Linda Andrews - The Meltdown

“Yep.” Robertson grabbed Manny’s wrist and pulled him to his feet. The German shepherd sniffed Manny’s leg then moved on to Pete. “Sorry about that, we didn’t have time to take out the garbage.”

The soldier nodded to the body at Manny’s feet.

A knife stuck out of the man’s throat. He recognized him as one of the murderer’s men.

The woman sat holding a cloth to her swollen lip, but otherwise unharmed on a fallen log.

A big soldier stood at her side. “Okay, one more scream, but this time I want you to kinda strangle off on the end.”

She took a sip from her water bottle. “If it helps.”

Paul and Pete fell at her feet, touching her hands, knees, and arms. “Aunt Alma, are you alright?”

“Sure, they rescued me before he could do anything.” She cupped each of their cheeks. “I told you we could trust the soldiers.”

“Manny.” Robertson snapped his fingers in front of his face. “How many bad guys are there?”

Rini and Beth walked from the woods, arm in arm chatting to the soldiers on either side of them.

Everyone was safe. Everyone was okay. Manny swatted at the needles sticking to him. What had Robertson asked? Oh, yeah. “With him gone, there’s four left. But only two stayed to guard us.”

Robertson’s face flushed red and he bit off one word. “Trent?”

Manny retreated a step. Whoa. The soldier was one pissed off dude. “Who?”

“The man you saw kill that woman from the old neighborhood.”

Trent. Manny rolled the killer’s name around in his head. Trent seemed like he’d sell fancy things, not murder people. He mentally smacked his forehead. Now he sounded like Rini. “Um, Trent and another guy took off.”

“Do you know where?”

“They talked about shopping,” Pete spoke up. “I saw them break through a fence, heading toward a bunch of buildings.”

“Damn,” Robertson swore softly. His fist pounded his thigh. The dog dropped to the ground and waited.

Manny reached for him then dropped his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s where our people are. Colonel Dobbins thought we should pick up some blankets and jackets since we had to wait for you to show up.”

Manny’s stomach rolled when he made the connection. “Wheelchair Henry?”

Robertson nodded. “Everyone.”

Oh no! The niños. Manny lurched forward. He had to get to them.

Robertson grabbed his arm, spinning him back into the clearing. “I know you want to go to them, but I’m asking you to trust us.”

“With all you here, who’s watching them?” Protecting them. If anything happened to the niños, he’d never forgive himself. They were his responsibility. A responsibility he’d shirked just to be normal for a bit.

And look what happened.

“We’ve got three armed Marines and Colonel Dobbins.” Robertson leaned closer. “I’ll say this for your ears and if you ever repeat it, I’ll deny it even under torture.”

“What?” What was he talking about?

Robertson looked around. “Even sick, the Marines are more than enough to take out Trent and his asshole. Of course, given that your Wheelchair Henry is Army Special Forces, he doesn’t need the jarheads to take out the trash.”

“But he’s…” Manny stilled his tongue. The man had done more to help him survive than anyone. He wouldn’t speak disrespectfully of him.

Robertson rocked back on his heels. “Hell, man, that’s his secret weapon. They’ll underestimate him and bam!” He punched his fist. “They’re dead before they hit the ground.”

The information shuffled around Manny’s head. Blind Connie and Mildred had protected the niños earlier when the soldiers had been fired upon. So had a lot of other people. His heart resumed a normal beat in his chest.

“I hate to ask it of you man, but my men and I can really use your help.”

Manny tensed. The soldiers wanted his help? He’d held a gun earlier but the weight of it… God knew if he could even fire it.

Robertson waved to the kids and the girls. His men drifted back into the trees, melting in the shadows. “I need you guys to go back.”

“Back?” Manny resisted the urge to clean out his ears. He couldn’t have heard right. They’d just got here.

“I know you wouldn’t want to leave the others.” Robertson rested his hands on his gun. “And we can’t go in there guns blazing. Those assholes are bound to take some people hostage.”

Manny’s stomach shifted like he’d swallowed handfuls of bee-bees. It wasn’t his problem. He’d only promised to look after Rini and Beth. To see to the woman. The bee-bees settled dragging his stomach to his knees. But he’d promised to help take care of each other. And those girls the sergeant-major had rescued were part of that. Part of what he left behind. “What can we do?”

Robertson squatted, picked up a twig and scratched out rectangles. “Here’s the truck.” He made a big shape behind a dozen or so others. “These are the cars.” He pointed to the smaller ones. “We want you to clear out three rows around the truck, then fall back to here.” A line marked the boundary beyond the rectangles. “Keep down but aware.”

“Aware of what?” Pete asked.

“Of the targets’ locations.” Robertson wiped the smaller rectangles away. “This should be enough space for us to pick them off, but if they reach the cars things might get hairy.”

Manny scratched the peach fuzz on his chin. Hairy was obviously something to be avoided. “Okay.”

Robertson pushed to his feet. “Good. Vegas, get into costume.”

Costume? What costume? Manny sidled closer to Rini and Beth. “Are you okay doing this?”

Beth swallowed hard. “Trent won’t be back will he?”

“He won’t be in a position to hurt anyone after we’re finished with him.” Robertson cracked his knuckles.

A dark-skinned Latino emerged from the shadows. Without a word, he skinned the jacket and tee-shirt off the corpse. “Pants ain’t gonna fit.”

Manny compared the dead body to the soldier’s. The corpse’s legs were half the size of the Vegas’s tree trunk thighs and in the uniform that would be noticeable. The knot on his rope belt dug into his gut. “You can have mine.”

He fumbled with the rope.

Vegas snorted and shook his head. “Manuel, I ain’t gonna get one of my legs in there.”

“It’s Manny.” Working the knot free, he stepped away from the girls and held out the waistband. Two of him could now fit where one had once strained to fit. Skipping meals for six months had taken off all the bulk he’d acquired in Juvenile Detention.

Robertson whistled. “Damn.”

Vegas looked at the ground. “Come on, Manny. We don’t want to give the ladies a show.”

Holding up his pants, Manny followed the soldier into the woods. Quiet settled around him. A few snowflakes drifted through the branches overhead.

“You’re gonna need to stay behind the vehicles as much as possible when you return.” Vegas stripped off his jacket and shirt. Another tan shirt molded to his chest.

Manny turned around and pulled off his pants. Cold air slapped his legs. Scars criss-crossed his thighs from the accident that had killed Rini’s brother. “I don’t think they’ll know if I was wearing camo pants.”

He tugged the string out of the belt loops and wrapped it around his fingers.

“They’ll notice.” Vegas growled. “Every damn one of you is wearing jeans.”

Manny jerked the wide legs over his damp sneakers, careful not to let the blue jeans get any damper. Cupping one hand over his shrinking privates, Manny turned around.

Blood stained the front of the tee-shirt and created lines on the jacket Vegas wore. “You know about the power of military ACUs don’t you Manny?”