The Lieutenant stifled a laugh.
“Another rule. Prior to entering the combat zone, it is okay to laugh at smart-ass comments. A good laugh afterwards helps also. It keeps you sane.” He waited for the Lieutenant to perform his reload and function check. Then, he waved at the rest of the Response Team, who had fanned out to provide 360 coverage of the three vehicle convoy.
“Okay, Lieutenant. I will be back a yard and to your left, protecting your six and giving you a good two hundred degree arc of fire. Gun up, high ready. We know the enemy is there, just a question if they’re going to come out and play. Put the selector on three round burst.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Move out.” They started walking toward the tree line.
Abigail slid her .44 Magnum Marlin Lever Action from its sheath, checked the round in the chamber and made sure it was on half-cock safety. As Torbin and Lieutenant Baker began to increase the distance from the vehicles, Abigail moved slowly out a few yards from the vehicles. She had the rifle resting at a low ready, watching her friend.
Sergeant Wall walked up to her. ‘Excuse me Ma’am. I just wanted to apologize if we were a bit crude earlier…”
Abigail chuckled. “I have heard much worse, Sergeant. But I understand what Captain Bender and Lieutenant Baker are trying to do. I am a foreign representative and a female, so they want to insure I’m treated with respect. But, please, no offense taken. I understand comradeship, even if in Deseret we rarely used profanity. Ribbing and kidding each other in the Twenty helped us to remember the special bond we had. As you and your men have.”
The Sergeant looked at her rifle. “Begging your pardon, but do you think that level action can do better than our 50 and our automatics?”
Without taking her eyes off or Torbin, she answered. “The amount of rounds down range can help, but there is no substitutions to rounds impacting the target. One hit is better than ten misses, especially dealing with demons—what you call Eaters.”
The Sergeant looked closer at Abigail. Damn, good looking, smart and tough, too. How did the Skipper always manage to hook up with the best women?
“Well, Ma’am, I’ll just help cover your flank.”
Abigail smiled. “That will be just fine. Thank you very much, Sergeant Wall.”
Torbin scanned the tree line and the Lieutenant’s six. So far, so good. They approached steadily, but not quickly. No need to hurry to your demise.
Fifty yards from the tree line, an Eater exploded from the foliage directly in front of them. Lt. Baker fired a three round burst directly into the creature’s face, destroying its large left eye and penetrating to its brain pan. It sprawled face first into the dirt and grass.
“Good shot. Stay frosty.”
The men by the Humvees saw the action. “One down, one to go,” someone commented loudly.
“Keep alive, people. Remember Evanston.” Sgt. Wall called out. There, two had turned into fifty.
The second Eater dashed out from ten o’clock, Lt. Baker swinging his rifle toward the threat. He fired too quickly, only one round of the three shot burst hitting solidly. Before he got a chance to fire a second burst, Torbin’s shotgun boomed. The slug hit right between the Eater’s oversized eyes, putting it down flat.
“Take that extra fraction of a second and get a good on target. Then, you won’t have to worry about a follow-up. Three rounds through the eyes, or between them, screws up their version of a brain.”
“Yes, Sir, will do.”
Torbin looked around. Nothing.
“Well, whaddya know. I guess there were only two…”
Torbin’s offhand remark apparently offended the Gods of Murphy’s Law of Combat. One law states “Never make a comment out loud about how the situation is over.” The Gods hate that, and will say “Oh yeah? How about this, ass wipe?”
Three Eaters exploded out from the tree-line, directly in front of them. Torbin had already racked a fresh shell into his shotgun, so it was just a matter of waiting for one Eater to get within twenty-five yards when he fired. The eight double-ought buck pieces of shot stayed sufficiently in pattern so that four slammed into its open mouth, one hit its left eye, the other three went a bit wide. The Eater began to spin around in a circle, clawing at the invisible enemy that was causing it the pain.
Lt. Baker fired two three short bursts into the one directly in front of him, destroying its brain. It sprawled into the dirt, just as Torbin hit the third one between the eyes with the slug load. It pancaked and laid still, to be replaced with three more Eaters, all spread out.
