500 Miles

Three

Song for this Chapter is:

Invisible- Hunter Hayes

"Trust the one
Who's been where you are, wishing all it was sticks and stones
Those words cut deep, but they don't mean you're all alone
And you're not invisible"

**Ophelia's POV**

"I can't do this anymore." DeLosSantos groans. "My hips are killing me." I fight the urge to roll my eyes, and instead reach for my radio. We'd been riding, heading east on I-44, for a few hours. By my guess, and the sun, we'd made it roughly eight miles, maybe nine. Around the first mile, I'd slowed Whiskey to a walk, so he didn't tire as quickly, and we'd been slowly bringing up the rear of our little convoy.

I press the button on the radio. "Delta, Delta, come in. Over." There's static, then a response.
"This is Delta, read you loud and clear. I'm glad you paid attention. What's up, female? Over." Of course it would be Blake.
"DeLosSantos needs a trade out. Send me someone who can ride. Over." In front of us, the brake lights on the LMTV light up, and I stop Whiskey completely as DeLosSantos slides off Tequila. Her legs nearly buckle, and she grabs hold of the stirrup to right herself. "Oh, sh-t. That's sore."

"You did good." I tell her. She nods, and waddles to the LMTV, where I watch Blake himself jump out. He gives DeLosSantos a boost in, and jogs back to me.
"No, no, no. Someone else." I say. "Please. There has to be someone else." Blake smirks, then shakes his head.
"I wish there was, female. But you're stuck with me." He gets a foot in the stirrup, and swings himself into Tequila's saddle. "The other drills want us to go ahead and find a place for us to bed down for the night." He says. I chew my lip, then nod. I key up the radio.

"We'll go ahead, but you will need to keep Bacardi with you. Tie her to the Humvee, or have someone walk with her. If we want to make good time, we cannot bring her. Over." I say. In front of the LMTV, I see Harper jump from the Humvee and jog back toward us. I nudge Whiskey forward, and meet him half way. "Thanks." I say, untying Bacardi's lead rope, and handing it to him. He nods, and gently pets her neck. I zip the radio back into my saddle bag and look back at Blake. He raises an eyebrow. "Waiting on you, Princess." He calls. I scoff.

"My name is not Princess." I remove my backpack from my shoulders and pull out my handgun, tucking it, and an extra magazine in my waistband before handing my pack and my M-16 to Harper.

"Keep that safe, Harper." I tell him. He gives me a mock salute, before heading toward the Humvee, Bacardi following behind him. I kick Whiskey forward, and he picks up a fast trot. "Radio back when you find somewhere. Look for a patrol base, Spaghetti." Reyes calls. I nod, and pass the LMTV and Humvee, Blake and Tequila a following close behind. We follow I-44 for another few miles, riding in silence, except for the occasional snort from the horses. After a bit, we come to a dusty gas station. Blake pulls Tequila up beside me, and holds his hand out for my radio. I shake my head.

"Absolutely not." I pull it out, and key the button.

"Delta Delta this is Spaghetti Papa do you read? Over." It's a quiet few seconds before: "Spaghetti Papa, read you loud and clear, over." I key the button again and drop the reins, allowing Whiskey to drop his head. "We found a spot, about ten klicks out. It's a gas station, pressed into the woodline. We can stop here for the night, it looks clear. We'll wait for you to proceed and do control checks then." I let off the button, and Blake shoves me sideways, grabbing the radio. Whiskey snorts and shifts nervously. Ahead of us, a lone Crawler makes its way to us. I look to Blake and scoff.

"I got it." I drop down from the saddle and throw the reins to Blake before darting toward the alien and pulling my knife from my belt. I bring it down with one swift blow, my knife sliding into it's mouth. The creature drops like a stone, hitting the pavement with a dull crunch. Behind me, Blake whistles, and I turn back, ignoring the ache in my hip. I sprint back to the horses and use my momentum to gain lift, pulling myself into the saddle.
"Good job, Princess." Blake says, handing me the radio back. I stow it in my saddle bag and sit back in the saddle, crossing my arms.