“No, I mean, because if he had died, then I know someone would say something about him being so close to retirement and that’s a huge cliché, and if someone didn’t say anything, then I would feel obligated to,” Sanchez said.
Hartford didn’t say anything for a second.
“Sanchez …” Hartford sighed as she rubbed her forehead.
“What?”
“Just… shut-up. Please.”
Brookes got up as Sanchez wouldn’t quit talking; he was obviously trying to get a rise out of Hartford, who finally gave up and delivered onto him a swift punch in the arm. Sanchez quickly shut-up as Brookes walked over to see how Akiyama was doing.
Akiyama was meticulously cleaning a single, corroded fifty-cal round with a small brush. The clean rounds, of which she only had five, were laying on a towel in a nice neat row. The rest of the rounds were soaking in some brackish looking chemical in the small baptistery to the left of the altar. Whatever it was, smelled terrible, faintly like rotten eggs.
“What’s that smell, Akiyama?”
“Huh?” Akiyama said as she looked up at Brookes who was pointing to the baptistery. “Oh, that’s my cleaning solution I use for heavily corroded rounds and other things. It’s my very own formula I developed, it works really well; I even thought about selling it at one time,”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, getting bullets for my rifle gets harder and harder all the time, so the rounds I do get are sometimes old surplus stores, and even occasionally some are Cold War-era surplus, if you can believe that?”
“Is that why you make your own bullets also?” Brookes asked.
“Yup. If you’re interested, when we get back to Orion I’ll show you how I reload the spent casings,” Akiyama said as she then started to furiously brush off a spot on the bullet that was giving her a little trouble.
“Do you need any help?” Brookes asked, and then without thinking picked up a bullet from the horrible smelling, sharp-burning solution.
“Ehh… I have rubber gloves for that, you know?” Akiyama said as Brookes quickly dropped the round back into the solution, and then quickly wiped off her left hand. “Heh… now your hand is going to smell like that stuff for a week.”
Brookes sniffed her hand and sure enough it now smelled like rotten eggs. Wonderful, she thought as she looked at her smelly hand in disgust.
“Thanks for asking anyway, Lieutenant, but I’m fine really. I like doing this kind of stuff; it helps me clear my head, and after the events of the last twenty-four hours I can really use it. And besides, I only have the one brush,” Akiyama said as she twirled the brush so that Brookes could see it, and then she began to wipe the crud off its bristles.
“I see. Well, I’m going to wash my hand for an hour. Later, Akiyama,” Brookes said as she turned walked back down the aisle to the bathroom.
As Brookes opened the double doors, Martin walked through and immediately caught a whiff of the odor from Brookes’ hand.
“Geez… Lieutenant, what is it with you and horrible smelling stuff?” Martin said as he walked past, waving his hand over his nose.
Brookes shook her head and walked to the bathroom. At least Cross isn’t sticking me with needles for this just yet, Brookes thought. She opened the door to the small women’s restroom.
She flipped the light switch; the florescent light bulb flickered on and off a couple of times, and then stayed on, providing a surprising amount of inadequate lighting for such a small space.
Brookes turned the hot water knob on the facet, for a half-second nothing came out, and then a rust colored water spurted out, but then cleared up as she let it run for a few seconds. After wetting her hands under the warm water she reached for the soap dispenser, but noticed as nothing came out that the soap had crystallized inside.
As Brookes scrubbed her hands she looked up into the mirror, she barely recognized the reflection in it. She looked fatigued, but didn’t feel so at the moment, she starred at the dark circles under her eyes. Her face was covered in dirt even as she tried to wipe it away with water.
After a few more minutes of scrubbing her hands without soap, the smell still wouldn’t come off so Brookes turned off the water and gave up. She straightened her helmet and fixed the collar on her uniform, then switched off the light and exited the restroom.
I need to go by the mess and see if they have any tomato juice, Brookes thought; her left hand still smelling terrible. She left the church and was about to head down the stairs when she spotted Fischer and Jones at the bottom. Fischer had just finished saying something to Jones, but Brookes hadn’t heard what it was.
