Fireteam Delta by J. Halpin (ebook reader that looks like a book txt) 📕

rushed Summers. He fired into the first man’s chest, and the expression of sheer terror on his face was satisfying in a way that genuinely worried Summers. The second collapsed before he could fire, the distant bang an indication that Cortez and Adams were paying attention.

The whole thing was over in seconds. Summers looked around to see that every one of the bandits were either dead or dying at his feet. The man Cortez had shot was trying to get his legs under him. Apparently, his shield and armor had taken the brunt of the impact.

Summers leveled his gun on the wounded man. There was a voice inside him screaming for him to finish it, but he refused to give in to that. Not out of any moral sense of right or wrong; he was just stubborn.

“Asle, tell him that if he surrenders, we’ll let him li—” The man lunged impossibly fast. In one fluid motion, he stabbed his spear into Summers’ chest. He felt the steel tip scrape against the ceramic plate underneath his Kevlar.

Summers unloaded into the man before he could move again. Between him, Nowak, and Logan, the previously injured man now had a mostly liquid consistency.

“Never mind.” It should have occurred to Summers that those who survived in a world that had the kinds of monsters he’d seen would not be easy targets. He’d have to be careful not to make that mistake again.

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Summers dragged another body away from the wagon and into a ditch at the side of the road. He was hungry and doing his best to convince himself it was not because of the smell in the air.

Apparently, he had the nose of a goddamn bloodhound now, and certain smells set off fireworks in his brain. It wouldn’t be a problem for him. Hell, it might even be pretty damn cool, if he weren’t salivating over the smell of a person’s corpse. He tossed the body into the ravine with a grunt and moved back to the wagon, skirting past the absolute unit of a cow that stood idly grazing beside it. He’d expected the thing to run off, but so far, it didn’t seem terribly concerned with the death of its companions.

“Great first contact, Sarge!” Cortez yelled. She and Adams were coming down from the hill that was their vantage point.

Nowak was busy looking through the wagon, which was filled with spices of some sort. He still managed to yell out a “fuck you” to Cortez, though.

Summers was looking at one of the spears from the bandits. It seemed well-made, and well-maintained. He admittedly didn’t know much about weapons like this, but he did know what it meant to keep steel clean and oiled, and this spear was sharpened and shined to perfection. He saw an inscription at the base of the head.

“Hey, Asle, what’s this say?”

Asle came over and glanced at the spear in his hands.

“Don’t know. It’s a . . . name?” She nodded. “Soldier’s weapon.” She pointed to him.

“They were soldiers?”

“Deserters, maybe. No soldier’s going to be hauling around random shit like this,” Nowak called, tossing something metal to the ground.

“Do we have any idea what these guys were doing heading to the city?” Summers asked. “If they were bandits, it’s not like they would just let them in, right?”

“Maybe,” Asle said. “They have badges.” She held up a small medallion at the lead bandit’s hip. “Probably kill traders. Want to sell in city, then leave.”

“I don’t think we were their only victims,” Nowak called out. “Some kids’ toys in here, too. I’m officially not sorry.”

“So, why would they bother? Besides trying to rob people like us on the road?” Summers looked back at Asle.

“Cities like traders. Let them in easy. And they might have a . . .” Asle paused, trying to think of the word. “Price? At the gate? Some cities expensive. Traders don’t pay.”

“A toll?” Logan asked.

Summers looked at the wagon. “Huh. Hey, Sarge, what are we planning to do with the Humvee?”

“We’re going to have to stash it somewhere once we get close. We can’t go into the city with it. Well, we can, but I don’t trust that someone wouldn’t try to screw with it.” Nowak poked his head out of the wagon. “Why?”

“Because the guards might start asking us questions that we really can’t answer. Might not be a problem, but I don’t think we should stick out any more than we have to.”

Summers looked in the back of the wagon. Their food wasn’t going to last forever, so they’d agreed to make a pit stop in the city. “How do you feel about being traders?”

Chapter 8: DEFCON 1

“What if we just trade some weapons for a ride? Not like they know how to make gunpowder, right?” Adams asked.

“So, you want to hand someone a gun and hope they play nice?” Nowak responded.

“I mean, yeah?”

“And what’s to keep them from shooting us and taking the rest of the crap we’re hauling around?” Summers called back from the driver’s seat.

“Pretty sure it’s a war crime, too?” Cortez added.

“I mean, even if it wasn’t, the brass would find a way to string you up,” Nowak started. “Shit, with guns, a few of them might just decide to take over the world. They ain’t really that hard to make, just mass produce. If they did figure out gunpowder, they’d have a real chance.”

“Or they’d start WWI,” Summers pointed out. “Actually, more like the Trail of Tears, only with elves and machine guns.”

“Tears?” asked Asle.

Logan ran a finger down from his eye to his cheek. “Tears, crying. Uh, sad?”

Asle nodded in understanding. Logan had been trying to expand Asle’s vocabulary while they traveled. It had been going fairly well. They’d even managed to explain a few idioms and