“Run!” Torbin yelled. Lt. Baker turned around and began a world record sprint back toward the Humvees. Torbin glanced at the advancing Eaters, thinking about shooting the nearest one when Murphy’s Law of Combat really bit him in the ass. He stepped into a gopher hole.
The plan had been to get closer to the covering forces so that they could easily shoot the Eaters without endangering Torbin or the Lieutenant with stray shots. When Torbin’s foot found the gopher hole, it changed the dynamics of the situation. He went sprawling. His left ankle began to signal with pain receptors that something had been damaged. Torbin rolled over onto his back, drew his .44 pistol and started to aim at the nearest approaching Eater. He thought momentarily how this was such a stupid way to die. Tripped up by a gopher hole and dinner for some Eaters. But he wasn’t dead yet.
When Torbin had turned around and began running back, Abigail had taken two long strides toward him, then assumed a kneeling shooting position. As she gained a sight picture with her Marlin, Torbin tripped and fell. As Torbin rolled over and drew his revolver, Abigail drew a bead on the nearest Eater.
Two reports came so close together that they sounded as if from an automatic weapon as opposed to a lever action, and then two .44 caliber rounds slammed into the nearest Eater, shattering its brain case. One second Torbin had a viable target, the next second it was sprawled a few yards from his feet.
Shots from the Response Unit, including from the Ma Deuce, rang out. The two other Eaters went down. Then, six Eaters dashed out from cover. The smell of Eater blood and remains seemed to send every one of the BEMS into a feeding frenzy, drawing any in the area toward Torbin like strong magnets. It was rapidly becoming another Evanston.
Torbin started to get up, to see if he could put weight on his ankle. Before he could, someone grabbed the rescue strap on the back of his tactical vest and yanked hard. Torbin found himself being drug backwards on the wild grasses at a surprising rate as he heard a war cry resounding around him. He realized that Lt. Baker was the source of the loud cry, and was belying his rather slender appearance by dragging Torbin like a dog with a pull toy. Rather than try to interfere with the Lieutenant’s momentum by getting up, he just tried to enjoy the ride. The wild grass provided somewhat of a cushioning surface to slide on, but his ass still bumped hard against a couple of hidden rocks. More bruises to add to the collection. Being on his back, he managed to look and see Eaters catching up. He tried to bring his pistol to bear.
Abigail stood up and began to Groucho walk in classic CQB style toward where the Lieutenant dragged Torbin. She knew that the further out front she got, the more danger of suddenly intersecting friendly fields of fire. She didn’t care. Her friend was in trouble, so she would take the chance of a bullet in her back to insure nothing got close to Torbin. She fired, worked the lever action, fired again. The nearest Eater to Torbin had its brains blown out with the large .44 Magnum round, then the next one took a round in its mouth. This Eater began to spin around, clawing at whatever was attacking its maw.
Boom, Boom. The Ma Deuce finally got on target, tearing BEMS in half as the rounds struck. Sporadic assault rifle fire hit others, eventually knocking them down. Another group of Eaters began to exit the tree line.
“40 Mike Mike on the trees!” Sergeant Wall yelled out the command over the din of gunfire. He needed to stop the enemy at its source if the Skipper and the Lieutenant were to survive. At this rate, soo
ner or later, a fast-moving Eater would slip through the fire and latch onto one of them. And now that crazy woman had put herself out front, asking to get eaten.
The last Humvee had an automatic grenade launcher on the roof position. A troop scrambled up and got it into action as a Rifle Grenadier launched a grenade into the tree line. As the 40mm grenades began to impact and explode, Eaters began dashing and darting in every direction, many all of a sudden losing limbs and flopping around on the ground.
Abigail fired her rifle, watching another Eater sprawl into the dirt, its brain destroyed. She slung the near empty weapon and drew her Glock. She moved to intersect the Lieutenant dragging Torbin. The surge of initial adrenalin was wearing off and Baker’s breath was coming in ragged gasps as his momentum slowed. Abigail sprinted over and grabbed onto the rescue strap.
“Here, Lieutenant, let me help.” He could not answer, but Abigail’s additional muscle got the speed of egress back up.
There were a series of grenade explosions, a couple of rifle shots, then silence. Abigail and Lieutenant Baker finally reached the forward riflemen and slowed down. Sgt. Wall sprinted over. “You can stop now. You’re back under protective fire.”
