Vindicta, p.1
Vindicta, page 1
Vindicta
By A.L. Masters
Copyright © 2021 A.L. Masters
All Rights Reserved.
Content Warning and A Note:
The usual language, violence, yadda yadda, a few instances of emotional, relationship-type stuff...yeah, I know.
For the interested few:
This series, and this book in particular, were compiled with unclassified information freely available in multiple locations.
Also:
I made up an entire 4th battalion for the 20th SFG.
(Call me if you want to add it to the 20th SFG for real and I’ll take over command duties. No thanks are necessary.)
Recap- from The Replication
Kate- past
The easy route to Thompsonville ended well before they made it to the exit.
From miles away, she started to get the feeling that something big was going on. The thick, black smoke bourgeoning from the skyline in the distance was a major clue. Another was the endless line of cars on either side of the road. They had been cleared very violently by something big.
“Damn. You know anything about this?” she asked Red.
He shook his head. “Storm didn’t mention anything on this scale.”
She was still driving, but she slowed the closer they got. They heard loud pops and thumps reverberating through the open air. Smaller staccato reports signaled the use of machine guns. Single shots were lost in the discordance, but bursts of rifle fire from all sides of the small city reached them. It sounded like the small battle outside the arena times ten thousand.
It sounded like a war.
“Well?” she asked.
“We wait here for the convoy.”
His tone brooked no argument, though she wouldn’t have argued anyway. It wouldn’t be smart to go charging in alone and wind up wedged between two enemies. She had no doubt there were two enemies, the sane and the insane. The sick and the well.
It didn’t take more than an hour for the convoy to catch up to them. The lead truck—Storm’s truck—called a halt well behind the pickup truck. Within machine gun range, of course, since they didn’t know for sure who was actually in the truck.
“Stay here,” Red said and jumped out.
She listened for once. She had no desire to see any of those people. She had done well keeping the guys out of her mind for the afternoon. She could do it longer too. She could forget about them completely…eventually. As soon as she detached Red from her side. He seemed to have wriggled his way into her affections. Slightly. Oddly, though they bore no real resemblance to each other, Red kind of reminded her of Jared with his easygoing tenacity. She was going to miss him.
Storm, on the other hand…Storm was Storm. He was like nobody she had ever met before. She wasn’t going to miss him.
She watched in the rearview mirror as Red conversed with Storm. He nodded after a moment and gestured to his arm. He shrugged, then came back. He blew out a breath as he sat beside her.
“They picked up chatter on the radio. Unencrypted,” he said as if that made any difference to her.
She nodded and gestured for more information.
“They’re clearing out a buffer zone for one mile around the armory in all directions. That’s what all that’s about. Apparently, they met some resistance. We’ll follow the lead truck in.”
Of course they would.
She allowed the first Humvee to pass, then pulled out behind it. She kept a good distance back to give them room to maneuver. She was anxious about what was to come. The closer she got to the armory, the closer she was to making a choice. Storm didn’t want her with his unit; therefore, she would have to stick with the civvies or go on alone.
She was leaning toward going it alone.
She had allowed the injuries and the emotional connections with these people to sway her from her original state, her original goal. Her life was now only about one thing. Killing enough of those freaks to make herself feel better, and to try and gain some measure of revenge for her mother’s death. She didn’t care if that made her seem like a psycho. Those things weren’t people anymore.
She was seeking absolution, and the only place she was going to find it was in the thick of the fighting. She would help clear this town if she could, then maybe move on toward the next. If she ever found herself back toward Jared’s way, maybe she could make a niche for herself there somewhere.
The outskirts of the small city had been fired upon by the military, but the buildings hadn’t yet been torched. The further they pushed in toward the armory, the thicker the acrid smoke became. There was a haze over the area, and bodies— human and freak alike— lay on the shattered pavement and broken glass-covered sidewalks. Many were civilians. Some were military. There were a few blackened corpses, the new freaks they had found along the way. That concerned her.
That meant they weren’t just an anomaly. They were an entirely new, stronger threat.
“Watch that pole!” Red called, and she swerved around a light pole that was falling into the road behind the lead Humvee.
The action got her adrenaline pumping a bit, and she felt wired. They reached a heavily populated area surrounded by stacks of fencing and rolls of concertina wire. Many men, and even some women, worked to construct the barriers along the streets, while others provided overwatch for them.
“Roll on through,” Red said, as the Humvee waited for the large military vehicle that blocked the entrance to move.
They got curious stares from the workers, her especially, as they idled at the gate. The pain in her face was making itself known, and her arm still throbbed mercilessly. She would have to seek out some antiseptic and some light painkillers when she could. She couldn’t afford to dull her senses with anything stronger than a couple of ibuprofens.
She pulled to a stop inside the wire, and in front of the large Thompsonville armory. She pulled her weapons into place on her body, slipped her bag on her back, and hefted the warhammer over her shoulder into a deceptively relaxed-looking position. She could bring it down in a swing at a moment’s notice.
