Rachel’s departure took the fight out of Emily. She was being held back by Bill and John. “It’s ok. I’m ok.” She said, pushing their hands away. She turned around and sat back down at the radio. “I’m sorry...” She muttered under her breath.
“Hey folks, I don’t know about you, but that’s about enough excitement for me. Let’s turn in and try to get some sleep.” John suggested. “See you all at breakfast.”
People disbanded and went their way, casting uncertain glances at each other. Emily stayed where she was, her eyes on the radio. She subconsciously wrung her hands.
Bill had stayed behind. He walked over and put his good hand on her shoulder. Emily cast a quick glance towards her shoulder and the hand upon it. She reached around and tapped the hand. Then dropped her hand and stared straight forward again. The two stayed like that for a full minute, remembering their comrades.
Chapter Forty-two
Garcia
October 31, 9:50 P.M.
“Adios!”
A spasm of pain racked his body, and he dropped the handset to the floor. His gut and chest still hurt but the pain had now also crept to his neck and head, where it seemed to intensify. Garcia could picture the nanobots making their way up his neck and towards his brain.
Ah what the fuck!
He sat for several long moments, holding his head in his hands. Slowly, gradually, the pain faded. Maybe I’m just getting used to the pain. Or maybe those fucking things inside of me are severing nerves and shit!
With one last deep breath in and sigh out, Garcia got up. He walked to the doorway of the communications tent. It was just another DRASH tent but slightly roomier.
No need for all that room. I’m the only guy here.
Garcia heard a bunch of noises outside of the tent. The noises of soldiers moving around, the sound of moans... Somebody was crying for his mother. The sound of the occasional gunshot. And the occasional scream.
The camp was falling apart fast.
Good thing I got those guys squared away. Those guys... Who the fuck? Ah never mind. They got away in a couple of Humvees. Or was it just the one? But they got plenty of extra gear.
Garcia blinked, and had a moment of clarity.
Oh yeah, Willemtown!
He rushed back to the radio and found the right channel.
Ah, shit. I forgot the callsign!
Garcia felt another slow wave of nausea and pain building up.
Oh no! ohnoohnoohno not now!
He squeezed his eyes shut and spoke.
“Mike come in – this is Esteban, uh Garcia. Over.”
“Garcia, I read you clear. Over”
“Uh–” He quickly grabbed the piece of paper with the Willemtown location.
“Yeah, Mike. I got a call from a friend. Emily. ... Emily Hill. Uh never mind that – she had radio contact with some civilians that need help.”
A spasm of pain.
“Uh.” Garcia dropped the paper. He grimaced in pain. “FUCK YOU!” Garcia screamed in frustration.
Just gimme a minute more. Please!
He regained control and snagged the paper from the floor. He pushed the transmit button again. “Stand by for the location.” Garcia read out the note. He repeated the location once more.
“Ok Garcia, we got it and will head over there.”
But Garcia had dropped the handset. The SINCGARS unit already forgotten as Garcia stumbled towards a table near the tent entrance.
He didn’t remember why that table was important. He just knew he had to get there. He stumbled up to it and bumped into it. Something slid on the table, almost to the back edge.
I need that. Grab it.
He clumsily reached for the object. Inadvertently pushing it further away from him. He pawed at the object but could not get a good grip.
Behind him, the tent door opened up.
“It’s ok soldier. I got you.”
Garcia turned around in a daze. It took him a second to focus on the person in front of him. His expression turned to confusion when he recognized the man.
The person raised his pistol and pulled the trigger.
Garcia fell lifeless to the floor. Folding into himself as he sunk down to the ground. It almost looked graceful.
“Rest in peace, soldier.” The man grabbed Garcia’s sidearm from the table.
The man then turned on his heel and stepped back out of the tent. Another soldier walked up to him and saluted sharply.
“Sir, we are in the final stages of mopping up. We are proceeding as humanely as possible as per your explicit orders.” The man nodded. His expression didn’t change, but deep down inside he struggled with it.
Shooting our own men. What have we come to...?
It was almost as if the soldier read his mind. “This was bad, sir.”
This was bad, alright... “We used to have a word for that; TARFU.” The man responded; his voice more gravelly than usual.
“Huh that’s a new one. What does it mean, sir?”
“Not a new one, son. An old one. It stands for ‘Totally and Royally Fucked Up’. I’d say it applies here.”
“Tarfu... The soldier let the word roll around his mouth. “I like it.” He decided.
The officer was so stuck in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear the next thing. The soldier stopped speaking, until his leader faced him.
“Lieutenant Colonel?”
“I’m fine, son. ... But please address me properly.”
“Sorry sir. Captain. I was saying that we should be able to roll out of here within thirty minutes.”
“Good.” Captain Shaw, fifth level of the Rosae Crucis Order was all business again.
“It’s almost time for contact. I will be in here. Come get me when we are ready to leave.”
Shaw turned and entered the communications tent once more. He ignored Garcia’s corpse and headed straight for the SINCGARS unit.
Chapter Forty-three
Claire
November 1, 1:30 AM
She felt as if she were floating just off the ground. She felt ... detached from her own body.
She
