Whiskey Delta – Chapter 29
“Their rage supplies them with weapons.”
-Virgil
The treeline was all he could see on the display screen now. Having reached the end of the road, the nav display was effectively useless. They didn’t need a satellite map telling them they were turning this way and that into heavy brush. And in any case, the dense trees they were approaching would soon make their wheeled vehicle entirely useless.
Whitman brought them into a flat patch and secured the driving controls. Dezba switched the M151 over to auto fire and pushed his terminal out of the way. Both were grabbing their weapons as Braun moved to the rear and began rousing the others. Saunders closed up the laptop and grabbed her sniper rifle while Mill and Cobb slung their SCARS.
Only Kobayashi was still sitting in his seat. He suspected, and rightly, that he would need to watch their guests while the others were away. Still, Braun felt the need to explain things to Beaumont. Even if they were on the edge, there was no need to treat them as anything less than soldiers. They still had a right to know everything that was going on.
“Sergeant, this is where we get off. We shouldn’t be long, but until we return, I’d like you and your men to hold up here.”
Beaumont’s eyes began darting around, a look of mild panic taking him. “Just us… alone?”
“No. I’ll be leaving Kobayashi and Whitman to make sure you stay safe. They’ll provide cover from the outside and make sure nothing get’s close. Chances are, nothing’s going to come this way anyway, but no sense in leaving that to chance.”
Beaumont nodded quickly and breathed a shaky sigh. Braun put his hand on his shoulder.
“You’re still in charge of your men and I’m counting on you to keep them calm until we get back. Copy?”
Beaumont nodded again. It seemed appropriate to remind him that he was still a leader of men, in whatever capacity that remained to him. If he could hold it together just a little better than the rest, they were sure to be alright.
“Sergeant,” he turned to Dezba. “Fetch me the biohazard gear. I want this squad coming back heavy.”
Dezba grimaced and went to one of the cabin’s side panels. He slammed his fist down on the release and opened it, revealing a large body bag and a barrel-shaped plastic case. The telltale insignia of a biohazard warning was written on the front.
“Can’t believe we’re headhunting, sir.”
Whitman looked about ready to say something, but Dezba quickly cut him off.
“You say something about some Hopi warrior shit, it’s gonna be your head in this bucket, fool!”
Whitman promptly shut his mouth and cleared his throat. He motioned to the rear door, which sent Whitman back to the front to disengage it.
Yes, he thought. It’s good to have him back.
The door dropped and his squad was out in a matter of seconds. Once outside, they assembled into two groups. Whitman and Kobayashi hung back by the rear door and kept their eyes on the treeline and the road they had just come up. The rest gathered around Braun to the side and waited on Saunders. Opening the laptop again, she began turning to face the right direction and pointed forward.
“Three hundred meters that way. Looks to be down by the water.”
“Alright, squad, two by two cover formation, Saunders in the middle. We move on my say so.”
“Yes sir,” the squad replied. He then waved over at Whitman and Kobayashi, pointed to his eyes and made a circular motion with his finger at their surroundings. Eyes up, was the order. They both nodded their understanding.
* * *
Everything looked incredibly green in the low morning light. It was something Braun knew well, the color of foliage during various hours of day and night. It would be deep blue when there was no sun, a shade or two lighter than the sky itself. At sun up, as it was now, it lightened to become a deep shade of jade. Not until the sun was directly overhead would it become the vibrant green that everyone knew so well.
The forest creatures were much the same. During the night, there was an intensity to them. Every noise magnified, every sound a terrible din, approaching predators or the haunting cry of owls, wolves and nocturnal creatures. By morning, a peace began to spread over it, the noise receding as the calming reassurance of another day came out. It was in this hour, in the in-between, that life felt strange and uncertain.
Perhaps that feeling was conditioned into the brainstem, something left over from the time of the primates and other furry creatures that called the forest home. It was like an instinct that saw the coming of day as favorable, but still feared the retreating night. Not until it was fully light out would they feel like it was safe to let down their guard, to acknowledged that they had made it through another night.
