AN - This chapter contains Grace Mason, who of course belongs to Jem :)

Chapter 16: Games People Play

By the next week, the 2nd Mass had settled at the airport. It wasn't a huge construct, more something for light aircraft out in the plains, but there was a lot of space and no aliens. So, the 2nd Mass moved right on in.

Instead of a city of tents like they had formed under the bridge, everyone now slept with a solid roof over their heads. Some people chose to use their tents indoors, a room within a room, but others, like Casey, had donated their tents to Anne to use for her patients. Jamil and Anthony had managed to tie a whole jumble of tents together so Anne and Lourdes had an actual clinic to work within.

Everyone was making great use of the supplies that Casey and the Berserkers had brought back from Home Warehouse. The fresh clothes and two working vehicles had satiated Weaver's anger and he didn't blast Casey for her "insubordination". He did, however, advise her not to make a habit out of disobeying orders.

It was a cool evening, and Casey was taking advantage of what little sunlight remained before they had to switch on the lanterns and fire up candles. The Berserkers had set up their own space in an empty aircraft hanger which, oddly enough, had picnic tables next to it. When not out scouting, hunting or doing whatever the hell they did, the Berserkers were glued to those picnic tables.

Tector, Lyle and Boon were sharing a case of warm beer, Pope was lounging on a moth-eaten La-Z-Boy he'd found, and Lee and Casey were eating sandwiches for dinner while working out the kinks in a card game they were inventing.

"This game makes no sense," Lee tossed her hand of cards away and focused on her sandwich.

"It couldn't be easier," Casey reshuffled the deck of cards. "I deal five to each of us," She dealt five cards each to Lee, herself and Etta. The baby sat strapped in her car seat sitting atop the picnic table between Lee and Casey, though she seemed more interested in playing with her sock than checking her hand.

Casey set the remainder of the deck in the centre of the picnic table. "Then we deal a group card," Casey flipped over the top card; a ten of diamonds. "Now, ten is our magic number. You have to make ten out of the cards you have, but you can't use a ten. So, I have," She flipped over her cards. "Two eights, a Jack and a nine. So, if a Jack equals ten then I can't use it," Casey turned the Jack over. "And now I have to make ten out of my remaining cards." She grinned up at Lee. "Fun, right?"

Lee looked unamused. "I don't think it's as fun as you think it is."

"What in God's name are you playing?" Pope watched them from the comfort of his hideous new chair.

Lee scooped up the cards and began to shuffle them again. "We're trying to invent a game."

Casey pouted. "No, we did invent a game. It's called Magic Number Five and it's flawless."

Pope eased himself up off his throne and snagged a beer from Lyle. "And the kid is a willing and able participant in your game?"

"Yeah," Lee said. "When she's not chewing on the cards."

"You're just mad 'cos she's beating you," Casey said. "Etta has a knack for this."

Pope examined their set up across the table as he cracked open his beer. "She has a knack for a game you just invented? What a surprise."

"Look, if you're gonna be all sarcastic," Casey nudged her paper plate with the remaining half a sandwich on it. "Stuff that in your face and shut up."

Pope set down his beer, took the plate and lifted up the top layer of bread. "What's in it? Arsenic?"

"I think Arsenic's a liquid," Casey said. "And it's a sandwich not poison. Trust me, if I was going to kill you I wouldn't do it that way."

"Well," Pope bit into the slice of bread. "That goes in the vault." He ate with his mouth open and bread crumbs scattered around his black jacket.

The mess he was making suddenly jogged Casey's memory. "Crap, what's the time?" Casey grabbed Pope's wrist and read his watch. "If I get another cold shower, I'll scream."

The 2nd Mass had a small army of generators, and they were turned on to fire up the water heaters every day at sundown for a half hour. If you wanted a warm shower, you had to get in quick. Casey had been at the tail end of the showering line for three days straight. She did not intend to go for four in a row.

