for the meeting you called.”

  Davis gestured curtly in dismissal. “Fine. Contact your people and let them know I've got a man on the radio, ready to relay my words to everyone out at their posts, too.” The former sheriff nodded and started off, at least until the Marine continued. “Vernon.” Vernon paused. “Don't think you're fooling anyone. You had a good excuse not to go, but you still didn't go.”

  The former sheriff turned to look back at them, face twisted in a bitter smile. “Well then I guess I can't do anything right even when I do it right. Another thing to feel guilty about, eh?” He started up the slope.

  Davis sighed and turned to Trev. “I don't want to hear a word from you, Smith. Vernon may not be as good as I'd hoped, but he's not as bad as you think, either. And he's right that you shouldn't have gone into that fight expecting help he hadn't agreed to give you.”

  “Is that why you wanted to talk to me? Chew me out for the mistakes I made last night?”

  “I never was a fan of kicking a man when he's down.” The sergeant leaned back against the railing. “Although if you want to talk about how you could've done it better, that's a conversation I'd be happy to have.”

  “Maybe you should have it with my replacement,” Trev said quietly, surprising himself. He hadn't been planning to say those thoughts out loud. Davis gave him a sharp look and he continued a bit defensively. “I probably should be replaced, right? I got five people killed.”

  The sergeant nodded. “Yeah, you did.”

  Trev gave him a stricken look. He hadn't exactly expected comforting words, but the guy had just got done talking about not kicking a man when he was down.

  Davis sighed again. “You know what a leader is, Smith? Simplest question in the world, and somehow everyone gets it wrong. Or they get it half right with an answer like “It's the guy in charge.”

  Trev did his best to hide his impatience. He wasn't in the mood for a lecture.

  The sergeant seemed to read that in his expression, because his eyes narrowed. “The leader is the person who takes responsibility, plain and simple. That's pretty much the only definition of the word that means anything. Responsibility for getting things done, responsibility for taking care of the people who depend on them. And responsibility for the consequences of their decisions. Because let's face it, most people don't want to take responsibility for anything, especially not themselves. Everyone's got an opinion, and plenty of criticism for what they think are the wrong choices, but they're still looking for someone else to make that choice for them so they can duck the consequences.

  “And that's the thing,” Davis continued. “Leading people isn't just being the one who tells everyone what to do or sees they get it done. Everyone wants to be the leader when they think it's just bossing other people around, until they actually have to step into that role. Because at that point they realize that a leader also has to be ready for when their decisions don't turn out so great, or even to be criticized when they do. Believe me, it happens more often than any of us would like. And the hardest time to be a leader is when people can die on the back of your decisions.”

  “So what do I do then?” Trev asked, fighting frustration. He'd done his best, but he wasn't sure if he could handle knowing he'd gotten good people, friends, killed, when maybe he could've prevented it.

  Davis was still looking at him, but his gaze had gone somewhere else. “You shoulder the burden, because there's no easy answers or trite comforts anyone can give you. Or you decide you can't handle that burden and you step away. But if you do that, you have to face the truth that you'll probably be leaving a mess behind. And when that happens the people you took responsibility for usually end up suffering for it.”

  “So I just keep going.”

  “You knew that was the answer without me needing to say it.” The sergeant's attention abruptly focused on him again. He stepped forward, putting a hand on Trev's shoulder. “I know I just talked about trite comforts, but if I'm any judge you're a good leader, Smith. You take your responsibility seriously, you're careful with your decisions, and you're willing to learn from your mistakes.”

  Trev nodded, but Davis was right that the words sounded a bit trite.

  The Marine's expression firmed. “So learn one of the hardest lessons. That no matter how hard you try, how careful you are, sometimes the people who depend on you are going to die. You knew that from the beginning, but knowing and understanding are two different things. And when it finally happens you have to find that balance, between taking responsibility for those deaths but not letting responsibility for them crush you.”

  After a short, solemn pause Trev stepped away. “Thanks, Sarge,” he said quietly. He turned to leave.

  Davis's voice followed him up the slopes. “By the by, for now I'm putting your squad with Larson's guarding the southern slope. Also I'll get some people to dig graves so you can hold a service for your friends before the meeting.”

  Trev nodded. “I'll go get the others.”

  As he started up the slope Davis shouted at his back. “And next time you're planning something fancy, fill me in first!”

  Trev hesitated, then kept going, trying to decide if he felt any better. The answer was no, but at the same time he'd abandoned any idea of stepping down. Unless of course his squad demanded it, which he didn't think would happen. Even if he wouldn't blame them for it.

  Davis was right, he'd taken on the responsibility. He'd bear up under it and keep going for his people. Although he had to admit it was a bit of a relief that he'd be serving under Matt for now.

  Chapter Ten

  Switching Up

  There was a generous attendance at the funeral for the five fighters they'd lost last night.

  Most of the people in camp showed up at least for the service, and many stayed around afterwards long enough to pay their respects. But with breakfast being served only a handful aside from the Aspen Hill volunteers lingered. Trent was one of those, and twenty or so of the recruits Trev's squad had trained.

