Fireteam Delta Read online

  Chapter 17: Trigger Discipline

  Asle breathed heavily. Cortez didn’t give her a chance to rest, however. She launched toward the girl. Asle tried to dodge out of the way, but Cortez was fast. Her hand snapped out, grabbing Asle’s shoulder and throwing her roughly to the ground. She was on Asle in the next instant, grasping for the gun at Asle’s side.

  Asle saw the move coming and reared her head back. She slammed it forward, catching Cortez with the top of her head.

  “Ow, you little bitch!” Cortez recovered almost instantly, but in that short reprieve, Asle had already leveled the barrel of her pistol at Cortez’s chest.

  “Bang?” Asle pressed the gun into Cortez’s sternum, still gasping for breath.

  “Good.” Cortez sat up, letting Asle to her feet. “One more time, and fair warning: I’m done going easy.”

  “How about you let her rest a second?” Logan stepped forward. “Training’s good, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not like she’s going to be going hand-to-hand with anyone anytime soon.”

  “Oh no. An adult gets in there, she’s already fucked. Not the point.” Cortez moved to the opposite side of the small clearing they were using as an improvised training area. “It’s about muscle memory. Draw, point, shoot. Can’t have her freezing up when we’re playing for keeps.”

  “She’s still a kid,” Logan pointed out. “Not a soldier.”

  “And she’ll bleed like anyone else.”

  The two started arguing quietly. Asle was only half listening as she took the time to collect herself. She knew Logan meant well, but Cortez was smart, too. Normally, Nowak would be there to give the final say, but he had taken guard duty. So, she’d just let them figure out what was best.

  As Asle looked around, she saw Beorn and Erne in the distance watching her. They’d been doing that more and more lately, though they’d never been allowed to watch target practice. The others didn’t want to show the “powers” that were keeping the rest of the caravan at arm’s length, and they were afraid it would stir up some bad memories for the family.

  They weren’t wrong. It had been like that for Asle at first, too. But she was better now. Asle still felt like Beorn knew what the weapon was, at least. She saw fear in his eyes whenever his eyes caught it.

  Erne must have seen her looking their way. She waved. Asle managed to compose herself long enough to return the gesture, still trying to stay ready in case Cortez tried to surprise her.

  As she did, she saw Summers in the distance, walking slowly toward them. He was looking right at her.

  And he didn’t look as happy as she would have expected.

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  “It was the most awkward pillow talk in my fucking life. She thinks we’re like, some screwed-up version of their demigods. At least, that’s what I think she was saying,” Summers explained to the others. “It didn’t help that my interpreter left me!”

  “Okay, she is not sticking around for that,” Logan shot back.

  “I didn’t mean—” Summers put his face in his hands. “You know what you did.” He pointed at Asle accusingly.

  Asle just stared back at him, impassive.

  The caravan was disassembling tents from the previous night, loading up so they could leave as fast as possible. The city was only a few days away at this point, and nobody wanted to take the chance they’d run into trouble this close to safety. Considering this was the final stop for a lot of cargo that had been brought along the way, the merchants were probably just eager to make their money and get out of town as Summers’ group was. It was better if everyone left before they got involved in the fighting that was sure to come.

  “Are you seriously complaining about getting laid?” Cortez quirked her eyebrow.

  “She tricked me into sleeping with her,” Summers suggested. “Probably, I was drunk.”

  “Yuhuh . . .”

  Summers read the skepticism on everyone’s faces. “Look, the point is, this is a problem. If they think we’re something more than people, they might try to get us involved in this war. That’s not good.”

  Between the killing field they’d left, and the order from the city, there were already whispers about some secret the group was hiding. The truth was that they were hiding something, but godhood wasn’t it.

  “I don’t get it. What’s wrong with being gods?” Cortez considered.

  “People will look to us to help them, and they will turn on us if we can’t. Or won’t.”

  “That actually makes sense—especially if we take preferential treatment, which we’re sure to get,” Logan agreed.

  Cortez just eyed Summers in response. “And we have to deal with this because you couldn’t keep it in your pants for five minutes?”

  “To be fair, you guys never came looking for me.”

  Cortez smiled sweetly.

  “You’re right. It’s our fault. Lucky for you, I have a solution right here that might help.” Her smile only widened. “God’s don’t bleed, right?”

  “What?”

  That was all Summers managed to get out before Cortez’s fist slammed into his face.

  <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

  Summers nursed his black eye as the caravan rumbled along down the main road. Synel had actually checked in on him after news had spread of his injury, which hadn’t gone as well as Cortez had planned.

  According to rumors Asle and the kids had overheard, they thought Summers and Cortez were a couple, and that Synel had “encroached” on her territory. Which, given their previous demigod status, kept the woman far, far away from their wagon. That was fine in Summers’ eyes because he wasn’t sure how to handle her right now. It was not fine for Cortez.

  “I hate you so goddamn much. Really. Watch your back,” Cortez shouted to the front, where Summers sat driving.

  “All right, keep it quiet, lovebirds.”

  Cortez turned to Nowak.

  “I have a grenade, and I will take all of you with me.”

