by Ryan Schow
Lenna took Elizabeth back inside and Jagger started to clean up.
“What do you think these idiots are doing?” Jagger asked as he swept up the mess.
Before anyone could answer, Atlanta finally ventured outside, her concern replaced by irritated eyes and pinched features. She walked right up to Rider—who was pushing the broken glass into a pile with his boot—and said, “I’ve had enough of this sitting on the sidelines business. Whatever you’re planning in terms of retaliation, I want in.”
Behind her, and Rider didn’t see her right away, Elizabeth stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. She said, “I want in, too.”
Past Atlanta, to Elizabeth, Rider said, “You stick to card games and watching over your friends and let Atlanta and I talk. Now go back inside. We don’t need you cutting your feet open.”
Elizabeth stood there, resolved to stay.
“He’s right,” Jagger said. “This is an adult conversation.”
“I’m an adult,” she argued, looking small and seeming bigger than she was at the same time. Inside, Jagger did what he always did with her: he beamed with pride.
“Not yet you aren’t. But you’re close.”
Lenna appeared once more, took Elizabeth’s hand and said, “It’s not safe here, yet. Let the boys do their job and we can talk about this later.”
Before disappearing all the way into the hallway, Elizabeth looked back at them one last time—saw Jagger giving her the “keep moving” wink and wave—then disappeared down the hallway.
“We’ll look after her,” Indigo said as she and Cincinnati headed inside.
Rex said, “You guys got this or you need me to grab a broom and dustpan, too.”
“We’re fine,” Rider replied. To Jagger, he said, “That girl is going to be a firecracker one day.”
“Elizabeth?”
“Yeah.”
Jagger chewed on his molars for a second, then said, “It’s time to stop this ridiculousness once and for all.”
“Did either of you hear me?” Atlanta said. She was standing next to the two remaining men with things to say and a point to prove.
“We don’t know who these people are or how many of them there are,” Rider said. “Recon is a waste of resources when you consider the sheer square footage one could occupy in just a one mile radius, and the best way to leave the school vulnerable is for all of us to leave it unguarded.”
“You figure out what you’re going to figure out, but let me help,” Atlanta said, firm. “I can help.”
“So what do you want to do?” Rider turned and asked her, surprised by the tact of this normally quiet and reserved girl. “Shoot at them when they come? Absolutely. Grab a gun. You can help in that effort whenever you want.”
“I want in on the planning,” she said. “I want a seat at the table, that’s all. Not the big table, the small table. The one where the real decisions are being made.”
Rider took the broom and Jagger lined the dustpan up to the big pile of dirt and glass. Jagger didn’t know much about the girl’s history, but the petite blonde with the cute but determined face and the eyes that had seen too much trauma stood her ground. She looked at Jagger for help, but the pilot held his tongue.
“I let them take my sister,” Atlanta said, pain filtering into her voice, “and I’ve watched them chip away at our peace and stability, but I don’t want to feel helpless anymore. I personally want in, and being part of the solution feels better than wondering what the hell is going on.”
“You know these are not the same people who did this to Charity,” Rider said, speaking of Atlanta’s older sister.
“Of course I know that,” she snapped. “I’m young but I have combat experience. I’m not a child anymore.”
“I know you’re not,” Rider said.
“Good, so then give me a seat at the table.”
His eyes took in every last nuance of the girl. Where he ended up looking, though, was not at her face (which was beautiful and symmetrical against the frame of her almost white/blonde hair) or her body language in general (which beamed with restless energy even though at first glance she looked petite and seemed weak against a man his size); instead, Rider’s eyes locked in on the bruises on her arms and legs. They were plentiful. Which meant she was training hard with Macy outside of her training with him.
Rider had seen the same bruises on Macy and knew the two were serious about surviving in this dangerous new world. They knew there would come a time for them to fight. He knew this, too. This would be a time to grow, a time to let go. To trust they had enough to defend themselves, and to release the idea that they could keep their girls safe and out of harm’s way any longer.
“Take a picture, why don’t you,” she muttered, throwing her hands on her hips.
“It’s not like that and you know it,” he said. “Don’t be like that.”
“So? I’m not joking here, Rider.”
“Fine. On one condition. A soldier knows her chain of command and she never, ever disobeys it.”
“Fine,” she said.
She looked diminutive in her stature, but again, her need to be part of this, to prove herself—or as she said, stop feeling helpless—was a force far greater than her size, her youth or her relatively limited combat experience.
Nodding his head in consideration, like there was still a chance he would recant, he finally gave in. “Okay then, fine.”
“Okay?” The energy around her crackled with life and a smile touched the corners of her lips. “Really?”
“If I have to repeat myself, then you’re not listening, and if you’re not listening, then you’re not ready.”
The start of a smile fell away in favor of a more passive look.
She said, “I just wanted to be sure.”
“Now you know, whatever I say the first time, I’m sure of.”
“Noted.”
