by Angela White
The reference to the previous month’s lessons at a chicken farm in Northern Wyoming provoked laughter, but they knew he was serious. The man who had done it was no longer a part of Adrian's Army.
Doug and Kenn were on the inside of each rope, the big Irishman's face swollen and black where it wasn't covered by the bandage. Every man there was glad he'd come anyway, especially when the vet came through the trees leading a huge black-on-white cow by a thick rope around its neck. Attached to the cow's wide back was a harness tied to a sled. On the sled was a large wooden crate that grunted and squealed to protest the bumpy ride. Chris handed the ‘leash’ to Adrian and left, not looking at any of them.
The blond knew his men felt the vet’s displeasure. The man had been allowed to stay, despite his nasty mouth, because the camp needed to raise food. But the vet was angry and sullen. He believed slaughtering animals, even for food, was wrong. To Chris, not only humans had earned a new chance by surviving the war. Adrian agreed they didn't want to raise animals by the thousands in warehouses again, but they would produce their own food. They had to.
"We have to eat," he said getting their attention back. "We're going through the stuff we find just as quickly as it's brought in. Fresh meat will keep us out of the reserves, but anyone who feels like Chris is excused. I won't force you."
No one moved and he was pleased. These were hard-asses, this team hand-picked for their strength, and he had high hopes for them. He turned to Jeremy and Kevin, his steadier’s. "Your job is just what it sounds like. As I slice, one of you will slide the tub under and then help the other try to keep the flow going into it. When they pull, I'm gonna cut, but the legs will kick and they can knock you out, so be careful."
Adrian gave the pulling crew a look. "Slow until I make the cut, then fast and steady. Don't jerk any more than you have to and watch the other rope. Don't race. Stay even."
He looked around. "Everybody ready?"
Deleted Scene 2 –‘Shooting’
“Everyone shooting must sign in. Only people that have passed the gun class can enter. Shooters will stay in front of the gate, everyone else behind. Sign in folks and let’s get started.”
Jeremy was the MC tonight, Neil’s second Eagle, and as Adrian stepped by, he again caught a whiff of perfume he now recognized as Cynthia’s, but said nothing. He wasn’t worried the Eagle would slip with anything he shouldn’t. Before the war, Jeremy had been a devout Catholic, quiet and observant. He knew the meaning of secrecy and he’d found his place here, something the church had been unable to provide. The guard would be careful with it.
There was standing-room-only in the bleachers, and a large crowd lined the gate as the shooters signed in, and checked their weapons. Adrian was glad to see no real fear, no desperation in the faces of his people. The watching crowd talked loudly, betting on their favorites as they sat in chairs in the sand or on thick blankets, and the men shooting waited behind the gate, eager to start.
“Okay. We have 29 shooters tonight,” Jeremy announced.
Adrian stepped over to the clipboard on the bales of hay. “Make that 30.”
The crowd cheered loudly and the other shooters groaned.
“First, Kenn Harrison.”
The sun was gone now, the night dark and gritty, but the moon’s outline, while not clear, gave some light and made people feel better just to be able to look up and finally find it in the sky. It was something they hadn’t seen much of for almost a hundred days. The area was still dim, but huge spotlights on top of the trucks lit up the ball field and roller-bound targets.
The ones set at 25 and 50 feet were hardly a challenge to the men watching his XO get set, but the ones at 100 and 125 were, and all the contestants knew they would likely be gone before round seven. He and Kenn had dueled it out last time, easily leaving everyone else behind. When they were shooting, no one else stood a chance.
“As many direct hits as you can, any target. On your mark.”
The Marine grinned, holding the gun steady against the gusty wind, accounting for it, and then he was firing smoothly.
The crowd cheered when the call came and the guards on the perimeter stayed alert, knowing the noise would carry.
“Eight bulls eyes! Next, Adrian Mitchell.”
The leader checked his weapon, and then put it back into his holster, letting his hand hang loosely like an Old-West gunslinger.
