“Good bunch of guys. They’ve been out here doing hit-and-runs on the Chinks for months now. Hope we get a chance to work with ‘em again, really.”
Nick nodded—he agreed completely, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Andrevich’s cryptic message was supposed to mean.
Nick caught a couple of hours of sleep on the flight back to camp. He woke up once convinced the helicopter had come under enemy fire, but when he opened his eyes all he saw was the bored, half-asleep faces of his team.
“How you holding up, boss?” Christopher asked from his position next to Nick.
“Doing all right, I think.”
“I’m sure glad we had you at the wheel for this one. Last time I came across one of those CDMs, I had to hide out under ten bodies ‘til extraction.”
“I think we can attribute that more to the Russians than to me.”
“Nah. I saw your brain chugging away back there. You would have figured something out if they hadn’t come along.”
“Tell that to Reggie.”
“Reggie shoulda moved his ass. But you had a plan, didn’t you?”
Nick shrugged. “I might have.”
Christopher winked almost imperceptibly. “Yeah, you did. It’s a shame you’re not going to be running all of our missions—I feel better with you in charge than Neal any day.”
Nick just shrugged again, closed his eyes, and went back to sleep.
***
As soon as the chopper touched down outside of Justice, Neal was waiting next to the same Humvee that had carried them to Command and Control the day before. He waved Nick over as the rest of 47 Echo unloaded the chopper. Nick took the pack with the Aero’s salvage and walked over to the Humvee.
“Major Harrison wants us in C2 immediately,” Neal told Nick.
“Thought he might,” Nick said. “Chris! Get that Chinese tech squared away and into the Humvee!”
“On it, boss,” Christopher yelled back. He, Gabriel and Kenneth carried the five packs full of salvaged CDM tech over to the Humvee.
“What’s all this?” Neal asked as the three men loaded the bags into the back of the Humvee.
“It’s everything we could pull out of a neutralized Chinese Death Machine,” Nick replied.
“You killed a CDM out there? That’s impossible.” Neal shook his head.
“Impossible or not, sir, we’ve got most of the tech here to prove it.”
The Humvee’s driver let out a low whistle, then stopped when Neal shot him a look.
“I believe you’re supposed to be taking us to C2, correct, convict?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry about that, sir,” the Humvee driver stuttered, jamming himself behind the wheel and starting the engine.
Two MPs led Nick and Neal to the elevators, with the driver tagging along to help carry the bags of salvaged technology. Down the long hallway, Nick noticed that the driver had a unit patch for 31 Alpha, the unit Gabriel was supposed to have been assigned to before he shot up the processing tent.
The door to Command and Control opened. Major Harrison stood in the center of the room again, his gaze this time fixed on the door. “Morrow. Mission report, now.”
Nick filled him in on the mission to salvage the Aero then paused in the story of the run from the CDMs. “Do you know a Russian Armored Division commander named Petkov, Major?”
“I do.”
“He saved our asses out there. He said he had a message for you.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“He said to tell you that Post K-13R is seeing red.”
Harrison stood still for a moment, then slowly, quietly and deliberately spoke a single word:
“Fuck.” After a few long moments, he looked up at them. “You’re dismissed. Give the 4-7 a couple of days off, Neal. We’ll need at least that to sort through all this tech they brought in.”
Neal nodded and led Nick back out through the long hallway and to the elevator. As the guards left them, Neal turned to Nick.
“What does that mean? The message?” Nick asked.
“Specifically, I have no idea. But I know what ‘seeing red’ means. It means that Chinese or North Korean forces are mobilizing on the area.”
“Post K-13R.”
“Wherever that is, yeah. Looks like you have a couple of days of downtime. Sorry about that. I’m afraid there’s not a hell of a lot they’ll allow convicts to do when they’re not working.”
“We’ll manage. Question, sir.”
“Yeah?”
