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

“All right, group vote.” Nowak raised a hand. “All in favor of not letting kids starve, hand in the air.”

“You know this is compromising your authority as our leader, right?” Summers put up a hand.

“This has gone way beyond my pay grade, and I am beyond giving a fuck.” Nowak glanced around.

It was unanimous.

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The kids were around Asle’s age, a boy and a girl. Asle spoke with them off to the side, away from their parents.

“What are you asking them?” Summers watched the girl, curious.

“What town they’re from. How many soldiers. If their parents are bad people,” Asle answered. “Parents probably lie. Kids don’t, usually. Or they’re bad at it.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong.

“Girl’s name is Erne. Boy is Beorn.” Asle pointed to the two in front of her.

Synel stood off to the side, closer to Summers than he suspected was appropriate.

What they said lined up with what they’d learned from their parents so far. Soldiers had arrived, their leader speaking some foreign language. They raided their town. Most of the villagers were killed when they put up a resistance, and their family had managed to escape in the confusion. The good news was that the town was a few days behind them at this point. If they kept up a good pace, whatever force had hit the village would likely be long gone by the time the caravan got there.

Synel spoke to Asle once more, then bowed.

“She agreed to help watch them. As long as we feed them.” Asle sounded almost happy about the negotiation. To be fair, the security risk was something they were worried about. Feeding was one thing, but even just watching the wagon stretched them thin.

Summers gave Synel a slight bow before she spoke again.

“Thank you.” Synel spoke with a slight accent.

That took Summers by surprise. He’d only taught the woman the phrase a day earlier. She bowed, then moved to the refugees, looking to get them settled.

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The next morning, Summers and the others sat huddled around the wagon. Summers was busy trying to spread jalapeno cheese over a biscuit as hard as glass.

They’d had to ration their generous supply of food with the four extra mouths they’d acquired, so they’d dipped into a few of the MREs they had stored away from the Humvee. They weren't good, but they were calories.

“Asle says they have family in the city. We get them there, they’re not our problem anymore.” Summers spoke as he ate.

“Seems like it’s good for the kid.” Cortez gestured to Asle, who was leading the other two children around the camp, showing them one thing or another.

Summers grabbed his rifle. With the news of an army at their back, he figured it was worth lugging it around if it meant being prepared. Even if he was “off duty.”

“Speaking of, we should probably get them fed.” Summers stood and started toward the kids.

As he got close, the girl—Erne—looked up at him, and froze.

There was a look of sheer terror on her face so plain that Summers stopped in his tracks.

“What . . . ?” The boy grabbed his sister and tried to run, only being stopped when Asle grabbed his arm. She was muttering something as the boy screamed at her.

It was clear Asle was trying to calm the two as they stared up at Summers in sheer panic. He held his hands up in a placating gesture, and it was only then he realized they weren’t looking at him.

They were looking at his rifle. It was hanging from his side, and their eyes kept darting to it.

Nobody Summers had met in this world had recognized their rifles for what they were, and yet these kids were terrified at the sight of his.

“Asle, I think we need to ask some more questions.”

Chapter 16: Mended Bridges

“Fourteen men?” Nowak watched the family of refugees in front of him. They still looked terrified, but after some gentle prodding from Asle, they’d managed to keep them from bolting entirely—mostly for the promise of food. They were halfway to starving just yesterday, after all.

“That’s a squad,” Summers pointed out.

The family had mentioned that at least one soldier they’d encountered was a foreigner. What they had failed to say was that he was an American. Or at least, that they’d heard English. From the few words the family remembered, there was no doubt they were dealing with someone from their own world.

“Asle, tell them they’re safe with us.” Nowak turned to Summers. “What’s a good angle on this?”

Summers looked to Asle. “Tell them to keep all this to themselves. We don’t want rumors spreading about us. If they have a problem with it, we’ll leave them here to fend for themselves.”

Nowak held up a hand to stop Asle. “That’s kind of harsh, isn’t it?”

“Not like I’m planning on following through. But last thing we need is to take sides.” Summers gestured to the wagon. “Besides, we’re just merchants, remember? If they think that’s true, what do you suppose they’re going to tell people?”

“They might assume we were the ones selling those people guns. If we weren’t outright spies,” Nowak concluded.

“Right.”

Nowak thought. “And what if they call your bluff?”

“I doubt the other traders would be able to do much to us. If they were going to warn anyone, it’d be in the city. And if that’s a target for whoever these people are . . . we won’t be there for long.”

“What about resupply?”

“I think we can use Synel as an intermediary, assuming we get the chance.”

Asle took Nowak’s silence as permission to continue. The two children showed no response as she spoke, though Summers could tell the entire family was still on edge.

The father—a man by the name of Eirik—nodded solemnly. He