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

have an understanding: they stay away from me, and nobody gets hurt.”

“Summers, what about you? Let me guess, you probably had some suburban wet-dream shit?” Nowak looked over, still chewing.

“I’ve worked every Christmas since I was fifteen,” Summers answered.

“Shit, really?”

“Single mom, shithead dad. Do the math,” Summers responded.

“You sure we can eat this?” Cortez asked.

“Asle’s been eating MREs and she’s fine. We’re probably okay. Besides, I know game. It looked healthy.” Nowak emphasized this point by taking another large bite. “How ’bout the rest of you?”

“Happy Christian church-going fun times for me.” Adams raised his hand.

“Good for you,” Cortez spat.

“The hell you mad at me for? I’d pay for them to leave me alone.”

Cortez just grunted in response.

“Same. Protestant,” Logan provided. “Also, you people desperately need therapy. For so very many reasons.”

“Hey, Asle, do you have family?” Summers looked at the young girl eating a piece of meat the size of her head.

“Yes.”

Silence.

“Okay. I mean, do you have family we can take you back to?” Summers and the others looked at her with sudden understanding. The 63rd had probably taken Asle from somewhere around their “main” base in Nevada. If they were heading that way, anyway . . .

“No.”

Summers saw a flicker of sadness flash across her face. That was . . . new. He’d never seen her show any kind of emotion short of body language.

And it was clear she didn’t want to continue their talk, which spoke enough on the subject as it was. Logan carefully guided the conversation away from Asle as they ate, leaving her to stare into the fire.

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They hit the red zone only a few hours into the next day. It was what Nowak was calling “DEFCON 1,” which meant Cortez was on the roof, freezing her ass off with a tube the size of her leg cradled in her arms. A MAAWS, actually. They’d scavenged the rocket launcher from the remains of the 63rd, and she had three more just like it at her side.

Adams was still handling the wagon, a duffel bag of grenades beside him with very stern orders to not throw them anywhere near the Humvee. That left the rest of them to drive and hope that whatever lurked in this part of the forest wasn’t hungry. They’d gone with the assumption that whatever was out there was on the same level as the shambling moss creature they’d first encountered. So, while one could say they were perhaps being overly cautious, Summers would point out that that same attitude had gotten an entire platoon killed.

The road was still relatively clear, winding through mountain valleys and rivers. Throughout their trip, they’d passed some forks the map hadn’t covered, but with little interest in exploration, they stayed on the road that led straight toward the city. To its credit, it did seem to be the quickest way there.

To everyone’s surprise and relief, they made it through the first leg of their journey without issue. That didn’t mean they were letting their guard down as they made camp, however.

That afternoon, Summers watched over Cortez as she worked, eyeing the detonator in her hands warily. She was wrapping it with a few lengths of wire.

“Are you sure—absolutely fucking sure—that this isn’t going to kill us?” Summers asked.

“Mostly,” Cortez replied simply.

“Do I need to explain why that answer worries me?” Summers looked at the perimeter of the camp. They’d decided to settle against a small alcove in the mountain, just at the edge of the tree line. Cortez had wire running from tree to tree in some kind of trap he was hesitant to learn the details of.

“What do you trust more: that we’ll get lucky and whatever’s out there won’t come looking for us, or that I know what I’m doing?”

“Fair point. But just how are you planning on taking this all down in the morning?”

“Very carefully,” Cortez murmured through gritted teeth as she jammed another stake into the ground. “Relax. We’ve got a good distance from camp. If anything, this is the riskiest part.”

“So . . .”

“So stop distracting me.”

“Got ya,” Summers agreed, backing away as he saw Cortez pull out another long wire.

He headed over to Nowak instead, who was keeping watch from the top of the Humvee while cleaning out a few spent cartridges.

“Hey, you got any brass?” Nowak asked.

“Should I?”

“Guess not. I should have thought about it earlier, but I realized that not every shot we fire is something we can resupply. I figured we could try to reload some rounds later.”

“How? We can’t make gunpowder or blasting caps. Hell, if we manage to get through all the ammo we have before we hit Nevada, chances are, we have a much bigger problem on our hands.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared, though. Better safe than sorry.”

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That night, Summers was on guard, along with Logan. DEFCON 1, as they knew it, also meant even less sleep for everyone involved. It was another three days until they’d hit the city, by their estimates, and that meant they’d have to stash their Humvee soon. He was not looking forward to riding in the wagon. If Adams’ experience was any indication, it would be a long trip filled with bumps, bruises, and cow shit.

He stared out into the dark, watching the scenery with his gun at the ready.

This world had already kicked them in the ass more than once. He had no intention of giving it another shot.

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Through the forest, a creature of pure black stalked toward the strange lights in the distance. It crouched low to the ground as it weaved its way through the underbrush.

It had been tracking the scent of this particular prey for the better part of a day. It was