“I picked up some Chinese artillery in the field. The computer-aided parts of the rifle appear to be nominally functional, but I was wondering if I could hang onto it, see if I could bring it back to operational condition.”
“If anyone asks, I don’t know a thing about it.”
“Clear on that, sir.”
“Your men will probably be getting back to the apartment by now. I’d suggest getting as much rest in as you can. The Major said a couple of days, but if a situation comes up, I doubt that timeline will hold. Can I get you a Humvee back to the apartment building?”
“Nah. Think I’ll walk it.” Nick shrugged.
“Fair enough.”
Neal headed off to the left, and Nick suddenly realized he had no idea where the COs put themselves when they weren’t on mission. He blinked away the thought as he saw Christopher hop out of a slowly moving troop truck in front of him.
“Hey, boss. Heading back to the apartment?”
“Yep. We supposedly have a couple of days off.”
“Awesome. I’ll use that to get us some better rations, whatever else I can get my hands on.”
“How do you manage to do that, anyway?” Nick shook his head with a chuckle.
“I dunno. People just like me. Always have, I guess. I’ve never had a hard time talking my way around a situation. I end up making connections around the base, then connecting them to other connections, then taking a bit off the top.”
“Shit. I don’t even like talking to most people, and I don’t mind talking to you.”
Christopher smiled. He pulled a pack of Russian cigarettes from the cargo pocket of his convict fatigues (he’d apparently talked one of the other Echoes into carrying his pack to the apartment) and lit one. He offered the pack to Nick, who took one and lit it from the offered flame Christopher held out.
“See? That’s my gift. C’mon, I’ve gotta meet some guys about some stuff. Come on along—it’s better than sitting around the apartment with a bunch of other convicts.”
“Yeah, why not. Where are we heading?”
“We’re off to see the Air Force.”
Christopher led him to a low brick building a half-mile down the street. It looked to Nick like the building had once been an auto shop, but the garage doors had been replaced with reinforced concrete and the windows had been covered with thick steel plates. The front access door had been replaced with what looked like a blast door.
Pulling a magnetic card from his pocket, Christopher walked up to the blast door and passed the card over the scanner to the door’s left. A short beep sounded, and the door popped open.
“Where’d you put your hands on that?” Nick asked.
Christopher grinned. “Someone dropped it.”
“Forget I asked.”
“I’ll do that. C’mon. Let me introduce you to some guys.” Christopher ushered Nick inside, and they were met by a young man in a blue uniform.
“Christopher. Not a good time, bro.”
“Busy?”
“Could say that. Intel’s coming in off the chain. Wait out here. I’ll see if Captain Black’s got time for you.”
The young man disappeared through a set of double doors.
“Didn’t know there were convicts in the Air Force, too,” Nick commented.
“Oh, there are. They have to test off the charts. Lotta hackers and criminal mastermind types. But these ain’t them. These guys are real Air Force, Special Ops.”
“What are they doing ta
lking to the likes of you?”
“Like I said, people like me.”
The young man stuck his head out the door.
“Two minutes, Christopher. Make it quick, yeah?”
Christopher nodded and walked through the door, so Nick followed. The room they entered was filled with computers manned by Air Force officers.
One of them spun his chair around and smiled widely at Christopher. “Chris, my man.”
“Jase.”
“Sorry I don’t have a bunch of time. We’re up to our asses in work. What can I do for you, pal?”
“Feed point. It’s horrible. They have us on FSRs. You got anything for that?”
Captain Jason Black considered for a minute then nodded. “Yeah. Restaurant in the old quarter. Run by some of the Army guys, cooks for some of the brass. You let them know I sent you, they’ll hook you up. Drop by after lights-out, they always have a bunch left over.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
“Eff that. I still owe you one. So who’s this guy?” Captain Black asked, nodding at Nick.
“Oh, my manners. This’s Nick Morrow, my SIC.”
“You the guy who pulled the Chinese tech out of the CDM?” Black asked.
“That’s me.”
