“Harper?” someone replied from outside.
“Yeah. It’s me. Everybody in here looks to be dead.”
“Poseidon.”
“What?” Grady asked in confusion.
“Poseidon,” the voice repeated.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Grady shouted back.
“It’s the challenge word,” the soldier replied.
“Oh…” Fuck. He never paid attention when the LT gave out this stupid shit. “Um, look, I don’t know what the hell the password is, okay? Just go get Lieutenant Murphy and he’ll tell you that I’m really the asshole inside.”
“The LT got shot.”
“What?” Grady rounded the corner. One of the kids from the platoon had his rifle through the window, aimed at him. He relaxed when he saw that it was indeed Grady. “Where is he?”
“He’s across the street.”
Grady walked quickly toward the front of the house, retrieving his rifle from the gang leader. He looked around for the rest of his gear, but didn’t see it. As he opened the front door, he told the soldier that he hadn’t cleared the entire house, just the first floor and to keep an eye out for his gear that the gang had stolen.
“You look like shit,” the kid said.
“I feel like shit,” he answered. Then he began walking toward the street, hands in the air with his rifle. He didn’t need some grunt mistaking him for a gangbanger. “It’s me, Grady. I’m coming out.”
In moments, he was past the first row of parallel parked cars and in amongst the small group of men. There was only a squad here. It wasn’t even the entire platoon. A squad had done so much damage. “Where’s the LT?” he asked.
“Over there,” Staff Sergeant Gallegos said, pointing across the street. “What’s the status of the hostiles?”
“Five dead in the house. Um…Four, I think, in the townhouse next door. There are two women hiding in the kitchen of the townhouse. They’re noncombatants. I don’t know how many of them there are, so it’s best to search everything.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
Grady limp-jogged across the street. On the opposite side of the line of cars, he found Lieutenant Murphy and the medic. Blood spread out across the street and he knelt beside the still form. “Oh God. I’m so sorry, LT.”
“I was going to try to operate on him,” Specialist Mitchell stated. “But he’s lost so much blood. I’m not sure it would do any good.”
“What’s… Where’d he get hit?”
“Entry wound on the stomach. Exit wound on the back. Pretty sure his spinal cord is severed. He couldn’t feel his legs when he was awake.”
“Is he dead?” Grady asked.
“Not yet. He will be soon. He’s lost so much blood. All I can do is to ease his pain until he goes at this point.”
Grady was pissed at himself. He’d caused this kid’s death. If he hadn’t gone out hunting last night, then the LT would still be alive. They’d be packing up for their trip to the university labs right now, or already on their way. An actual scientist would be looking at the blood running through his veins. “Wait,” he said aloud.
“What?”
Grady clutched at an idea. It was a potentially bad idea, but what the fuck? The kid was already dying. “If you had blood, could you save him?”
“Maybe,” Mitchell admitted. “I mean, I dug around inside and didn’t see any severed arteries or veins. It’s just the overall trauma of the site that caused so much blood loss.”
“So, if he were to get a transfusion…”
“He might survive. He might not. There’s no telling what kind of infection could already be setting in.”
“Have you ever heard of ROLO?” Grady asked.
“Uh… What?”
“ROLO, the Ranger O Low Titer Whole Blood Program. It’s an O-negative blood transfusion in the field. I have O-negative blood.”
“The universal donor,” Mitchell replied, catching on to the idea.
“You have the tubing for it?”
“Yeah. I have the field transfusion kit in my bag, but I never got trained on how to use it.”
“Break it out. I know how to do it.” Grady stood and called out to a soldier several feet away. “Hey, buddy. I need you to go around the platoon and find out who has O-negative blood. Send them to me if they do.”
“I’m supposed to be in overwatch, Grady,” the soldier replied.
“These dumb gang fucks don’t have any real weapons,” he yelled. “They don’t need you to provide cover. If you don’t do this, the LT is gonna die.”
He could see the confliction on the young kid’s face. He wanted to help the lieutenant, but his squad leader had put him in position to guard their backs. It was a tough call for a private to make.
“Go ahead, Private Buchannan.” Grady turned to see Sergeant Turner walking up to the scene. One of the squads followed behind him. The grizzled veteran didn’t bother asking what had happened, he just picked up the pieces and got to work. “Tell your squad leader that I gave you an order. Find us some donors.”
Grady met his eyes and nodded. “We’re gonna try ROLO on the LT,” he informed the platoon sergeant.
“Okay. What do you need from me?”
“Site security,” Grady replied. “And as many type O-negative donors as we have in the platoon.”
Turner pointed at Grady as the operator unzipped his uniform top. “You sure you should be one of the donors? You’ve been bitten. We know that the immune still carry the virus in their blood. Won’t you infect him?”
He paused midway through shrugging out of his fatigues. “I thought about that too. If we can’t get enough O-negative donors, then I’ll have to donate. He’s dead if Specialist Mitchell can’t get him some blood.”
“I have O-negative blood,” Specialist Feliciano said as