Fischer held out a slip of paper for Jones, who had a very agitated look on his face. Without saying anything he took it and then ran up the stairs and went into the church without so much as a glance at Brookes.
Brookes looked back to Fischer who let out a deep sigh and put his hands behind his head as he looked up.
“What was that, sir?” Brookes asked Fischer.
“I just gave Jones his orders to report for his psyche evaluation and rehab,” Fischer said as Brookes came down the stairs.
When Brookes got close to Fischer he noticed the smell from her hand.
“Whew… Brookes, what did you get yourself into this time?” Fischer asked as he waved his hand in front of his nose.
“Akiyama’s cleaning solution,” Brookes said as she buried her left hand into her pants pocket.
“Heh… don’t worry about it, Brookes, you’re not the first one to stick your hand in that stuff, just ask Kazir, ha-ha!” Fischer chuckled and then sat down on the front steps of the church. “It sure is pretty in a weird way, isn’t, Brookes?”
“Sir?”
“The fire burning the town, I mean,” Fischer said as Brookes looked off toward the burning town. A large number of fires were raging downtown, and there didn’t seem to be anyone putting them out.
“I was looking at them earlier, and thought the same - that is - until you realize what’s being burnt; people’s homes, memories, their lives -- all gone just like that,” Brookes said, and then sat down next to Fischer. “Luckily, we saved the town so they’ll be able to get back and rebuild and recover what they can.”
The two sat in silence for a moment; Fischer looked to want to say something but couldn’t bring himself too.
“We’re giving up Grantsburg, Brookes; everything south of the river will become robot territory in a couple of weeks. They’re building a new defensive line just north of the river,” Fischer said as he hung his head low.
“What? How can they do that? We beat them back, didn’t we?” Brookes was flabbergasted that this was happening.
“You’ll soon learn not to get too attached to things like this, Brookes. You’re probably already aware of how many towns I’ve lost; how many people I couldn’t save. After a while, it just wears on you. You become desensitized to it all, because if you don’t, then you’ll have a breakdown similar to the one Jones had earlier.
Brookes wasn’t sure what to think as she stared over the burning city. She couldn’t help, but think of Porter, Samson, and the other Reservists.
She thought about Porter, whose home was just on the other side of the river, probably long gone by now, and she would more than likely never see it again or even what was left of it. Brookes wondered how she would take the news.
She then thought about Samson’s father; he probably had no idea he was never going to see his son again either, and that his plans for his son’s college education were all for naught. She pulled out the picture from her breast pocket. She could still make out the details under the soft light from the fires and the moon.
“Captain Fischer, what are you going to do with Samson’s dog-tags?” Brookes asked as she studied the picture, letting it burn into the back of her memory.
“I’m going to send them off to Captain Ho-Wan, and then he in turn will probably offer them to Samson’s next-of-kin, why?” Fischer said as he looked ove
r at Brookes and then spotted the picture.
Brookes handed Fischer the picture and then stood up.
“Can you give that to Captain Ho-Wan when you turn over the dog-tags, sir?”
“I’ll make sure he gets them,” Fischer said, taking the picture and putting it in his pocket.
Brookes nodded, glanced at the fire; she didn’t really feel like soaking her left hand in tomato juice tonight, so she turned, headed back up the stairs, and then went back inside, leaving Fischer sitting alone at the bottom of the steps.
Chapter 42
Lander exited the medical tent after getting his head-wound treated. He looked around the temporary camp that was close to the airbase on the north-side of the river. He knew from talking with one of the nurses that the Refugee Camp was west of the highway that ran north out of town.
He was supposed to report to Captain Ho-Wan, but that was the furthest thing from his mind right now; he needed to know his family was safe.
There were plenty of MPs around, but the camp was a hive of activity with troops coming and going. Lander thought if he acted normal, no one would bother with him as he walked to where he thought the refugee camp was supposed to be.