  Summers had turned down around a dozen gifts that morning: everything from armor to spears. Everyone had been looking at them strangely since they arrived in the caravan, and now, with actual proof that they were different on a physical level, there was no shortage of merchants trying to curry favor. They’d refused everything, of course, mostly because Nowak didn’t want to haul around a bunch of crap they’d have to sell in the city, which might not go over well if the merchants caught wind.

  And while Summers wasn’t running to see her, he knew avoiding Synel wasn’t right. Even if she was doing it of her own accord. He resolved to clear things up later that night, preferably with Asle’s help. Hell, she could stab him a little if that meant an end to all of this.

  Summers was brought back to reality when the wagon in front of him came to an abrupt halt. He craned his neck to see what was happening.

  “Looks like we got a tree down in front of us,” Nowak called out. He’d been perched on top of the wagon. “Guns ready, just in case.”

  “Of fucking course.” Summers chambered a round in his rifle and flipped the safety to off. They’d seen enough IEDs in their time to know that a block in the road was something you should be paranoid about. “Where are the kids?”

  Asle and the others had wandered off to look at the different wagons while they traveled. If they ran into trouble . . .

  Sure enough, a shout came from behind them. They saw a cluster of guards moving to the source of the noise. The caravan was set more or less in a single file line. Summers’ wagon was set up somewhere in the middle, which meant that the trouble was at least a good distance from them.

  To their relief Asle, Beorn, and Erne came from the opposite direction, clearly understanding that something wasn’t right.

  “Hold it. Let the guards do their job,” Nowak called down.

  “You sure, Sarge?”

  “They haven’t seen what guns do yet, and considering how many we’ve got stashed in the wagon, I’d like to avoid s
howing them off, if possible. Besides, we’re merchants, not mercenaries, remember?”

  Summers spotted movement from his right, and a man with a bow stepped out from the brush just beside the three kids. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask for permission. Summers fired into the man’s chest, sending him sprawling to the ground.

  Erne screamed just as an arrow slammed into the wagon, followed quickly by another. Summers noted Beorn grabbing his sister before a third shot hit. The two covered for the upcoming barrage as their parents yelled something from the back that Summers couldn’t understand.

  “Right. Weapons free,” Nowak called out.

  Summers saw Asle holding her pistol with her free hand, searching the woods.

  “Asle. Wagon. Now!”

  He didn’t need her looking for trouble.

  As he spoke, more men came from the forest. They were cut down as fast as they appeared, much to the relief of the traders alongside Summers’ group.

  “Cortez, think you can handle the tree?” Nowak asked.

  “Sure thing.”

  Cortez hopped down and jogged lazily to the front. Summers saw her ready her rifle and level it on the large dead wood that had fallen in their path. Two men were trying to move it.

  “Get out of the way, or you’re going to die!” Summers called over to them in Nos.

  To his surprise, they understood, dropping their burden and running for cover.

  Thump!

  The grenade fired. Summers instinctively took cover as a resounding explosion rang out. He looked up just in time to see Cortez readying another shot. By the time his ears had stopped ringing, the wagon was moving again.

  “Did you really need two shots?” Nowak shouted.

  “No, I just saw a cluster of ’em coming out of the woods. Not a problem anymore.”

  Summers looked behind them. The others were already following close behind. He didn’t see anyone on mounts, so there was a good chance they’d outrun the group. Whoever they were.

  <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

  “Well, they’re not from our world.” Nowak noted the spears that had been collected from the dead.

  A few traders had rounded up the bodies of a few kills before they’d left, hoping to learn something about the group that had attacked them.

  Summers swung down from the wagon they were riding. The caravan had decided to ride through most the night at a slow, but steady, pace. Whatever this new group was, it was clear they weren’t the same force described from the refugees’ village, so they had no idea what kind of numbers they were dealing with. It could be the rumored army’s main force, for all they knew.

  Summers’ group had been lucky. Their only injury, unfortunately, was Beorn. He’d been grazed by an arrow sometime during the mayhem. It wasn’t serious, but he felt a little guilty that the kid had been hurt.

  “So, that leaves our mystery men as either opportunists or some kind of ally to these guys,” Summers noted.

  “No. It couldn’t have been a random attack, right? What would the army want with a town?”

  “We got an elf kid in the back of our wagon who said we kidnapped her when we first met. You want to do the math on that?”

  Nowak considered that as they walked.

  “Either way, it means we’re looking for a small group embedded in a much, much larger and more aggressive one.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “Got any suggestions?”

  “Stay the course and find out more in the city.” Summers had to swerve to avoid some guards hustling to and from a few of the other wagons. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather meet these people on our own terms.”

  “Fair enough.”

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  That night, the others took up posts around the wagon. They weren’t taking any chances on being surprised; if that meant they had to lose some sleep, then that was fine by them.

  To Summers’ disappointment, Beorn and his family had decided to camp a ways off from their group. He had no doubt they’d come running if there was trouble, but he didn’t like leaving them unprotected like that. Nowak figured all the gunfire had panicked them more than they’d realized, and from what he’d seen of their reaction afterward, Summers wouldn’t be surprised if they left for the city without them. At least this close, they stood a good chance of making it.

