Livin' In The Future
By Ottovw
2010
Chapter 5
They were sitting on his bunk again. Allison was 'walking' him through some 'required' signs most were the standard hand signs that he knew. Others, as he suspected, were modified American Sign Language. Hands, open, side by side, backs facing out: was 'wall' or 'perimeter'. An open right handed chop to base of the left thumb: intruder. 'Break' was easy two fists, snapping motion. "'Broken' plus 'wall' was a perimeter breach. A curved index finger stroked under the chin, was an important one: "metal".
The curtains moved. John turned towards it. Allison spun in place. It was Radice. Right behind him was Kyle.
"First Platoon. Gather 'round. Let's move." Radice called out. They stopped right in front of John's bunk. Kyle pointed his index finger to the ceiling and drew a circle in the air: 'rally point'. John moved to stand. Kyle signaled for him to stay seated. Soon all four squads of first platoon stood clustered around John's bunk. Dalia knelt down behind and beside Allison. Jorge, stood uncomfortably close behind John, his head ducking under the top bunk.
Radice looked around, from face to face. "All present." He was short enough that he didn't have to duck to look under the bunk.
Kyle waited a beat, and spoke: "The more observant of you may have noticed that we've brought in some new people."
There were some quiet chuckles.
"To the less observant of you: We've brought in some new people."
Some more chuckles.
Kyle was standing in parade rest. He seemed to be waiting for something. "Allison," he indicated with his eyes, when he got whatever it was he was waiting for. "You know." Earlier In a mix of spoken and sign she told John that she had been a runner for the Alfa Company for 5 months. Been a runner for the 130th, for the previous 6 months. "John" Kyle reached out and touched him on the shoulder, then returned to parade rest. "You'll want to watch. He's a pretty mean shot, and knows his way around a battlefield." In the brief silence that followed, John could almost hear them remembering how they had found him little more than two weeks ago. "We're moving out..."
John perked at thi, his heart pounding in his chest.
"...tomorrow night."
His mouth was frozen in a unsaid: "What?" He planted his feet to stand. A hand was on his knee. John looked. Allison was leaning across the bunk, her hand staying him.
"Derek is heading out tonight. Jorge, grab your pack. Derek wants you top side with him. The rest of you, Be ready to move first dark tomorrow. Except for meals, you are 'in quarters'." There were disappointed sounds all around. Kyle nodded at Radice.
'Toon, dismissed."
There was a sympathetic grip on John's shoulder. Jorge.
Kyle leaned over John, his hands on the top bunk. John could see his muscles straining with his grip. "I don't know John. I don't know. Derek is pissed. He's heading to HQ tonight to find out what's going on. He is 'ordering' us to follow tomorrow night, so that if there are more delays we will be delayed 'there'." He was still looking at John. "I'm going to address the rest of the Company. See to it that first platoon is ready to roll."
This was to Radice, who turned and called out: "First squad, by teams, kits out! Fall in."
"Sorry, John."
John looked up, not even realizing he had looked down, but Kyle had turned and was heading to the door. "Jorge!" He called out.
"Comin'!" Jorge, ran passed shooting them a thumbs up.
"Second squad. By teams, kits out! Fall in."
"What team..." They said simultaneously. Allison half smiled at him, rose, stepped in front of him and retrieve her pack, where it hung beside the wall.
"Our team, I guess." John suggested as he fished under his bunk for his pack. They stood at the foot of the bunk, Allison was beside him. Radice walked up the line. There were nine of them. "Good. Good. Brandon, supply, get another pair of socks. Good. Tyler, laundry, now. Wash your pack too, the smell alone will attract metal. Good. Good. Hernandez fix that strap or get a new pack. If it's your 'lucky' pack, learn to sew. Good. Connor, before you use those you'll want to get the price tags off of them." Despite himself he looked. "Good. Tyler, get to the armory. Standard load out. Long arms for Connor and Young."
John wagged the strap of his AR at his shoulder.
"Nix that, just for Young." Radice stood back and looked at them. "Not a lot of spit and polish with this bunch of hombres. Which is good, never been a fan of spit or polish. Connor? I thought you had a limp, get to supply and replace that boot, the heels half shot off. Young. Show Connor how to make a scarf out of his spare shirt so he can breathe if we bump into 'aeriels'."
He stalked off. "Third squad! By teams, kits out. Fall in!"