To his left he could see the massive fires coming from the town, they were burning more intense than earlier. He could only imagine the state of his house. He shook his head; he was sure it was long gone now.
He paused for a second as he looked more closely at the fires in town. Is nobody putting them out? Why is nobody putting them out? The robots are gone! Lander thought but then a terrible sense of dread came over him, something was very seriously wrong about all of this. Lander started to go over the possible reasons in his head and tried to rationalize it all, quickly as he processed what he was seeing. He thought that maybe they didn’t have enough firefighting equipment to put it out, or maybe they were going to start anew with Grantsburg.
No, Lander thought as he shook his head as it suddenly dawned on him. They’re abandoning the town, that’s got to be it.
“Hey, buddy, you all right?” An approaching MP asked as Lander looked over at him.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I was just looking at the fires,” Lander quickly explained nervously and then tried to walk away.
“Hey, what’s your name, buddy? What outfit are you with?” The MP asked, but Lander kept walking away. “Hey!”
Lander panicked somewhat as he walked faster away from the MP; he could tell the MP was following him. He didn’t want to report to Captain Ho-Wan or Fischer; he just wanted to find his family. So Lander started to run and he knew immediately in the back of his mind that this was a bad idea.
“Hey, stop!” The MP yelled as he chased after Lander; the other MPs in the area noticed what was going on too and gave chase.
Lander darted through a tent on his right. The tent was filled with ammunition crates and other supply boxes. A young quartermaster clerk poking away at his PCC quickly looked up as Lander startled him.
“Shit! Hey, you can’t be in here!” the clerk yelled.
Lander then ran through the tent, tossing down boxes behind him, and then sliding under the partially closed flap on the other side just as the MPs busted into the tent.
Lander glanced around quickly, he was in the rear supply area; none of the logistics soldiers had noticed him yet. There was a covered supply truck to his left and Lander quickly hopped inside just as the truck started to drive down the road.
Lander let out a sigh of relief as he peered through the rear flap of the truck to see the MPs and the clerk coming out the back of the tent and look around for him, but they couldn’t see him.
The truck turned right onto the highway and began heading north. After passing through a checkpoint, the truck began to pick up speed, and after a few minutes the truck passed a heavily fenced-in complex of hastily assembled tents. Lander knew that had to be it.
He carefully grabbed the back gate of the truck, and hung off the outside and looked to the right. He was close to the ditch, after taking a deep breath, Lander jumped off the back of the truck and landed in a muddy ditch; almost twisting an ankle as he hit the ground.
“Son of a …” Lander said to himself as he crawled out of the ditch and watch the truck climb up the hill down the road, and then disappear into the night. The road was dark and Lander brushed himself off as he made his way towards the Refugee Camp.
Lander hid in a bush nearby as he watched several patrols of MPs make their way around the perimeter of the camp. It didn’t seem to be too heavily guarded. At the front gate there was a small building with a bored-looking MP sitting inside.
During a changing of the guard, Lander made his way over, slightly to the east as to make it look as though he had walked from the military camp.
Lander came up to the guard in the check-in post; the guard didn’t even notice him as he stood right in front of him. Lander knocked on the glass; the MP casually looked up at him.
“What do you want?” the MP asked in an annoyed tone.
“Excuse me, but I was wondering if you could help me?” Lander asked as politely as possible.
“Ugh… how many times do I have to tell you people -- no visitors -- now scram, before I have you hauled-in,” The MP said as he sat up straight in his chair to talk, and then leaned back in it when he was finished.
“I’m sorry for bothering you…” Lander said as he quickly glanced at the MPs name tag. “…Private Sobchak, but I just need to know if some people inside are inside are safe and okay, that’s all.”
“What part of no visitors did you not comprehend?” Sobchak said in a more irritated tone.
“I think you’re misunderstanding me, Sobchak. Can you just look on your computer there? See if they’re here, and then I’ll be out of hair before you know it,” Lander pleaded.
Sobchak rolled his eyes and sighed.
