Vincent was standing between us and them, his arms upraised between us to ward off any aggressive action before it started. Wang and Santino were kneeling in the doorway opposite the entrance, their rifles directed at our guests. Both men were shirtless and looked as though they had been preparing to get some sleep.
“Stand down,” Vincent ordered, motioning for all of us to put our weapons down.
He turned to face them, offering them a look of annoyed expectancy. The Romans waited patiently for us to put our weapons away. Once satisfied we wouldn’t shoot them, the centurion, Quintilius, stepped forward.
“There has been an incident on the Palatine which requires your attention,” he said, pointedly. “Earlier today, prior to your return from Gaul, Caligula became very ill, and is now bed ridden.”
Vincent and I exchanged glances. This was it. The pivotal point in Caligula’s reign, the catalyst for his legacy, but the timing was off. Caligula wasn’t even in Rome when he got sick. I now knew it was no longer a question of whether or not we were changing things.
We were.
“We are unsure of the cause,” Quintilius said, “but up until this morning, Caligula was in perfect health. We suspect poison. We…” he trailed off, glancing at his comrades before continuing, “we’re here of our own accord. No one sent us. We were hoping maybe you could help him.”
Vincent looked thoughtful, but Quintilius continued before he could say anything.
“There’s more. We also have information of an armed mob congregating on the far side of the city, led by members of the Senate. Rumors of an uprising have been circulating for weeks now, and it looks like dissenters plan to take advantage of Caligula’s weakened position. If you are truly here to help us, you must commit to our cause now. We may need to flee Rome at any time, and you won’t be able to come back.” He took a step forward, and stared coldly at Vincent. “Are you with us?”
Vincent’s eyes met the floor before he glanced over at me. I shrugged. We were well beyond the point of no return in regards to maintaining the status quo, and the alternative to helping seemed like a death sentence, anyway.
He nodded. “We’re with you.”
The centurion nodded as well. “We thank you. Please, make your way to the Palatine as quickly as possible. I believe the need for you to stay under guard is at an end, so please leave at your discretion, but do hurry. My men and I will attempt to quell the uprising before it ignites, but we cannot make any guarantees. Take what you can with you, and we will arrange to have your extra supplies moved. Gaius will remain here with you, just in case. He’ll follow whatever order you give him.”
Vincent nodded, and tapped his closed fist against his chest. “We’ll do what we can, Centurion.”
The man returned the gesture before rounding up his men and leaving as quickly as he could, Gaius remaining with us.
Vincent started moving towards his room.
“All right, people. I want you ready in ten minutes. Get your three day assault packs ready. I want you heavy with ammunition. Looks we’ll be saying goodbye to our little home away from home.”
“Damn,” Santino said, “and I was just about ready to plant a garden out front. I was thinking tulips.”
***
Helena and I rushed back into our room even though most of our gear was already ready to go, and donned our night ops combat fatigues. The past month had given all of us plenty of free time, so even though our weapons had sat idle, they were clean, loaded, and ready for use. Vincent’s order for a three day assault pack was basically code for bringing as much food and ammo as you can muster. Finding my small-go bag, I crammed in as many fully loaded magazines as I could. Thanks to the bag’s versatility, I tightened the shoulder strap to the point where I could fit it around my waist for use as a butt pack. It would allow for quick access to as much ammo as I hoped I’d need, without needing to hassle with a cumbersome bag.
That thought in mind, I made sure to attach a dump pouch to my belt as well. Normally in the field, a soldier’s empty mag could simply be discarded on the ground and forgotten about. When they returned home, the military would provide them with replacements. Here, in ancient Rome, we no longer had that luxury, and while we had more than enough ammunition to supply the entire Normandy Beach invasion, we couldn’t afford to frivolously waste the magazines.
Finding my assault bag, I gestured for Helena to toss me her own. When she did, I ran to our supply room. I stuffed both of our bags with a half a dozen MREs, enough food to last a month if rationed very, very scarcely, as well as extra empty magazines, and a few boxes of additional ammo, 5.56x45mm for me, 5.57x28mm for Helena’s P90, and 7.62x51mm ammo for her DSR-1. To round out our supplies, I added an entrenching shovel, a few hundred feet of paracord, a survival gear, E amp;E kit, some bottled water, and plenty of extra batteries with a solar panel charger into my bag. Besides the food and ammo, I added two sets of night vision goggles to Helena’s pack, as well as a two man tent, which when packed was no larger than three pairs of jeans stacked on top of each other, and not much heavier. She had to travel light in case she needed to run off and play sniper. Plus she had to carry two weapons.
Just as I was about to head back into my room, Bordeaux rushed in behind me, almost running me down with his bulky frame.
“ excusez-moi,” he mumbled mockingly. “Rush, rush, rush.”
Smiling at his own silliness, he shoved me into my room.
I stumbling through the doorway and shot him an ugly stare, which he, of course, completely ignored.
Helena noticed my clumsiness, and laughed. “Boy, you are quite the klutz, and not just around ‘attractive women’,” she said, batting her eyelashes at me. “I’m amazed you made it through puberty.”
Offering her a sarcastic smile, I threw her assault bag at her a little harder than I should have. She caught it with a “whoof.”
“And a temper too,” she said, pressing the back of her palm to her forehead. “Hold me back.” She continued smiling as she pulled on her vest, and began snapping her thigh platforms together. She had her pistol on her right leg, and magazine pouches for her DSR-1 on her left. She pulled on her bag, slung her DSR-1 over her shoulder, somewhat awkward with the large bag, and shouldered her P90. “I’ll meet you outside, Jacob.”
She tried to squeeze past me to get through the door, but just before she could, instinct took over. I lashed out and grabbed her arm, swinging her around into my own arms. Before she could protest, which I was mostly sure she wouldn’t, I leaned her back, pressed my lips against hers, and waited for her to punch me again.
I felt her stiffen ever so slightly, not out of apprehension or protest, or even fear, but perhaps just from the novelty of the experience. Her lips were soft and tender, and I felt her resolve tighten quickly. Almost immediately I felt her arms snaking around my neck, and I knew I’d avoided another excruciating black eye. Pulling her even closer, I drank in as many details as I could. The sweet scent of her hair, the subtle, yet equally pleasing odor of her skin, and the texture of her delicate lips. The stimulation was so intoxicating that I didn’t want to let go; only doing so when I thought she might run out of air.
Backing away, I saw her eyes were closed, and her lips still puckered. It was an expression as innocent as a young woman could wear after her first kiss with a new guy. Cupping her chin in a hand, I waited for her eyes to open.
When they did, I gave her a smile. “Just in case something happens.”
She looked at me, her mouth moving, but with no words coming out.
I heard someone clear their throat, and for a second I thought the moment would be ruined by a horrible joke from Santino. Instead, I looked over to see Bordeaux, still standing there, smiling in our direction. Catching my eye, he just shook his head with a smile, and left the room.
Helena smiled as well and gave me a playful shove away from her. “Just don’t get yourself killed, Lieutenant. I’ve decided I like you after all.”
“Knowing there’s someone to come home to makes surviving that much more important. Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t.” She said as she left. I watched her go for a half second wondering if I’d just won something. Like an Awesome Contest of something. Helena’s affection was a prize any man would die for, but it wasn’t that. It wasn’t that kissing her was some grand victory, but it made me remember I had something to fight for again. Like
