Whiskey Delta – Chapter 48

“Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen..”

-Requiem Æternam

The entire Battallion stood at attention, holding their stance and keeping their heads high amidst the noise. The flag was removed from the coffin and folded, the final product handed to Braun, who reached up from his crutch to accept it with both hands.

“Sir, please accept this flag on behalf of the United States Armed Forces.”

Braun nodded and thanked the man. He looked quickly to Saunders on his left, then back to the grounds to see Wilcox’s cask being lowered. She and everyone else in the ranks braced as the guns began to sound in honor of the departed soldier.

The shots reverberated across the open field and into the distance. Long after the dismissal call had been made, she could hear them spreading into the far hills. Braun stayed behind as well, the two of them standing their for a moment together, neither of them talking. She knew what he was thinking, because she was thinking it too.

Eventually, he grabbed hold of his crutch and turned himself about. She looked to it and smiled.

“Needing a hand, sir?”

“Don’t you dare. Don’t want the grunts thinking I’m incapacitated.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a piece of folded fabric. “Besides, I only need to give you this.”

“What are they?” But she knew, the moment they landed in her hand. The three bars and the crossed weapons contained within were an unmistakable symbol.

“Congratulations, Gunnery Sergeant.”

Her mouth fell open and she looked up at him with what she imaged were bald eyes. She couldn’t summon any words; luckily, the Lieutenant wasn’t done speaking.

“The Mage still needs to make it official and he’s going to be announcing it himself later. But I thought I’d let you know. Its one of the many honors we’re schedules to receive.”

“This is… an honor.” She immediately felt stupid for saying that. “I mean I’m flattered.”

“Good. Because Alpha Company needs a new NCO and I can think of no one better qualified. You’re a Rattlesnake now.”

Her smile quickly faded. The thought of stepping over another man was a little more than she could take pleasure in.

“Any word on Dezba?”

Braun’s smile faded too. He nodded sparingly. “The doc’s say his wounds will heal, and he’s being fitted for a prosthesis. He was a lucky man in that respect. But it’s going to be awhile before he’s able to serve again.”

“He’s been through a lot.”

Braun frowned at that. His expression seemed to be conveying wordlessly that she didn’t know the half of it. She knew enough not to ask further.

“Well, he’s being taken care of. That’s what’s important.”

“Yes… just wish we knew what was happening to -” She cut herself off in mid sentence. Yet another thing that they weren’t supposed to be talking about. Not that it would matter. No information was exactly forthcoming on that front.

“Things will become more clear in time,” Braun said quietly. “In the meantime, we have duties to get on.”

She eyed his crutch and shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re going back in already.”

He shrugged. “I’m not good at anything else. Besides, we have trucks for this sort of thing. My NCO’s do all the running now.”

She rolled her eyes, the bars in her hand suddenly feeling a bit heavier than before. It was a lucky coincidence that she hadn’t broken anything particularly vital. Otherwise, she too could be looking forward to a nice convalescence. Which reminded her…

“The commendation we’re getting, does it extend to the entire team?”

“Absolutely,” Braun said, grunting as he walked. “Which means CObb and Dezba are going to have to have their hand delivered.”

“You planning on doing that yourself too?”

He looked down at her legs. “Did you legs get blown off in that mission?”

“No, but technically, neither did yours.”

Braun nodded. “Then how about we do it together? I’m sure it will mean more coming from the both of us. Plus I’m sure Dezba would love to see his replacement placing a medal on him.”

She chuckled to herself. “You’re insane.”

“You get used to it.”

*                         *                          *

The dim light hung above his head like some mockish halo. His head hung low, the locks on his head wet and greasy, his face composed in an expression the Major General had seen many times before. It was the look of a man who had become completely exhausted being on edge. Every bit of resistance and strength was sapped and ground down. The only thing keeping him from breaking was that small space inside him that told him to maintain, that soldier’s training that taught him to hang on.

One could go mad clinging to that thing. It was a terrible thing to see it used against him so. It was even more terrible to put him against his greatest fear, holding him over the abyss, neither letting him fall or pulling him back. He couldn’t even look at it anymore, the rotten, clawing face having inspired far too much fear in him thus far. At this point, he simply kept his eyes shut and tried to block out the noise of the beast that was desperately reaching for him from the next cage.

Through the room’s internal speaker, the questions continued, generated on an ongoing loop. The Mage stood there and watched through the sealed glass, monitoring every sound in the room and recording the results.

“What is your name?”

