“This ends now,” Summer said in a poised tone, holding out a hand to Liz. “Let’s go.”
The brunette latched onto Summer, their palms wrapped around each other. The scrawny leader of Nirvana helped the healer from the floor with only a lean and a single yank.
The pair walked toward Krista in lockstep, then Summer put out her free hand and snatched Krista’s as well.
The trio marched out the door and into the hallway as a team, their feet finding a common rhythm in each step, as if the maneuver had been rehearsed for months.
Krista wasn’t sure how to explain the sudden swell of pride in her chest. It was profound, almost as if the three of them had just formed an unspoken union. A female union, one in which their collective skills would now meld together and lead Nirvana into the future.
It was the strangest sensation. Plus, it had come out of nowhere, catching her both off guard and unaware. Krista had no inkling that such a cabal could ever exist, particularly if one considered their combative history and disparate backgrounds.
None of it would make sense on paper, yet it did in reality, perfectly.
Right then, Krista remembered something Edison liked to tout in moments of great doubt: Out of tragedy, comes hope.
More so when enemies become friends, finding that common ground that binds them all.
Fletcher led his team on foot across the twin railroad tracks and past the rusted overhang protecting the passenger bench. He remembered that seat well from his teenage years, a familiar place where riders from all over the county would gather for the next scheduled train to arrive, none of them, like him, aware of what the frozen future would entail.
They were seven minutes early for this meet with their reclusive source. A meet long overdue, and, as it turned out, mandatory before Phase Two of their mission would be granted the go-ahead.
Everything else was set. All Craven and his band of teeth needed was a time and place, both of which Fletcher would know in the next few minutes. At least, that was the plan, assuming the source had the information they’d been seeking.
Fletcher watched Dice move ahead, working the approach to the train station with his squad mates TJ Pepper, Willie Boone, and Chapa Longbow. All three had been hand-picked by Dice in an attempt to create a small, but trusted band of loyalists—men who hated Frost and welcomed the leadership change.
Sketch had held back with Fletcher, standing watch on the area behind them. Sketch was usually tasked to cover their six, a posting that, if not protected, would leave the team vulnerable to an overrun from behind. Sketch had always performed well on this duty assignment, so there was no reason for Fletcher to think this time would be any different.
Dice and his team entered the train station with rifles high, preparing to sweep the inside for threats. The source they were meeting was dangerous, but he wasn’t the immediate risk. It was the rogue bands of Scabs that Fletcher knew worked this area. Scabs that Craven didn’t control.
Dice had brought the Scab repellent spray, but even so, it was a limited supply and not something Fletcher wanted to use unless there was no other choice.
Plus, he didn’t entirely trust the one-eyed pirate who ran The Factory. Craven could have engineered the spray to become inert over time. It would have been the tactical thing to do—get them hooked on its usefulness and then demand more in trade.
Plus, there was the possibility of a run-in with another faction of society’s desperate—humans—regular humans. People who had banded together in an attempt to overpower and loot the weapons, ammo, and supplies Fletcher and his men carried.
Occasionally the looters would hit an area, not realizing who they were attacking and what the punishment would be for their actions. Frost had no patience for any of them and Fletcher didn’t intend to, either.
The latter of the two possibilities hadn’t been much of a problem in a while, mainly because of the lure of the Trading Post. However, now that Heston and his exchange compound were down, it was conceivable the dynamics would change. Desperation has a tendency to lead even the most passive of folk to take ambitious measures.
An effective leader never assumes the threats are contained, nor does he assume they will be the same as the last mission. Not when what’s left of the world is hungry and frantic about their survival.
Dice appeared in the doorway of the station, raising his hand to give the go-ahead signal for Fletcher to close ranks and join him.
“Hold here,” Fletcher told Sketch.
“Orders, sir?”
“Cover this sector and report any activity.”
“Permission to engage?”
“Granted, but verify your targets,” Fletcher told Sketch. “Our guy could approach from any direction and we need him in one piece.”
“Copy that, boss.”
“He’s usually in a vehicle so he can transport the fuel, but can’t rule out he’ll arrive on foot. He’s done that before, though I don’t understand why.”
Sketch nodded.
Fletcher left him behind and made quick work of the hundred yards that spanned the distance to the building. He went inside and walked to where Dice stood with the rest of his team.
“I’d like to set up overwatch, if that’s acceptable with you?” Dice asked, glancing at the biggest member of his team, Willie Boone.
The muscular man had to run at least three hundred pounds. He was about twice the size of the gray-haired TJ Pepper, who was standing next to him, and about half his age. Longbow was somewhere in the middle—not small, not big—but definitely capable.
Fletcher nodded, craning his neck to study the ceiling. “Assuming the roof will hold.”
Dice must have understood the remark and the reason for it, because he didn’t hesitate with his response. “I’ll task Pepper instead. Don’t want to risk it.”
“Good choice,” Fletcher said, turning his attention to Longbow.
The well-built Navajo’s eyes sat deep in his head and were always on alert, as if he were in perpetual hunt mode. Some of the men called the proficient tracker by the nickname of “Archer,” a moniker that fit his last name and not his legendary skillset.
“So I hear you’re damn good with a knife?” Fletcher asked.
“I get by,” Longbow replied, his focus never wavering from Fletcher. The man grabbed the eagle’s claw that hung on a homemade necklace in front of his chest, rubbing it as if he were asking it for insight, or possibly good luck.
“Show him, Archer,” Boone said in an energized tone, his voice deep and full of gravel. Boone turned his eyes to Fletcher. “You gotta see this, boss. Never seen anything like it.”
Longbow didn’t react, his eyes still locked on Fletcher’s and his fingers rubbing the trinket.
Fletcher wasn’t sure if the Navajo was waiting for approval to act, or if he simply chose to ignore the demonstration request.
“Later, men. We’ve got work to do,” Dice said, releasing the tension that had built among the group.
With that, Pepper stepped away and headed outside to take his position on the roof.
Dice pointed at two of the train station walls. “Let’s get those windows covered.”
Longbow and Boone split off, each taking his post at a different pane of glass.
Fletcher and Dice gathered in a huddle, turning their backs to the men.
“Once we have the location, it’ll be time to dispose of the others,” Fletcher said.
“Already in the works, boss. I’m going to create a new hunting party and use that as the cover.”
“Do you think they’ll buy it?”
“Yeah, as long as you and I are in agreement as to the need for a second group.”
“Easy enough. I’ll just say that with our recent losses, we need to develop redundancy for all facets of the compound.”