Starcross

Chapter Eighteen

            Nick, who had resumed his book, sighed. “You’re reading too much into this. They’re probably too busy with the Army deeper in the city to bother with our ragtag group.”

            “Maybe…”

            A silence had settled over the group of men, and one girl, each of them scanning the area before them for any sign of trouble. In long, quiet moments like this James usually busied himself by cleaning his rifle or taking inventory of his equipment; anything to avoid letting his thoughts drift to happier days. Days where he didn’t have to worry about being shot in a night raid. Days where he the most stressful things that would happen would be at school and he could go home and relax afterwards. Days where if he had a problem he could always go to his mother who would make him feel better or his father who always had the solution.

            James stopped scrubbing his receiver with a cruddy toothbrush and smirked. This was the first time in a long time that he had thought about his parents. And…Kelsey. In fact the typical knife in his chest had stopped turning long ago whenever he thought about any of them.

            Planes, Druidth not Human, roared high overhead. They ruled the sky now like they ruled most of the planet. During the morning brief yesterday Lt. Simmons told them about Japan surrendering, the once proud warrior nation fell rather quickly. That made almost all of Asia, all of South America and Africa, and a good portion of Europe that had fallen to the Druidth war machine. When compared with that what they were doing seemed small time and meaningless.

            Pressure formed in his bladder and he stood up, leaving his gun behind, and stepped out of the sandbags. James told Doug, who was squad leader, that he had to pee and wandered off to the portable toilets the residents of the complex placed near the office for them to use instead of allowing the soldiers to use their own facilities.

            After he relieved himself, while holding his breath, James stepped back out into the heat and saw the redheaded reporter girl struggling to stack canisters of ammunition behind a short partition wall where the defenders could easily get to it but where it’s safe from enemy fire. Jogging over there he caught the bottom edge of the can just before she dropped it.

            “Gotcha’,” He breathed, lifting up the other side of the heavy can.

            “Thanks. They’re heavier than they look.” She looked up with a gracious smile. “You’re Cook, right?”

            “James,” He held out his hand.

            The girl graciously took it and shook it; he noticed that her hand was soft despite working hard. She smiled again, “Rebecca.”

            “So, need some help with those?” He offered.

            “Uhm…” Rebecca looked back at the pile of canisters that was dropped off. Her task was to organize it by caliber and there was still dozens more to go. “Please? These things are heavier than they look.”