Then again, most of the time it was Barney-the caretaker at the complex where she and Denise lived-doing those things with Denise. The wounded combat vet treated the kids of all the military families living in the apartment building like his own, and Nina knew from the start she would spend most days away from Denise as part of her role in the war. Truth was, very few 'traditional' families remained anymore. None of that made it easier to be hundreds of miles away from the one person in the new world who gave Nina a reason to live other than battle.
The cabin intercom buzzed and the pilot announced, 'Two minutes to LZ. Stand by.'
Maddock and Bly stowed their magazines. Caesar re-assembled his rifle in seconds.
The bright interior lights switched off, replaced by a soft red glow.
Nina slipped on a black ski mask and warm gloves then wrestled a heavy backpack onto her shoulders. Next, she strapped a scabbard to her leg and checked the sword inside. That sword held special meaning to her; a prize won from the Mutant who had held Denise hostage in Wilmington, North Carolina.
With everything in place, the Captain led her team to the starboard door and waited.
Her stomach fluttered as she felt the craft descend, her body rocked forward and then back as momentum slowed to a stop.
'Prepare to disembark.'
The side door slid open. A bitter breeze gust in. The red interior light radiated out and illuminated a patch of frosty dirt. The four members of the Dark Wolves jumped into the untamed wilderness more than thirty miles behind enemy lines.
– The first rays of dawn glimmered over the horizon.
Nina’s team had spent the night-a long, brutally cold night-nestled amongst the barren thickets atop one of the soft hills riding the gently rolling plains. Those plains marked the start of the corn belt: some of the best farming land in all of what used to be called the United States.
Most of that fertile land sat neglected. However, Nina and her team spied a stretch that had not withered: a farm house and barn with a field stretching behind. With the growing season long over, the farm equipment sat idle but the field appeared disturbed, as if it had endured the tilling, seeding, and harvesting cycle in the not too distant past.
From their position, the wolves observed three dozen men, women, and teenagers moving about a big house, a barn, and what appeared to be a guest cottage. At night they had watched the lights go out one after another, in the morning they watched the residents draw water from a well, feed livestock in the barn, and check game traps around the edge of their farm, finding several mice and rabbits in the process.
Despite the livestock and farmland, the majority appeared hungry and desperate. Their clothes-threadbare at best-hung from slumped shoulders on scrawny frames. They wrapped themselves in table cloths, curtains, and burlap sacks to face the cold. Through binoculars, she saw rotting teeth, bruises, and sores; the signs of malnutrition.
She did not find this surprising. When they came upon survivors they usually found people half-starving and mentally beaten by a world in which mankind no longer lived atop the food chain.
However, a number of the residents appeared in better condition both physically and in dress. Again, not surprising; she saw this plenty of times, too. The bigger the gun the more likely a thug could grow himself into a warlord. Although she refused to jump to conclusions based on a few hours of study, she suspected that some tin- pot dictator and a handful of friends controlled this farm, living off the fruits of others with the threat of violence.
Still, as Captain Forest watched the farm come to life that morning, she felt certain this was a colony of human beings, not The Order’s converts or aliens in disguise.
Carl Bly, next to Nina among the dead thickets, whispered, 'Whachya thinkin', Cap?'
A freezing January wind blew across the frosted hill, reminding Nina of the uncomfortable night they had spent in the wilderness. Overhead, puffy white clouds raced across a blue sky as if late for a gathering storm.
'Unless someone here sees something I don't, I think we've got a bunch of survivors. I don't detect any threats.'
'Looks clean to me, Cap,' Vince Caesar agreed.
Bly added, 'I'd sure like it a Hell of a lot better down there inside that farmhouse than out on this hill. It has got to be warmer in there. I see smoke coming out the chimney.'
Maddock nodded his head enthusiastically at Bly's idea.
Nina said, 'We’re early but let's introduce ourselves.'
The four commandos stood and descended the slope. They were half way to the farmhouse when the residents caught sight of the visitors. One hurried into the main house. A few moments later a group of people rushed to meet the soldiers at the edge of the property.
A woman with shoulder-length brunette hair covered by a knit hat and watching through green eyes led the welcoming committee. She and her escort were from the better fed/better clothed faction of the community. She appeared unfazed by the early arrival.
'Nina? I’m glad you came!'
'Yes, I’m Nina Forest. Do I know you?'
'It’s me. Jo. Jolene Crawford. We were friends, right?'
Captain Forest studied the dark-haired woman bundled in winter clothing.
'Jolene. Jo Crawford?'
'Yes,' and she turned to one of the men on her flank and said, 'See, I told you she'd know me. I knew it!'
'We can have a transport here in a few hours to get you and your people out.'
'That's awesome,' Jolene struggled to suppress a bout of giddiness. 'I knew we could count on you. Thank you for coming.'
'How many people here?' Nina asked.
'Ah, well, there's a few. And we've got lots of stuff we might want to take back. Maybe your boys here can help us sort out what's what.'
'You said in your radio message that there was a threat,' Nina decided to move beyond the niceties. 'What were you talking about?'
'My boss can break it down for you. C'mon inside.'
Nina turned to her team and looked them each in the eye as she instructed, 'Check out the rest of the camp here. Take a census of the survivors and their condition.'
While her words sent one message, the glare in her eye contact sent another. A message of caution and suspicion.
Jolene and her escort then led Nina toward the farmhouse. As they approached, the scrawnier-looking residents stepped aside, like peasants scurrying from the path of royalty. Stranger still, they regarded her-Nina-with something akin to awe. Eyes widened, jaws dropped, and she overheard hushed gasps.
They entered through a rickety front door. Jolene led Nina into the house's living room. The only light there came from slivers of sun sneaking in through seams between drawn curtains.
Jolene presented, 'Here she is.'
Nina saw a shadow on the far side of the room.
A voice spoke, 'Well. Isn’t this something.'
The voice sounded oddly familiar to Nina. She knew it from somewhere.
The shadow moved closer.
Nina saw.
From somewhere far away, she heard a shout of warning-Vince, perhaps-and the sharp report of a solitary gunshot. From behind, she sensed concealed weapons drawn.
Yet none of that mattered. The sight in front of Nina held her attention to the fullest. As that sight came in to focus, her senses corkscrewed as if her mind fell into a whirlwind. Nina gasped short breaths. Her entire body shook.
'No…it’s not… it’s not possible.'
The combat veteran, the mother, the natural-born warrior…
Nina screamed.
