The Retreat #5: Crucible

by Stephen Knight

  But the grenades had been loud enough to give the remaining klown forces in the area a good directional slice, and Zhu had no doubt they were moving in as fast as they could. They would be mostly unencumbered by gear, and wore no MOPP equipment, so they could move faster than the lightfighters. Plus the soldiers of the Tenth Mountain still needed to use discretion in their advance; the klowns didn’t have to worry about that. For them, death was an avenue to agony, and agony led to laughter.

  And laughter usually led to a lot of lightfighters dying.

  “Move out, move out, move out!” Zhu shouted, waving the soldiers on with his rifle. He couldn’t use his left arm very well, so that was the only visual signal he could readily give. He saw the lieutenant and the RTO trotting along. “LT! Pass on to Wizard that we’re inbound, and that Desperado probably needs to pick up the pace!”

  “Already done, First Sergeant,” the lieutenant said. “Keep bounding forward, troops! Let’s haul some ass!”

  FORTY-ONE.

  The truck finally stopped thrashing as it encountered a stretch of smooth terrain. Urena put his hand on Muldoon’s shoulder.

  “Okay, GI Joe, you can get up now,” he said. “We’re at the assembly area...I think.”

  Muldoon pushed himself off of Moreau and cautiously looked around. The troops were still on their guns, and the old guy manning the M240 slowly sank to the truck’s bed. His face was ashen, and blood covered his abdomen. He’d been gutshot. A pained expression blossomed over his face, and Muldoon had no doubt he was in no small amount of agony.

  The assembly area was full of smoke. To the east, the pine barrens were ablaze, and bodies lay strewn about. Most of them looked to be klowns, but over by the medical section lay a row of body bags. Muldoon counted seven. Dead lightfighters, an unfortunately common occurrence these days.

  The rest of the vehicles were already being loaded up and readying to move out. Weapons were charged, engines were idling, and fuel was being sucked out of blivets. The battered rig being driven by the retired NCO pulled up into what appeared to be the refueling line, and Urena ordered everybody out. He insisted that Muldoon remain with Moreau, a duty that was starting to rub Muldoon wrong, but he stuck with it anyway. He felt an acute sense of shame as he watched some of the troops haul Hackett’s body away. He had almost lost it in the field, the first time he’d ever experienced anything like that. And worse, Rawlings had seen him do it.

  What would Nutter say? he wondered as he pulled Moreau to her feet. He’d probably call me Jane Wayne.

  The troops climbed down from the big five-ton while Urena and another man helped the injured civilian. Muldoon spared the wounded man a glance as he climbed down and prepared to receive Moreau. The gunner had been definitely gutshot, and he was losing a shit-ton of blood. From the set of the old codger’s jaw, he was putting on a real iron man show, but he knew he was likely history. Nightingale had received more blood supplies during the small replenishment drop the boys in Florida had provided, but Muldoon doubted there was a lot left. The assembly area had come under direct attack itself, so a lot of those supplies had likely gone to treating the local wounded.

  They had to go through the usual routine to ensure they weren’t klowns. It was becoming more abbreviated now, or maybe Muldoon was just getting used to someone slugging him. When they were processed and cleared, he grabbed one of Moreau’s arms and pulled her after him as he set off at a brisk pace toward the tactical operations center truck. She had to half-jog to keep up with him and started dragging her feet in protest, but Campbell formed up on them and prodded her in the back with her rifle.

  “March, bitch,” Campbell snarled.

  “Easy with the rifle,” Muldoon said.

  “Fuck her, she’s got a double helping of chicken plate in that vest,” Campbell said. “She can’t feel shit.”

  “I feel everything,” Moreau said behind her facial armor.

  “Typical snowflake,” Muldoon snapped. He yanked on her arm. “Listen to Campbell and walk faster, cunt.” Rawlings formed up on them then, and she looked up at Muldoon, eyes steady behind her mask. Muldoon found he couldn’t really look at her.

  The door to the tactical operations center flew open and Colonel Lee practically leaped out of the vehicle. He slammed the door closed behind him and ran toward Muldoon and the others. He wasn’t wearing his MOPP gear, and Muldoon had no trouble seeing the hard set of Lee’s features.

