Gas & Blood (Damned of the 2/19th Novella) - Rough Draft Finished

Duty

"We'll check the bunkers. If they're intact and we crack the doors and don't melt, we'll call it in as an outside nuclear event," Stillwater answered. He shook his head, and I realized he was clearing water from his one good eye. "We're taking major fallout. This isn't someone dropped an X-Ray machine, this is something major."

"Can I use the radio, I need to contact 1/68th, get them back here," Timmons said. His voice was steady, I'd give him that.

"Put them on alert, get them back here, tell them any vehicle without NBC stays behind." Stillwater ordered.

Timmons just nodded, and when Stokes came jogging up he reached out and took hte mic. Stokes looked at me and I nodded, so she didn't say anything as Timmons radioed the 1/68th CO and told him, in no uncertain terms, to lock down into NBC mode, and get back as fast as possible, that permission was granted to disengage governors and any vehicle that became disabled was to be left behind or towed by non-combat vehicles. We'd reached where Foster had parked the Gypsy Wagon for the mechanics to work on her by the time he was halfway finished with the call.

The Colonel sounded stressed as hell, and Timmons let him call up for authorization. By the time we'd started the drive down the main drag toward the nuclear bunkers, the Colonel called back, informing us that other units were being deployed to cover Perseus and Minotaur.

ETA was twenty two minutes.

My brain started clocking the time.

"Atlas Lima Bravo, do you read?" Timmons broke net as we piled out of the Gypsy Wagon. Sawmoth had left the M-60 in the back, and I picked it up, hustling to the small berm that had been shoved up by the engineers work and deploying the bipod.

Behind me I could hear chains rattling as I set the weapon down and pulled the binoculars up from my neck so I could get a good look across the 1K Zone at what our friends were doing.

Panicking.

The GRU officer was waving his arms, while men piled into vehicles and left. He drew his pistol and shot at several of the retreating vehicles. After that he stomped into the building across the way.

The launchers and their attendant vehicles disappeared over the horizon.

"This one's clear, lower radiation in there than there is out here," I heard Stokes call out. I kept watch, waiting to see who would come out.

Stillwater walked up, his M-203 in his hands.

"I know that GRU psycho is over there, but we need intel, and I doubt he'll try to grab me again," Stillwater said. His voice was slightly slurred, and I knew that all the movement was taking its toll on his still unhealed injuries. "I want you and Timmons to back me up, Nancy and Stokes are going to check the other four bunkers, they're gonna take the Gypsy Wagon with them."

"Gotcha back, brother," I told him, standing up. I left the M-60 where it was, and watching as he fired a star cluster flare into the cloudy sky. It burst with a pop, the ejection charge throwing the smaller flares out so they bloomed a split second later than the primary one.

We waited, tense, until we saw that three of them walked out of the shed on their side, the GRU guy stepping out and walking to the edge of the 1K Zone, his hand on his pistol.

"How many in there normally?" Timmons asked softly.

"Eight," I answered, concentrating on who was coming out. The leader, and two guys I didn't recognize. The stiff necked way they looked, and the fact they sneered at us as we approached told me a lot. "They ain't our regular boys."

"Mm-hmm," Stillwater said, waving. The facility commander started to wave back, but the one that wasn't sneering grabbed his wrist.

"Don't kill the guy that tried to wave," I said.