“Heard you ran into some shit around K-13R.” Jason nodded appreciatively.
“What’d you just say?”
“Post K-13R. Small town just north of Area November.”
“Russian Armored Division based out of there?”
“Yeah, Russian Federation fourteenth Armored.”
“Shit.”
“I know. We just got word—they got wiped out by Chinese forces. How did you know so fast?”
For the second time that day, Nick felt like he wanted to vomit. “Any survivors? From the fourteenth Armored?” he managed to spit out.
“Nothing comin’ out of K-13R ‘cept Chinese soldiers.” Black shook his head.
Chapter 11
City of the Dead
“Anthony, care to undertake a little extra mission?” Nick unzipped the sides of his boots and stretched out his feet.
“Official order, sir?” Anthony asked.
“Again, not a sir. And no, but I think you’ll dig this one. You, especially.”
“Am I going to get in trouble with the COs?”
“Only if you get caught, but you’re with Christopher, so you won’t.”
Anthony nodded. This seemed a good enough answer for him.
“Right on. Chris’ll be waiting outside in fifteen. Gabe, you’re going with.”
“Right on, boss.” The huge Hispanic youth grinned.
“Good luck, men. We’re all counting on you.” Nick lay back on his bed and closed his eyes.
He awoke thirty minutes later to the smell of cooked meat. Nick first thought he was dreaming of the pilot of the CDM, and indeed, that image flashed in his mind just before he opened his eyes. When he actually opened them though, he saw the small table in the apartment loaded down with barbecued steaks.
“Mission was a success, sir.” Anthony grinned, indicating the spread at the table with his arms.
“Plates?”
“Got ‘em, boss,” Christopher said, handing a dish filled with steak and potatoes to Nick.
“Outstanding work, gentlemen. The Army guys give you any trouble?” Nick asked, plowing into the first real meal he’d had in weeks.
“Nah. Captain Black called ahead for us. We’re hooked up for as long as we’re at Justice, assuming no one catches on,” Christopher said.
“How’d you wrangle this, Chris?” Peter asked, filling his plate.
“I find it’s best not to ask,” Nick told him.
As he sat back to eat, Nick noticed that Kenneth was filling his plate with potatoes, looking at the meat with disgust. Michael was standing next to the huge man, and seemed to notice as well. He playfully punched Kenneth in the shoulder, and the huge convict’s head whipped around. His eyes locked onto the smaller man, staring him down.
“Not a fan of steak, Kenneth?” Michael muttered sheepishly.
“I’m a vegetarian. Meat disgusts me.”
“So I can have yours, then?”
Kenneth just stared at Michael. After a long moment, Michael took another steak and walked over to his bunk, which was right next to Nick’s.
“I tell you, boss. That motherfucker creeps me out.” Michael shook his head as he started to eat.
“Don’t let him get into your head. In fact, my advice is just to give that guy as much latitude as possible.”
The two of them watched as Kenneth sat on his bunk, his back to the rest of the unit, and started shoveling potatoes into his face. The huge man finished the entire plate in under a minute then set the empty dish down on the floor next to his bunk. For the next several seconds, both Nick and Michael waited for him to get up, to move, to do something…but the big man just sat frozen in place, staring at the wall.
“Don’t think that’s gonna be a problem, boss,” Michael assured him.
Nick filled up on three plates of dinner, then helped Christopher and Anthony clean up.
“Hey, guys,” Anthony said. “Thanks for tracking down some better food. The war part I can handle, but if I had to keep eating those FSRs, I probably would have killed myself within a month.”
“Sure thing. Tomorrow, I’m going to see if I can wrangle some books or something. We’ll need some way to keep ourselves busy during downtime, and we can only tell each other how we got here so many times,” Christopher told them.
“What’d really be helpful is a computer,” Anthony said.
“That’d be nearly impossible. We get caught with a book, it’s a slap on the wrist. We get caught with anything that would let us communicate with the outside world, all of us are spending some time in the box.” Christopher shook his head.