The newer people, who hadn’t yet seen him shoot, watched nervously, sure he would miss and prove he was as fallible as the rest of those who had tried to lead.
Adrian’s hand was a blur as he drew and fired, fired, fired. He twirled the black 9 mm a single time and slid it neatly into the holster on his hip.
“Eight bulls-eyes!”
The crowd roared and Jeremy had to shout to be heard as Adrian grinned, stepped over to Kenn.
“Next, Kyle Reece.”
No one missed a shot until the end of the round. Mary and Heather, two females he’d sent to the class for match-making purposes, didn’t get any bulls-eyes, but Adrian was pleased that they had hit anything at all. For the women here, that was definite progress.
The third woman, Lexa, was a gun shop owner from Los Angeles. Short, with a big chest and a long, brown ponytail, she hit half the targets, making Adrian wish he could add her to his list for the next Level One Eagles. Her draw was beautiful, almost a perfect copy of his, and with a little instruction, it would become as natural to her as breathing.
Adrian wondered if he would ever get his Eagles to accept women on the teams. He needed one of these shell-shocked females to be a warrior in disguise that could hold her own among his army and make the rest of the camp accept it too. For now though, it looked like Lexa was eliminated.
“Last shooter. Rebecca Ann Kelly.”
The cute teenager moved toward the line and Adrian frowned as the crowd cheered and catcalled. Had she made it through the gun class somehow without him knowing it? There was always a wait because he hand-filled over half the seats.
Adrian was almost certain she hadn’t, but instead of immediately calling her on it, the leader let her have one try, thinking again of how much he needed one of these timid homemakers to really be Xena, the warrior Princess.
Becky was innocent, sexy, playful, and many of his men were watching the slender girl, waiting for her sixteenth birthday in October, when it would be legal to ask her out. That included Kenn, but Adrian thought she had a thing for one of his other top guards. Either way, the girl would be something here. What, was up to her.
Rebecca’s reddish blond hair was wild with frizzy curls and she brushed it back impatiently as she took her place, knowing she would only have this one chance to get noticed, to show these men she was useful too. She’d almost swallowed her tongue when Adrian signed in, sure he’d see her name and single her out…
“Anytime you’re ready, shooter,” Jeremy encouraged, eager to get the next round started, and the nervous girl nodded. She was ready now and she wanted them to know, needed Adrian to know.
Feeling the magic, the confidence of holding a gun she knew she could use, Becky pulled the trigger gently, lovingly. The light recoil was well controlled and she was smiling as she aimed and pulled, lined it up and pulled again.
The bullets dug into the targets, and she turned her eyes to the frowning blond man moving her way, while the crowd waited for the call.
“Eight Hits, 5 bulls-eyes!”
They were as loud for her as they had been for Kenn, and she was grinning in satisfaction as the leader stopped next to her, eyes impressed and displeased at the same time.
“That’s some impressive shooting, Miss Kelly.”
She grinned, face lighting up at his words, and then she dropped her head, remorseful. She hadn’t broken his rules lightly. Now she would pay the price.
“I’m sorry.” She moved toward Jeremy without waiting to be told. “I have to withdraw.”
The Level Two Eagle frowned as the crowd muttered, and those
who knew she hadn’t taken the class waited to see if Adrian would let her ruin her own chances here by owning up to it. If she admitted she cheated, it would be a label she’d carry forever.
“Why?”
“Because I…”
“She forgot she has a shift with the Vet. Right now, we’ll move onto the next round since we’re losing a shooter.”
Adrian’s calm words weren’t doubted and his men were pleased. If Becky had ruined herself tonight, they couldn’t show any interest in her, not without losing their place by Adrian, and that was now something most of these men would never jeopardize.
“Rebecca is eliminated. Kenn will start round two.”
Becky smiled gratefully at Adrian as she left, very thankful he’d chosen to stop her admission. His men weren’t the only ones who were aware of all she’d risked to be noticed.
“Three shots this time and only those beyond 25 feet count. Bottom two will be eliminated.” Jeremy looked at Kenn. “You ready?”