They spent another day sleeping, and then by late afternoon they moved by squads to breakfast then the armory. On their way John saw that 'Charlie' Company left their billet, he wondered when they had left, and where they had gone. Back to the fight? Where was 'Bravo'? Was there a 'Delta'? How many Companies made up this battalion? How many battalions made up the brigade that was the 130th SOC?
Tyler was standing in for Radice. She was tall. As tall as John, and rail thin. Her hair was cropped short. She was missing three fingers on her left hand. When she noticed John noticing she told him she had lost them when she was a child. She had tried to pet a puppy, which turned out to be a wolf cub. She also had a scar that ran from her lip to just behind her left eye that gave her a kind of half grin. John couldn't tell if she had been serious or not.
"T." The supply officer said simply.
She turned and nodded. "Need AR magazines Kemp: Four magazines for Connor and six for Young, here." Kemp, disappeared through a curtained doorway. Tyler turned to John. "If what they say about you is true I want you to have extra magazines. Young is smart, she'll stick with you. She don't shoot her mouth off none, so I don't 'spect her to waste bullets."
"You." There was an unexpected hardness that caught John off guard. "You, just keep her safe."
The officer returned with the magazines. Tyler collected them. John saw that his name was 'Kemper'. He smiled at him. John saw that Tyler was all business again.
Kemper gave him a bland look. "Whatcha need buddy."
John planted his right boot, heel first, on the counter top.
He looked at the half missing heel. "Gonna have to charge you for two, we don't just sell one..." Kemper stopped. He did a double take. Looked from the boot, to name on John's BDUs. Then to Tyler. Who was now grinning, on both sides of her face. "T? Is this...? Is he...? This is... is him?"
"Yeah, Kemp. That's the 'Connor' that everyone's been talking about."
"No, shit? This is the boot? This is the heel that was shot off..." John was disturbed by the look in the man's eyes. Kemper was holding his boot like it was some sort of relic. "What, 4 or 5 days ago? And you only come to replace it now?" Then Kemper seemed to realize something. His round face darkened. "T! You're such an ass!" He shuffled around his side of the counter, picked up a bundle of laces and threw them at Tyler. Kemper turned to John. "I'm Kemper. I'm the sergeant in charge of supply. I'll be charging this boot to Private Tyler over there. I'll be right back." He turned and a packet of laces hit him in the back of the head. From behind the curtain came an inarticulate scream.
"You got this Young? 'K. I'll meet ya'll top side then." Tyler was still grinning when she nodded to John and walked off.
The platoon moved, differently. It was like, yet unlike a 'run'. In second squad, Tyler, and Hill took point with Kyle. Hernandez, and Voss pulled up the rear. John expected Tyler to be in the rear, but apparently Kyle like to keep her close. John followed Allison's lead, as they ran she pointed out the 'marks', and signed their meaning. The 'body' of the squad was also split, ahead of John and Allison was Brandon, and his fire team. John wasn't sure how happy he was with their disposition.
Without Derek, Kyle was in command. Ok, John thought, Radice was in back with 4th squad. That was fine, John didn't like that fact that Kyle and so many of his seniors were towards the front of the squad. He understood that leading from the 'front' had advantages, but John would have put Tyler up front, and left Kyle back with the main body. It would make communications that much simpler and make it a lot less likely for their entire command to be wiped out by a single plasma blast.
Allison slapped him on the shoulder, gave him a look, and took off.
Sorry, he signed back belatedly and followed.
They came around a corner, a mound of rubble really, that almost formed a 90 degree angle at its base, and stopped. She caught his shoulder, and pointed at her eyes, and stepped back. John looked. It was Brandon, and his team. They were taking cover behind a portion of wall, perhaps 15 feet in front of them. Why had they stopped? John pumped his fist at her. Allison ran. John followed.
John signed 'question,' at Brandon.
Brandon showed him. Up ahead, perhaps a hundred feet was Kyle, and his team. They were too close, they weren't moving.
John leaned in close. "Something's wrong."
"How do you know?" Brandon hissed back.
"10 o'clock. 50 yards. That's first squad right?"
Brandon looked. He banged the back of his head against the broken wall. "Ah, shit."
"We need to find out what's going on. We need to get hold of Kyle. Who's your runner?" All of them turned to Allison.
Great, John thought. Think! "Brandon, move up to cover Kyle. Allison, give me the ammo, then go and find Radice. We need to get the platoon..."
