47 Echo

by Kupfer, Shawn

  “I thought you were going to talk to someone at Homeland Security.”

  “I did. It still takes time, Sara.”

  Nick quietly crept out onto the back patio. He could still hear Stan and Sara arguing, but at least he couldn’t make out their words clearly anymore. He took a seat in one of the patio chairs and stretched out his legs. Across the yard, he noticed Cedric sitting in another chair, reading.

  “Hey,” Cedric said quietly.

  “Hey yourself, big man.”

  “They’re fighting about you again, aren’t they?”

  “Yep.”

  “Don’t take it too hard. They fight a lot lately.”

  Cedric put his book down and walked across the patio.

  “So you were in the shit over there, huh?” the boy asked.

  “Yeah, you could say it that way.”

  “Kids at school say the Mechoes are pretty hardcore. It’s one of the few reasons they don’t beat the shit out of me for being part Chink.”

  “Chinese.”

  “Whatever. I’ve got it better than the Kwon brothers. They get messed with every other day. I don’t get these kids. I very much doubt Richie and Evan Kwon had anything to do with the attack on L.A. or anything after, but the jocks still beat the crap out of them for being Korean. They’re not even North Korean. They’re from Inglewood.”

  “Yeah. Don’t expect that to get better before it gets worse. And it’s gonna get a lot worse as we get deeper into this war and keep losing it.”

  “You really think we’re going to lose?”

  “I don’t think we’re going to win.”

  Cedric shrugged—this seemed to make perfect sense to him. “So what are you going to do now? Go out there and get a job, I guess?” he asked.

  “I guess.”

  “Any idea what yet?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. I know exactly what I’m going to do.”

  The next day was Sunday. When Cedric awoke, Nick was nowhere to be found. He’d wanted to talk to his uncle more, but Nick wasn’t in the guest room, out on the patio, or anywhere in the house. He decided to check the garage, to see if maybe his uncle was working on the sweet car they’d been storing for the past several months.

  Nick wasn’t there, but there was a note addressed to Cedric under the driver’s side windshield wiper. It said, “When you hit sixteen big man, it’s yours. Take care of it.”

  Chapter 21

  Runaway Return

  The last month hadn’t been pleasant for 47 Echo. Christopher had done his best to command the unit, but they’d lost Wes and Owen at the Battle of Neryugn. They’d still gotten away light compared to some of the other Echo units—two hundred dead in total from Echo, almost double that from Charlie and Delta. The 4-7 Echo had been the first in on a mission to try and secure an airfield that the Chinese had taken months before. They’d managed to hold it long enough to land the troop planes—then the CDMs popped up from underground and slaughtered hundreds before they could get back out again. While the 4-7’s mission was a success, the operation as a whole had been a resounding failure.

  To make matters worse, Kenneth had abandoned the unit. His tracker wasn’t responding, and command had no idea where he was. In the commotion, the big man had managed to slip away, vanishing into the night without a trace.

  The Marine and Army convict units had fallen back to Aldan, just inside Allied territory. Aldan had been renamed Firebase Zulu, and sat directly on the front lines, ten miles from the Chinese troops.

  Now only five men strong, 47 Echo SRT was assigned a small house just down the street from the new Command and Control building, a former mineral-processing facility with direct access to below-ground mining facilities.

  Christopher and his men were recovering from the beating they’d taken at Neryugn and waiting on their next assignment. Gabriel was still nursing a broken arm, and Anthony had a slight limp from a bullet he’d taken in the thigh. Captain Neal showed up unexpectedly on their second afternoon of convalescence, walking into their house with a thin file folder.

  “What’s up, Captain? Another mission already? We’re kind of beat, and short on men,” Christopher greeted wearily.

  “No new mission yet. Just some reorganization going on over at C2. Major Harrison’s finished his sentence and been sent back to the regular Marines. I’ve been tapped to replace him as Echo Commander.”

  “So who’s gonna be our new boss?” Peter asked.

  “New guy. Regular Marine. Coming in today.”

