Dog Days of Summer (Damned of the 2/19th Book Four) - Finished

Eagle of Antiquity (Rewrite)

Logging Roads
Thurston County, Washington
United States of America
10 Aug, 1986
0105

        Bomber killed the headlights at the base of the next rise and threw the truck in neutral, putting on the parking break with a hard yank. We sat there for a long moment, Nancy cracking open three beers and handing them out. We sat silently for a long time in the humid August night, silent, our shoulders barely touching, just absorbing being together again. The engine pinged as it cooled off, but the crickets and other insects didn't care.
        There was thumping from the tailgate. Papa Doutree trying to get loose and/or get our attention.
        "Just a sec." John said, getting out of the truck. I felt the truck shift as he got into the back of the truck. The window in the back window was open, so I heard him clearly. Flesh hitting flesh and John saying: "I. Told. You. To. Shut. Up." Punctuating every word with a punch. "Next time I take the boots to you, you big Frankenstein fuck."
        He'd had to do that twice so far.
         The truck bounced as John got back in. "Goddamn, I'm starting to hate him." He shook his head. "All right, Ant, what are we getting into?"
        I sighed, rubbing my face with my hands, my fingertips sliding under my glasses. "It's a power play with my family and the McCullen family." I started.
        I told it all to them, holding nothing back. Not even what I had been brewing up at the farm.
        "Jesus, Ant, you're thinking of brewing up goddamn nerve gas? Seriously?" John shook his head. "You can't do that, brother. This isn't Angola or goddamn Rwanda, someone's gonna notice if you fucking VX a couple hundred people."
        "We can use the C-4, napalm, and other stuff." Nancy said softly. She rubbed two fingers along her scar. "Ant and Fruit-Bat's families are full of vets, a lot of them hard core mother-fuckers."
        "Navy SEALS, Marine Recon, Air Force Commando and Pararescue, Army Ranger and Special Forces, Delta Force, and shit like that." John commented, shaking his head.
        Nancy smiled in the darkness. "Yeah, but all boys." She rubbed her hands on the legs of her jeans, dropped the beer can out the window, and cracked open the beer open to take a long drink. "The women are all officers, and we know that officers don't understand shit about field work. From what it sounds like, there's no way the women of your family will let the boys plan anything. They're all plotters and planners, and they don't know shit about operations."
        I shrugged. "Doubtful. Any of them with combat operational planning are from Vietnam or Korea era. Plus, they think, like everyone else seems to, that the modern Army is full of pussies who can't fight."
        "God, I hate that crap." Bomber snarled. "I love being told that Angola doesn't count because it wasn't Vietnam."
        "Let it go." I said, trying to head off a full on rant.
        "Tell us about Aine's mother." Nancy said. She leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Not jealous, Ant, just want to know just how deep into Fruit-Bat Country we're moving."
        "I unbound her in some ways, bound her to a forest glade in others." I admitted. I shuddered. "Hell, I didn't really believe all the old stories were true until I saw Fruit-Bat climbing on the ceiling at Group." The other's shuddered at that memory, at how the whimsical Aine McCullen had turned into a full blown other-worldly creature during that struggle in the dark and cold.
        "You said she's pregnant. Your doing?" Nancy asked me. I nodded and she cursed, rubbing her upper arms before taking another drink off her beer. "That means she's going to be aggressive if she feels that anything threatens her or her unborn child. How long till Aine has another sister to contend with?"
        "I don't know. Yesterday she looked about three months pregnant, and it had only been about a day." I said honestly.
        "How human is she?" John asked quietly.
        "Not very." I told him. "This isn't going to be like anything you've ever seen."
        "She still small like Aine?" John asked.
        "Yeah, why?" I answered.
        "Pfft." John grinned. "If she was a Texan fey she'd be twenty feet tall."
        We all laughed.
        "And she'd be plated in gold and leak crude oil from her nipples." Nancy laughed.
        That just made us laugh harder.
       After a few minutes we managed to quiet down, relaxing. Papa Doutree thumped in the back and John got out to punch him a few more times to remind him that we were busy up front and didn't want to hear anything from him.
        "Well, we ain't gettin' any younger." John said, his face going blank. Like me, he was trying to control his fear. I could feel the tension in Nancy, and she reached out with one hand and set it on my leg, squeezing gently.