The Marine opened fire in answer.
Deleted Scene 3 – ‘Training’
1
Adrian and Kenn reached the dust-covered farmhouse at the same time, both easily avoiding the Level Ones who were clustered behind the big barn. Daryl was nowhere in sight and they watched the small group of men talk for a minute - Neil clearly refusing leadership as instructed. When the rookies moved, Adrian saw it was Seth who led them.
The small team slowly swept the barn and shed, but avoided the house, as Adrian had known they would. When they disappeared inside the barn, he and Kenn moved to the long porch of the farmhouse to watch the show. This was a draft area. Wrecked army trucks and uniformed dead already stripped of their weapons, doors kicked in, but there was no longer dried blood stains, only charred frames in the distance, now mostly covered in sand. Thanks to the slight sloping hill, the camp's view was blocked, but Adrian hated it even as he used it. To be out of sight was to feel out of control.
As they watched, a black-clad shadow with hardware on his back slid down a tree near the barn’s blind side.
Daryl edged silently around the corner to the front doors and picked up a 2x4 from a tall stack that lay alongside the faded red cowshed. He slid it in the front door handles, quietly blocking an easy escape route without drawing any attention.
Those inside were looking out only a single window high on the second floor loft, unable to see below the overhang, and with no guard posted, the Level Three Eagle had full access.
Daryl un-slung and hefted the grenade launcher to his shoulder in one smooth movement, stepping into sight as he aimed at the window.
Faces ducked and men yelled a late warning as he fired.
“Incoming!”
“Get down!”
Glass shattered and a loud hiss of smoke echoed as the canister exploded in a huge cloud of tear gas. Everyone bolted for the blocked doors, shoving and throwing themselves against the wood that wasn’t quite rotten enough to break.
Hearing panic and leadership, Adrian and Kenn joined Daryl in front of the barn, watching thick, gray smoke roll out of the broken window and from under the molding boards.
“Door’s blocked!”
“Shoot us out!”
‘Can’t see!”
“Someone light a flare and do it now! Everyone else, shut up!”
There was immediate silence and then that same calm, assertive voice, “There. Up and out the window. Move! Alex, Jack, you two go first and provide cover.”
The men were climbing out seconds later, dropping from the loft’s overhang into the thick sand, and everyone had a laugh at the sight of Adrian holding up his watch.
“That beats the last time. New record! Gather around,” Adrian lit a cigarette as they did, seeing Seth was already the center of his team. Good.
“Eagle Four is due through here in about 30 minutes. Your mission is to keep all of them away from me. I’ll be somewhere in the house. Daryl is your hostage. He goes in a chair in the middle of the road. Set the rest as you see fit. When the vest goes off, you’re out. Questions?”
There were none. A mistake they won’t make next time, he thought, turning to Neil, “Who took charge after the smoker?”
“Seth.”
Adrian nodded, eyeing Neil’s hat. It was clear now that he’d never get the trooper to wear any cover but that Arizona Gray. He had decided maybe that was all right. It showed the men that they could be his and their own at the same time.
“You’re the leader here. Seth is your second. Weapons go under the wheelbarrow. Move ‘em out.”
Neil gave Adrian a look that said he had questions, but he knew this was to teach the men and his green eyes lit up at the sudden thought of himself as a drill instructor in Adrian’s army. That was usually Kyle or Doug's honor.
“Let’s go, in the barn. Seth, make us a plan. Alex and Jack on watch. One from the roof, one in that tree. Move out.”
Adrian and Kenn watched them from the dust-covered porch of the farmhouse as the battle plan emerged. One Eagle used the huge, concrete planters to the side of the loosely bound “hostage” in the road as cover, two men staying just inside the wide open barn doors. Another two ducked under the dusty bushes to the left of the big shelter and a final man lurked behind the wide, paint-chipped shed at the side of the barn.
They spread themselves out, a wall of strength between the road and the gritty porch where Adrian and Kenn were talking quietly.
“Who’ll make it through?”
