The subunit deployed in Trout Run Valley was in shambles. Eight men had been killed. Neo was critically injured. Richie had taken two men with him on a precarious errand to Rocket Center to track down Dave Graham, brief him on what had happened, and acquire support. Personnel numbers had been cut by more than half, and duties had thus almost tripled for those remaining.
Will hadn’t slept, rested or showered in days. The uniform he had on hadn’t been changed in a week, and he hadn’t bothered to shave. A void now existed in his soul that wasn’t there before. He was a young soldier who had never experienced combat. He’d never lost brothers-in-arms, nor had he been on a battlefield, and he never could have guessed that this valley—this span of forests, hills and fields comprised of homes, gardens, livestock, a church, and a score of friendly, supportive residents—would have turned into one. Someone’s diabolical reasoning had made it so, and after witnessing the damage inflicted, the overabundance of sadness and loss, and feeling Lauren’s boiling tears soaking through his shirt, Will felt ready for war.
Deciding there was no point in rationing the final cigarette, he pulled it out, placed it between his lips, and dropped the empty box to the ground, crushing it with his boot. Fishing the lighter from his pocket, he set fire to it and pulled in a deep drag. He flipped the lighter around in his hand, remembering when Lauren had told him to ‘keep it’. The context of the conversation they’d had that day made him smile for a brief moment, until the sound of multiple engines caught his ear.
The bridge was wide open now, devoid of the old cars that had once acted as a barrier. Will moved quickly to find cover behind a parapet wall and supported his rifle atop the railing. He didn’t know who or what was coming around the corner, but if it was someone or something he didn’t recognize, he was going to empty his magazine into them, reload, and empty another. He would then keep firing until he ran out of ammunition, then fight any way he knew how until he ran out of energy, options, or both.
As he began inventorying what he had on him, a desert-tan JLTV became visible, and a feeling of relief flooded his body, beginning at his head and landing at his toes, irrespective of the nicotine. A formation of military vehicles and transports intermixed with civilian trucks and SUVs stretched behind the JLTV as far as Will’s eyes could see along the curves of Trout Run Road.
Before long, the lead vehicle pulled to a stop at the bridge while the others followed in succession. Will moved into the open and received a wave from Richie in the driver’s seat. As he marched closer to make contact, he heard two smacks of boots hitting the pavement and glanced over to see Dave Graham moving from the passenger side of the larger transport behind the lead JLTV.
Dave whistled loud enough to be heard over the rattles of every diesel engine in proximity, then pulled a finger across his neck in a throat-slitting gesture, signaling the convoy to shut them off. Then, with a pungent look in his eyes, grit in his stride, and his M4 cradled in his arms, he marched ahead and directly up to Will.
Will transferred his rifle to his left hand, aligned it vertically, and brought a weak salute to his brow, doing his best to stand at attention.
Dave studied him a moment, sent an acknowledging nod, then held out his hand. “As you were.”
Will relaxed a bit and lowered his hand to shake with his commanding officer.
“In light of the current circumstances, we can jettison the formalities. Feel free to stand at ease, take a seat, or lie down and prop your boots up. Whatever suits you.”
“Thank you, LT. I’ll just stand for now.”
Dave looked the young man over. “How’ve you been holding up?”
Will shrugged. “As good as can be, I guess.”
“I…don’t recall you being a smoker.”
Shit. The lit cigarette was still between his lips. He went to rid himself of it.
Dave Graham held up a hand coupled with a rigid smirk. “It’s okay, carry on. I’m sure just about everyone here could make use of the relief right about now.” Fingers interlacing his belt, he looked away, gauging the surroundings. “You’re manning this post solo?”
“No choice in the matter. Kind of…ran out of options.”
“Indeed you did.” Dave furrowed his brow. “The posse’s here now, so anticipate some new options adjoined to that dwindling inventory along with a few modifications to protocol. Where might everyone else be?”
“Manning their posts with diligence,” Will said. “We’ve spread the residents out. The chief and Sergeant Major Mason recommended keeping them thin to reduce collateral losses in case future attacks are incurred.”
Dave nodded endorsement. “And have there been any manifestations of such?”
“No, sir. It’s been quiet for days. A little too quiet, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“Count your blessings. Where can I find the chief?”
“We relocated the FOL to the Sergeant Major’s basement for the time being,” Will said. “He could be there or across the road, checking in
