“Yes, sir, L-Tee,” Stephens answered. Stephens moved from the group and herded the recruits to their rucksacks, giving them a minute to swap photos and personal items from their duffels and into the field packs. “You got everything ya need in those packs—sleeping bag, some clothing, and such. Don’t worry about holding on to them olive drab rags from training; you both have fresh camies in the packs. Hurry up and get them on. You can hold onto your boots; now ain’t the time to break in new ones.”
Stephens stepped off, quickly returning with a pair of M4 carbines equipped with advanced optics. “These were laser zeroed and paired to the optics. It’ll be good enough for now. The vests over there are loaded with mags; find one that fits and stand by. We’ll be leaving soon,” Stephens said.
Jacob was kneeling in front of his issue duffel bag, moving items to the larger rucksack. Placing a photo of his family in a front pocket, he looked up at Stephens. “Is this our base then? Will we be coming back here?”
Before Stephens could answer the question, the lieutenant moved up on them from behind and answered for him. “This is O.P. Thunder; just a jumping off point back to the States—a place where units go to rest, regroup, and gather replacements. A month ago, it was in Northern Michigan. Who knows where it will be a month from now if we fail.
“I’m Lieutenant Marks. You already know Stephens. Like the rest of us, he’s been fast tracked through promotions and is now your acting squad leader.” Marks turned to face the rest of the group, watching as they broke open the wooden crates to begin removing ammo cans and loading magazines. “You met the famous and bearded James last night. He's as abrasive as three-grit sandpaper but listen to what he has to say. The big guy that yelled at ya is Rogers. He’s our everything expert, and if he tells you to do something, you better do it.
This right here is Alpha Squad… Assassins. We aren’t much of a squad, but this is what we got. I’m sure you know the main base got hit yesterday. The Deltas are getting bolder. They’re moving farther north away from the ponds, and we’ve been tasked to make it stop. We’ll get all the details later once we’re en route.
“I heard you all had a part in some of the cleanup action yesterday. That’s good, but it don’t mean shit to us here. Plinking Deltas from a hilltop doesn’t impress me much. You just do as you’re told and maybe you’ll survive the week.” Marks stared down into their blank expressions before turning and leaving the barn.
Stephens waited until the lieutenant left the space then looked back at Jacob. “Just stick with me for a few days, okay? You’ll get yourself squared away in no time. You too, Winslow; let Sergeant Stephens show you the way,” he said, smiling. “L-Tee wants us outside and ready to get on the trucks as soon as they show up. We’ll be moving to the coast soon.”
“Stephens, where the hell are we going?” Jacob asked.
“I told ya, we’re going back… back to the States. Gonna get in deep and start killing these things,” Stephens said. “These are good people—real good. We’re lucky to be with them.”
“That’s it? A week and a half of training and they’re sending me back?”
“Don’t worry about any of that. Just concentrate on staying behind your rifle; let me and the L-Tee worry about where we’re going and when we’ll get back.”
Jacob finished filling his pack and adjusted his vest; he leaned back and examined the faces of the men around him. They were hardened and leathered, not the soft and scared faces of the men in his training platoon. James was just finishing with the ammo detail. His sleeves were rolled, exposing a forearm covered with tattoos. A globe and anchor tattoo was prominent on the side of his neck just below his beard.
The stocky man, Rogers, was breaking up the remnants of the wooden crates and stacking the bits in a corner. Jacob figured the man couldn’t have been more than five foot ten, but his posture was broad and intimidating, and he had the voice of a giant. He then watched Marks move back across the barn and examine a map in a plastic pouch. He held a scrap of paper next to it while his finger traced a path along the map. Jacob shook his head, intimidated. Jesse caught the movement and shared a similar expression. “I know man, I think we're in way over our heads,” Jesse whispered.
The sound of screeching brakes stopped the men from what they were doing and caused them to look down toward the muddy road. “All right, Assassins, that’s us. It’s time to saddle up!” Stephens called out.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jacob moved quickly from the barn. At the bottom of the hill, he saw a large panel van with a Humvee positioned to the front of it. Marks was standing at the side of the van, talking to the driver as a second man slid the side door open. Jacob rushed down the hill and was ushered into the back of the cargo van. He shuffled to the side wall and dropped to the floor with his new rucksack on his lap. After the rest of the men piled into the van, Jacob used his feet to slide closer to the