Seeing from Pope's watch that she had ten minutes until sundown, Casey abandoned her game with Lee and grabbed Etta's car seat by the handle. "Remember where we are," Casey told Lee, gesturing to their scattered selection of playing cards. "I'll be back in a half hour."

Lee gave her a two fingered salute and began neatly organizing the cards as Casey bustled off with Etta.

It was a strange feeling to suddenly have again, the excitement at the anticipation of a warm shower. There had been weeks that the 2nd Mass had gone without running water, let alone hot water, and had bathed and washed their clothes in a freezing river or in buckets of rainwater. How easy it was to revert back to the modern world with something as simple as a generator heating up the water tank.

Almost at the exact time Casey arrived in the bathrooms, Etta started to cry. Casey was able to use the infants tears to her advantage and cut in line claiming that a volcanic mess of a diaper lead to Etta's unhappiness. Casey had been discovering lately that the more blunt and graphic she was with Etta's daily events, the less people wanted to hang around her and thus were happy enough to shove her to the front of the line just so they wouldn't have to hear any more details.

After their warm shower, Casey wrapped Etta in a towel then her blanket and stuffed her back into her car seat. It was a tighter squeeze to clasp the latch around two layers of cloth, but Etta didn't seem to mind. She was already falling asleep.

On the wall just outside the bathroom was a huge square window that looked out onto the airfield. From where she stood, Casey could see that the picnic table where she had been sitting with Lee was empty, as was Pope's La-Z-Boy. None of the Berserkers were there. All that was left were beer cans and the paper plates Casey and Lee had been eating off. It wasn't unusual for them to disappear like that, they often went and did their own thing. And it didn't bother Casey at all, who instead sought out her other friends.

Casey lugged Etta in her car seat towards what had been set up as the cafeteria. It was after mealtime, so people were just using the tables for various activities. A few of the kids were colouring, Matt was writing in his journal, Lourdes was teaching Jamil to play some sort of game with wooden beads, and tucked into a corner table Maggie and Grace were racing to see who could put together their pistols the fastest.

Casey heaved Etta's car seat up onto the table and took a chair by Maggie. "Wow," she gushed as Grace's hands moved like a blur to assemble her gun. "That's some talent."

"She can do it in under sixty seconds," Maggie showed Casey the face of a stopwatch paused on 57:91.

"Next level is doing it blindfolded," Grace grinned. "Here," She slid the gun over to Casey. "You try it."

"I dunno," Casey turned the gun over in her hands. A revolver she could pull apart; but Grace's pistol was one Casey had never held before. "I worry I'll shoot one of you in the face."

Maggie swiveled Etta's car seat towards her and let the baby play with the stopwatch, all ideas of sleep gone from the baby's mind now that she had a distraction. "Good rule of thumb not to do this kind of thing with loaded guns."

"It's not as tricky as you'd think," Grace said. She took her gun back from Casey and pulled it apart again. "It's just like everything else, practice makes perfect."

Casey looked at the puzzle of gun pieces before her and began putting them together. She appreciated Grace's confidence in her, and Casey did want to become more familiar with guns other than just the few Pope used in their training. If she was going to be a worthy soldier and a useful fighter, she needed to broaden her weaponry horizons.

"Okay," Casey clicked the chamber into place in what she expected was the last step in assembling the gun. "Done," The trigger mechanism promptly clattered against the table then the chamber slid right back out beside it. "Crap."

"I dunno how you managed to do that," Grace frowned and took back the pistol. Within a few moments, she had the gun back in working order.

"I can reload a revolver," Casey pointed out.

"Yeah, well, you'll need a pistol." Maggie said. "Your revolver holds, what, six bullets? You're not gonna be able to hit pause on the battle while you feed in the bullets one by one."