“Fine, what are their names?” Sobchak asked as he pulled his chair up to the computer, reluctantly.
“Oh, thank you. Their names are Deborah and Carly Lander,” Lander said as Sobchak started typing on the computer.
“Uhh… I don’t see them in here,” Sobchak said as Lander’s heart dropped to the ground.
“A-are you sure? Did you spell their names right? I’m sure she would’ve been at the town shelter. Can you check those records?” Lander asked his whole world was collapsing around him.
“Sergeant, if they’re not in the computer they’re not here, but I’ll check the shelter records if you promise not to spazz-out on me,” Sobchak said as he started typing on the computer again. “Hmm…”
“What?” Lander asked. His heart was at least off the ground for the moment.
“This is odd, they were at the shelter, and then got on a school bus number seventeen for evacuation, but -- oh shit,” Sobchak said and then grabbed the phone next to his computer. “Hello… god damn it, shut the fuck up Donny and get me the Lieutenant, quick!”
Lander took a step back from and grabbed his hair as he looked around frantically hoping to spot them or that school bus somewhere.
“Hello sir. Sir, we have a code two o’ seven. Yes – yes, bus seventeen. No, I don’t know what happened either, sir, it never arrived and nobody caught it. Okay sir,” Sobchak said and then hung-up the phone.
“So, what’s going on?” Fischer asked desperately as he looked at Sobchak.
“It looks as though that during the evacuation from the shelter a bus we now have flagged as being stolen was loaded with some refugees, Deborah and Carly Lander being among them. That bus was suppose to come here and off-load, but it never arrived,” Sobchak said.
“What? How is that possible? If you had the bus flagged, how in the hell was it loaded with refugees?” Lander asked. He couldn’t believe it, not only had Thompson made it through the checkpoints, but he had taken his family in the process; he could be anywhere by now. He’s probably already told them that he was dead too, that bastard, Lander thought.
“It wasn’t flagged
until about thirty minutes ago, Sergeant. Now, rest assured there are military, district, and I’m sure even the UN police are looking for it, now; it’ll be just a matter of time before they find it,” Sobchak said as though that would comfort Lander.
“Oh god, Deb -- Carly,” Lander said; he began to lightly sob as he went to his knees.
“Hey, you okay, dude?” Sobchak asked as he looked out at Lander.
“Why wasn’t it flagged sooner? Who reported it in?” Lander asked, still on his knees as he wiped away his tears, and then stood up.
Sobchak got back on his computer and started typing.
“Umm… the report was filed by a Major Rayne; it says here that Captain Fischer, reported to Major Rayne that a Corporal Paul Thompson likely stole the bus to desert his post, around ten thirty hours,” Sobchak said as he read the report to Lander.
“Captain Fischer? Why in the hell didn’t he file the report sooner?” Lander asked as he pounded his fist on the glass in front of Sobchak.
“Hey, I don’t know, Sergeant, I’m just reading you what’s on the fucking screen. Why don’t you ask Captain Fischer yourself?” Sobchak exclaimed as he threw out his hands.
“I will …”
*****
Lander snuck back into the military camp. Security was light now as the third shift guards were in place. They were only manning a few key areas. Most of the soldiers in the camp were probably asleep since the camp seemed deserted.
Lander didn’t know where Captain Fischer or the Dark Horses were, but he did know where Captain Ho-Wan was. Lander was getting desperate. He had no idea where his family was and he wasn’t thinking straight. He wanted to know why Thompson was allowed to get away against all odds.
A guard on patrol passed close-by Lander as he carefully made his way over to Captain Ho-Wan’s tent. Lander could hear talking from inside the tent and a voice that sounded like Captain Fischer’s. He made his way to the corner of the tent by the entrance and then poked his head around the corner.
The guard outside was busy messing around on his PCC and seemed to be off in his own little world; he then got up suddenly put his PCC in his pocket and then headed over to the latrines. Lander saw his window of opportunity was open.
Robot Wars: Thrown Into the Fray Page 29