Lt. Baker collapsed to his knees. He then proceeded to lose his breakfast all over the grass and dirt. Abigail, panting a bit, went over to him and gently rubbed the back of his neck. “Take some deep breaths, Lieutenant. You’re just worn out. You’ll recover in a minute.”
Somehow, at Abigail’s touch, he managed to stop his retching. He then showed a hint of a smile. “Yes Ma’am.” Abigail smiled back. She then went to Torbin, who was unlacing his boot.
“If I keep twisting this ankle, I’m going to have to get it amputated and put a mechanical one in its place.”
Abigail knelt down and began to examine his foot and ankle. “Let me guess. You’re a medic also,” Torbin stated.
“An EMT. When I said I trained a lot, I wasn’t exaggerating,” Abigail said, smiling.
Torbin snorted. “You’re going to give me an inferiority complex. I’m over a decade older and I don’t have half the knowledge you have.” As she removed his sock and began to gently manipulate his foot and ankle, she answered, “But you get things done, Torbin. Much better than most people.”
“Yeah, like falling on my butt.” Abigail chuckled.
Sgt. Wall called out. “Knudsen, get down here.” When two voices answered, Sgt. Wall specified. “EMT Knudsen.” Two large Norwegian men, both looking like the late actor Dolph Lundgren, approached. Gunnar was the EMT, Rolf was a Rifleman Grenadier. Twins, they hailed from pure Norwegian stock from the North Dakota/Minnesota border area. They survived the Long Winter, and made it to Malmstrom to volunteer when they heard the U.S.A was reconstituting its Armed Forces. Both Private First Classes, they caught on fast as well as being bilingual.
Gunnar approached Abigail and knelt next to her. “Ma’am.”
Abigail removed her signature helmet with the winged design and smiled. “It looks like a bad strain, not a full sprain. If you could please check it out to see if my training has not gotten rusty…”
Rolf began talking loudly in Norwegian. Gunnar called out to him, trying to quiet him down. Abigail frowned as she heard him. Then, she spoke. “Please, a shield maiden? That is a very old term, which I am not.” Gunnar and Torbin both stared at Abigail.
“You speak Norwegian?” Torbin asked, having recognized a few words.
“Yes, I do.”
Torbin snorted. “Now, I really feel slow.”
Gunnar tried to apologize. “Sorry, Captain. Rolf is a follower of the old religion. He gets carried away sometimes. He saw your blonde hair, your fighting abilities…” He shrugged, expressing a what can I do with a crazy brother silent question.
“No offense taken, Private. I am an Avenging Angel of the Mormon Church. I respect his beliefs, but I am a follower of Christ. I could not be a…shield maiden.”
Torbin cut in right then. “Alright, educate this dense Jarhead. What is a shield maiden?”
Gunnar answered. “A strong female warrior among the Vikings. Although many are the subjects from myths, there are some historical documents from people the Vikings fought that refer to very tough female warriors at some major battles. They are said to fight alongside their men, their mates. Some say they are the basis for Valkyries, the mythical angel like beings that took the Viking dead to Valhalla after a battle.”
Torbin looked at Abigail. He kept his mouth shut, but he believed it could fit her to a “T”.
As Gunnar began to wrap his ankle, Torbin told Abigail. “Dropped your shotgun when I fell ass over teakettle. I’ll get it just as soon as the good Private finishes.”
“You will do no such thing. You need to rest your ankle so that your wife will not be upset and worry.” She stood up. “I’ll go get it.” Sgt. Wall had been in earshot when she said that.
“Knudsen, Rolf. You’re up. Help the Captain get her shotgun.” The huge man was there in a flash, towering over Abigail, who at a bit over 5’8” was not short.
“I am at your beck and call, Ma’am. Order, I do.” Rolf said in Norwegian. Abigail looked up into his bright blue eyes.
“I thank you, kind Sir.” She responded in Norwegian to Rolf. This brought a huge grin to his face.
“You are part of the old race, my lady. I sense royal blood.”
Abigail smirked. “Please, my father was Norwegian. As great of a person he was, he was definitely not royalty. Now, if you could come with me, I would appreciate it.”
