“What the fuck are you doing?” he said. “Trying to give away our position?”
When I looked around I saw several more soldiers, their faces painted in camouflage. They wore bushes as hats and had sticks on their shoulders, and they looked to be pissed off.
“Jesus Christ, man,” one of them said, “didn’t you see us waving at you?”
“No,” I replied.
“What the fuck happened to you?” These men were obviously used to getting the answers they wanted.
“I got lost,” I said. “With the others.” I pointed in the direction of the main road along the ocean. “I think they’re dead.”
“You look like shit,” one of them said. “A big shit sandwich.”
They all laughed. I could tell they’d heard that before.
“Look at your head,” another one said.
Then an additional soldier, his face painted black, appeared out of nowhere. “I don’t think dumbass gave us away,” he said. He hated me already, I was sure.
“You look like shit,” he added, leaning close to look at my leg. “Jesus Christ,” he said, pointing at what looked to be a long gash that cut through my boot and into my ankle. “You should put something on that.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I’ve been meaning to.”
He nodded and looked at the wound on my head. “Why do you think your friends are dead?”
“I looked everywhere but I couldn’t find them.”
“Leave the Humvee but go look for them,” another one said. “On the road?” he asked me.
I pointed at the black smoke far in the distance. “You didn’t hear the explosion?”
He shook his head.
“We’re focused on this place,” said one of the men. “We’re going to tear this fucking house down. Want to help?”
“I’d like that,” I said. “Do you have anything to eat?”
The man who had grabbed me took out a medical kit. “I’m Mark,” he said. He rolled my shirt sleeve up and gave me an IV.
“That’s Clip,” he said, pointing at the man who wouldn’t shut up. “Candid,” he said, pointing to one of the camouflaged men. “Jordan,” he said pointing at another one. “And Simon and Nichols just took off for your friends.”
Mark cut the laces from my boot, slid it off, and rolled my pant leg up. He picked pieces of the pant leg and other debris out of the cut. I couldn’t feel a thing. When the wound was cleaned, it didn’t look that bad. There was a long gash, but it was all surface. Then Mark said that my head could use some stitches.
Jordan gave me an MRE. A ham slice, my least favorite. It was the kind of meal you saved for unwanted guests.
I put my boot back on and Mark handed me a roll of duct tape. I wrapped the tape around the boot until I was sure the boot would stay on.
“What’s with the house?” I asked.
“Who the fuck are you?” Clip asked.
“Joshua Stantz.”
“No.” Mark was still sitting next to me. “He means who you with?”
“10th Mountain,” I said. “You?”
“Recon,” he replied.
“How’d you get out here?” Clip asked. The others had turned from observing the house to listen.
“Leave him the fuck alone,” Jordan said. “You’re in that group that went missing, right?”
“Alpha Company,” I said. “Maybe I could use your radio?”
Clip shook his head. “Radio silence, Candy.” Now they were giving me nicknames. “We’re in the thick of it here.” And with that he smiled.
“Who’s in charge?” I asked.
They all looked at Mark.
“If you could just call and get me a ride out of here,” I said. “I could even walk back and meet them somewhere. I could tell them about the others.”
“I’m sorry,” Mark said. “Orders are orders. I can’t break the silence. Anyone could be listening. Believe me, I would if I could.”
“What if I were dying?” I asked.
“But you’re not,” Mark said, shaking his head. “Sorry.”
“How far are we from the city?” I asked.
“About thirty miles.”
I wondered about the abandoned caboose. The weeks that had passed, and all the dead. I added it up. We sure hadn’t made it very far.
I pecked at my MRE. “Who’s in the house?”
“One of the warlords,” Mark said. Then he leaned back and pulled his Kevlar over his eyes. “Wake me up in a few hours.”
Jordan pointed me behind a tree for cover. I asked for some water, and they handed me a canteen. There were flies everywhere. They crept at my eyes, my ears, and my nose.
“The warlord has some sheep,” Jordan said. “They come out and meet us in the morning and in the evening. We give them food that’s drugged so they don’t care if we slip in among them. We’re going to use them as cover when we go into the compound. When they go back inside, we’ll move with them.”
“Sounds like a hell of a plan,” I said. “Drugged sheep food. Where’s the main column now? I’m sure I could just walk back there.”
“Can’t let you, Nancy,” Clip said, eyeing me. “You’re with us now. If you get caught we’ve been wasting our time. I hate wasting time. Seems stupid.”
After another hour or so, Simon and Nichols returned. They hadn’t seen Zeller or Santiago, but they had seen the wreckage and quite a few refugees fleeing the city. They said they’d seen a number of burnt bodies. Crispy critters, they called them.
“You’re in, right?” Jordan asked. “Payback time for your fucking compadres? It’ll be easy, anyway,” he added.
“Where’s your M-16?” Clip asked.
“I lost it.”
“Shit happens,” he said. “Though you’ll be in some really deep shit for that one.”
“They’ll take it out of your paycheck,” Simon explained, “and those weapons are expensive.”
“More than you make, Susie,” Clip added, smacking me on the back.
I rolled over onto my side and slid my helmet over my face to fend off the flies. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.
ELEVEN
THE THROBBING GASH ON MY HEAD WOKE ME. THE LEG wound itched as well. There were flies under my helmet, crawling along