  “What’d he do to get assigned to Echo?” Michael grumbled.

  “He requested it. Your unit, specifically. Guess your special forces exploits have made you pretty well known.”

  “Yeah, well, our recent record hasn’t been too impressive. Last month’s been kinda shit for us,” Christopher said.

  “Yeah, I think you’ll get along with your new Lieutenant just fine. He’s bringing some replacements from the other units in with him. You’ll be back up to full strength in two days. Also, the Lieutenant will be taking over my position as Second-In-Command of all Echo units, so make it easy on him, yeah?”

  “We’ll do what we can, boss.”

  “Good men. Mr. Lee, you want to come with me to Command and Control? Your new commander should be there any time now.”

  “Yes, sir. Rest up, guys. I’ll be back in a bit,” Christopher told his men. He was greeted with halfhearted affirmatives and at least one groan.

  As Christopher and Neal walked down the street to Command and Control, Christopher scratched idly at a bullet graze on his shoulder.

  “So, this new guy—he have any Special Forces experience?”

  “Some, sure.”

  “Why in hell would anyone in the real Marines request this shit duty? All due respect, of course, sir.”

  “Of course.”

  “But you wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t been sentenced to it, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “So what’s that say about this guy? He must be some kind of psycho. Man, I wish we had Nick back.”

  Neal opened the door, and the two of them saw Lieutenant Colonel Markham talking to a man in Marine fatigues. The other man had his back to them.

  “Like I said, I think you’re going to get along with your new commander just fine.”

  The other man turned around and smirked at Christopher.

  “Holy motherfucking Christ. Nick!”

  “That’s Lieutenant Morrow to you, convict,” Nick shot back, chuckling.

  “Sir!” Christopher shot him a crisp salute.

  “Lieutenant, the unit’s yours,” Neal told him.

  “Thank you, Captain. Mr. Lee, let’s take a walk. We need to recruit some new members,” Nick said, saluting his superiors before he ushered Christopher out into the cold sunshine of the Eastern Russian autumn.

  “Shit, um, Lieutenant—” Christopher started.

  “Fuck the Lieutenant bullshit. That’s only in front of the bosses,” Nick cut him off.

  “All right, Nick. What the fuck are you doing back here? I thought you’d have headed for the hills as soon as the ink was dry on your release papers.”

  “I was escorted to those very same hills. Moved in with my brother. Had a job interview all set up, was on my way to becoming a functioning citizen in polite society again. Then, Sunday morning, I said fuck it. I didn’t want polite society, not the one that’s over there now.”

  Christopher shook his head.

  “Look at me, Chris. Just a matter of time before I got picked up again for being Chink on a Friday night. And there was no way I was leaving you guys out here to have all the fun for yourselves. Nothing for me out there. The only real friends I have are out here.”

  “About that…Owen and Wes—”

  “I was briefed. You guys did a hell of a job at Neryugn. It’s amazing any of you walked out of that pit of hell.”

  “I fucked up, Nick.”

  Nick looked over at his friend
and saw that he was barely keeping it together. Christopher’s eyes were starting to lose focus, and Nick knew he was replaying the battle in his mind.

  “You did nothing of the kind. You did as well as anyone could have. Better, in fact. I hope you don’t think being bumped down to my SIC is a reflection on your work at all. They wanted to give you your own unit, and still will if you want.”

  “No. I’d rather stick with you, brother. So you’re a real Marine now. An officer. How the fuck did you manage that?”

  “Walked into the Marine recruiter at Long Beach. Place was empty—one crippled sixty-five-year-old Marine working the office. Recruitment’s been a problem, apparently. I sat down in his chair and told him I wanted to join up. He asked if I had any military experience, I told him I had a couple of months in 47 Echo.”

  “Bet that fucked with his head.” A bit of Christopher’s characteristic grin crept back into the corners of his mouth.

  “Thought the old guy was going to have a heart attack. He recognized me pretty quick after that, told me to wait right there. Phone calls got made. I had to meet with a lawyer to sign a statement saying I hadn’t been coerced or forced to join up. I told them exactly where I wanted to go, and they were only too happy to fast-track me into this special accelerated OTS at Quantico.”

