Kent Kelly - And the Ashes

Oh, shit.

“No,” the Captain said to Hal and the other someone, “Ease up a little. I’ve got this.”

Sophie pressed her open palms together, hid her mouth behind the tips of her shaking fingers. She looked to the Captain without moving her head. He’s trying to buy me time, she realized. A chance for some more truthful alibi. He doesn’t want to take me in. But if I tell them about the shelter…

Nevertheless, he was trying both to do his duty and to protect her. She had no idea why that might be, but there it was.

But the Captain was running out of reasons not to apprehend her, or at least not to order her out of the vehicle. Scratching his nose with the back of his glove, he said to the Sergeant, “All right. Let’s get the back end going. You get a clean transmission, you go crank that call.”

The Sergeant, looking excited and pleased for the first time, gave the Captain a curt salute and went back to the S-ATV. He crawled in and slammed the door.

“Listen to me,” said the Captain to Sophie when he was certain Hal was out of earshot, “we’re under wartime orders, we’re probably going to have to take you in. I believe you to a point, and I’m sorry. But this… doesn’t look good.”

Sophie nodded, pressed her hands more tightly together. She wanted to shrivel behind her fingers, fade away, for this entire night to be erased. She didn’t know what to say.

The Captain tapped one of her power window buttons, lowered the passenger side window behind Sophie’s head. He grimaced as he caught a fuller whiff of Silas’ filth and decay.

He moved to the back door, and Sophie could hear him say, “You. Hands away from that Ruger. You’ve been hearing me?”

“Indeed I am,” murmured Silas, his voice feeble yet very clear. “And good to hear you, sir. I’m almost blind.” Soothing. Sophie smiled a little, despite herself, relieved. She thought he might be delirious.

Silas, she prayed, please. Help me.

“No worries here,” Silas was saying to the Captain who loomed above him. “I hear you fine.”

The Captain said coldly, “What are you doing with this woman?”

“Me?” Silas’ voice was smooth, almost perfectly relaxed. And Sophie knew: He’s even more scared than I am. “Oh, I’m just a warrior lost out from an elder war,” Silas was saying. “Fine overseas marks you’ve got there on your helmet, Captain Raaen. Afghanistan?”

Sophie frowned. Silas? Can you see? She heard the Captain shifting, covering something. He was regarding Silas with more care. As Sophie listened and her eyes adjusted more, she could see two silhouettes inside the S-ATV parked in front of her H4. One was Hal, on some kind of radio, the set of his body telling Sophie that he was still glaring out at her. The other was a young kid up top, with the huge swivel gun pointed nonchalantly at her face. She wished she could read his expression, know what her chances were.

Next to nothing, she decided.

The Captain was asking Silas, “And who might you be?”

“Just and old war dog, I fear. Call me Colson. You and me we’re equal measure, O-3, NATO OF-2, you know how it is. Me now, I’m just opting out from my sleeping through my last hurrah.”

There was silence again as the Captain and Silas considered one another. Sophie began to hope that there was a way out of this, when the door of the S-ATV ratcheted open and Hal called out, “Captain, can we at least disarm and search them now? Jal’s on the horn, he wants to know what we found that’s making us late for—”

“You tell Jal all clear,” barked the Captain, “and to cool his fucking jets for fifteen.”

“Sir?” The Sergeant sounded more than merely confused. He was flat-footed, absolutely baffled by his superior.

Captain Raaen puffed up to his full height as he walked back toward the S-ATV. Sophie could not hear what was being said, but if two men had ever found a way to shout whispers at one another, it would look and sound very much like the hushed-up conversation ten feet in front of her.

Then Hal asked, “Support?”

“No.” The Captain sighed. “They’ve civvies. Not yet.”

“ETA back to Crucis?”

“Investigating. None at this time.”

Hal said, “Okay…”

And the Captain’s patience finally flared out. He looked down on his Sergeant and said, “‘Okay?’”

“… Yes, sir.”

The Captain strode back to the H4, ignoring Sophie and going back to Silas’ open window. “Where did you say you were from, Captain?” It took Sophie a moment to realize that Silas was being addressed by his former rank.

“Can’t recall that I did,” said Silas. “First Division then later Fort Carson, is what I think you’re asking.”

“Can you tell me a little about one of your assigns?”

“My first taste of combat,” said Silas, “was Operation Bushmaster, November ’65. Third Brigade, First Infantry, search and destroy in deep Binh Duong. Rubber plantation. If you can call being shot at out of nowhere with no chance to return fire combat, you understand.”

“I can and do indeed,” said Captain Raaen. “I’m sure you saw much more thereafter.”

“Hell yes, Tet and back again. By Bien Hoa, me and Melly Gee were marksmen. I was fool enough to volunteer. Twice, different units, I went in eyes wide shut. Nam was a white man’s war and a black man’s fight, believe someone called it. As an American boy, Shreveport through and through, I didn’t quite feel that way. Was honor’s call. You know what I’m saying?”

“Martin Luther said that, my father once told me,” said Captain Raaen. “I understand.” There was the sound of drinking, groaning. Sophie realized that Captain Raaen was helping Silas with his water. “Lot of materiel you got up back and top here.”

“Aw, you know how women are.” Silas laughed a little, not even trying to hide his affection and his reverence for Sophie. “It’s mostly evening wear between combat runs. She’s quite the packer.”

Captain Raaen gave a dry chuckle despite himself. “If you were originally packed that way to the roof, you’ve come hundreds of miles. She must be quite an incredible woman.”

“She saved my life today. Twice.” Silas’ voice was failing as he strove for urgency. “God and you willing, she’ll… she’ll be saving more.”

“Have no fear.” Captain Raaen whispered something indecipherable to Silas, then: “Listen, Captain Colson. If you can play almost dead here for my racist bonehead Sergeant, I’ll take your word of honor. You think I should be calling this in?”

“No,” whispered Silas. “Please.”

“I hear you. Two units, eh? Some retirement.” Captain Raaen’s voice gave a little. “Looks like you’re on a hell of a last mission, Captain.”

“That I am.”

“And who am I to delay or deny you?” Captain Raaen patted the seat behind Silas’ head. “Godspeed, Colson.” He walked back up to Sophie’s window. “Say nothing until I give my orders,” he said to her. His demeanor had entirely changed, from suspicion to grave and almost hopeless camaraderie. “If I read my man, ma’am, half a prayer and we’ll have you leaving soon.”

Sophie let out a ragged breath that she had been holding for at least sixty seconds.

Captain Raaen wiped his mouth, tapped his helmet. He shook a fist at the S-ATV, first at his ear and then in front of his face. “Sergeant Rickson, you end that chatter? Like now? Good. Get Petey out of the back, you tell him that’s no fucking way to point a 12.7 M.G. in bad light. We’re setting up shop for a little while, going to try some risky welds. Too soft to jack here, I’ll go under. Going to get a little dangerous, we’ve got fuel to deal with. Gear it for tungsten on stainless. I’m going to do some epoxy and tape on two of these leaks directly. Then after I do a fuel vapor and spark check, get leather blankets, both you help me patch a box far as possible around this H4’s leaks and we’ll get these people underway.”