John winced. There was a sharp pain on the left side of his head. Allison was trying to hand him her pack. He almost hit it with his head when he doubled over. "Get down. Now!" Weaver's brogue, resounded in his left ear. "Never mind," he said as he staggered up to his feet. "We're too exposed here. Need... need to get to cover."
"Are you ok?" There was concern in Allison's voice.
"Need a roof!" His left hand was still trying to reach for his ear.
"A roof?" Asked Brandon.
"Yes!" John almost screamed in exasperation. He hoped that Weaver could hear this and hold off her attack.
"This way." They ran. It was a lobby or some sort. His eyes were tearing, the pain was incredible. "Cameron, get to Kyle, get him under cover. See if he can get word to first..."
"What! What did you just call me?" There was outrage in her voice.
John didn't understand. He couldn't believe there wasn't blood pouring out the side of his head. "Wh...What?"
"You... You just called me 'Cameron'?" She was upset, hurt and angry.
Another wave hit him. He was on his knees, in a fetal position, his forehead on the gritty but cool tile.
"Who is Cameron?" John was sure that was Brandon.
"His sister."
"He thinks you're his sister?"
Dear God, shut up! Brandon. He couldn't even lift his head. Aloud he pleaded, to the floor: "Please, I'm sorry. Please, get to Kyle. Get him safe. Get word to first squad. Get them undercover."
There was a voice, in his head. "John, do not respond. Do not nod." It was Weaver.
"I know." He tried to say through clenched teeth, instead he vomited. "It tastes even worse the second time." He managed to gurgle. Someone picked him up, out of his breakfast, and put him behind a counter. "Get him quiet!"
"The pain is necessary," continued Weaver. "It is an emphatic reminder to you, that the longer I delay the less effect I can have on the outcome. You sent your little human. I will assume you want her safe. I will wait."
The sun was rising. They'd been trapped here for 4 hours now. John was standing in what had been a store front window, hands clasped behind his back. He was looking out over the rubble field, it was slightly depressed. Across the way, perhaps a mile away he could see almost intact buildings. First squad was hiding over there somewhere. Between John and them was desolation. Some pipes and girders were pointing accusingly at the brightening sky. His eyes wandered around the edge, taking in the dramatic demarcation. His eyes flicked up, pasted the orbiting HK. "Airburst." He said to no one in particular. His voice was still hoarse. They were back there, talking about him: Kyle, Brandon, all of second squad except for him and Allison.
"What?" She was crouched down beside a concrete pillar. The HK fired four plasma bursts into the blasted plain, as if to remind everyone that it was still there. She flinched.
John glanced at her. Some of pillars marble facade still remained it was a darkly veined green. He liked the way it looked against her hair. "Airburst. This", he gestured with his head. "Was an airburst. May be half KT, five hundred may be a thousand feet or so in the air."
"How... how do you know?"
"I wrote a program once, for a computer class. It calculated the damage radius of a nuclear detonation. You could specify size of the bomb, whether it was subsurface, ground burst or airburst. With the airburst you could even set the altitude. I got an 'A'." He looked down at Allison and smiled. "I think I gave my teacher nightmares." He looked back out and laughed at the destruction.
"I mean, how do you know?" She emphasized the 'you' her eyes darted to the shadowed depths of the store. Reminding him that there were listeners, and he noted that they had stopped talking amongst themselves back there. They were listening.
He decided to give them something to hear. John turned and smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile. "I think," he said. "I think you know."
Allison's eyes widened with surprise. She rose from her crouch, seized his collar in both hands, and pulled his head down to hers. Cameron could've given him whiplash doing that. He could feel her lips against his ear. She spoke in a harsh whisper. "John! Not here. Not now." Behind them the HK fired another series of plasma bursts into the dead ground. John noticed she didn't flinch this time.
She was smiling up at him, as she backed away. Then John felt a deep rumble, first in his chest, then in his feet. "Earthquake," he heard himself ask, knowing full well that it was not.
Allison was shaking her head. "No. No. No."
Kyle came to them, crouched beside Allison's pillar, peaked out. "HKs gone." John could've guessed as much. "John," Kyle pointed towards east, as he stepped out into the open. "Make sure that thing doesn't circle around us. Oh. Jesus. Its Headquarters."
"What?" Despite the fact that he knew that HK would not circle back. John kept an eye out for it. At the edge of his peripheral vision he could see a huge plume of dust rising high into the air.
"Allison. Allison! Go. Go get him." John could hear receding footsteps.
