SurvivorZ: Grave Harbor

58

DENISE

"How are you doing back there?" Denise asked, peering between the Humvee's seats at Sergeant Roy's injured leg. "Keep pressure on that wound. We'll have you with a medic in no time."

He nodded silently, teeth bared in pain.

She preferred it when the squad's medic kept his hands clean. It was the best benchmark she could imagine to gauge the success or failure of a mission. Having to rely on his expertise so early in the op only cemented the extent to which it had already turned into such an unholy cock-up.

Her failure as team leader had resulted in Mystic and Harvard at each other's throats. The colonel may have planned for the eventuality, but she was the real reason they were in this mess. She should have been more careful. Maybe it would have been better for everyone if she had sat this one out and stayed at Lloyd's bedside.

Denise turned in her seat and stared out the window at the burning oil refinery spewing black smoke into the air. Between the raging flames, the passing Humvee, and the ruckus coming from the south, the dead wandering through the yard couldn't make up their minds which way to go.

She knew how they felt. Everything was upside down now. The past few days had shaken all of her convictions. The military's role in ousting civilians from their home left her sense of honor and duty fractured. She felt tainted, no better than the mafia enforcer seated behind her. Combined with the painful reminder of her lover's mortality, all of her supporting pillars seemed to be crumbling to dust under her feet.

The rumble from the bridge suggested the colonel's tank squad had pushed through without resistance. She hoped everyone fled for the river, rather than mounting an armed reprisal in a battle they couldn't hope to win. Watching Graves take out that sniper before he could line up another shot drilled home the realization that these were Americans, not some foreign terrorist organization. She didn't sign up to kill her fellow countrymen, even under the orders of her commanding officer.

She understood Hayes' rationalization for the attack. With the power out across the city, whoever controlled Mystic essentially ruled Boston. They couldn't leave such a strategic position unchecked. They also couldn't afford to wait. It might take years before Mystic fell to an armed aggressor. In that time, Harvard's dwindling supplies would leave them too weak to fight back. By attacking now, the colonel was removing a potential threat before it became a problem down the road.

Following his reasoning didn't mean that she agreed with it. His tenure in Boston had changed Hayes, and not for the better. He saw everything in terms of military strategy now, as if the entire city was one big chessboard.

She sighed and wondered how much longer she could continue to remain under his command. If it weren't for Lloyd's company, she might have abandoned Harvard already. With everything else they had to worry about these days, fretting about going AWOL almost made no sense.

"You okay, Sarge?" Martinez confirmed, eyeing her from her spot behind the wheel.

Denise merely shook her head in response and stared out the window. There was no point in answering otherwise. Words wouldn't undo this mess.

They reached the rest of the team parked at the end of the street. Martinez pulled in next to the Humvee carrying the team's medic and climbed out to help transfer Sergeant Roy to his care. Denise grabbed the radio handset to check in with the colonel. Before she could proceed, Graves finally broke the silence between them from the back seat.

"That turned into quite a shit show, didn't it?" he remarked.

Denise grunted. She didn't need more recriminations from him. She was doing just fine punishing herself without his help.