After watching the troopers kill six or seven of the bandits on their own, Emory and Marty, keeping in contact now via a pair of USGS walkie-talkies, decided to use the unknown men as a force multiplier and opened fire themselves, eventually killing off the remaining bandits and making the decision to expose themselves.
Marty flipped up his NVD as he walked into the area illuminated by the headlights of the Humvee, noting at once that both troopers were clean shaven. His carbine was slung over his shoulder, but he kept Joe’s .45 gripped in his hand as he approached.
“Is either one of you hit?” he asked, trying to sound like a professional soldier.
“My partner is,” Forrest said, his own .45 in hand and ready to blow Marty’s brains out if he so much as twitched.
“My partner’s a medic,” Marty said.
“So am I,” Kane said, watching Emory through his NVD, realizing she was intentionally hanging back.
“We appreciate you saving our butts,” Forrest said. “You’re with the Air Force?”
“Not anymore,” Marty said, trying to keep his voice as deep as possible. “The Air Force isn’t what it used to be.”
“You can tell your partner it’s safe to come in,” Kane said over his shoulder, not wanting to take his eyes off Emory. “We won’t shoot if you won’t.”
“My partner’s with the Arizona Guard,” Marty said, not yet having enough information to trust them. “Who are you guys with?”
With a speed that seemed inhuman to Marty, Forrest had disarmed him, screwed the barrel of his .45 into his ear and used him as a shield.
Kane was already gone from Emory’s view, having taken cover behind the wheel hub of the Humvee.
“Tell your partner to drop his weapon!” Forrest ordered.
Emory shouldered the carbine as she dropped to her knee, sighting on Forrest’s head, though not steady enough at fifty yards to be sure she wouldn’t kill Marty instead. The speed and skill with which Forrest had moved told her they had come up against a highly trained pair of soldiers.
“Let him go!” she shouted. “Or I’ll fire a grenade and kill all three of you!”
Kane quickly sought cover behind a different vehicle. “I got a clear shot, Jack.”
Marty drew a breath to scream a warning, but Forrest choked off his air, pulling him closer to ground.
“Now listen up!” Forrest shouted. “We don’t want to kill either of you. Just sling your weapon out there and I’ll let your man go. This doesn’t have to end bloody.”
Emory wasn’t sure what to do, realizing that Kane must have taken up a different firing position by now.
“How do I know you won’t shoot?” she shouted, wanting badly to actually trust another soldier for a change.
“My partner’s had you in his sights for ten seconds now and you’re not dead! That proof enough?”
She rose slowly and lowered the carbine, waiting for the shots that would kill her and Marty both, but the men did not fire and Marty was released as promised.
“Relax now,” Forrest said to Marty. “No sudden moves.”
Marty stood in place as Emory came forward. Her carbine was slung, but she was ready to bring it up in a hurry, her finger on the trigger of the grenade launcher.
“She’s got her finger on the M-203, Jack.”
“That’s fair,” Forrest said. “Everybody be cool. It’s a dangerous world we’re living in.”
Emory stepped up opposite the concrete barrier.
“Sorry about that,” Forrest said, seeing her in the lights of the Humvee now. “But your partner seemed to be stalling. I couldn’t take the chance.”
“We just saved your asses,” she said. “Why would we want to kill you?”
“Good question. Hard to trust anybody these days.”
“That’s a fucking understatement,” she said, her eyes looking for Kane.
“Come on in, Marcus.”
Kane stepped out of the darkness. “Thanks for not makin’ me shoot you. I’ve never killed a woman and I wasn’t lookin’ to start.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Marty wasn’t saying much, still too pissed at himself and embarrassed over having been so easily overpowered and nearly getting Emory killed.
“I’m Shannon. That’s my partner, Marty. He’s an astronomer.”
Forrest looked Marty over and offered his hand. “I’m Jack Forrest.”
“Marty Chittenden.”
“Look, I don’t mean to be rude,” Forrest said, “but we’re trying to save a life, so we have to get this rig unstuck and be on our way.”
“We’ll give you a hand,” Emory said.
While Kane saw to the bullet hole in his calf, Forrest and Emory drew the cable from the winch on the front bumper backward under the Humvee and hooked it into a loop of rebar sticking out of the concrete barrier, enabling the winch to pull the vehicle backward. After a few feet the rear wheels had enough traction to pull the Humvee the rest of the way clear. The whole procedure took less than ten minutes.
“Give us a lift to our truck?” Emory asked. “It’s only half a mile north.”
“Mount up,” Forrest said, squinting against the snow that had begun to fall much more rapidly since their truce.
“Is there anything south of here we need to worry about?” Emory asked from the backseat, wanting badly to know what these men were up to and where they were headed, sensing their reluctance to share much information.
“Stay away from Topeka,” Forrest warned from the passenger seat. “It’s full of restless young soldiers who haven’t seen a woman in a while.”
“Great,” Marty said gloomily. “As if we haven’t seen enough of those.”
“You guys said you’re trying to save a life,” Emory said. “What’s that about?”
“A friend of ours is sick. We went to Topeka for some meds.”
“We’ve got a sick friend too,” she said. “He’s up here in the truck with a bad concussion.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Forrest said.
Emory could smell the aftershave on these two, so she knew damn well they were living high on the hog someplace and that they were looking to ditch her and Marty as soon as possible. A feeling of desperation welled up inside of her as Kane pulled up alongside their SUV.
“Thanks again for saving our asses,” Forrest said, offering Emory his hand.
“And now you’re gonna ditch us?” she said, taking his hand.
“It’s not like that. You guys were obviously headed somewhere and we’re—”
“We’re headed toward a long shot,” she said, keeping hold of his hand. “And you two smell like an ad in GQ, so don’t tell me you’ve got it tough. Look at us. Our luck’s about to run out. Don’t you think we’ve earned a break?”
She let go of his hand and gave him a moment to think it over.
“What do you think, Marcus?”
“I think Wayne’s gonna pitch a bitch, but if we’re gonna do this, let’s do it.”
Forrest helped them move Sullivan into the back of the Humvee and they were on their way. “What happened to him anyhow?”
“Shot in the head,” Emory answered. “But his Kevlar saved his bacon.”
“Our doc can take a look at him.”
They got back to the silo without any more trouble and Kane pulled the Humvee up to the front porch of the house. Marty and Forrest helped Sullivan inside. He was conscious off and on. Emory saw the mostly eaten body on the living room floor in the beam of her flashlight as they took Sullivan upstairs and laid him down on the bed across the hall from where Black Beard had been killed.
“We’ll get the gas and water turned back on for you,” Forrest said. “The furnace too. That way you’ll have hot water to wash with.”