"Come on John, get back inside."
From the back: "Is it really?" Tyler asked.
"Its got to be, there's... there's nothing else out that way."
"Oh. God." Brandon, John guessed. "The General?"
"I... I don't know." Kyle responded.
"Charlie Company?"
"I don't know." He repeated.
"Derek?"
"I don't know!" Kyle all but yelled back, finally, growing as impatient with Brandon as John had been all morning. "Jorge's comin' in. Allison's bringing him up."
"You saw him?"
"Yeah."
"What time was the meeting?" John asked from the front of the store.
"What?" John guessed from his tone that Brandon was as annoyed with John as John was annoyed with him.
"John? What?" He could hear the crunch of his boots on the dusty floor, behind him.
"What time was my meeting with the General?"
There was a prolonged silence. "About forty minutes ago. Why?"
There was commotion behind them. John didn't even bother to turn to look. It would be Jorge and Allison.
"It was Davis. I was Davis" Jorge repeated between gasps for air.
"What? What do you mean: 'It was Davis'? More Brandon.
"It was Davis!"
"Report, soldier!" Kyle interrupted.
John could almost hear Jorge stiffen. There was a rustling sound like paper.
"That's it?"
"Yes, he said to give that to you, and that if anything happened to him, you were to open it."
There was the sound of tearing paper.
John turned. "Kyle. Should I assemble the platoon?"
"Huh? Yes. Yes John, do that."
"Tyler. Let me see your mirror."
There was a pause. "Give it to him." Kyle said with a shrug.
The tall private handed him her mirror, it was rectangular and made of polished metal. John stepped out into the sun, and looked across the way, tried to remember which building the HK seemed to concentrate on. He flashed the mirror at it. A few seconds later they flashed back. He looked at Tyler. "You see that?" He handed her back her mirror.
"Yeah."
"Go get first squad."
She left.
"Allison?" He could hear Jorge pacing behind him. She was to his right just staring at him. A fine sheen of sweat beaded her skin.
"You still good?"
"Yeah."
John looked across the rubble, oriented himself. "See those two buildings? 8 o'clock and 10 o'clock?" He pointed with is out stretched arms.
"Yeah."
"One will be Radice, the other will be third squad. Bring Radice and fourth squad in. We'll need third squad out there to watch our back. Get back here quick as you can."
Allison nodded and ran off.
John turned back to the others. "Brandon? Get your fire team out there and set up a perimeter."
"What? Who put..."
"Brandon. Do it." Kyle cut in.
Without a pause Brandon called out, "alfa team!"
"We'll have to wait for Allison, anyway." They were looking at him: Jorge, mid step, in his cool down walk; Brandon and his fire team on their way out; Kyle with the crumpled note in his hand. "I read the note: 'The Priest,'" he said by way of explanation. They were still looking at him, waiting. John sighed. "Allison knows the way."
Without the HK orbiting John moved deeper into the stores shadow. He walked passed the countertops, a jewelry story, he thought. He sat down on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest. "Anyone have anything to eat?"
Something wrapped in paper fluttered through the air he caught it. He tore the paper off, some of it stuck, he didn't care. He bit it and chewed. It tasted like crap. "What is this?"
"Plumpy nut," Jorge said as he circled.
"Huh." He took another bit. It still tasted awful.
No longer winded. Jorge, sat down heavily next to John. He wondered about this, but 2nd squad wasn't Jorge's, and he just sent off all the runners except for Kyle. John was never one to pass up a chance at 'intelligence'. "What happened?"
"They were waiting for you."
John could hear the unasked question: "What is a General doing waiting for you?"
"Derek called me in, gave me the note and told me to find you."
"No." John shook his head, rocking it back and forth against the wall behind his head. He need more information than that. "Tell me everything."
"We got there last night. They fed us and put us up. The next night, well before dawn a couple of hours before you should have got there. General Davis' Security Company arrives. Funny thing, I heard one of the 'camp' security people say they were early. They get their billet, and they had their dinner. Derek and I are waiting, and waiting. Then some 'Lt' comes and gets us."
"They were in the conference room. Derek, Colonel Taggert and The General."
"Who is Col. Taggert?"
"He's head of General Perry's Security."
John didn't know that he was meeting with Perry, Taggert, and Davis.
"I'm waiting outside," Jorge continued. "I could hear their voices, but I couldn't understand them. Derek calls me in. He hands me a piece of paper and says: "Find them. If anything happens... Tell Kyle to read that."
