Goose pulled himself back into his gear, gazing across the single road that divided Glitter City and seeing that Hardin’s team had found another survivor. There were getting to be fewer and fewer of those, and most were too injured to help out with the rescue operation.
Hardin, Goose noticed, had also started a scavenger pile, throwing items he considered salvageable and marketable into a pile near the edge of the hard-packed earthen road. The man had a knack for finding things. Hardin was a good soldier but not a career-minded one. He remained military because he knew how to play the options that came to him and because he could follow orders. But Hardin also had a tendency to involve himself in barter and trade that bordered on black market. Still, his skill could be priceless in places like this.
During their last deployment, a peacekeeping mission in East Africa, Hardin had become the go-to guy to locate hard-to-find materials. That was the up-side. The down-side was that Hardin had also muscled his way into being something of a black market kingpin while the 75th was stationed there.
Goose had wanted to bust the man down in rank from corporal to private when he’d discovered the illicit trade he’d gotten involved in. But Remington, a company sergeant then, had smoothed the waters and kept Hardin at rank. When Remington had made officer, he’d brought Goose along with him, but he’d also brought Hardin along. There were times when Goose didn’t agree with Remington’s line of thinking.
But there was no mistaking Hardin’s value in a firefight or any op that needed a man who was cool, was quick under pressure, and never hesitated to make a life-or-death decision.
Sudden static in Goose’s left ear shot a bolt of white-hot pain screaming through his brain. His radio hissed, popped, and crackled, then cleared.
“Phoenix Leader,” a man’s voice said. “Phoenix Leader, this is Base. Do you read? Over.”
Goose put a hand to the headset and adjusted the volume. Static continued to ripple through the connection, but the communication remained steady. “Phoenix Leader reads you, Base.”
“Stand by, Leader. I’m connecting you to Base Commander.”
Knowing that the com officer was alerting Remington to the fact that he had Goose, the sergeant glanced toward the south. The booms of the heavy artillery continued. C’mon, Cal, Goose urged. Get with me. Let me know how bad this is and what we have to do to fix it.
United States of America
Columbus, Georgia
Local Time 12:35 A.M.
Leonard met Joey at the other end of the journey back across the dance crowd as the dancers surfed him away from Jenny and the stage. At the end of the ride, the final dancers unceremoniously dumped Joey onto the floor. Caught unprepared, still distracted by the stage show Jenny was putting on, Joey hit the floor hard.
“Hey,” Leonard said, grinning broadly and pointing. “Looks like you lost your girl.” He pointed toward the stage. “Guess she’s throwing the small fish back tonight, minnow.”
Joey was so mad and hurt he couldn’t speak. Slowly, and with some effort because he was sore from being beaten during the surfing, he forced himself to his feet, rubbing the elbow he’d smacked on the floor. But he couldn’t help staring back up at the stage where Jenny was still dancing.
A baby spotlight picked her out. She had become the center of the show while the lead guitarist continued his solo. She was beautiful, and Joey was sure every guy in the club knew it.
“She’s flauntin’ it, man,” Leonard crowed. “That’s harsh to watch, dude. I mean, if you’re all caught up in her like you seem to be.”
“She’s just dancing,” Joey said defensively. “She likes to dance. She dances all the time.” The excuse sounded lame and he regretted it instantly.
“Yeah,” Leonard agreed. “Jenny’s always been that way.”
Remembering the way she had called on Leonard to help her start her surf run, Joey asked, “You know Jenny?”
Leonard nodded. “A couple years now. Maybe.” He scratched his big, shaggy head. “Kinda hard to remember. Hey, I’m gonna grab a beer.”
Joey glanced back at the stage where Jenny was still breaking the frenetic beat down into popping dance moves that brought cheers from the crowd. She wasn’t like any of the girls he’d known back at the base. Clouded with angry disgust and confusion, especially since part of him enjoyed that Jenny was such a hit because he had brought her, he followed Leonard to the bar.
“Man,” Leonard said, looking back at the stage, “Jenny’s stealin’ the show.” He grinned and shook his head. Then he looked at Joey. “I always feel sorry for the guys she dates.”
“Why?” Joey asked. A few weeks ago when he had met Jenny, he’d thought she was the sexiest girl he’d ever met.
“She’s fickle, man. Don’t stay with nothin’ or nobody for long.” Leonard ordered a beer from the tattooed bartender dressed in holey jeans and a sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped off. Laser lights gleamed against his shaved head and glinted from his piercings.
The bartender looked at Joey.
“Beer,” Joey said, digging money out of his pants pocket.
The bartender tossed his bar towel over his shoulder and leaned on the bar. “You don’t look old enough, kid.”
“I got ID,” Joey argued. He was seventeen. The club, Ragged Metal, had a mandatory minimum age of twenty-one.
“You’re twenty-one?” The bartender grinned in disbelief.
“Yeah.” Joey fought to keep his eyes locked on the bartender. That was one of the things that Goose had taught him: always look another man in the eye. Tony, Joey’s real dad, had never stuck around long enough to teach him anything about being a man. Maintaining eye contact was still hard for him, and for a moment Joey had the sick feeling that he was going to cry or look away.
“C’mon, Ace,” Leonard said. “Get off him. He’s got ID or he woulda never got past Turco at the front door.”
“Looks
