The rescue team stretched him across the back seat of the Hummer they drove. The jostling of a bumpy ride back to the makeshift base woke the Company Leader. He swung his legs off the bench seat and sat up carefully, holding his shoulder still with his opposite hand as he moved. He didn’t know how his aggravated shoulder would behave so he braced for the possible stabbing pain.
He felt nothing except a dull ache once he sat up, so he tried some slight movements as he tested for mobility.
“What do we know of the Winters?” He barked to the two metasoldiers up front. They hadn’t noticed him awaken so they jumped, startled in their seats.
The driver recovered first. “Sir, we assume they were headed for a local airport but the impending sandstorm swept away any tracks we could see—grounded all flights, too. They have to have found a place to wait out the storm. That’s about as much as we know, sir.”
“You’re Harris, right?” he narrowed his eyes at the rearview mirror and locked eyes with the driver.
“Yes, sir. Christopher Harris of 18th Company.”
“And you?” Braden directed his question to the meta in the front passenger seat.
“Dixon. Brenda Dixon—also 18th Company, sir.”
Braden nodded once to her over-the-shoulder glance.
“When we arrive at base, see about securing all equipment, strapping tarps over the remaining weaponry and reinforcing windows with whatever you can find. We’ve suffered enough casualties tonight,” the Company Leader ordered.
“Sir, yes, sir.”
“When is the sandstorm due to hit?”
“In approximately sixty-five minutes.”
The Humvee pulled up to the warehouse-looking building just as the wind started to pick up—hinting at the approaching storm.
Braden, deep in thought, shook his head to himself as he flung the car door open and stepped into the blustery night air. This whole operation was screwed up, he thought angrily. He didn’t care about the metas who died that night, but what he did care about was the poorly planned and executed attack.
He nodded acknowledgement of the salutes from the metahumans who saw him coming. Word traveled fast, he deduced. That’s one thing Williams had never given the metasoldiers credit for. He assumed his soldiers didn’t communicate. Well, he was about to get a revelation.
He knocked briskly at the closed door flanked by two metasoldiers dressed for battle and waited for a response.
“Enter!” Williams himself barked.
Kerry Braden walked confidently into the room and stood at attention.
“Report,” Williams ordered though he was only half listening as his attention was drawn to the weather report flickering across his laptop’s screen.
“Sir, the pursuit of the Winter Clan ended approximately sixteen kilometers southeast of here when the group converged at an old billboard. Former sniper specialist, Farrow Schone M440 was witnessed taking aim at our helo while the rest of the group escaped in their vehicles. Her shot was precise and catastrophic causing the chopper to crash. My gunner was killed on impact. When last seen, the vehicles were continuing their southeast route on the highway.”
“And what exactly do you suggest is done about this, Company Leader?” Williams had already been made aware of the situation via radio communication with the rescue team, but he wanted to hear whether Braden had the fortitude to relay the truth to him. Fortunately for Braden’s sake, he did.
“Sir, we know the Winter Clan will eventually try to return to their home in Texas. They have probably already made arrangements to leave Egypt and fly back Stateside once the storm has passed. We converge at their ranch and take them out.”
“We converge?” Williams was watching Braden closely.
“Sir, we have lost too many metasoldiers tonight. We need backup to finish this operation decisively. Seventeenth Company needs to be ordered to active duty and immediately flown to Texas where we will meet. They are young, but they are formidable. As a collective, we will pose an insurmountable force against the Winter Clan.”
The excitement and determination in Braden’s voice was engaging. Williams regarded his soldier with quiet approval before nodding once. “You have my permission to mobilize 17th Company immediately. Furthermore, I want a complete strategy plan on my desk by dawn, Braden. Include what equipment you foresee needing, vehicles and weapons, and contingency plans for each pivotal point in the implementation of said plan.”
Kerry Braden’s eyes were lit with equal parts excitement and determination. “Sir, yes sir!”
“Dismissed.” Williams turned his back on Braden and resumed his study of the sandstorm’s ever-changing Doppler radar tracking.
“Oh, and Braden,” Williams called after the metasoldier.
Braden spun on his heels, shoulders back, eyes straight ahead, awaiting further instructions.
“Make sure we are ready for this sandstorm.”
“Sir, I anticipated this need and have already set the soldiers to work preparing us for the storm.”
Williams pursed his cracked lips into a tight smile and waved his gloved hand at Braden, “Good. As you were, soldier.”
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