  He saw Synel walking his way. She looked as tired as he felt, but thankfully unhurt. He’d tried to check on her after the attack, but the woman was busy handling the logistics of moving so many people at such an exhausting pace.

  “Well, here we fucking go.” He tried to put on a fake smile before realizing that was a bad idea.

  Would that be the elven equivalent of moving too fast? Screw it, the woman had been nothing but kind to him and his friends. She deserved at least a little consideration.

  “How are you holding up?” Summers asked. It was one of the few stock phrases he’d learned.

  “Poorly,” Synel replied simply.

  “Is there anything . . . ?” Summers forgot the word. Instead, he pointed at himself and to her. “To help.”

  He heard her exhale.

  She considered him a moment. “No. Thank you, though.”

  Bang!

  A shot resounded through the camp. Summers froze. A scream of pain followed soon after, cutting through the cold night air. It was coming from the back of the wagon.

  “Shit.”

  Summers rushed over just as the others moved from their posts.

  They found Asle—covered in blood, with Beorn at her feet.

  He had a ragged hole torn in his chest. Summers didn’t have to look twice to know the boy had only a few seconds of life left. It didn't make sense, though. He shouldn't be here, and Asle was asleep just a few minutes ago.

  He could hear shouting, but his entire attention was on the girl with the gun in her hands.

  Asle looked at him, tears brimming in her eyes, an expression of absolute terror on her normally placid face.

  “I’m sorry . . .”

  Chapter 18: Trail of Tears

  Creeeak.

  Asle climbed up into their wagon, the wood protesting as she moved to the back. She’d spent most of the night after the ambush trying to convince Beorn and Erne to stay, but Asle knew they wouldn’t. Worse, their parents wouldn’t hear her out. Even if they understood the danger of traveling on the road, alone, this was no place for kids. Adults may be able to outrun soldiers, but children couldn’t. Asle knew that well enough firsthand. They would still be safer with her and her friends, at least until the city. But they were convinced they could flee north.

  She’d managed to sneak them a few rations with Mr. Nowak’s permission. Somehow, the illusion that she was going against her friends’ wishes put them at ease.

  Asle understood their distrust, but she didn’t have to like it.

  After a few more minutes, Asle closed her eyes, doing her best to quiet her thoughts and let sleep take her.

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  Creeeak.

  Asle stirred at the noise. She’d assumed the sound was one of the others climbing onto the wagon. Then she felt a hand on her thigh.

  “What?”

  She felt a weight sliding off her leg, and her hand snapped to the half-drawn pistol at her side. Another hand covered her mouth before she could scream. Asle had no time to think. She operated on the instinct that had been drilled into her, pulling the weapon in close and squeezing the trigger.

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  “Bang.” Asle finished the story, her legs curled up toward her head.

  The others had moved off to handle the scene, while Summers tried to make sense of what happened. As far as he could tell, Beorn had tried to take her gun, and Asle had reacted just as they’d trained her to.

  Why he’d done it, Summers couldn’t say. Maybe the kid thought that if they were going off on their own, he’d need the protecti
on.

  “Anything?” Summers called over to Nowak. His sergeant was outside, hunched over Beorn, trying to get a pulse. They’d done everything they could to staunch the bleeding from his chest, but after fifteen minutes of trying, and failing, to get a response out of him, it was clear the kid was gone.

  “No,” Nowak replied.

  Summers had already written the kid off, so Nowak’s flat response didn’t surprise him. He noticed Asle clench her knees even tighter. And the shouting from outside was getting louder.

  “Stay here, all right?”

  Asle nodded.

  Summers jumped out of the wagon. He saw Cortez holding back an increasingly agitated Eirik. Beorn’s father looked down at the corpse, such naked grief on his face that Summers stopped in his tracks.

  “Let him by, Cortez,” Nowak called over. He’d done what he could for the kid, but that ultimately amounted to nothing.

  Cortez nodded for a moment before she stepped away from the older man. He rushed over to cradle the boy’s body.

  Summers moved back to the wagon. The camp was waking up now, in part due to what was happening. He saw Synel ordering several guards to pull stakes and get started heading out. They’d be leaving soon. Something told him the family wouldn’t be following.

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  “Think they’ll make it?” Nowak asked Summers.

  They’d taken a post against the back of the wagon, blocking off access to Asle in case anyone got too curious. The last thing she needed right now was visitors. Summers had explained to the family what had happened as best he could, and they’d left soon after. From the way Eirik looked at him . . . well, he was just glad Asle wasn’t around. He couldn’t blame the guy, but that was the last thing the girl needed.

  “We’re two days away, and the roads seem pretty safe. I think they have a decent shot.” Summers paused, thinking how best to phrase his next question. “Who was watching the wagon?”

  “We’re not gonna start throwing around blame.” Nowak’s voice had an edge. “I gave Asle the okay to give the family some rations. Cortez probably thought the kid was heading in to thank her. She’s not taking it well, either.”

  “Right. Sorry.”