  “Coming to tear me a new asshole already, sir?” Muldoon asked.

  Lee’s eyes only flicked toward Muldoon before returning to Moreau. “Get that armor off her. I want to see her.”

  Muldoon and Rawlings exchanged a glance. He held Moreau while Rawlings unpinned the facial armor and pulled the stiff Kevlar shield away. Next came the helmet, then the MOPP mask underneath. Finally, Moreau stood there, blinking against the acrid smoke as she faced Lee.

  “Doctor Courtney Moreau?” Lee asked.

  “Yes.”

  “One of the so-called four horsemen President Gray is looking for?”

  Moreau shrugged. “So I’ve been told.”

  “Where are the others?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Lee snorted. “So you say you’re immune to the bug? That you were vaccinated against it?”

  “Yes. That’s correct.”

  “Must be nice. Where is this vaccine?”

  Moreau shrugged again. “As far as I know, there isn’t any. We had only trials. But if you’re thinking about using it to cure the infected, you can forget about that. We tried it as well. It kills those who are already carrying the virus.” She smiled at Lee sweetly. “So if you’re thinking I can help reverse what’s happening...sorry. Not happening. This was always a one-way trip, even if we did experiment with a cure.”

  “But it would work on those who aren’t already infected?” Lee asked.

  “Perhaps. If you can get your hands on one of the trials and engineer it in larger capacity, sure. But you’d have to get the FDA to approve it, and we all know how long their trial process is. Right?”

  “I’m kind of thinking we don’t have to worry about a lot of red tape, not where you’re headed. You’re a sick, murderous bitch, Doctor. I hope that when you get to Florida, whatever they do to you hurts like hell, and for a long, long time.”

  Moreau smiled again. “So sweet of you.”

  Lee glared at her for a long moment, then pointed at a nearby up-armored Humvee. “Muldoon, put her in that Humvee and make sure she’s properly restrained. We can’t lose her now. We’re going to pull out of here as soon as we recover the rest of the troops, but you and a small element will step off right now and head for our first phase line. It’s been surveilled by the drone and it’s secure. Can’t tell how long the route to it will remain clear, though, so you’ll have to leave right away.”

  “Roger that, sir. Who’s in command of the column?”

  Lee looked at him directly. “You are, Sergeant.”

  Muldoon cocked his head. “You’re demoting me from ass-kicker to babysitter?”

  “I’m entrusting you with the potential continued survival of the human race, Muldoon. I’d hardly consider that a demotion. The truth of the matter is, there’s no one else to give the mission to. So you’re up. Gather your team. You’ll have three vehicles, the best Humvees we have left. Equipped with GAU-19s and as much ammo as they can carry. You won’t have to wait for long—we’ll be catching up to you in less than half an hour. I’ll surge more protection your way as soon as Inveigle and Desperado get in. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir. But what about Turner, sir?”

  “Sarmajor Turner is a casualty. I expect First Sergeant Zhu will take over his position, presuming he makes it here alive. Cassidy and Boats are dead, I understand?”

  “Yes, sir. They didn’t make it out.”

  Lee nodded and looked from Muldoon to Rawlings, then over at Campbell. “You...you’re that pistol from the Guard, right?”

  “I’m Camp
bell, sir.”

  “Come here, Campbell. I have something I need you to do.”

  Campbell stepped out from around Muldoon and Moreau and planted her small frame in front of Lee. “Sir?”

  Lee nodded to Moreau. “Knock this bitch’s teeth out.”

  Campbell immediately turned and wound up. Moreau took a step back, eyes wide.

  “Wait—”

  Her head snapped back as Campbell delivered a full shot right to her face. Both women went down, but Lee grabbed Campbell’s pack and yanked her away. He’d anticipated she’d continue the attack, and he didn’t want the scientist dead, at least not yet. Campbell struggled against him, screaming behind her mask, something about her kids and her husband. Rawlings stepped up and grabbed her, helping Lee get her under control. For his part, Muldoon didn’t move a muscle as Moreau fell to the ground with a cry. Blood gushed from her split lip.

  “What the fuck?” she cried.

  Lee spun around, taking Campbell with him. “One shot, Campbell! That’s all you get! Now get yourself squared away!” He released the woman, and she glared at him for a moment before nodding and getting herself squared away.