“Come on, Martel,” Red said, glancing at the hammer and giving a wink.
“Funny,” she said.
He led her to Storm.
The men were all dismounting, and Storm sought her out immediately. His jaw was tense, and his face was like ice as his boots pounded the asphalt. It looked almost as if he were coming over to attack her, though she knew that couldn’t be right. He was pissed, that was for sure.
She held her ground, not even flinching as he stopped mere inches from her face.
His eyes pierced hers and held her, like a butterfly on a pin, and she didn’t like it. She lifted her chin and set her own face into an expressionless mask. She pulled the coldness around her like a cloak and relished the relief from those pesky feelings. She wanted to shift back and forth on her feet and end this odd standoff they had going.
He struck, faster than lightning.
His hand grabbed her arm with a sharp smack, and he pulled it up in front of his face. He was oddly gentle with it, despite the abruptness of the action. The bloody, dirty bandage was a telltale sign of the trouble they had on the way there. Something wild lurked behind his icy blue eyes. Anger, for sure…but maybe even…
Fear?
That couldn’t be right.
“You have a bad habit of having near-death experiences,” he growled out, tilting his head for emphasis.
“Pot and kettle,” she said snarkily.
“Someone needs to take you in hand before you get yourself killed,” he spat, dropping her arm like it was on fire.
“I’d like to see anyone fucking try,” she said between gritted teeth.
They stared each other down, animosity and rage and planet-sized egos burning between them both.
She heard a clearing throat. It was loud enough to penetrate the thick fog of loathing in the air and the sounds of battle in the background.
“Storm, if you are finished escorting the civilian, I need to see you in my office,” the man said.
Kate looked over to see who dared to talk to this man with that tone. Ah, it was an officer. Colonel, judging by the bird. Storm tilted his head in a silent question and raised an eyebrow. The officer stared back impassively, his eyes running down the ugly stitches on her face and neck then to the strange weapon she carried.
“And confiscate her weapons before putting her with the others,” he said, as though he had the right. As though she was nothing more than livestock to be herded.
Several things happened simultaneously then, and the situation balanced on a knife-edge.
She pulled the warhammer, almost without thinking, and held it out in front of her protectively. At the first twitch of her arms, nearby men with rifles lined her up in their sights.
Storm swiftly stepped in front of her with a hand held up.
“Nobody takes my weapons ever again,” she snarled to them all shifting from one foot to the other in preparation for either an attack or a hail of gunfire.
She was beyond caring about the repercussions. She was beyond caring about politeness. That order had most likely gotten a lot of people killed yesterday.
She looked Storm in the eye. “I’m leaving. Right now.”
She backed away from them all, not missing the soldiers lined up at the fence, drawn by the strange tableaux of a civilian woman wielding a hammer against their commanding officer. She prepared to jump in the pickup truck when Storm’s voice finally rang out.
“Stop!” he said.
It wasn’t a suggestion, but she reached out for the truck door anyway. He turned to the men, including the officer. “She stays with me. I owe her a debt.” He stared his commander down and Kate suspected he had more power in the unit than she first suspected based on his rank alone. “And she keeps her weapons.”
Another few minutes passed and finally, the colonel glanced at his watch. He sighed. “Be in my office in five. Jennings, come with me.” Then, he turned and left, taking his retinue with him.
Her guys breathed a huge and visible sigh of relief, all except for a few. One shot her a glaring smirk. She pretended that one didn’t exist. She was certain that he had been hoping for the hail of gunfire outcome.
“What do you want?” he asked her seriously.
“What do you mean?”
“What. Do. You. Want? Are you fucking deaf?” he repeated.
“I want to kill as many of them as I possibly can, then kill some more.”
He seemed a bit taken aback by her statement as if he was expecting a different answer, though she didn’t know why.
She studied him as he studied her, then he nodded sharply.
“That can be arranged. Stick with us and you’ll get your chance, but we cannot be enemies. I cannot have you dismantling the cohesion of my unit. That is what will keep us alive, not your lone wolf bullshit. You want to kill, fucking great, but don’t lessen their chances of survival while you search out your vengeance. Do you get it?”
“I get it,” she spat.
“Last opportunity,” he said. “Can you follow me?”
She paused. Could she follow this man’s dictates to accomplish her goals? “Can you let me follow you?” she returned. “Without trying to constantly shelter me? I don’t want it and I don’t need it,” she promised him.
He stared her down, possibly seeking out her sincerity. He would find her one thousand percent sincere.
“Very well. Come with me.”
◆◆◆
“I’m sending everyone to Nashville, all except a select few to hold this place,” the Colonel said.
“Why Nashville?” Storm asked.
Why Nashville, indeed. Other cities were nearer that could probably use their help. She hung back, as unobtrusively as possible, hoping to hear more.