“That’s the second time I’ve heard that mentioned. What, exactly, is the box?” Nick dried a plate and put it away in the kitchen.
“Trust me. You don’t want to know.”
“You ever been put in the box?” Nick asked.
“Nope. My last SIC was, though. Came out of there 15 pounds lighter after four days. Could barely hold his rifle when the CDM jumped us. Whatever they do to you, I don’t want to experience it.”
Anthony shivered. “Yeah, me neither.”
The three of them finished cleaning the dishes and putting them away.
Anthony turned to Christopher. “Think I can get a pack of those Russian smokes from you? I could really go for a cigarette right now.”
“Sure thing, man.” Christopher headed to his bunk and pulled his pack out from under it. He fished out a carton of cigarettes, ripped it open, and tossed a pack to Anthony.
“Smoke it out on the balcony. It still smells like food in here, and I’d like to keep that going for a while,” Nick said.
“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” Anthony winked, flipping a cigarette into his mouth and heading out onto the apartment’s small balcony. He was outside for about two minutes before Nick suddenly stood up.
“Problem, boss?” Christopher asked.
“Nah. Kid just got me thinking that I wanted a cigarette too.” Nick smirked, grabbing one from his own pack and opening the balcony door.
Anthony’s head whipped around as the door opened, and he quickly slipped something small and black into his BDU cargo pocket. “Uh, hey, boss,” Anthony stammered.
“Anthony,” Nick said as he closed the door. “Whatcha got there, kid?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled.
“C’mon, Anthony. Let’s pretend I’m not stupid, okay? Looked like a mobile phone to me.”
Anthony sighed, blowing out smoke, as Nick lit up his own cigarette. “It is. I found it in the CDM when Kenneth and I were taking it apart. Doesn’t seem to work though. You’re not going to tell the COs about this, are you?”
Nick shrugged. “You make sure you don’t get caught with it, and make sure it d
oesn’t bring any trouble my way. You do that, and I’ll forget I saw it.”
“Thanks, Nick.”
“No problem. You do manage to get that thing working, though, you let me know. Deal?”
“Deal. So, I’m wondering something—some of these guys, I can see how they got here. You, Chris, Pete, Michael, Gabe…you guys seem pretty normal. How’d you all end up here?”
“I’ll tell you if you tell me how you got here.”
Anthony laughed and lit another smoke.
“How much time you got?”
Nick smiled and opened his arms, indicating the dark night around him. “Looks like we got nothing but time at the moment, kid.”
“Right you are. My story isn’t exactly interesting, though. All I did was kill a guy.”
“So, didn’t we all. Details, man. Details are what makes the story.”
“Well, I’m from a small city in Nebraska. Lincoln. Ever heard of it?”
“Yeah. Football team comes from there, doesn’t it?”
“That’s the place. Ever been?”
“Nope.”
“Well, if you had, you could see why I wanted to get out. I moved to New York at seventeen, got a job running errands at the New York Times Network. Nothing big, just gopher-type stuff. I made shit money, just enough to rent a room in a larger apartment an hour from the office. I still had the car my folks had given me back in Lincoln. Not like I could drive it in the city, though. It stayed parked outside the place I lived.”
Nick finished his cigarette and tossed the butt off the balcony. Both he and Anthony watched as it turned end-over-end, finally landing three stories below on the empty street behind the building.
“So, anyway, one day I got home from work to see some guy breaking into the car. I lost it. I went off on him. I just kept hitting him and hitting him, even when he wasn’t moving, wasn’t getting up. When the cops came a few minutes later, I attacked them, too. Then, Taser, pepper spray, jail, court, plane, here.”
“So you’d been in the city a while before this happened,” Nick said after a moment. It wasn’t a question.
“Four and a half years.”
“Which would make you twenty-two, twenty-three.”
“Yeah. I look older than I am. Always have.”
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