Уильям Дитц - Into the Guns

“This is Six actual. Go.”

“The Shadow is fifty miles downrange and circling what was Mountain Home Air Force Base. Over.”

Mac felt something cold trickle into her bloodstream. “ Was? Over.”

Esco’s voice was tight. Mac could tell that the UAV operator was battling to control his emotions. “There isn’t much left… Just a crater and a huge field of debris.”

Mac remembered the briefing at JBLM shortly after the meteors struck. What had Wilson told them? Something about Chinese missiles and a subsequent apology. Had Mountain Home been targeted? That was the way it appeared. It took a conscious effort to swallow the lump in her throat. “Roger that. What about the town? Over.”

“It’s still there,” Esco replied. “But it seems to be deserted. A pack of dogs is nosing around. But that’s all. Over.”

Mac remembered Scheemer. The mayor knew, had to know about the air force base, but had chosen to hold that piece of information back. Why?

Why not? The voice in Mac’s head countered. Information is valuable, and Scheemer saw no reason to share. Welcome to postapocalyptic America.

Mac had a decision to make as Roller-One led the convoy south. Although the air force base was twelve miles from town, there could be residual radiation, and that would explain why the area was deserted. Maybe they should bypass Mountain Home. The problem with that was the Marauders needed supplies—and a National Guard armory was located nearby.

There was an alternative, of course. She could send two Strykers to investigate while the rest of the convoy went out and around. Under that scenario, the Strykers would rejoin the unit south of Mountain Home. But dividing her force would entail considerable risk. What if a large force attacked one of the two groups?

With those variables in mind, Mac ordered the column to pull over so she could have a private chat with Dr. Hoskins. He was waiting near the six-by-six and proceeded to clean his wire-rimmed glasses while Mac explained her dilemma. “No problem,” Hoskins told her once she was finished. “Fallout radiation fades rapidly. Given how much time has passed, and all the rain since then, the current level of radiation is probably 1 percent of what it was after the blast. So, while I wouldn’t want to live there, a one- or two-day visit won’t present much risk.”

Mac thanked him and returned to the pickup. They arrived on the outskirts of Mountain Home forty minutes later. The Shadow was still up, and since Esco had nothing new to report, Mac took the unit straight in. The armory was located slightly southwest of Mountain Home on a dead-end road. Parched land could be seen all around, with the blast-leveled remains of buildings in the distance.

A sheet of plywood was propped up in the middle of the road. The words, “Gov. prop. Do not enter,” had been written on the wood with white paint. Garcia braked, and that caused the other vehicles to do likewise. “Go around it,” Mac ordered, and Garcia obeyed.

The ruins of a building could be seen up ahead. It appeared that the structure had been leveled by the blast—and the debris field was pointed north. “I see movement at two o’clock,” Brown announced, as he swiveled the fifty around to point in that direction.

Mac looked in time to see a man emerge from the hut located adjacent to the remains of the building. He was dressed in combat gear and armed with a light machine gun. She spoke into the boom mike. “This is Six actual. I’m going to speak with him. I want everyone except Hadley to stay back. If I raise my right hand above my shoulder, shoot him. Over.”

There was a flurry of clicks as Mac jumped down off the truck. The ground was hard, and ice crystals glittered in the momentary sunlight. The man allowed Mac to approach him. His weapon was pointed at the sky, but Mac knew the barrel could come down in a hurry. Before she could signal Hadley? Yes, quite possibly. She would die, but so would he.

Mac stopped ten feet away. Now she was close enough to see that the man was a major, or some guy pretending to be a major. “I’m Lieutenant Macintyre, United States Army. And you are?”

“Major Fitch, United States Air Force.”

“How do I know that’s true?”

Fitch’s face had a gaunt appearance, and his deep-set eyes peered out from what looked like dark caves. But he was clean-shaven… And even though his gear was dirty, it was squared away. “I could ask you the same question,” Fitch replied.

Mac smiled. “Touché. Perhaps we should show each other some ID. But that can wait… May I ask what you’re doing here?”

“I’m guarding the ruins of this building,” Fitch replied stolidly.

“That’s one way to put it,” Mac agreed. “But I think there’s more to it than that. You’re standing in front of a National Guard armory. Or what used to be an armory.”

Fitch stared at her. “That’s why you came? To loot the armory?”

“I wouldn’t call it looting,” Mac temporized. “We’re part of the army, after all.”

“Really?” Fitch demanded. “Who do you report to?”

Mac shrugged. “No one at the moment. We were cut off.”

Fitch looked her up and down. “I outrank you, Lieutenant… So you report to me. If you are what you say you are, that is.”

There it was. The very thing Mac had been dreading. Here was a superior officer who was either a diehard hero, determined to do his duty no matter how steep the cost, or a mental case. Had Fitch been somewhere else when the nuke-tipped missile fell? Was he punishing himself for being alive? There was no way to be sure.

Regardless of that, Mac faced a choice. Should she take orders from Fitch? Or refuse? Was there some middle way? “I suggest that you put the weapon down, sir. Then we’ll talk things over.”

“The military doesn’t work like that, Macintyre. I’m an 04, and you’re an 02.”

Mac was reminded of her conversation with Sparks. “That’s true, sir,” she replied. “But the military you’re referring to doesn’t exist anymore. If it did, you wouldn’t be guarding an armory all by yourself. So put the weapon down.”

“Or?”

“Or my sniper will kill you.”

Fitch stared at her. At least fifteen seconds ticked by. “I will do as you say,” Fitch said finally. “But I’m going to note the date, time, and the nature of our interaction. Then, when the opportunity presents itself… I will bring charges against you.”

Mac sighed. “Yes, sir. That’s your privilege. Please place the machine gun on the ground.”

Fitch complied, and Mac thanked him. She wasn’t concerned about the threat, but a line had been crossed. After refusing a direct order, Mac could no longer claim that the Marauders were part of the United States Army. They were mercenaries.

She allowed Fitch to keep his sidearm but assigned two soldiers to watch him as Evans threw a perimeter around the shattered building, and Esco sent the Raven up to replace the Shadow, which was running low on fuel.

The Apache arrived, and Mac ordered Peters to land two thousand yards away from the vehicles. Maybe the dust the rotors would stir up was radioactive, and maybe it wasn’t. Why take the chance? Mac ordered the pilots to remain in their ship until the air cleared.

Fitch refused to provide the Marauders with any information, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the supplies he’d been guarding were buried under the wreckage. The next four hours were spent removing debris. Hoskins issued surgical masks for the soldiers to wear, and the rest had orders to stay back.

Eventually, the Marauders were able to recover two dozen assault rifles, four machine guns, and ten thousand rounds of assorted ammo. There were other goodies, too… Including crates of grenades, flares, and some pistol ammo. It wasn’t a large haul, but it was better than nothing and enough to put a smile on Sergeant Smith’s face.