“Kyle, for sure.”
“You want an extra body guard?”
“Of course. The last set of gear is for you,” Adrian handed it to him. “I thought in the house, as a surprise.”
They grinned and smoked, watching the Level One’s fidget. When the faint sounds of engines came to them, definitely the quiet Safe Haven set-ups, Adrian pointed.
“I’ll be in the room directly above us. Have fun with Kyle and keep an eye on Seth. I want to know how he handles himself.”
2
From his second floor vantage point, Adrian watched it all. As soon as he saw the shadow sneaking towards the house, he knew who would win and was impressed.
The invading men slid through the un-harvested hayfield behind the dusty yard within just a few minutes, the engine left running a very good distraction technique. Adrian wondered if Kenn had seen the shadow come in the back door. Probably, the Marine missed little.
Kyle's team moved closer slowly. When they were in range, there was a short whistle that had Daryl rolling his chair onto its side in the sand, clearing a line of fire for the Level Threes, who immediately began shooting. Vests began to flash bright blue as the very quiet attack started.
No one yelled or called out orders, and only two of the more experienced Eagles had been shot when it was done. Watching from the window as they rounded-up the rookies, Adrian was waiting. There were still two surprises lurking.
Kenn opened fire from inside the front door as Kyle's men approached carelessly and he got them all. He darted to another window and hit one of the two men running by. Grinning, Kenn took up a defensive position just feet from the stairs that led to Adrian, the annual paintball competition they’d won at Ft. Defiance this year making the movements smooth, sure.
Floorboards creaked to his right and Kenn shoved his gun around the corner, firing in a sweeping motion that sent blue lights flashing off gritty windows and faded gifts still under a drooping tree.
It lit up the house and allowed Kenn to notice the shadow he’d missed. He had time to see the deep satisfaction fill Kyle’s pale eyes and then his vest was flashing too.
Out, Kenn flipped him the finger.
Kyle nodded, grin widening as he eased up the steps.
The door at the end of the long hall was open. There was only one blurred set of prints on the dusty floor, and Kyle relaxed, put away his inner Marine at the sight of Adrian sitting on the edge of a cluttered, cobwebbed dresser.
“Congratulations on ma
king it passed Kenn.”
Kyle grinned, moved into the small room, “So we won?”
Adrian held out his hand, eyes full of warning that the tanned Eagle missed, “Soon as we shake on it.”
Kyle’s arm moved and then he froze as the flashing blue lights of his vest bounced off the walls. He’d been shot!
Caught completely off guard, Kyle searched the shadows in disbelief for his assassin. The Genovese Captain had never been beaten with only surprise used, not even by Kenn. “Who is that?”
Seth stepped out of the dusty darkness, grinning as he re-holstered and removed the black cap that had hidden his red hair from the mobster’s sharp view.
“The last man standing.”
Adrian clapped. “Excellent. Come on. Let’s get back to camp.”
Kyle turned to Adrian, voice angry, “Was this your plan? Was he up here the whole time?”
“He came up about two minutes before you did. Kenn was the only one who knew exactly where I’d be.”
Kyle turned back to Seth, “But I saw you…”
They followed Adrian while they talked about it and when the dark headed Eagle laughed at something the rookie said, Adrian decided it had gone very well. Both teams had learned lessons, especially Kyle’s, and they’d bonded a little more. When the time came, they would have these exercises to guide them.
Delete Scene 4 – Pat Michaels
12/21/2012
Granite Mountains Complex
Stunned, Press Secretary Pat Michaels sat in the back of the large, crowded room that was embedded under a dank maze of tunnels. Half a mile beneath a secret military base, the compound was now being overrun with terrified citizens demanding the protection they knew the Essex could (but would not) provide.
The limestone command center was thick with smoke and people, some of them in on the original testing of these weapons. Pat hoped his own punishment would not be as harsh as theirs. After all, they had known firsthand what a horrible thing had been created. It was so powerful, so unstoppable, that the America above them was about to be destroyed and a new, hostile world would take its place.