Outbreak: Boston (23 page)

Adam looked thoughtful for a second. “My unit did training at Fort Devins. Anybody know what a Force Provider Kit is?” Everyone’s ears perked up and Lacey could feel their attention on him. He fidgeted nervously with his pen under the table. “They’re basically a FOB in a box. They have to be delivered via C-17, but if we could get one sent out to us it’d go a long way towards helping us out. Do they have a front end loader in town? If they did, we could try to get them to send us a Force Provider kit and some barrier kits.”

Rodriguez smiled at the man across the table from her. “I knew there was a reason we were keeping this jarhead around.” she said hopefully then her face seemed to fall in on itself a little. “But we haven’t heard shit from anybody over the net since we left Hanscomb.”

Now Frays spoke up. “I was planning on taking my flight to check out Fort Devens anyway.” she said, her own spirits picking up a little bit at the thought of having an entire Forward Operating Base worth of supplies at their disposal. “If it’s overrun we might be able to organize a convoy of flatbed trucks or something to move the stuff we need. If not, we can hopefully at least get on the list for an airdrop or something.”

The meeting broke up a couple minutes later in much high spirits than it started. Sergeant Barnes took his soldiers back out onto the roof to finish their shift on guard duty, allowing Frays and the others to use the conference room to plan their mission scheduled for the following morning. Once they were alone Amy went to the whiteboard mounted to the wall at the front of the room and picked up a red dry erase marker from the tray beneath it. She started to write something on the board then put the marker back and turned around to face the two men seated a few feet away.

“I’d like to say something before we start.” Frays said awkwardly. She scowled at her boots for a second as if she were trying to figure out how to put something to words. “I’d like to apologize for some of my actions over the past week or so.

“Lacey, I never should have left it for you to…take care of…that woman on our way back to Hanscomb. I’m your Flight Sergeant and I should have been the one to do it, not you.” She looked shamefacedly at the floor before returning her gaze back to the Marine. “I’m sorry for any suffering my lack of action might have caused you.”

Lacey smiled weakly at her. “It’s okay.” he said softly. He swallowed hard as he unintentionally recalled the look on Alice’s face. “I don’t blame you. I didn’t mean to shoot her in the stomach, you know. My hands were shaking so bad I’m surprised that I didn’t miss.”

Amy looked at him sympathetically for a second before turning her attention to Eamon. “I realize now that I should have come to you for help.” she said, meeting the man’s gaze. Frays pursed her lips and exhaled audibly through her nose. “I’m sorry if I worried you guys. I didn’t mean to and in the future please don’t hesitate to say something if you notice a problem. It will be easier on everybody if you would.”

Eamon smiled, shifting his facial hair around his mouth. “Listen, are we going to have a big group hug or get on with this?” he muttered irritably. Frays and Lacey laughed quietly as Eamon stood up. “Do you want me to go see if Rodriguez wants to go with us so you two fellas can go blow each other?”

“Don’t sweat it, Eamon.” Frays said with a small grin as she headed for the door. “I’ll go see if Sergeant Barnes will loan us one of his people. Give you two lovebirds a chance to be alone.”

The two men exchanged looks of mild shock. “D-did that just happen?” Lacey asked. He cocked an eyebrow at the woman as she left the room. “Did Frays just make a joke? I gotta be hearing things.”

Eamon chuffed laughter and ran his fingers through his beard. “If you did I must have heard the same thing.” he said as he watched Frays leave, a grin wrinkling his facial hair. “Stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

Chapter Six

25 May 2011 0438 hours Walter Raleigh Senior High School Concord, Massachusetts

It was hot. It was always hot. Not a hot summer day back home kind of hot, more like standing in an oven that was cranked up all the way hot. The worst part was that it was only 0930: the hottest part of the day was still to come. Thankfully, there was a little bit of a breeze but not really enough to kick up too much dust which cut the heat down a little bit.

