Kyle Pratt - Through Many Fires

Everyone laughed.

“Huh?” Weston said slipping the phone back in his pocket.

“I’ll explain later,” the governor said. “What was the call?”

He shrugged. “The screen said it was the Emergency Operations Center, but the call dropped before I heard anyone.”

“I’ll go by the EOC when we’re done,” General Harwich said.

Dropped calls were too common to be of concern.

The governor nodded. “We’re nearly done.”

The treasurer continued a discussion of currency issues.

Caden continued his contemplation of restaurant artwork until a familiar engine sound focused his attention. His eyes locked on the street. The two soldiers by the door stopped talking as a Stryker vehicle lumbered past. Caden turned to General Collins. “Was that from your base?”

The general’s eyes narrowed. “It must be.” He stood and walked toward the door.

Caden watched General Collins march from the diner and go left, in the direction the Stryker had gone. Caden followed him, but hesitated just outside the door.

The glow from streetlights and a few windows cast long sinister shadows as Collins walked along the middle of the empty road toward the vehicle parked at the corner. The gunner had the M2 machine gun pointed at the diner.

Instincts that had served Caden well in combat now roared again to life. He looked back up the street and, as he expected, another Stryker was parked at that corner. A squad of soldiers and two civilians stood nearby.

One of the guards from inside the restaurant joined Caden on the sidewalk. “What’s going on?”

Caden whispered, “Find a way out the back and get everyone to safety.” Where ever that might be. He stepped inside with the soldier and, looking at the group of civilians said, “Everyone needs to go— now .” He felt like a mouse sniffing cheese at the edge of a trap. Any second now this thing will spring on me. But he needed to assist the general and give the governor and others more time to get away. He sighed, tapped his holster, and joined General Collins down the street.

Looking up at the young soldier behind the M2 in the turret, the general demanded, “On whose authority are you here?”

“I don’t know sir.”

“Then get me someone who does—now!”

A young lieutenant stepped out. “Sir, we were ordered to provide protection for the U.S. Marshals.”

“Lieutenant that is not what I asked. I can see what your orders are; I want to know who gave them to you.”

Footsteps clicked on the pavement behind him. He turned.

“U.S. Marshals.” The man held up his badge.

It was the restaurant customer with salt and pepper hair. He was followed by another man in a business suit.

“I’m Deputy Marshal Reid, this is Deputy Marshal Smith.”

Caden grinned inwardly. Why didn’t I see it before? Reid looks like one of the Men in Black. Actually both of them look like movie federal agents.

Reid continued. “At our request Colonel Shaw ordered them to assist us with the arrest of Governor Daniel Monroe. Both of you need to leave the area immediately.”

The General turned from the Marshal back to the lieutenant. “Stand down and return to JBLM.”

“Yes sir.” The young officer took two steps backward toward the Stryker.

Reid demanded, “He is not going anywhere until we have….”

Two shots rang.

Everyone flinched.

The Marshals and Caden went for their guns.

Caden was quickest. As he moved the pistol slightly to cover the two marshals he was certain the shots came from behind the diner. The others must have left the diner and ran into trouble. “Actually, I think it is time for the General and me to leave.”

Soldiers ran down the street.

Collins nodded. “A change of plans lieutenant, the Major and I will be joining you, but we aren’t going back to base.” He, Caden, and the befuddled young lieutenant, hurried up the ramp into the Stryker as more lights came on up and down the street.

The lieutenant climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Go to the parking area behind the diner,” Collins ordered.

Caden and the General sat on opposite benches in the cramped rear of the vehicle. More shots rang out.

A bullet ricocheted off the vehicle with a loud ping as they bumped over the curb and into the lot.

Looking back the lieutenant said, “Several civilians are pinned down behind a dumpster.”

That must be the governor and the others.

“Pull up beside it and open the back,” Collins commanded the lieutenant, and then turned to Caden. “If those are our people get them in here.”

Caden jumped out as the two federal marshals rounded the corner and shot at him. He leapt behind a car. The turret gunner provided cover fire, pinning the marshals down. There was no time to think about the wisdom of shooting at federal agents or why army units were now involved. Caden was functioning on well-honed combat instincts. He returned fire.

“Get in the vehicle now!” The god-like voice of General Collins commanded over the Stryker loudspeaker.

Both the turret gunner and Caden provided cover as several civilians ran up the ramp. The treasurer, secretary of state…there goes the highway patrol chief…and Governor Monroe. The soldiers, Weston, are they already inside? He squinted into the dark as the last three came into view. Weston and a soldier carried the other man into the vehicle.

Caden ran in as the ramp lifted. With a roar from the engine the vehicle headed off.

The wounded comrade lay in the middle of the small compartment. His trouser leg was torn and blood soaked. Someone used a belt as a tourniquet.

Caden felt for a pulse, but found none. Only as he looked up did he see that the governor staring at the floor in bloody clothes. He held a pistol by three shaky fingers.

“Governor, are you all right?”

He looked up. The color was gone from his face. His eyes unseeing.

The other soldier covered his fallen friend. “We couldn’t stop the bleeding.” With a tilt of the head toward Monroe, the soldier added. “He tried to help…pulled off his belt and wrapped it around the leg. Then he grabbed the pistol and shot one of the civilians shooting at us. I saw the guy drop.”

I’ve seen this before. “Governor, you’re in shock. Give me the pistol.”

The Governor looked down and gripped the pistol tight.

General Collins directed the lieutenant to the Emergency Operations Center.

The state treasurer puked on the floor.

As the smell of blood and vomit filled the cramped compartment Caden reached across to the Governor. “Give the pistol to me, please.” He touched Monroe’s hand. It was cool and clammy. “Just let it go. I’ll take it.” Gently Caden plied the pistol from the governor’s hand.

Setting the weapon on his lap, Caden leaned back and sighed. It’s going to be a long night.

For nearly a minute the drone of the engine increased and then became a steady whine.

Looking up to the turret gunner, General Collins asked, “You see anyone following us, soldier?”

“No sir.”

“Keep watch,” the general said, “This isn’t over.”

“How do you do it, Caden?”

Caden opened his eyes at the sound of Weston’s voice. “Huh?” He blinked and then focused on the governor’s Chief of Staff sitting across from him.

Weston repeated the question. “There’s a body on the floor between us. We’ve all been shot at. I feel scared and sick. How do you stay calm?”

Caden’s mind raced back to his first days in Iraq. “I wasn’t calm the first time…or the second. I was scared…still get scared, but eventually combat becomes….” Unable to find the right words he shrugged, leaned back and closed his eyes.