  “Thanks for the opportunity, sir,” she said, and her voice quavered behind her mask.

  Lee turned back to Muldoon. “You have a mission. Get to it.”

  Muldoon silently turned and grabbed Moreau. He hauled her to her feet and motioned for Rawlings to help suit her up again.

  “Feel high and mighty now?” Moreau said to Lee. She spat blood at him, but it didn’t get anywhere near him.

  “Not yet,” Lee said. “I’m saving it for when I hear the medical guys have cut you into little pieces to harvest every molecule that can be used to grow the vaccine. Then? Yeah, I’ll be real high and mighty.”

  Moreau started to shout something in response, but Muldoon clamped a hand over her bloody mouth. “Time to shut up, princess.” Rawlings pulled the mask over her head and secured it, then slipped on the advanced combat helmet. Finally, then came the face armor. They buttoned her up good, and Muldoon dragged her toward the waiting Humvee.

  “Your hearse awaits,” he said.

  FORTY-TWO.

  Lee returned to the TOC just long enough to ensure that it was being buttoned up and ready for transit. He’d heard the transmission from Raptor, so he knew Fort Stewart had fallen. He hoped and prayed that the ASP could be secured and that it could withstand whatever attacks the klowns would hurl against it. But that was Colonel Barker’s problem; the First Fifty-Fifth couldn’t help the red legs now. The battalion was severely understrength, and Lee would be surprised if he could still muster two full companies come tomorrow.

  Once Walker indicated that the TOC would be secured and ready for transit in only a few minutes, Lee instructed him to get back to his Humvee. The remaining operators in the vehicle would attend to it from this moment forward; there was no need for the XO to remain. When Lee stepped back outside, he saw Inveigle emerge from the pine barrens. They had wounded and dead which would need to be tended to, but that couldn’t happen here. They needed to get at least twenty miles out before they could pause to refit. Lee hurried toward the emerging soldiers, shouting for First Sergeant Zhu.

  “Here, sir!” Zhu replied. He was taller than Lee, but much more slender. Lee figured he had consumed a great deal of beef as a child. “Colonel, you need to go to MOPP, sir!” He pointed at Lee’s exposed face.

  “First Sergeant, you’re acting battalion command sergeant major. But I see you’re injured...?”

  “Some metal fragments, nothing to worry about, sir. Is Turner KIA?”

  “Negative, he’s still with us but he’s not operational for the time being. Listen, we’re moving out right now—Stewart has fallen and the klowns will eventually gain control of the artillery. We need to vacate the area. If you’re well enough, I need you to take command of that vehicle there”—Lee turned and pointed to an up-armored Humvee—“and coordinate the ground movement. Our initial phase line is about six miles away, which will take us out of range of the majority of Stewart’s guns. We’ll link up with Sergeant Muldoon’s element there.”

  “Why is Muldoon there, sir?”

  “He has the package,” Lee said. “I couldn’t leave her here, so I sent her ahead in the three-vehicle column. Aerial recce tells us the approach and laager area are currently secure, so I needed him to jump out with Moreau. Just in case.”

  “We should surge some additional units his way, sir,” Zhu said.

  “Agreed. You operational, First Sergeant?” Lee pointed at Zhu’s bloodied arm.

  “Hurts like a bitch, sir, but nothing I can’t handle,” Zhu replied. “Boats, Riggs, and McAllister —are they still with us? I’ll need them.”

  “Boats is KIA. Riggs is still in the field with Desperado. McAllister is overseeing vehicle refuel and sustainment. If you’re lucky, you’ll get two out of three, Zhu. I hope you don’t need all of them to do your new job?”

  “I don’t need any of them, sir. But the experience will help. How many senior NCOs do we have left?”

  “Urena is just in, and he’s in good shape,” Lee said. “There’s essentially nothing left of the Bushmasters now, so he’s yours if you want him.”

  “Thank you, sir. Urena will do nicely. How long until Turner is able to return to duty?”

  “Weeks, I would imagine,” Lee said.

  Zhu nodded. “Good—then I have a free hand. I’d like to find someone else to oversee the vehicle ops and dispatch McAllister with a heavy weapons team to Muldoon’s pos. Is Thunder still available?”