Casey groaned. "Fine, if you-"

A bout of yells and cursing hollered in from outside along with the scuffling of people being shoved and boots scraping gravel. Casey, Maggie and Grace rose from their table and headed outside. Uncertain of what was going on outside, Casey thought it safer to leave Etta behind. But not before she sat the car seat on the floor, just in case Etta developed extra strength and rolled herself off the table.

Everyone in the 2nd Mass was gathering to find out what was the source of the commotion, and Casey was surprised that she wasn't surprised who was causing it. Pope and the Berserkers were all being lead through the camp from the woods surrounded by Weaver and his scouts. Ben and Jimmy were amongst the fighters, each holding a rifle aimed at Pope. Weaver gestured towards a school bus the 2nd Mass had salvaged the day before. Jamil was reinforcing it for travel, but Weaver seemed to be using it for a holding cell because he had his scouts traipse Pope, Lee, Tector, Boon and Lyle inside.

"Ben," Grace pulled on her brother's arm as he stalked away from Pope. "What's going on?"

Ben was furious. "Pope and the Berserkers had Dad at gunpoint."

"What?" Casey and Maggie said in unison.

Ben tensed as he turned to them. "Threatened to shoot him if he didn't leave the camp."

"You know I'm right, Cap!" Pope hollered as he was shoved into the back of the bus behind Lee.

"Shut it!" Weaver slammed the rear door of the bus shut and locked it up tight with a chain. "Casey!" Weaver found her in the crowd and pointed accusingly at her. "Scout tent. Right now."

Casey was taken aback. "Me? Why?"

"Now!"

Casey looked back where she'd left Etta on the floor.

"I'll keep an eye on her," Maggie offered.

"Thanks," Casey tried to stifle the nervousness gathering in her chest, and trailed after Weaver.

When she entered the scout tent, Casey felt like she was smothered by tension. It shrouded her in a thick, invisible cloud; wafting off of each person before her. Anthony was standing ramrod straight, eyes focused ahead and hands clasped at the small of his back. A dampened Tom was sitting on a foldout chair, face set in stern expression and Hal stood, arms crossed, behind his father. Weaver was pacing in front of Anthony, body rigid with anger and eyes blazing under the visor of his weathered cap.

"You didn't know anything about this?" Weaver was questioning Anthony as Casey came in.

Not sure where to stand, Casey stayed just inside the tent flap and folded her arms across her chest so she wouldn't pick at her cuticles - a nervous habit she'd inherited from her father that she had so far managed to keep under control.

"No, sir," Anthony was confident in his response. "Had I known, I'd have stopped it, Cap. I'm sure Pope is aware of that and purposely kept me out of the loop."

Weaver quietly circled Anthony, stopping when he was facing Casey. He took three strides toward her with his balled fists clenched at his sides. "Ben and Jimmy caught Pope-"

"I heard," Casey sharply interrupted. "And I had no idea he was planning this. I'd have said something if I had any clue what they were up to." She turned to Tom. "You can't think I wouldn't speak up if I knew you were in danger?" Tom didn't answer, which irritated Casey. The way all their eyes watched her, it was as if they had made up their minds she must have known something even before she walked in.

It was Hal who broke the silence. "I think Pope and his Berserkers have outlived their usefulness."

Weaver looked to the boy and nodded. "Agreed. They're out of control."

Casey stomach scrunched together in a knot. "What?"

Weaver made no sign he heard her. "When we move out for the Catskills, we leave them all behind."

Tom suddenly stood up. "Lyle, Tector, Crazy Lee - they're just following orders. Pope's the problem."

"He's not-" Casey stopped herself and cleared her throat before she continued. "Look, I'm not defending what Pope did," She hoped Tom noted her sincerity. The unanswered questions she had about what he had been through on the alien ship did not at all mean she wished him ill will. "But you have to see that the man does have a point."

Weaver's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed on Casey, he drew in a breath as if preparing to unleash a tirade on her.

"She's right," Anthony chimed in, much to Casey's relief. "Tom, no offense," Anthony gave him an apologetic shrug. "But no one knows what the aliens might have done to you."