  They spent the breakfast hour sharing memories of their fallen friends, picking at the food a handful of cooks thoughtfully brought out for them. Trev appreciated the fact that nobody seemed to be blaming him for what happened. Most of his squad mates went no farther than to lament that nobody'd caught sight of the blockheads who ambushed them.

  All too soon Davis was calling for the meeting to begin, and Trev and Matt and a couple of the volunteer leaders who'd stuck around excused themselves to head to the new mess tent.

  It was just four tarps hung up between trees and tied together through the loopholes, with another one strung across for a roof. There was no center pole to prop up the sagging plastic, and although it hadn't rained since being put up nobody expected it to be waterproof.

  The morning breeze running down the canyon was enough to make the tarps snap and flap loudly as everyone gathered, the buzz of conversation even louder to compensate. It took about fifteen minutes for all the leaders to arrive, especially the ones in charge of the northernmost sections of the territory Davis's group was assigned to guard.

  Once everyone was assembled a Marine called them all to order. He was a tall, lean, dark-haired man in his late 30s, with close cropped hair and a clean-shaven face. That sort of grooming was unusual in the camp these days. He identified himself as Sergeant
Harmon. “I'm going to be in charge of coordinating with the volunteers defending this area, and overseeing our defenses here,” he finished, then stepped back.

  There was a low murmur of confusion. Trev looked past Harmon to where Davis and Williams stood. Was Davis being reassigned? Demoted?

  Their former leader nodded to Harmon and stepped forward. “All right, listen up, people!” he called, an unnecessary request since the tent had fallen silent the moment he started moving. “As you've probably guessed, there's going to be some changes. This meeting is to fill you in on them. First off, how many of you have heard about Mr. Smith's decision to attack a blockhead patrol without receiving orders to do so?”

  There was an uncertain pause, then about half the hands went up. Trev hunched down slightly as eyes turned towards him, feeling like a student called out in front of the class for misbehaving.

  Or not, he realized as Davis continued. “By his squad's reports and Private Abrams's best estimate, they managed twenty-three confirmed kills in the attack and lost five people. We mourn the deaths of those we lost, but by any objective standard his attack was a success, and would've been a complete success if it hadn't been a trap.”

  The sergeant abruptly scowled, looking around. “You want to know the reason why they were able to set up that trap? Because the enemy has been moving with impunity, knowing we'll only hit them if they walk right up to us hiding behind our defenses. They spent days patrolling closer and closer to our positions, testing our response. They had all the time in the world to set up on us and dangle some bait practically on our doorstep.”

  Trev supposed that was a good way of looking at it. He thought of the blockheads Matt had ambushed on the slope a mile south of here, who'd been practically crawling through the trees to avoid notice. Meanwhile the ones his squad had attacked had been moving cautiously but openly on the ATV trail.

  Davis's scowl became something else, almost a worried frown. “General Erikson and General Lassiter are being pushed back to the north and south,” he continued quietly. “General Erikson had to abandon several of his positions over the last few days, and Lassiter lost over four thousand of his soldiers to hold on to his. A very big part of their problem is this valley.”

  He pointed vaguely eastward. “The enemy controls it completely. They can send troops north or south as needed along the roads down there, as well as supplies, and can also keep reinforcements stationed where they can quickly move where they're needed. Folks, those thousands upon thousands of enemy soldiers down there aren't for our benefit.”

  “Are you saying you want us to go down there and attack them at their own fortified positions?” Vernon asked.

  Trev didn't miss the slightly contemptuous look Davis shot the man's way. “I'm saying that while Sergeant Harmon leads our defenses, me and my Marines will be making attacks into the valley. We've been instructed to destroy any roads we can, and do everything possible to disrupt the movement of troops and supplies through this area.”

  He waved at the volunteers. “As for you guys, I'm giving you all enough extra fighters that you can guard your areas, and have some free to rest or find other things to occupy yourselves. We're guarding a stretch of almost twenty miles here, people. That's a lot of room for potential mischief. From this point on I'm strongly encouraging you to take any opportunity you see to hit at the enemy, like Smith did yesterday. Be smart about it, and be careful, but do it. We need to make them bleed.”

  Davis looked them all over, then glanced back at Harmon and nodded. The other sergeant stepped forward. “Before I dismiss you back to your duties, I'd like to talk about responding to the changes. First off we need to change how we go about reporting activity. We've relied on this camp, which is near the southernmost part of the area we've been assigned to guard, as a central hub. It's slowed us down, especially closer to Aspen Hill Canyon. I'd like to have two more hubs, six and twelve miles north of here, to streamline our operations.”

  He turned to nod to Davis. “We also need to assign two squads to take the place of Sergeant Davis's Marines as quick responders. As well, I'd like to assign another group, one to three squads, to serve as quick responders in the event that the Sergeant's squads need assistance or reinforcement. This will stretch us thin, but with the reinforcements I brought it should be doable. And it'll be worth it, because this area will be much more secure afterwards.”