They had been in country about a month and a half and between the weather, the constant acrid stench of burning garbage or raw sewage (depending on which direction the wind was coming from at the moment), ginormous camel spiders
(they seriously made her wonder why people came here and friggin’ stayed in the first place) and nigh constant mortar attacks life at Camp Freedom was rapidly starting to lose its appeal.

She struggled up the ladder with a heavy black plastic Pelican rifle case strapped to her back. “Let’s go, Frays!” Sergeant Emery shouted down to her. “Move it, Airman! Come on, you’re almost there!”

The big man reached out, caught hold of the drag handle of her LCS and hauled the woman onto the platform. Frays took off the rifle case and frowned at the broken piece of 550 cord tied to the ladder then turned her attention back to the case. A couple of jokers had apparently broken it in the middle of the night and not replaced it. “You know, one of these days I’m going to make you carry this thing.” Amy joked as she popped the latches and hauled the massive M107 Special Application Scoped Rifle out of its case. She wiped the sweat off her brow and double checked the range card to her right as she got the rifle ready to go on the rest built into the low wall in front of her.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to go to ADM School.” Sergeant Emery said with a small grin. He pulled out his spotting scope and got that set up then got the two folding chairs leaning against the wall next to him. “Besides, shit rolls down hill.” he added, quoting one of his favorite sayings as he handed his subordinate one of the chairs and took a boat cushion out of his rucksack.

This detail always made Frays think of sitting in a deer stand back home: show up, get comfy and let your eyes get used to the forest (or, you know, a slummy neighborhood in the middle of Iraq, but the principal was more or less the same). If you were lucky, the trophy buck that made that nice scrape would come wandering through eventually (or you would spot the jerkwads that kept lobbing high explosives at you and your friends while you were trying to get dinner).

The two of them passed the time while they watched the same way they always did: pu
ffing on harsh Miami cigarettes while Sergeant Emery grilled his subordinate about the last training manual he had given her (Emery was secretly amazed by how fast Frays could memorize even the thickest and most boring manuals the Defense Department had to offer) and sharing some of the goodies from their latest care packages from home.

Amy had brought some
black licorice and a giant, economy sized bag of venison jerky (her brother had gotten a six point buck, his first deer two weeks ago and sent it with the magazines and candy from her parents) while Sergeant Emery shared a big box of homemade chocolate chip cookies. They were stale enough to be used for doorstops or last ditch weapons to defend their position but they were still very good.

There was a rumor floating around among the Security Forces personnel that Major
Grossman, their commanding officer, had managed to get the money to send somebody from their squadron to go to Fort Dix, New Jersey for training in the Phoenix Raven program once they got back stateside. He was supposedly going to hold a competition: his staff would select the top fifteen airmen in the squadron and then interview them individually. The winner would get to go to the school for specialized training. As Frays had more weapons qualification badges than the other E-4s in the squadron, won the John Levitow Award for her ALS class, done a lot of online classes and had the ADM School under her belt she was a shoe in to get chosen to compete. And Sergeant Emery was going to make sure she was going to win. After all, he was a couple years away from retirement and he wanted to leave the unit more squared away than when he found it.

She was watching a bunch of the local kids playing soccer in their back yards for a minute when Frays’ watch beeped on her wrist. She pulled her face off the rifle and checked her Timex with a frown. “It’s eleven o’clock.” she said grimly as she settled back in. Sergeant Emery grumbled and started looking very hard at the buildings across the road.

“Keep your eyes open.” he reminded her as he helped himself to another small handful of his subordinate’s jerky. “Everybody’s going to be lining up for noon chow. I hope those KBR fucks open quick today.”

Maybe ten minutes later a handful of women came out of the back of the houses across the street and hurried the kids inside. “Uh oh.” Frays said quietly. She had a sudden sinking feeling as one of the kids, who he looked to be maybe six, broke away from one of the women and ran out to get his ball. “Mom’s bringing the kids inside. Something’s up.”