“Good, now beat it. Jagger and I have some things we need to discuss. High level, beyond your pay grade stuff.”
When she was gone, Rider said, “You know what we have to do, right?”
“All we need is to do is capture one of theirs.”
“Exactly.”
“We get him, we break him, then we get the entire operation.”
“What’s your level of combat experience?” he said. When Jagger frowned at him, Rider said, “It’s not a dick flexing contest, and I don’t care how much experience you actually have, I just need to know so we don’t bite off more than we can chew.”
“I was a pilot, so not much other than what we’ve dealt with in the last few months.”
“Elizabeth told Sarah you saved her from some bad men. What did she mean?”
“She was being held prisoner when I found her. Bunch of perverts and creeps. They were armed, though. I got her out of there.”
“How many?”
“Six, maybe seven guys.”
“It was just you?”
He nodded.
“How many of them lived?” Rider asked.
“None of them,” Jagger answered.
“Good.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you, me, Rex and Stanton run these sons of bitches off the face of the earth. It’s what I’m good at. What it seems we’re all good at.”
“What about Stanton?”
“Stanton made his bones in this mess same as you, although he’s a white collar financial type and we’re all ex-military.”
“Is that going to be a problem?” Jagger asked.
“What he lacks in military exercise he makes up for in heart. He’s the kind of guy you want on your six. Trust me.”
Scooping up the last of the broken glass, Jagger said, “Okay, then. We have a four man hit squad. We just need to find out who we’re up against.”
“I’ve got some ideas on how we do that.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rider got everyone together, rather everyone who played any kind of a role in f
orward security. He even invited Atlanta, then he invited Macy. The girls were happy to have seats at the “small table” as Atlanta had called it, and both girls looked like they were prepared to speak only when spoken to, as instructed.
Perfect.
In the War Room, Rider sat at the front of the three conjoined tables. Only half the seats were occupied, but every single one of them had eyes on Rider. He hadn’t taken the leadership role by choice. He never wanted that seat. What he had come to crave most was anonymity. So when they voted Rider to lead the security side of this compound, he told them other guys had more combat experience. They didn’t care. He said he’d never held a position of authority, beyond leading a small team of government sanctioned hit squads into kill zones. Again, no one seemed to hold that against him. It was, after all, a democratically nominated position.
When it appeared they weren’t going to let him shirk his responsibility, he begrudgingly accepted the position. It took him a good month to get used to being in charge. Which was to say, Rider wasn’t terribly thrilled, but a vote was a vote and he’d finally found a way to step into the role. He’d come to see this as his duty to the community given his skillset.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure yet,” Rex said, adding his two cents to the meeting, “but I’m thinking we need to start spending the nights on the streets, because whatever these jackoffs are doing feels like it’s leading up to something big, I just don’t know what.”
A chorus of agreement followed. Except from Atlanta and Macy. The girls were all eyes, all ears and no mouths. Rider was proud of them. The most important thing he learned in his time in the military was that the better you listened, the less questions you had, and if you were competent, good at listening and adept at taking direction, then there was very little to say and things got done right. His CO always appreciated this about him. If he could instill this in the girls, then he might actually have a chance at keeping them alive in the field.
“What are you suggesting?” Jagger asked. Jagger sat before Rider on one side of the table; Rex sat before him on the other side.
They were Rider’s two Generals.
Rider said, “He’s right. We’ll run six teams of two. Three days and two nights of rations. Enough ammo for a fire fight if we encounter one. We cut a perimeter, six points. We sit tight. Catch the bird’s eye view. Eyes up, guns up. Anyone have anything to add?”
Silence prevailed.
“Good,” Rider said. “I’ll take point. Jagger and Rex will be my number two and three. Macy you’ll be with me. Atlanta you’re with Jagger. Indigo you’re with Rex. Everyone else will pair off.”
He listed off the names of the remaining six men and women, then said, “We’ll need snipers on the roof. The usual four in your usual positions.”
“Rules of Engagement?” Stanton asked.
“Save one of theirs. We need intel. We need a direction. Nothing is ever done at the risk of our team though. Zero casualties. Am I clear?”
“Sort of,” Cincinnati said.
“If you see a chance to take one of theirs without using lethal force, then take them,” Rider said to her. “But none of them leave our net.”
He said this with rueful eyes on Cincinnati, who’d let a girl go and nearly got herself killed.
“Basically,” she said, “if only one survives, we’ve done our job?”
“Yes,” Rider said. “If one survives and we can break him or her, then we’re golden.”
“Who handles the interrogation?” Rex asked.
Now Rider cast him a new look. Was there something he didn’t know about Rex? “You want to be that guy?”
“I’m pretty solid in an interrogation room,” Rex said.
Rider nodded, then said, “Alright then.”
After lunch and the final preparations, as the sun burned overhead in a clear blue sky, Rider had the team of twelve huddled around picnic table in the outdoor courtyard. They were looking over a hand drawn map with the six locations they planned to infiltrate and occupy. The six teams were designated as Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo and Foxtrot.