Braun knew exactly how they felt right now. Even in the presence of all this firepower, he felt on edge. He knew his squad felt much the same. The terrible beeping of the laptop didn’t improve that. If anything, its incessant chiming was keeping pace their hearts, each din striking their nerves like a taut cord.
Saunders waved the box around, aiming the proximity sensor around until it became loudest. She pointed slightly to their left. Braun lowered his visor and raised his weapon, achieving magnification and spotting their route ahead. Beyond the tree line, there was an open field for a few meters, the light breaking in and making the grass shine a bright shade of lime. The opening showed the particular slant on the ground, curving ever so slightly downward towards the east, where the reservoir was located. Since they had taken to proceeding on foot, the target had not moved, remaining just shy of the water.
Braun lowered his weapon and waved forward. The squad began to move with him, Dezba on his right, Saunders behind them, and Mill and Cobb holding up the rear. Slowly, they paced through the underbrush, doing their best not to step on any dry branches or kick stones. At this hour, the Whiskeys would be in a state that was as close to sleep as they got. Up and about, but not exactly cognizant or aware fo their surroundings. They intended to keep it that way for as long as possible.
As soon as they found Pappa Zulu and had him cornered, there would be no way to avoid a confrontation anymore. And in this brush, the odds of being outflanked were far greater. If in fact any Whiskeys did close in from their sides undetected, they would be putting their suits to the test. Reinforced Kevlar had been known to keep their teeth at bay, but they always found a gap. And if they couldn’t find one, they’d do their damnedest to make one.
They reached the clearing, and Braun as about to step into the light. However, a hand descended on his shoulder quickly and he spun around. His heart was beating way faster than the chiming of the laptop now. Gun raised, he found himself looking into the visor of Dezba, who was extending his other hand to him. Braun sighed and lowered his weapon, used his left hand to key the comm.
“Halt, squad,” he ordered. Turning back tot he clearing, he raised his visor and lowered himself into crouching position. Dezba did the same, crouching next to him and raising his visor so they could talk privately.
“What’s on your mind Sergeant?” he asked.
“Just that feeling I get, sir.”
Braun looked at him warily. Several times now, Dezba had got that feeling, usually right before an engagement was imminent. He followed his line of sight and looked at the treeline on the other side.
“You think they might be waiting for us?”
Dezba shook his head. “Don’t know. All I can tell you is, crossing this clearing would be a mistake.”
Braun considered that. The best info they had said that the Whiskeys followed their noses and ears, tracking prey from the noise they made and the pheromones they put out. Living flesh was to them what pollen was to bees, the smell proving an irresistible draw. But he also remembered the night in the Ponderosa pine, another engagement where a canopy of trees had been used to shelter the Whiskey’s approach. The Mage had been pretty clear about the need to reject preconceived notions after that encounter.
“This is their turf,” Braun said finally. “Might as well assume they got the home field advantage.”
“It does kind of mess up our approach, doesn’t it?”
Braun looked back at the squad, then to their left where the trees formed a wall next to the clearing. “We cut to the left, we go around, we’ll be back on it in no time,” he concluded. “Alright, suit up. We’re moving again.”
Dezba nodded, lowered his visor. Braun did the same and keyed the comm again.
“Squad, we’re veering to the left. Keep your eyes up, we might have Deltas in the area.”
Saunders eyed her laptop. As they turned, the noise dimmed, their target no longer directly in their path. It sounded almost mournful, the knowledge that they were turning away from the missions resolution. But no one complained. Orders were orders and no one questioned them.
Two by two, with Saunders holding the center, they began to move again, changing their path to keep within the trees and underbrush. The sun was beginning to get higher in the sky by the time they made it halfway around the clearing, all the leaves and bushes becoming a more lively shade of jade green. Once in awhile, Braun would look to their left and notice how bright the grass had become. He couldn’t quite smell it through his visor, but he imagined it all stunk of fresh soil and even fresher air. The stink of waste and rotting flesh nowhere to be found.
Strange, considering this was the lair of the Pappa Zulu. The one soul who had inadvertently started this whole war. It was an irony he was sure people would appreciate someday, when he told the story to a younger generation who never knew the terror for themselves.
Wishful thinking, he thought. Still got to make it home for that to happen. With that in mind, he turned back to their trail and kept walking.