"As I'm leaving, I hear Col. Taggert say: "It's an awful lot of supplies for a 'security' company." And the General says: "Can you look inside them?" Taggert shook his head: "Too well guarded. What bothers me is, if he wants to meet this 'John' person so bad, why isn't he here?"
"So I go up top. I take the long way hoping to see 'the supplies' but you know who I see instead? Up by one of the security offices?"
"Who," asks John.
"Dave."
"Dave?"
"What!" Brandon was butting in again. "How did he get there? I thought he was with the Company at the delta 7 bunker?"
Jorge shrugs. "So I see Dave, and I don't want him seeing me. So I go back down and take the short way out."
"What do think Dave doing there?" John inquired, knowing full well the answer.
"He knows what you look like."
"Him? Why him?"
John just nodded. "How long ago was that?"
"It was just before sun up. So, may be two hours ago?"
"How did you know where to find us?"
"I didn't. I was taking the Alfa route to Delta 7, when I saw that HK acting weird, and taking pot shots. So I figured it had to be you."
Kyle, Radice, Tyler even Brandon, were standing around one of the store countertops, staring at it. It was a council of war, just like in the history books: Minus the peerage, the generals or even a commissioned officer. There wasn't even a map just Derek's note. John could almost imagine Kyle as Wellington surrounded by his generals deciding the fate of Badajoz. It was hardly so grand.
"I have my orders. I have to take John to see the Priest."
"And Derek," Radice asked.
"I'm sending you with 1st and 4th squad," Kyle looked up at Radice. "Leave 3rd here to cover your retreat. If... if... it's gone... Fall back to Delta 7 bunker. We've got the Security company there."
"Davis had a company garrisoned there too." Tyler reminded Kyle.
"I know. If Delta 7 is Davis'. Fall back to Echo 6."
"And if he's got Echo 6?"
"Shit, if he's got Echo 6? Damn. You think you can make it to Foxtrot 7 or Foxtrot 8?
"Why not Echo 4?"
"'Cause I don't want to have to cross 'Davis' territory to get to you."
John was leaning back against a wall just watching them. He thought it was odd that they were all still staring at the note. Discussing a map they could see only in their heads.
"Hell, sarge, this might all be Davis' territory."
"Yeah. Yeah. But I won't have to walk as far. We settled?" Kyle asked?
Neither Radice, nor Brandon looked happy, but there was no disagreement.
"We're gonna need supplies, and rations."
Right then and there, John decided that any unit on the move should carry at least 3 days rations. They left Delta 7 with nothing but water, and ammunition. Bad planning.
"Think they have the supply depot," asked Kyle.
Yes, thought John. Of course they do. I bet he's there right now. If he hasn't captured it already, he's working on it.
"No way to know," Radice answered.
"Radice, fourth platoon, with Brandon's fire team, head out come night fall. Scout it out. If it's ours get us food for say a week and a half. If it's theirs get your asses back here."
They never left.
The night was lit by an inconsistent glow, and filled with the thumps and intermittent booms of the burning supply depot. They sat side by side, behind the wall abutting the pillar that looked so nice against Allison's hair. Watching the flashing and flickering. Listening to the distance delayed rumbles and roars that had ended so many dreams. John felt Allison lean against him. He leaned back.
John's mother had never been demonstrative. So rarely, when offered contact, did he decline. Fingers sought his. He did not encourage it, nor did he dissuade it.
"Are they dead?"
Yes. "I don't know." Even if they weren't how would we get them out? Part of him hoped they were dead. The thought of being trapped 3 stories underground with the only prospect being asphyxiation, was horrifying.
"An accident?" John felt rather then saw her nod towards the angry glow, which waxed bright enough for John to see that Allison was crying.
He thought of Kate in Charlie Company, of a Derek he barely knew, and of a general. He felt... nothing.
"Probably, I'm sure that Davis would've wanted it intact" In fact if John's guess about General Davis' whereabouts were correct. He was probably dead as well.
The grip on his hand tightened. The shoulder against his shook with silent sobs. They needed supplies. They needed food. The Delta 7 bunker was the closest, and it would have both, but whose bunker was it?
"What was it like?"
"What?"
"Your childhood, I know you don't like talking about it..."
"I don't like talking about it, when they can hear."
"Why?"
She lifted up her hand, the one tightly clasping his. She pulled her sleeve down. There was nothing there. It took John a second to register that fact.