When everyone was clear on where they were stationed and in what order the unit would both clear a building and deposit each team, the twelve of them took to the streets in a single file line. They moved silently along the sides of the buildings as though the enemy was already afoot.
In Rider’s mind, they were.
At this point, they had friendly snipers on their six, but only for so long. Once they dipped out of sight, they were on their own and told by Rider to consider themselves in the kill zone.
“The objective,” Rider continued, as if it were obvious, “is to make it our kill zone, not theirs. We need to be ghosts now. So put your head on a swivel—you’re now weapons free.”
Everyone did as they were told.
Rider got them safely to the first building. Foxtrot’s drop off. Rider decided on this building for Foxtrot because he privately considered Foxtrot their weakest team. Statistically, it was also the building least likely to be hit first. When he, Jagger, Rex and Stanton cleared the building, Foxtrot went inside, took their respective positions and covered the departing unit’s six for as long as they remained in sight.
The team cleared five more buildings, the last of which was his and Macy’s. The two of them cleared the building together, Macy on his heels, following close, watching him work. Other than a few transients and a collection of stray cats, they were met with no resistance.
Rider didn’t know what he would talk with Macy about, but he told her she would take the day shift, and he would take the night shift. If nothing happened, he’d have three days to build her mindset the way he wanted it. Cincinnati said she was a sponge and would appreciate it. He told her that if Macy was to be in the field with them in either Alpha, Bravo or Charlie teams, she’d need to level up big time.
“Do what you need to do with her,” Cincinnati said. “Just make sure she has a safe word.”
“She won’t have a safe word. She’ll have a gun. And responsibilities to the unit and to her team. That’s the point, Sin. If this girl wants this life, I’m going to give it to her.”
“Just make sure you protect her,” Cincinnati said.
“I will do that as best as I can. I make no guarantees, other than she will be properly trained.”
Now the girl stood beside him asking a bunch of questions because he said this was the time. Basically he said, “You can ask me whatever you want for as long as you want.” So for the next hour they talked strategy, potential dangers, what he looked for when he was clearing a building and when he was manning a post, like they were doing now.
He then talked to her about mindset. That was perhaps the most important element he could leave her with.
“It’s hard doing this, but you have to start to see everyone as a threat and a target. It’s not whether or not they make themselves known as an enemy, it’s that everyone you meet is an enemy until they make themselves known as a friend. This is a tough distinction to make and it will leave you feeling lonely and on edge. You have to manage that. You have to manage both.”
“How do you do it?” she asked.
“You kill people for a living inside someone else’s kill zone. You do this because you have to, because it’s been beaten into you over and over and over again. There’s no way to prepare you except for you putting yourself in harm’s way and leaving the battlefield victorious. So prepare to get shot, stabbed, beaten up, tortured and possibly sexually assaulted. It’s ugly and no one wants to face this, but these are the truths of war. There are no negotiations.”
Her eyes went wide as he said this, but he wasn’t kidding. This was how he mentally prepared. This was his process.
“But if you want to avoid all that, statistically, then listen to what I say, do what I say, and then when the smoke clears and the fight is over—if we’re triumphant—we will dissect what happens and find ways to be better next time, more efficient.�
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“So what am I supposed to do now?” Macy asked.
“If things get out of hand, just know the fog of war is real. You need only stay by my side. Are you clear?”
“Crystal,” she said. But she wasn’t. She was still a kid and a civilian in a soldier’s world. On one hand, he feared for her, but on another, he appreciated her spirit.
“Good, now get some sleep. You can’t be your most effective self without it.”
For the next three days, they encountered nothing unusual. Every single one of them was on edge, irritated, tired of waiting for these morons to show. Perhaps they realized it wasn’t wise to lob bodies into their camp, or try to blow up nearby buildings to box them in and then just show up again. Perhaps they were emptying more beer bottles, filling their little bellies with alcohol and courage. Cincinnati had changed that, though, didn’t she? One dead girl, three dead guys?
Maybe these fools took them seriously for a change.
At the end of the third day, Rider said, “Pack up, we’re moving out.”
Macy did as she was told, then they went building to building collecting the teams until as one unit they returned to the compound and got some sleep in a real bed in their own rooms. Rider was the last to head to bed. Sarah was there to greet him.
“These savages are messing with us and it’s starting to piss me off,” Rider told her after swallowing her in a hug and damn near assaulting her with kisses. Or maybe it was the other way around. He couldn’t get enough of the good doctor, and he made sure she knew it. They both made sure the other knew. In the comfort of their bed, they pressed themselves against each other to ward off the chill.
“Maybe it’s over,” she said, watching him in the dark, her hands on him, moving slowly over the surface of his body.
“Rex suggested we go hunting,” Rider said.
“Is that such a good idea?”
“It could pay off, or we could come up empty,” he said, holding her hand. “Besides, do you know how much real estate there is to clear in just a four block radius?”