  Harmon paused and looked around. “I look forward to working with you, and I'll be speaking with all of you in the next few days. Until then, dismissed.”

  Trev glanced at Matt, who shrugged. “Can't say I mind the thought of hitting back,” his friend said. “Looking forward to seeing what kind of trouble Davis and his guys manage to stir up out there.”

  “Not too much for us, I hope.” Trev started for the exit. “Let's get our people to the southern slope. With both our squads there we should have plenty of extra people for hunting.”

  “Including some blockhead hunting in the valley?” Matt asked, following him.

  Trev hesitated, feeling a wrench in his gut. “Maybe.”

  His friend caught his shoulder just as they stepped around the tarp. “Hey,” he said quietly. “It won't be like last night again. We won't rush into anything . . . we'll be more careful.”

  “We were careful,” Trev shot back. At Matt's concerned look he relented. “We won't rush into anything,” he agreed. “But let's worry about that once we've got everyone settled.” His friend nodded, and they started circling around the mess tent to head up the slope.

  They'd only gone a dozen or so steps when one of the other volunteer leaders called for them to wait up. Trev recognized Harvey Fredrickson, who'd been part of the group Trev's squad had trained.

  “Hey Trev,” the older man said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I just wanted to offer my condolences for your loss. Miles and Tom went out of their way to help my people while you were training us, and we're in their debt. The world lost five good men yesterday.”

  Trev nodded, fighting back his emotions. “I appreciate that.”

  Harvey dropped his hand, but hesitated and lowered his voice, glancing back at the tent. “Is it true Vernon didn't help you when you needed it?”

  He also glanced back at the tent, wondering if it would piss Davis off if he told the truth. “I asked him to help me with the attack and he refused. Then when things went bad for us I called in for help again, and he wouldn't budge from his place in the canyon.”

  “I see.” The volunteer sighed. “I don't know if you knew, but his men have been badmouthing you and the other Aspen Hill volunteers at every opportunity.”

  “We knew,” Matt said sharply.

  Harvey shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I didn't pay much attention to it since it's none of my business, but if he's not going to have my back when things go wrong that's something I do have to consider.”

  Trev shook his head. “I can't tell you whether that's the right choice. I don't want to cause problems in the camp, especially not when we're all relying on each other to survive. But I know for sure I don't trust him anymore. My people will be keeping our distance.”

  “I don't blame you.” Harvey nodded to them, then strode off towards the trail leading north to where his squad was set up.

  Once he was out of earshot Trev glanced over at Matt. “Going to tell me to try to get along?”

  “With Vernon? F that guy.” His friend started up the slope again. “Come on.”

  * * * * *

  Over the next five days Lewis received reports of Davis and his Marines wreaking havoc to the south.

  It was a careful sort of havoc, though. The sergeant and his people took great care to avoid blockheads entirely, escorting their demolitions specialists to important roads and planting explosives, then just as cautiously extracting. From the sounds of it they took out key sections of seven roads in that time, including Highway 10 along a couple points.

  Sometimes, when they thought it was safe, they'd re
mote detonate when a convoy was passing and do some damage. Just as often they'd simply destroy the road and walk away, leaving enemy vehicles to find another way around.

  Lewis had a feeling that at some point Davis would set up on one of those alternate routes and hit a convoy, if the sergeant thought they could get away afterwards and the damage was worth the risk. At least, it was a strategy he would try if he was destroying roads.

  Surprisingly the helicopter didn't make an appearance in spite of the nuisance the Marines were making of themselves. Lewis wasn't sure if the blockheads had been spooked off by the near missile hits, or if it was being used elsewhere. It might've even been destroyed without him hearing about it. Either way, he was glad it didn't show up.

  Because Lewis was causing his own problems around the area of Aspen Hill.

  Since he'd quieted down his attacks the blockheads below had been shifting manpower away from defensive emplacements, and that exodus had doubled when Davis started making noise to the south. Lewis figured that was a good time to get his volunteers back in action, so they'd resumed their sniper attacks both north and south of the canyon road.

  He'd even risked driving the truck, which sported numerous bullet holes after the blockhead's attack in the night and had needed to have its headlights replaced, far enough down the canyon to turn the heavy machine gun on the emplacement guarding the canyon's mouth. It hadn't been for long, and from such an extreme range that accurately aiming was practically impossible, but even if it hadn't done much damage he hoped it'd spooked the enemy.

  The attacks had done their damage, in small ways, but the point of them had been to make the enemy think that Lewis didn't have anything bigger planned. Which hopefully meant they wouldn't be expecting anything the morning of the fifth day, when he took his people through the mountains north of Aspen Hill headed for Helper, to take out Highway 6 in the canyon just north of the town.

  That had been the plan, at least. Unfortunately in spite of their somewhat asinine nickname the blockheads weren't idiots, and although these mountains didn't have any particular strategic value the enemy did hold them, so they were patrolling them.