“It’s going to be hard to keep an eye on things from down here.”
“There won’t be anyone for us to see down here. Hell, you know that—you watch this yard more than anyone I know.” James continued to amuse himself with another snide comment at Thomas’s expense.
Thomas swore he could see James’s smile stretching round toward the back of his head as he walked. There wasn’t a point in trying to confront him again. All he could do was roll his eyes. He had already said his piece, and this would probably be the last time he’d have to work with him. There’s no changing him. Be the bigger man. Be the one who bridges the gap. I hate to say it, but I need him on this. Just let him lead through here and use his knowledge to make sure we get promoted.
James seemed unconcerned with the idea of any threat as he pushed on with a confident swagger. His rifle hung from his shoulder, swinging as he walked—not a care in the world. He’s too damn cocky. While James continued on, paying no attention to the crunching sound of their boots against the small stones which made covert movement impossible, Thomas took nothing for granted. He carried his rifle at a low ready with the index finger riding alongside the frame. It was only occasionally, and by Thomas’s request, that they stopped to see if anyone’s carelessness would ring out, checking for those distant indicators of ill intention.
“How many missions are you up to now?” Thomas curious to what point James would feel so comfortable outside the walls.
“Enough. I really can’t remember—too many to keep count.”
“I figured you would’ve gone for Soldier rather than the analyst side of things.”
James turned around and looked up at Thomas, exaggerating the bend to his neck. “Not being a big—” He caught himself, perhaps reevaluating the need for this partnership. “Well, let me put it this way. I wasn’t exactly designed for it.”
“Yeah, well… being this big isn’t always a good thing.” Thomas bent an eyebrow. “I was just curious. You always seemed to like action more than the prep work.”
James ignored him, choosing instead to run his hand along the sides of boxcars that became more and more like ones previous—a chain of increasing blandness. Even the graffiti became unnoticed. The experience of the yard was much different on the ground than observing it from within one of the guard towers. Stuck between the trains, unable to see the solution to this maze from above, they maintained the route they chose in the beginning.
“If I could’ve been a Soldier, I would have,” James spoke barely above a whisper. “I like being an intelligence scout. I get that I’ll never get the respect of a Guard or Soldier, or even a Sentry for real… You know it’s bullshit though.” His voice rose. “These Sentries barely even escape the wire—at least I’m out in the field.”
“Honestly, you’re probably better trained than a lot of the guys in the Soldier Program. The purpose is intimidation…” James’s next few steps seemed to lack the eagerness of before. “I’m not trying to say—”
“No, I get it. I’m not worried…” He began to mutter something more to himself, but Thomas couldn’t make it out.
“You alright?”
“Of course, I am. I’m the best damn scout we have.”
Thomas couldn’t help but think James’s statement reeked of self-assurance.
“I don’t need some stupid Soldier patch to let people know what I can do,” James continued. “Syria was hell, and that’s all anyone needs to know.” He tilted his rifle and inched the charging handle back to make certain a round sat in the chamber before letting it go. “If you made it out of there, you’re a man, no question.”
Thomas nodded in complete agreement, but realized James couldn’t have seen the gesture and spoke, “Yeah…”
“To hell with Syria.” The volume of James’s voice shot up again. “They’re the whole reason—”
“Keep it down a little.”
“Yeah, my bad”—James faced Thomas—“you know they’re the ones behind this whole mess. Nutjobs, experimenting with bio-warfare.”
Thomas scoffed. “What we were exposed to wasn’t the experiment. We heard of them gassing and killing their own people for years. Even before we went to war, they did this crap. Hell, it could’ve been years of testing before they perfected it. No one knows how long those people in Syria had been experiencing some form of Almawt before we showed up, and by then, I’d say they pretty well nailed it down. The whole damn world was brought to its knees.”
“The whole world?” James’s brow narrowed. “You don’t know that.”
“You don’t think the Chinese would’ve taken us over by now if it was just us? There’s no way it wasn’t the whole world. You saw how it cuts through the population—hell, everyone has. Only difference is that we saw firsthand what it did to people before it really spread.”
“You think they knew how bad it would be?”
“Hell yes! They sucked us in with a war they knew they couldn’t win, but knew they’d get the last laugh when we brought that filth back home.” Thomas shook his head. “It had to have been designed for this. Maybe they have… or had a cure. Who knows? Shit, I guess it doesn’t matter now.”
James stared silently at Thomas as he spoke.
“God blessed me and you for whatever reason and here we stand, but…” The corners of Thomas’ mouth dropped. “Everyone lost someone.”
“Yeah…” James’s face drained itself of emotion—resigned.
It’s my fault dad got sick so soon. No one thought in a million years we caught it and carried it over. I never felt sick. No one knew. Stop, damn it! It’s not your fault… Everyone caught it—carries it now.
But that whole time in the hospital with dad… he felt so guilty. What a waste of our final weeks. It was always the same damn conversation. I don’t give a shit that I had to join up! It wasn’t your fault! We couldn’t have done anything different. I wouldn’t have done anything different.
“Hey!” James waved his hand in front of Thomas’ eyes, bringing him back to the rail yard. “We gotta keep moving.”
Half an hour flew by essentially unnoticed. James hadn’t even tried to speak, giving the impression he had slipped into quiet reflection. Perhaps the first time Thomas could remember him taking in a serious topic and digesting it appropriately. Thomas knew his thoughts. No soldier who survived was truly unique. The horrors of the war and its aftermath are what flooded his mind. The friends who were lost, maimed—the marriages that unraveled from the extended hardships—the children who could no longer be tucked in by their parents—then Almawt and the loss of everyone you loved.
“Hold up a second.” An uneasiness caused Thomas to grab hold of James’s ruck. “I don’t like this.”
“What?”
Thomas pointed to the horizon—the Western Hills viaduct rose sixty feet above the yard. The half wall of concrete that spanned the bridge provided ample cover for any lone wolf and a sniper rifle. A perfect hideout to take advantage of the two venturing below. There’s too much to keep track of here, and James doesn’t seem to give a shit. He’s either still thinking about the war or just thinks he invincible out here. Either way, I’m not buying it. “Give me a minute to take a look before we keep going.”
“Whatever you say, man, but you’re wasting time.”
Thomas rounded the corner of an abandoned passenger train and grasped one of the rungs that crawled up its back. It held firmly despite the rust consuming the metal where the paint had flaked long ago. He took his hand a few rungs higher and began to climb. As he made it toward the top, he pulled his binoculars from the pouch on his ruck and popped his head above the roof of the coach.