𝗧𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄'𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 | an apocalyptic novel ©

Chapter 7

All-Purpose-Commander

1995

Ryle

I enter the personnel tent after the Captain tore me out of my conversation with Maxine – the girl who somehow seems to be on my wavelength, a rarity nowadays.

Inside, my team members are lined up in front of the camping table in the center.

The Captain stands there, in his full glory, perhaps like an apparition himself. Everyone hopes he is the one to instruct us for a greater outcome than whatever this apocalyptic state of the world is so far.

"So, we have infiltrated the scientist's laboratory," he begins.

The scientist is surely no one else other than the Swedish scholar Carl Willbrand himself.

"After his disappearance, it seemed easier than we originally thought. We found something."

Behind the Captain's back, the tent flaps open.

He steps back to reveal two soldiers aching under the weight of carrying a large black cargo container, dropping it on the ground. After snapping its lid open, he fishes one of the objects out.

A tape recorder.

Quite old-school, considering that is what they found in a modern high-tech laboratory from no other than a well-educated multimillionaire scholar who retired early at the age of Fifty because he had enough money to live in his private penthouse.

"Fifteen cassette tape recordings, we don't know what's on them, someone has to take the turn to listen to all of them."

The Captain's eyes lock with mine. "Commander Forther."

His words send shivers down my spine.

I'm a Commander, not a tape recording interceptor.

Someone else could do it, a trainee.

But I have no choice, my feet move forward until I'm standing in front of the cargo container, catching a glimpse of the content myself.

Fifteen tapes, each perhaps containing up to thirty minutes of material.

Damn.

"I'm supposed to listen to all of these?" I ask, dumb-funded.

The Captain nods, with a sharp glance at me, as if he's saying "Are you restraining against my orders?".

I'm not, I'm just confused about the task. My objective usually is to instruct protocols and pull through with them, leading missions, debriefing, signal transfer and transmission. Not listening to tape recordings of a slowly driven insane scientist.

The Captain looks to the rest of my team. "Is everyone's task clear?"

A loud and collective "Yes, Sir." sounds, almost shaking the rods holding the tent upright.

"Forther, you need to stay here for a word."

If my heartbeat wasn't skyrocketing already, it sure is now.

Is this talk about my raise? I've been working my ass off for over five years to get a raise, I have been getting multiple in the same rank in a year, yet I want a raise in ranks, not payment.

"Yes, Sir," I say monotone like being led as a puppet on a string.

After the other soldiers have left the tent one by one, the Captain looks at me, with a stern expression.

"Sir, I believe you are aware why I asked you for a talk?"

I nod briefly. "My raise."

It's a blunt assumption, but my only guess at a reason.

But he shrugs and walks to the side of the military tent where the tarp doesn't cover it, to look outside. "You are one of the most valuable soldiers on our team. I want to give you something as a reward."

My eyes narrow at his words. I expected a rank as a raise, not an object, but the Captain walks over to another, smaller cargo box and lets the buckles keeping it closed snap open, almost in a dramatic manner.

"Your responsibility as a Commander was signal transfer, through radio. Now, as an addition, Morse code," he states and takes out a crudely made wooden box, shoving it in my direction on the camping table.

I lock eyes with the Captain for a moment before I open the lid. A machine with some complicated wiring mechanism and something close to a pedal – that's what I spot in the box.

"Here, since I know it's your first."

A pamphlet is placed on the table, along with a book.

"I..." I can't come up with the right words.

"Ryle, take it or leave it."

I clear my voice. "Samuel, please..."

The Captain grins. Only us both are on a first-name-basis – perhaps an exception. Sometimes we ignore that.

"You know what this means," he mumbles. I nod. Receiving a new option of signal transfer means I get to work abroad, at home - something I've asked him about.

Something my inner demons despise yet welcome.

Leaving the camp means I get to be home, yet I feel like I'd disregard my purpose.

Especially now, since I was presented with the task of listening to the recordings.

My hands act faster than my mind can comprehend. I place the lid back on the box and step back from the table. "I can't."

Samuel's eyes narrow at me. "Ryle, I thought you wanted-"

My voice is firm. "Not like this. You just gave me a task, I can't take this offer yet."

He saunters over to me. "This was something you bugged me with for the last three months. Why discard it now? Had a change of heart?"

His words echo through the tent and I look to the ground.

To prevent saying something ill-considered, I bite my tongue so hard I swear I could taste blood.

"Another topic, do you have the reports of the last mission?"

I think back to writing them down on my note block, just before Maxine came over to me. My hand scrambles around in my pocket, but I can't find the folded script.

I must have left it on the barrel. "I misplaced it, I'll find it."

Samuel gives me a smirk, and I know what he's thinking. "Head-over-heels into someone?"

"No, come on, man, you know me," I sigh.

That fact is true, we were friends when we were in recruitment together, he got into it earlier than I did, hence his higher rank.

Our highs and lows never managed to wash over the bond that welded us together.

"How about this, I'll find the script, listen to the tape recordings and then hand you the notes and scripts, okay?" I try a poor excuse.

The Captain nods. "Think about my offer, though, Ryle, I'd be madly disappointed."

"Give me some time to think about it," I say briefly and head to the exit.

But before I can leave, he calls something after me.

"Don't think about breaking rules, Ryle. I can't make an exception for that, too."

When I head out, internally I know what rules he means.

On duty in the base and camp, you're not allowed to fall in love.

And by God, sometimes a person's soul might look uglier than their shell.