“Yes, my lady.” They turned and retraced Torbin’s path, Abigail reloading her Marlin rifle as they went.
Torbin looked over at Lt. Baker, who was sipping from his canteen. “Sgt. Wall.”
“Yes, Skipper.”
“How far did the good Lieutenant drag my ass?”
Sgt. Wall paused in thought. “I’d say a hundred to a hundred and fifty yards by himself. Then, Captain Young showed up.”
“Hm.” Torbin was deep in thought. Then he spoke. “Sgt. Wall, do you know of the Mogadishu Mile Run the army used to do each year?”
“Yes Sir. My father was a young Ranger when that happened. The stories he told me made me join up.”
Torbin smiled. “Sgt. Wall, I think the Lieutenant, thanks to my clumsiness, just completed the first Wyoming Ass Drag. I think we now have an event all our own.” Torbin had spoken loud enough that most of the Response Team had heard it. Cries of “Ooragh” and Rebel Yells rang until Sgt. Wall yelled, “At ease!”
Torbin, his foot wrapped, began to put his boot back on. “Lieutenant Baker, are you going to make it?”
“Yes Sir.” The Lieutenant slowly stood up, a bit wobbly. Sgt. Wall walked over, ready to catch his Unit Commander if he fell. But Baker did not fall.
“Lt. Baker, you just saved my ass in a most spectacular manner. owe you one. And, I always pay my debts. You did good.”
Lt. Baker blushed, then grinned. The Response Team were all smiling, knowing that a young officer had just passed a major test—could he face fear and danger, and then respond in a correct manner. Lt. Baker had done that with flying colors.
“Gunnar Knudsen, could you help me stand up? I need to see if my boot is tight enough.”
Rolf and Abigail quickly found the shotgun, dirty but not damaged. She picked it up, working the action with practiced ease. “A little elbow grease, and it will be good as new.”
Rolf grinned. “You may not be of the old religion, the old ways, but you are a shield maiden. You know and handle weapons, and are good in a fight. I, Rolf Knudsen, do swear allegiance to you.”
Abigail sighed. “Private, as much as I appreciate your support, please. I am just a Captain, here to represent my Nation State. So, you would do me a favor by supporting your Lieutenant and Captain Bender in getting us back safe. Yes?”
Rolf grinned again. “Yes, my lady.” Abigail chuckled. Some men were so hard headed.
They made their way back to the Humvees
. When they arrived, Lieutenant Baker, now somewhat recovered, ordered everyone to mount up. No further Eaters had appeared.
Torbin sat next to Abigail in the back of the second Humvee. He turned and looked at her. “I’ve already thanked the Lieutenant for hauling my nuts out of the fire, and now it’s your turn. I don’t know how you did it, but you shot so fast I still didn’t get a chance to use this old hog leg.” He patted the .44 Magnum he had received from Madam President.
“How many did you shoot?”
Abigail thought, then responded, “I hit five with eight shots.”
Torbin grinned, then patted her shoulder. “Captain Young—Abigail—I thank you, the General thanks you, and most importantly, my wife thanks you.”
Abigail grinned self-consciously, her eyes dropped. “I just did what came naturally, my friend Torbin. Many others shot Eaters also. The Lieutenant dragged you out of harm’s way. I just helped.”
“Yes, but you keep helping, keep saving my poor, dumb ass. I think I am going to have to convince General Reed some way to shanghai you permanently, just so my wife won’t be a widow.”
Abigail really blushed as the small convoy began to move. She just wanted to help, to be useful. The fact that she seemed to be in the right place at the right time was fine, she just did not want a fuss to be made about it.
“You’re very welcome, Torbin. I know you’ll repay me in kind someday.”
Torbin paused. “In a way, I hope I don’t have to.”
CHAPTER 3
HOMECOMING
The rest of the trip, though long, was uneventful. It was past midnight before they entered the Main Gate, and that had been by stopping only to refuel and use the restroom. hey headed directly to General Reed’s office building, the Lieutenant emphasizing that the General had said he was going to stay there until Torbin arrived. Torbin felt very nervous, knowing that the Commanding General was staying up to all hours of the night for him. Not to mention that he wanted to see Aleks, who he knew was probably worried and pissed.
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