"How many of them?"
"About half."
John waited. The glow on the horizon dimmed.
"I don't remember J-day. Not really. What I remember most was Baja. There was a compound there. I was five years old may be. My very first job was collecting 'brass'. At the range."
John remembered Jorge scooping up his casings. He assumed that on the ridge if Dalia had not been busy shooting she would have been scrounging around for his.
"Then I worked in the 'factory', sorting 'brass'. Then eventually I was moved into 'Reloading'. The whole time we had lessons. Not what you think. We learned spanish. Set snares. Grew vegetables. They took us 'camping'."
"How many of you were there?"
"I'm not sure. May be a hundred? May be forty? When I turned 10 or so. I was sent to the 'academy' they called it. They taught us weapons there and tracking."
"The 'academy'." John repeated. "It was in the desert wasn't it?"
"Yes." She blinked, returned to the present. "Yes it was." She seemed about to ask how he knew, but she didn't.
"How many of you were there?"
"There were six of us."
"Who?"
Allison, her face lit by another flash, was smiling. She wasn't crying any more. She was staring at the distance. She was staring, John thought, at the past. "I can't tell you."
"Was that where you met Martin?"
"The first time? Yes."
"Was he already sick?"
"Yes. He wore gloves and a mask for his lectures. His tent was isolated from the others. They burned it when he left."
"And then?"
"That was about it. One day, I think I was 13 or 14. They told us, they were going to take us to the 'end of the world.'"
"Where was that?"
"East L.A."
"What happened there?"
"The war. I was still too small to fight. So I became a 'courier'. Moving messages from place to place, from officer to officer. After a year of that. I went west, and joined up under Perry as a 'runner'. When the brigade was reorganized I was attached to Derek's..." Her voice caught. "To Derek's Company. John?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Why? What?"
"Why? This? Why did this happen?"
Somehow he understood that she wasn't talking about the destruction of 130th SOCs headquarters or its supply depot. "I don't know. Skynet, doesn't like us."
"But why? I don't... I don't understand."
"Hubris? I don't know. Someone told me once that it is 'in our nature to destroy ourselves.'"
"Did we do this?"
"That, out there?" John asked after a particularly bright flash. "Yes we did that to ourselves, but the war in general. No, we just gave someone else the opportunity to do it to us. I guess. I mean a human made Skynet. So if we didn't do this to ourselves, then at least we sowed the seeds of our own destruction."
A deep thump shook the ground beneath them, and rumbles filled the silence.
"John, can we win?"
"I don't know. Not like this." He gestured with his free hand, "not by fighting amongst ourselves."
"Can...you...?"
"Can I?" John felt her gaze. He turned to look at her. Her eyes were still swollen, though her tears had dried. His free hand was still waving at the distant glow. Hers was on his cheek, then in his hair, drawing him to her. Their lips met, soft at first, and then with increasing intensity. Their teeth clashed. They parted, and mumbled simultaneous apologies. John smiled at her. Allison smiled back at him. She came up on her knees climbed across him. She tilted her head, and they kissed again. A tongue darted across his own, catching him by surprise. They parted again. She was sitting in his lap now. Her fingers were in his hair. She bit her lower lip. John's hands where on either side of her waist. She was looking down at his chest, specifically at his name. As if she were trying to memorize it.
She looked up at him, and smiled. It was a shy kind of smile. Her hands came down to his shoulders. "That was nice." She said. John brought his hand up and brushed her lips with his thumb. She nipped at it. She leaned in pressing her body against his. Her lips were against his ear again. "We both could use a little more practice, but next time try to remember that my name is 'Allison'." She kissed him again, a long lingering kiss. She rose up on her knees, and stood up.
"No. No. No. No. No." John muttered to himself, shaking his head.
"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes," she said, soft enough for what privacy they were afforded, "one day you're going to tell me about this sister of yours," and then louder for their audience. "Come on. Besides, I think we've given them," she gestured with her head toward the back of the store. "Enough entertainment for tonight." Allison helped him to his feet.
Kyle and the squad leaders, were quietly talking. They were discussing, John knew, the Delta 7 bunker. Allison walked passed them to the store's back room, where the rest of the platoon, except for 3rd squad was 'camped'. John stopped at the doorway, and leaned against the jam. Kyle raised an eyebrow at him. John just nodded. He was sure he had a stupid grin on his face.