"No, no, no," Weaver turned back to Anthony. "Dr. Glass removed whatever it was."

"Or we just found what they wanted us to." Anthony pointed out gently.

Casey shot him a thankful smile. "I'm just saying," She continued carefully to Weaver. "That Pope isn't the only one wondering if Tom is a walking time bomb." Casey worried she'd overstepped her mark, and she might find herself crammed into that bus with the Berserkers.

"She's right," Tom looked to Casey. "You're right. We can't be a hundred percent certain what they did to me. I could still pose a threat to the group."

Hal scoffed. "Dad, there's no way you're a threat-"

"But we've lost a lot of fighters," Tom went on. "The 2nd Mass isn't exactly in a position to be picky. The benefit of giving me a weapon outweighs the risk of me being a liability. Wouldn't you say, Captain?"

Weaver narrowed his eyes, but nodded. "That's how I see it, yes."

"Well, then the same has to hold true for Pope."

Weaver eyes bore just a slight glint of amusement. "You lost me there, Tom."

"We need him," Tom said. "For better or worse, they listen to him. And the Berserkers do the things that the rest of us can't or won't."

Hal shook his head, stepping forward. "We've given Pope too many chances already. Something has got to change."

Weaver planted his hands on his hips. "Agreed."

Tom straightened. "Assign me to the Berserkers. If I know where he is, I can keep my eye on him," He raised his eyebrows at his leader. "So? Permission to join the Berserkers, Captain?"

"Fine," Weaver said after a moment. "Permission granted."

Casey bit down on her inside of her mouth before she spoke up. "Assign me, too."

Weaver flicked his gaze towards her. "What?"

"Tom keeps his eye on Pope, I'll watch out for Tom." Casey looked pointedly at Weaver. "Pope won't do anything with me there, you know that. He knows who I'd side with if I had to choose." She caught Tom's eye line. "You'll be safer with me there."

The Professor held her gaze. "Sounds good to me."

xxx

"Fresh air!" Pope gasped as the back of the bus door was pulled open. All the Berserkers stuck their heads out into the night and inhaled the chilled air. They were all sweating and the stench was less than appetizing. Casey caught eyes with Lee, tried not to laugh at the disgusted face Lyle was making, and stood next to Tom behind Weaver.

"Listen up!" Weaver stood blocking the Berserkers from climbing down off the bus. "I'd like nothing better than to leave you stewing in your own filth. But after speaking with Tom, I have a proposition for you."

"Tom Mason," Pope bowed his head in faux-respect, his sweaty hair slicked to his face. "Saviour of the 2nd Mass."

Weaver kept his eyes on Pope. "I'm assigning Tom to the Berserkers."

Pope looked over his shoulder as his crew, and they all laughed. "Are you insane?"

"I don't know," Weaver said. "If I am, I guess we'll have that in common."

Pope smirked but there was nothing jovial in his steely eyes. "The fatal mistake here, Cap, is assuming that I am the enemy. How quickly you forget it was me and my crew pulled the 2nd Mass' ass out of hell in Fitchburg."

"No," Weaver said. "I haven't forgotten. But you have a tendency to forget that I am the commander of this regiment, not you."

Pope jutted his chin towards Tom. "Mason here turns us all over to the alien overlords, what then, sir?"

"I think you're probably gonna have to get used to kissing Skitter butt." Weaver said. "In the meantime, I'm assigning Tom to the Berserkers."

Pope's face flushed with anger. "And if I refuse? What if he bugs out again, huh?"

"That's the bright side," Casey interjected. "I'll be there."

Pope smiled and looked from Casey to Weaver. "You're assigning her, too?"

"Be thankful, Pope," Weaver said. "Seems you might have someone here who doesn't wish Hell on you and your crew."

Pope sighed heavily. "Well, then," He gave Casey and Tom a smarmy grin. "Welcome to the Berserkers."