The man drew a deep breath and repeated the answer he had given so many times before. He stayed huddled in a ball in the corner, arms wrapped around his legs, mere inches from the Whiskey’s clawing hands.

“My name is Sergeant Michael Beauvoir, twenty-ninth Infantry. One-nine-seven, four-three, nine-seven-three-seven.”

“What was your purpose in Los Angeles?”

“We were… given a mission…”

“What was your purpose in Los Angeles?”

“I don’t know…”

“Who was your commanding officer?”

“Captain Fischer. He was the only one who -”

“What was your purpose in Los Angelese?”

“I don’t know…”

“What was Captain Fischer’s orders?”

“I don’t know!”

Thur reached out and pressed the red button on his terminal. The questions immediately stopped. He looked to his left, eyed Vasquez standing there.

“Six hours, and he’s still telling the same story.”

Vasquez nodded and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Shall I send in the interrogator again?”

Thur shook his head. “What could we learn from drugs and electricity that hours of this couldn’t pry loose? No, I fear he’s just plain ignorant.”

“Too bad… but there’s information to be gleaned from their presence in the area alone.”

Thur smiled. He knew there was a reason he kept Vasquez around. He had learned all the Major General could teach him about counter-intelligence and covert action. Perhaps he would even be a fitting replacement someday, especially if things escalated; which at this point, was a likely possibility. The presence of Homeland elements in the field was indication enough that certain “others” had their eye on Pappa Zulu, and the arrival of that gunship and the fact that it fired on his people, that was indication enough that they meant business.

The only question remaining was, did said other now suspect that they had Mance in their possession? If so, it meant that they would certainly be coming for him…

“I’m afraid this man has outlived his usefulness to us.”

Vasquez looked at him quizzically. “Shall I have him disposed of?”

Thur narrowed his eyes, took a deep breath and considered the man sitting on the other side of the glass. “Not a bad idea. Given his state, it might even be considered a mercy.” He thought on it a second longer. There was no reason they couldn’t simply put him away either. Under the circumstances, that was certainly the more merciful option. What’s more, there might be a slight advantage in having some of their would-be enemies prisoners this early in the game. Ignorant or not, The Mage was sure they would want to get them back, if for no other reason that to prevent them from sharing what little they knew.

“Put him in the brig. He’s not a threat to anyone but himself right now. Besides, we have bigger fight to fry.”

“Yes, sir,” Vasquez said, and opened the door to their room. Calling to two grunts in the hallway, he ordered them to remove Beaumont from his cell. Thur watched as the Sergeant was removed a second later, the Whiskey moaning angrily that his prospective meal was being taken away.

Yes, they had lots of fish to fry, the Mage realized. He had been hoping their victory in Santa Fe would be a mere stepping stone onto more crucial operations. Every other major city in the region was still infested, and the recon his men had brought back said there were plenty of civilians alive and looking for an evac. What’s more, there were vast stretches of the northern and western countryside to take care of. They couldn’t hope to mount more offensive operations in the south, not in all good conscience when those flanks remained exposed and their people threatened. Not when the Whiskeys were proving more adept at getting in than previously thought.

And of course, there was the matter of the vaccine itself, which was crucial to any plans they might have at repopulating the region. Every area they retook was a step in that direction. But the more space they occupied, the more guns and bodies were needed to keep them secure. At present, he had barely enough to monitor their current holdings. In the long run, what was needed was a means to combat the virus itself. Only then could they spread their forces and their people with ease, knowing that every Whiskey they took out could never be replaced.

But now, they had defensive preparations to think about as well. If worse came to worse, they would be dealing with a human opponent soon enough, and that kind of enemy was far more unpredictable than the Whiskeys.

“Sir,” Vasquez said. “Shall I order our forces to pull back from the southern front and begin preparing defensive positions?”

“No need,” the Mage replied. “We can only assume that our collective enemies back east are still heavily engaged themselves. And if we have the means to generate a cure, they’ll have to deal with us sooner or later. In the meantime, all our efforts should be focused on taking the next objective. There’s still plenty of this state that needs to be liberated.”

“Still,” Vasquez added. “It wouldn’t hurt to double security around the Doc and his research facilities.”

The Mage nodded approvingly. “Yes, it certainly would not. Speaking of which, how is our dear researcher?”

Vasquez laughed. “Surly, as always. But he’s working hard.”

“Good.” The Mage nodded to the cage in the next room. “Hate to have to stick him back in there.”

*                *               *

Stay tuned for the final chapter! Coming up next!