“Nashville hasn’t fallen yet. There is still a chance,” the older man said wearily.
“St. Louis? Memphis? Springfield? Ft. Smith?” Storm asked.
The Colonel shook his head. “All down or falling fast. Troops there have pulled out and are en route to Nashville to bolster the forces fighting there.”
All those people. Millions and millions of people, dead or dying or becoming freaks. It was almost unimaginable.
“When do we leave out?”
“In one hour,” he said regretfully. “I wish I could give you longer, but there is no time. It’s coming right down to the wire.”
“And who will remain here?” Storm asked.
She chewed her lip nervously, forgetting about the pain in her body for a moment. Surely he wouldn’t try to make her stay behind? She would follow the others alone if need be.
“We’ll leave a few good men to hold the place. We don’t expect much resistance. The enemy numbers have been dramatically reduced by clearing the town. The fortifications will provide a good barrier to attack. I’m confident that a squad with the right weapons can hold this place temporarily. Jennings will stay behind. And we have a couple of good men that I know personally who just showed up. Bradley and Stewart. They’ll be able to hold this place until we return.”
“Well, I hope you’re right. Now, we need to prepare,” Storm said, and started to lead her out.
“Storm, wait.”
He looked back at the colonel.
“Stark is missing. Went out with Charlie team and they didn’t make it back. I’m sending men out to search.”
Storm pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded before practically dragging her out into the hall.
In the hallway, she dodged the inquisitive looks and halted Storm’s fast walk with a hand on his arm. “A squad to hold this place. That’s like, what? Ten or Twelve guys?”
Storm nodded.
“Is he fucking insane?” she asked, horrified.
“He’s the colonel. My hands are tied.” He motioned for her to head down the hallway while he stopped off in the bathroom.
She passed a small cluster of men in the hallway, noting their military haircuts and their civilian clothing. They looked tired, and a little familiar, but she couldn’t place them. They probably just had those kinds of faces.
“—it was a real shitshow,” one of the men said.
She could relate. The last two days—she looked at the time— well, three days, had been nothing but a shitshow.
She passed them without a word and followed Storm to a large supply room where the others were congregating. They had final preparations to make, and she desperately wanted to find some painkillers. She fiddled around there for about ten minutes before Storm joined them. They slowly packed some things in bags, as if they didn’t want to go.
“Storm,” a voice called from behind them.
They stopped in the doorway as the medic came up to them.
“I just want to check over her stitches and load her down with the antibiotics, some painkillers, and clean bandages,” he explained, nodding toward her.
“Why?” Storm asked.
“I’m one of the lucky ten. Jennings told me that I’m going to be staying here. Something about them needing another medic.” He looked apologetic, but he also looked livid about being separated from his team.
“I’ll have a word with him, Starnes.”
“No. I’ll be fine here. Just have to find something to keep me busy. It’s going to be boring as hell, man,” the medic— Starnes— said with a wry grin at her.
She grinned back a little. Despite not wanting to, she had started to like the guy.
“I hope it’s boring. Who’s the OIC?” Storm asked.
“There isn’t one,” Starnes said, raising his eyebrows.
“Eh, probably better off that way,” Storm joked.
She saw the tension in their interactions and realized they were trying to cope with being separated.
“Bradley is the NCOIC. Rolled up a while ago.”
“Bradley’s here? What about Stewart?”
She remembered now that it was Bradley’s truck that she had wanted to steal— eh, commandeer. Guess Storm was right about him.
“Of course he’s here too. You ever seen those two apart? They had a rough time of it, apparently.”
“Haven’t we all? Well, we had better get ready. We’ll get this Nashville thing done, then come pick you up,” Storm said, slapping the man on the shoulder.
“You better, and you better bring Buffy back too or you’ll answer to me.”
Storm scowled at that, and she smiled. She held out her hand and he took it gently.
“Take care of yourself,” she said.
“You too. I’ll leave your supplies on your bag.”
Then he was gone.
◆◆◆
The Colonel had ordered three of Storm’s men to stay behind, and since no officers in Storm’s unit were present to object, he had to agree to it. He didn’t like it. What she had formerly thought of as his angry face seemed to actually just be his face. Like a man version of a resting bitch face.
Resting bastard face?
Now she saw his real angry face and she vowed to never be on the receiving end of it…or at least be far enough away that she could run.
The other guys that they had brought with them from the armory in Kennedy were sent out to bring back the clearing teams in the surrounding area. The Colonel had lost radio contact with many of them, and he wanted them to roll out in thirty minutes.
When they came back with only twenty bloody, shocked, and devastated men from the various clearing teams, everyone’s spirits took a nosedive.
“How many were there before?” she whispered to Storm as the survivors passed them in the hall.
“Over one hundred,” he murmured as the men were speaking.
A group of the returning soldiers were talking to Jennings in the hall. Storm and Kate went out and listened in. What she heard wasn’t good.