Sergeant Emery’s jaw worked over a thick chunk of jerky as he peered through his spotting scope. He stopped chewing and squinted. “Frays! Ten o’clock, the house with the blue roof. Looks like there’s three guys setting up a mortar. Confirm.”

Frays swung her rifle around and searched for the building. She dialed up the magnification on the rifle’s optic and saw what Sergeant Emery described. “Roger that, confirmed.”

Sergeant Emery picked up the field telephone. “Whiskey Romeo, this is Tower Twelve. I have an enemy mortar team setting up on a roof thirteen hundred meters away from my position. How copy?” He was quiet for a few moments, listening to the phone with the utmost intensity. “Roger that, Whiskey Romeo. Wait one.”

Frays spared a glance at the man out of the corner of her eye as she ran the data through the ballistic calculator mounted to the top of the rifle’s scope. Her hands were shaking as she made the necessary adjustments to the weapon and got back on target. Sergeant Emery put his eye back to his spotting scope. “Shooter ready? We are cleared hot on target.”

Frays flicked the huge rifle’s safety off with her thumb. “Roger that. Shooter ready.”

“I have control of the shot. Fire on my command.” Sergeant Emery said in a clear voice. The air seemed to become thick and hot and close around them as Frays watched the men through her sights. “Take the one on the right.”

“Roger that, the one on the right.” Frays confirmed as she moved the crosshairs over to settle them on the middle of the man’s upper torso. Amy could make out something that looked like a mortar round in his hands, preparing to drop it down the tube once the others got the adjustments right. She forced herself to take slow, calm breaths. Her finger started to curl around the trigger.

“Send it!”

The M107 boomed, the massive rifle’s recoil almost knocking the small woman right out of her chair. She recovered quickly, tucked the rifle’s stock in tighter against her shoulder and brought the sights back on target. The two insurgents stared at their comrade: the 761 grain projectile had struck him high in the torso, ripping the upper left quarter of his chest clean off. “Good kill! Good kill! Take the one on the left.”

Frays put the crosshairs on the man’s neck, took a deep breath and slowly started to exhale.
Her mind was somewhere far far away as she let her hands do their work.

“Send it!”   

The top of the man’s head flew off and splattered all over the roof, dead and partying with Allah and his allotment of seventy two virgins before he even knew what hit him. The third man turned and ran for the door on the other side of the roof. “Shit, third guy’s rabbiting.” Emery grumbled. “Weapons free. Take him if you think you can.”

Frays got the fleeing man in her sights just as he reached the door and threw it open. The rifle’s muzzle blast slapped Sergeant Emery in the face, making him flinch. When he got back on the scope he saw a hole in the door. He watched intently, his eyebrows rising as his jaw dropped. Frays’ third shot had struck the insurgent through the door, leaving the man in a crumpled heap on the other side. “Holy fuckin’ shit, Frays
!” Sergeant Emery exclaimed and laughed with disbelief. The man was down and not moving. “You fuckin’ got him! Way to go. Good job, Airman!”

Amy flicked the safety back on and pulled her face away from the rifle. She leaned back her chair and rubbed her shoulder. “Whiskey Romeo, this is Tower Twelve.” Sergeant Emery said into the telephone’s handset. “The mortar team is down. Looks like two enemy KIA, one probable.” He was quiet for a second and nodded as if he were actually
face to face with the person on the other end. He saw Frays’ face going pale out of the corner of his eye. “Roger that, Whiskey Romeo. Will provide overwatch. Over and out.”

Sergeant Emery clapped his subordinate on the back. “Good job, Frays. A squad of grunts are on their way to mop up.” He put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a shake. Maybe five or ten minutes later a half dozen men in ACUs and combat gear rushed onto the roof. The first one onto the roof had fired two shots into the man by the stairs before the rest of his men fanned out to secure the mortar and police up the bodies.