  “OTS?”

  “Officer Training School. Two weeks, plus the time I’d already done in Echo, and I was on an Air Force bird for Justice. Caught a ride with an Army helo from there, and here I am.”

  “You’re fucking insane, man.”

  “Good thing for you I am, too. We’ll need it on our next assignment.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Don’t worry. I have it all planned out.”

  “Strangely, that does make me feel a little better. So, where are we headed?”

  “The Echo bunkhouse. We’re poaching a few from what’s left of the 1-8, then picking up a specialist from Army Kilo and one from Air Force Delta Flight.”

  “Sounds like a lot of leg work.”

  “Yeah. We’d better get started, I guess. I have some alternates lined up in case my first choices turn us down, but the Mechoes are pretty much a lock.”

  Christopher nodded and waved them past the guards at the converted high school that housed the remainder of the Marine Echo units.

  “So that’s the deal. You agree to join the 4-7, you’re a free man with no criminal record soon as the war’s over.”

  Daniel shrugged his broad shoulders. “That’s if I survive that long, which judging by your mission profile, I probably won’t. ‘Course, after Neryugn, I doubt my survival’s any more assured in the 18. But why me?”

  “That shot you made back at Camp Justice. There are maybe four, five guys in the world who can shoot like that. You did it twice in two seconds without even taking a breath,” Nick said.

  “Wasn’t a big deal,” Daniel said dismissively, fighting a smirk.

  “Where’d you learn to handle a rifle like that, anyway?” Christopher asked.

  “Might not think it to look at me, guys, but I grew up with a gun in my hands. Daddy had me out hunting almost as soon as I could walk. You go to where I’m from in North Carolina, you’ll find a dozen and a half kids just like me.”

  “So what’s the word, Daniel? You in?”

  “Might be a bit of a problem there. I’ve got an…attachment here in the 1-8.”

  “If you mean Bryce, yeah, I noticed that. We’re asking him to join, too.” Nick nodded.

  “And you’re okay with us? With queers in your unit?”

  “Couldn’t care less. Both of you do your jobs, and both of you are damn good at it. All I need to know right there.”

  Daniel smiled. “Well, all right then. Bryce is in, then I’m in.”

  “Good man. If he agrees, the two of you know where our unit’s set up?”

  “Sure. Just down from C2. Better digs than here, anyway.”

  “A lot better.” Christopher grinned. “We even have Blu-ray XL.”

  “When you get back to the one-eight, let Bryce know we’re here to see him. You’re not to tell him why, just tell him to come here and meet with us. Clear?” Nick told Daniel.

  “Clear, sir.”

  “You’re dismissed.”

  Still grinning, Daniel rose from his chair and walked out of what had once been the principal’s office, headed down the hall for the gymnasium where the rest of the 18 was set up.

  “So Daniel’s gay?” Christopher asked after the young man had gone.

  “How did you not notice that?”

  “Didn’t care, I guess.”

  “Good. Keep it that way. Bryce’ll agree. I’ll bet you a carton of cigarettes on it.”

  “No bet here. ‘Sides, I’m down to my last three packs. Gotta find a new supply chain sometime soon. My contacts either stayed in Justice or got blown to hell at Neryugn.”

  “We’ll make a supply run later. Now, where are they keeping the Army convicts around here?”

  “Warehousing ‘em. Literally. Couple steel-framed hangars out past the refinery. Somehow stayed standing when the Chinks bombed the hell out of this place. What do we want a grunt convict for, anyway? They’re not the brightest bulbs, you know.”

  “This one is.”

  Christopher nodded toward the glass door, and Nick saw Bryce limping down the hall. Nick straightened up behind the desk and put on a serious face. When Bryce came in and sat down, Nick explained the situation just as he had to Daniel. Bryce expressed the same caveat—he was in if Daniel was—and like that, 47 Echo had two new members.