Someone stepped close behind him. Jorge, he thought. The man just didn't seem to understand the concept of personal space.
"She's upset. She gets sarcastic and flippant, when she's upset."
"Flippant?"
"My mother used to read a dictionary to me."
"Really? Mine read me the 'Wizard of Oz', in Spanish." John realized that he had made a mistake. He didn't like the direction this conversation might take. Jorge had very distinct asian features. His name though spelled in the Spanish mode was pronounced in the English. Filipino was John's guess. So he asked: "Do you speak Spanish?"
"No."
John had expected a stronger reaction. So, he decided to change the topic: "Should I?" John gestured toward the back room.
"No. Give her a chance to cool down. Tyler's back there. They can talk."
Something irrelevant: "Was she that way with Dave?"
"Dave?" Jorge laughed. "They barely tolerated each other."
"She seemed upset when he left."
"Well, we're runners, you know, we have to stick together."
John nodded. There was a pause, the pregnant sort. John braced himself.
"I thought I heard that 'Cameron' was your sister?"
Again: with his family; with his past. People like to talk about themselves, so John threw it back at Jorge. "You heard that?"
"Shoot. The metal probably heard that."
John realized that one, definitely had. Involuntarily, his hand when to his left ear. The 'bandage' was gone.
"I'm still here John. I've moved this unit beneath the surface of your skin. I'm speaking to you via bone induction. It will be next to impossible for me to be overheard. Not even close physical contact will reveal my presence."
John wasn't sure but that last sentence seemed to be a joke.
"Your head again?"
"No, actually it's a lot better"
"Still you should have the doc look at that."
"We have doctors?"
"Of course! Well, one, but she was at headquarters."
There was a pause that John knew better to interrupt.
"She was a 'vet', really."
"Serious?"
"Yeah, but she was good, she even set up classrooms to train other people like Tyler." He nodded back toward the open doorway behind them.
"Tyler's our medic?" Good to know. Yet another layer of concealment John could add to those he noticed early on. No insignia, beyond names. No badges, nothing to show unit affiliation. No references to rank. No little silver tennis shoes for the runners. No red crosses for the medics. Presumably no brass 'dogheads' with crossed syringes for veterinarians turned doctors.
"Yeah, she was an EMT, before the war."
John didn't respond. Kyle and Radice had decided to send out a scouting party to see what was going on at Delta 7. They would leave tonight and be back before dawn. John's only thought: "About time." He looked at Jorge. "I'm going to go and apologize now." It sounded wooden even to him.
John walked into the back room, it seemed enormous, until he realized that the far wall was missing, along with the back third of the roof. Through gaps in the wall he could see that the platoon has spilled over into the adjoining stores. In the near corner John saw Tyler, beside her was Allison. She was sitting on the floor with her chin on her knees, arms around her legs. John crouched down beside her. He tried catching her eye. She was looking at the floor about four feet in front of her. "I'm... I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."
Allison didn't respond. Disappointed John rose and turned to go. Someone grabbed his pant leg. He turned and looked down. Allison, still not looking up, gestured to the space beside her. John sat.
Tyler was glaring at him over her head.
"Its ok, T."
Tyler rose, the look on her face promised trouble later, or at least painful, and marginal, medical care should that be required.
John leaned back against the wall, he was thinking about the math, and ramifications of what he had seen today. Davis had made a terrible gamble and lost. Now would be the best time to take advantage of the situation, while his shattered battalion was in disarray.
"I'm not her."
John blinked. She was still looking at the floor. "I... I know." Oh. Believe me, he thought. I know.
"And you can't make me into her."
No, agreed John. I can't, but someone else can her into you. "I know."
"I want to get that straight, John. I'm not going to be some kind of replacement."
No, he thought, she was the replacement. "I know."
"Okay?"
"Okay."
Allison relaxed she stretched her legs out in front of her. She put her hand on his thigh. She leaned her head back against the wall looking up at the twisted skeleton of a drop ceiling.
John was very aware of her hand. He had been trying to think his way around the 'Davis' problem, but the hand had driven all other thoughts from his head. His own hand was now pinned between them. He would not be able to move it without her noticing. He tried anyway. He leaned to the right to free his arm. Allison gripped his leg, thinking may be, that he was going to leave. "I don't like it when people leave," she had said to him once. With his hand free he released her grip on his thigh, and took her hand in his own.
She sighed. "Have they made a decision yet?"
"Yes."
"About time."
John smiled to himself.