Sergeant Emery got off the scope and shook her hand. She smiled weakly at him as she shook a cigarette out of the pack on the rifle rest and lit up. For some reason Frays thought about when she had bagged her first deer when she was twelve. She had thrown up when her father made her field dress the little four point buck.

A plume of smoke squirted out of Frays’ nose as she turned to face him. “Sergeant, I just killed thr-” Amy’s voice died a squeaky death in her throat, the cigarette falling forgotten from her mouth. The lower half of Sergeant Emery’s face was gone, his left eye dangling from the optic nerve and brushing against his ruined cheek.
Liquid bubbled out of his ruined jaw, dribbling down his front. She sat there frozen in place as the big man struggled to his feet and started towards her, his hands grasping for the young woman. Frays tried to catch her breath but it wasn’t working…

Amy sat up on the cot, her heart thrumming away like hummingbird wings in her throat. She lay back down and made herself take deep breaths as she pressed the palms of her hands over her eyes.
Sweat plastered a few strands of hair to her forehead. The room was cast in a sort of semi-darkness: Rodriguez was on the cot across the room, reading a book with a flashlight. Amy could make out the hint of a concerned expression on her face. Frays figured that Rodriguez must have just come off guard duty up on the roof or something.

“You okay, Amy?” Francesca asked as she set aside her book and sat up. Rodriguez shined her flashlight towards the other woman and winced
before covering the gesture with a half hearted smile. “It’s weird seeing that from the outside.”

Amy smiled, folded her hands behind her head and pulled her chin to her chest. “Yeah, I’m okay Frannie.
Thanks.” she grumbled as she tried to get comfortable again. Frays frowned at her watch. “Alright! Almost an hour. A new record!”

Rodriguez laughed as she switched off her light. “Good for you, Zoomie.” she muttered as she pulled her blanket up to her chin and shifted around to get comfy. The cots were not the best, but they beat the floor or the roof (especially when it started to rain). Her eyes snapped open and she dug a small bottle of pills out of her pocket.

Francesca shook one into her palm and swallowed it with a swig from the water bottle by her cot. Her ‘little blue battle buddies’ were a blessing and a curse: they generally kept her so level (save for the stupid, fucking embarrassing panic attack at the movies awhile ago) that the everything going on seemed…sort of disinteresting, but at the same time Rodriguez kind of wished that she could fucking
feel
something now and again…

Then again, not taking them was really not an option as far as she was concerned. There were the constant fights with her mother, her squad leader
, a series of increasingly shitty and violent boyfriends and not to mention the other anonymous guys she let take her home… She probably should have made staff sergeant by now, she reflected, if she did not get Article 15ed every couple months over stupid shit like insubordination or getting a DUI. Frannie shifted uneasily on her cot: after the last one, where she pissed hot for LSD and come close to getting chaptered out of the Army, her mom had finally had enough and thrown her out of the apartment.

A small, rueful smile slipped across the woman’s face for a moment. Not knowing what else to do, she had called Sergeant Barnes at 2200 h
ours to ask for a ride to a hotel. The next morning he picked her up from the Motel Six and drove her to the VA Hospital. “Get your shit squared away, Private.” he had grumbled as she got out of his hatchback “I’ll be out front.”

Things were finally starting to turn around after that: Frannie landed a good job, the docs at the VA put her on meds that were at least helping and she found a decent apartment with a friend from high school…
Fucking figures
she thought with a sigh as she stared at the ceiling for awhile before dropping off to sleep.

Amy lay awake listening to Rodriguez’s breathing for some time. She fought the urge to get up and find something else to do and made herself lie still and take deep, calming breaths. She had managed to get almost forty five minutes of sleep at a time over the last two days and, thanks to a few breathing exercises Casey taught her, she was able to calm down enough to get back to sleep after waking from a nightmare. Francesca was a big help too.
It was great to have someone with similar experiences to talk to and Frannie seemed to be glad for it as well.