  Nick and Christopher commandeered a Cougar and drove over to the hangars teeming with Army convicts. As they entered the first hangar, they realized there was no semblance of organization inside. Convicts from different units milled around or slept on cheap bunks scattered all around the huge, open building.

  Nick checked the screen on his jacket’s sleeve, then grabbed the first SIC he saw. “Two-eight Kilo 9215. Know him?”

  “Shit, sir. Everyone knows that psycho. I’ll take you to him.”

  The SIC led them through the masses of Army convicts to the far corner of the warehouse, pointing to a man sitting on a bunk with his back to them. Nick thanked the SIC, who nodded back and disappeared into the throng of green uniforms.

  “Martin Chase?” Nick asked the man.

  “Yep. And you’re Lieutenant Nick Morrow, 47 Echo SRF,” Martin said without turning around.

  “How’d you know that?” Christopher asked.

  Martin pointed to his ear, then to the ground. “I keep informed.”

  “You know why we’re here, Martin?”

  Martin turned to face them, showing a heavily scarred face. One ancient slash ran its way from just above his left eye to his upper lip, and his right cheek looked to have recently healed from a severe burn. His features twisted into a grin. “Well, you’re using my first name, so my guess is you’re going to ask me to join up.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Great. I’m in.”

  “Gather your stuff and meet at 47 Echo’s barracks by nightfall. I assume you know where it is?” Nick asked.

  “Of course. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “Welcome to the 4-7, Martin.”

  Martin nodded and started gathering up his belongings. Nick and Christopher headed back out to the Cougar. As Nick started the engine, Christopher lit a couple of cigarettes and handed one to him.

  “So, I gotta ask. What’s up with…uh, Martin, was it?”

  “Martin Chase. Arsonist. Bombmaker. Tests as brilliant, but violently failed the psych profile, so he landed in Kilo instead of Echo. He’s suicidal and unstable, but he’s fucking great at what he does. And we need someone good at demo.”

  “And a basket-case as a bonus. I can’t wait to see what kind of a winner we’re stealing from the Air Force.”

  Nick laughed.

  Chapter 22

  New Direction
<
br />   Their last addition was en route from Camp Justice, so Nick drove the Cougar to 47 Echo’s barracks. His men were happy to see him, if confused, so he ran through the whole story yet again for them.

  Nick found he had his own room. He tossed his duffel onto the bed and took his boots off. His metallic toes clicked against the floor as he stretched them out. It was the first chance he’d had to sit down since he’d arrived at Firebase Zulu that morning, and he was looking forward to just relaxing for a few minutes when he heard a knock on his open doorframe.

  “Hey, boss. So you’re back,” Anthony said. His voice was flat.

  “Yep. Looks that way.”

  “I wrote that article, you know. The one that got them to reopen your case.”

  “I figured.”

  “So why’d you undo that? Why’d you come back here?”

  “Why do you think? It’s because I don’t want you and the other guys to die.”

  “Tell that to Wes and Owen. Or Kenneth, if you can find him.”

  “Yeah, I know. I mean, Kenneth, I couldn’t give a fuck. But Owen and Wes…I read the report, but it just listed them as killed in action. What happened?”

  “We dropped in from a Black Hawk at two in the morning. Humped two miles on foot until we made it to the airfield. Light Chinese patrols, and we wiped ‘em out pretty easy. Christopher called for the birds to land, but there must’ve been a comm station somewhere we missed. As the troop planes were unloading, about a hundred CDMs rolled in on our position and started tearing the shit out of everything. Our fighter escort managed to help keep them off our backs, and we got the survivors back onto the three troop planes the CDMs didn’t blow up.”

  “Yeah, that was mostly in the report.”

  “Our extraction was the same Black Hawk that brought us in. We managed to find a truck at the airfield that still ran, one of those old ones that drives ladders up to incoming planes. Wes took a bullet to the face before we even got the truck started. Owen was the last in, and Chinese troops cut him down as we were escaping. Most of us took a couple of bullets, but Owen bled out on the escape flight. We’d made it to about 2000 feet before we realized Kenneth had escaped.”