  “Yes, standing by to cover Desperado on command.”

  “Can we get some air support, sir? If Stewart has fallen, it might be best to start taking out their hardware before the enemy can get to them.”

  “Call has been made, but there are no assets available. There are a few hundred troops and civilians holed up in the DIVARTY ASP. The last thing we want to do is blow them up, presuming they’re in a position that’s potentially survivable against klown attack.” Lee turned and shot a knife hand toward the refueling queue. “You’ll find McAllister over there. I’ll send Urena to your vehicle and advise him he’s been chopped over to you. Feel free to detail McAllister to assemble a team and roll out to Muldoon’s position; check in with the XO for the coordinates. McAllister can have five lightfighters go with him, and he has his pick of whatever remains in the arsenal. For what it’s worth, Muldoon has GAU-19s on station, so I’d recommend something with a Mark nineteen on it.”

  “Roger all, sir. And Colonel, you need to cover up—right now.”

  Lee ignored the admonition. “One other thing, Zhu. Raptor dispatched his armor to roll around looking for the mortar unit that’s firing the biochem rounds. He also dispersed his MLRS batteries so they don’t get overrun. Heard from Lieutenant Cassidy before he went under that Raptor had given them a tasking to punch through the lines surrounding Florida. I guess that things aren’t quite as rosy down there as we were led to believe. What’s your opinion on escorting those units?”

  “That’s a lot to take in, sir. What biochem weapons? And MLRS launchers are tracked and move at maybe twenty-five to thirty miles an hour. We form up around them, it’s going to be the slow boat to Florida. Fuel would be an issue, we couldn’t sustain them for very long. And sir, it’s not our mission. Would love to have that kind of firepower available, but depending on their ordnance, we would never see what they were shooting at anyway.”

  Lee nodded. “I’d figured that much as well. I just wanted your take on it, since you’re my current senior NCO.”

  “Your current senior NCO advises you to make tracks for Florida, sir. I hear the coconut shrimp is great this time of year, and Lord knows we could all use a few dozen rounds of piña coladas.”

  Lee snorted. “I don’t disagree. All right, Zhu—” He stopped suddenly when he saw more figures emerging from the pine barrens, moving at a dead run. He grabbed his rifle, and Zhu did the
same despite his injured arm. The first soldier out slowly waved as he came to a halt. So did the others that emerged from the thickets and tall grass. They kept their weapons low and began lining up for the processing that had to occur.

  “All right, Desperado is here,” Lee said, turning back to Zhu. “Go have your talk with McAllister, then collect your man Riggs. Your call sign is Wizard Seven. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir. Good copy,” Zhu said. “Now please, sir...mask up?”

  Lee sighed and shook his head. “What is it about the battalion command sarmajor slot that turns everyone into mother hens?” he asked.

  Zhu shrugged. “I guess I’m just not much for playing the father figure, sir.”

  FORTY-THREE.

  Lee heard over the radio that the last trucks had just departed the assembly area when the steel rain came down, and hard. Everyone stomped on their accelerators and hurtled up the country roads that led to the southeast, putting as much distance between the remains of the battalion and the big guns at Stewart as they could. Sitting in his armored Humvee with Foster driving, Sienkiewicz in the right rear seat behind him, and Murphy on the GAU-19 in the cupola, Lee concentrated on working the radios and getting all the information he needed while recalling the arty engagement that had occurred literally right in front of him. The barrage from Stewart had been intense, but no one had been injured and no vehicles were lost.

  Fucking miracle, he told himself. He knew that wasn’t it at all; the artillery batteries at Stewart had been manned by professionals who knew how to get their job done. And now, the lightfighters were bugging out and leaving them to die. Or worse.

  And their families.

  He raised Reynolds’s command on the satphone and was informed that the battalion no longer had surveillance support. The Merlin had to return for refueling, and then another tasking awaited it. He was warned about enemy buildups to their east, which seemed to be moving along the same route as the battalion. They were fifty miles back, but Lee was assured they would be dealt with before they could get any closer. That left a bitter taste in his mouth. Lee and his men could have used dedicated close air support when they were actually fighting, not when they were retreating. They’d even had to leave many of their dead behind; they just couldn’t be recovered.