Something had the brass agitated and angry. “I hope they don’t mind me crashing the party.”
Too bad if they did.
Sally increased her pace. “This doesn’t look good.”
Mavis kept up. At least the exercise defrosted her bones. She rubbed her hands together, barely resisting the urge to blow on them. Now if only the rest of her would follow suit.
“I know we lost more people in the trucks that washed away then we did overnight to the anthrax.”
“We did?” Mavis didn’t know that. Then again, the lieutenant had been up all night. She was bound to hear other choice tidbits.
“Yeah. And the medicos haven’t diagnosed any new cases.”
“That was good.” But the incubation period was up to forty-five days or more. And they’d only made it through eight. Plus, Sally made it certain there’d be no eavesdropping. Ah well, deception wasn’t Mavis’s specialty.
Ten yards away from the headquarters, the door banged open. The light inside formed a halo around Lister’s buzz cut. “Lieutenant, I was beginning to fear that you’d been swept away in the flood.”
From the tilt of the general’s head, Mavis knew he stared at her not Sally. Uncrossing her arms, she held them firmly at her side. “Sorry to cause you concern. But if you remember, you assigned her to look after me. Perhaps, you should have checked my tent first.”
Take that, you four starred fox. She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Playing mental games with Lister would help pass the time to Colorado. After all, they both wanted the same thing: survival.
Lister stepped back as she approached. “I’ll remember that next time.”
I just bet you will. And to throw him off the scent…
“She finished up the task I assigned her, regarding the good Reverend Trent. I knew you’d be interested in hearing the results.” Mavis avoided touching him as she stepped inside. An office chair missing its back pad listed to the side under a warped metal desk. Metal blinds lay in heaps under bare windows, their slats fanning out. Semper Fi scrolled across the screen saver of the sleek computer on the desk. A single black cord crawled up the wall to connect to the satellite dish wedged between the metal grill and the outside wall.
Two colonels in Air Force blue, one in Army green and three junior officers stood in front of a yellowing wall. The names of David’s men and several others were written in black marker. Twelve names out of the two hundred on those four trucks. Thirteen if you counted Sunnie’s, which was written to the right of the column.
She’s alright. You just talked to her. Mavis rubbed her red fingers together, wincing as the blood flow resumed. She faced her panel of servicemen. Many didn’t meet her eye. Well, hell. Pinning a smile, she tucked her hands into her back pocket. “Oh, good, everyone’s already here. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
Everyone but David.
Had he been sent to delay her arrival to the little war council? Probably. Except this was her war, too. She flexed then relaxed her fingers, holding her hand out for the marker. “I’ll fill-in the names of those I know traveled with Sunnie while Lieutenant Rogers fills you in on what she’s found.”
The lieutenant jumped when Lister slammed the door behind her.
No other officer moved.
“Perhaps, we should wait for Sergeant-Major Dawson as this affects him too.” Mavis almost felt sorry for them. Almost. The sneaky bastards. At least, she didn’t get the ‘I’m feeling a coup vibe’. She quickly penciled in the names of her neighbors as well as a few of the survivors David’s men had rescued after the ambush. She sincerely hoped the flash flood hadn’t traumatized them further.
“What affects Dawson?” Lister growled over the squeak of the marker.
Mavis looked over her shoulder. The lieutenant stood statue still by the door, frantically tapping on her computer. “Sally?”
Blinking, the woman seemed to give herself a shake. Sally gave the final tap and mentally rejoined them. “Yes, Ma’am. Sirs.” She turned on the computer and joined Mavis by the far wall. “Doctor Spanner asked me to check into the man we know as Reverend Trent.”
The door banged open and the wind shoved a bunch of dried Mesquite needles across the cement-stained floor. David carried a tray of styrofoam cups and an insulated carafe. Steam dipped and dance above each offering.
“Perfect timing.” Capping the marker, Mavis rushed across the room. Her fingers scissor walked above the cups. Tar. Black tar. Really black tar. God only knows what that one contained. She settled over a ebony liquid with a bit of brown in it. Not a creamer or sugar in sight. She lifted her choice free, grabbed the next lightest one, then shuffled back to the desk and handed the brew to Sally.
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
“No need.” Mavis brushed off the gratitude. God only knew what the stuff would do to their insides. But given the men who liked it, she’d have to check her esophagus for hair. “Wait until they’re settled. Men aren’t multi-taskers.”
The lance-corporal who’d told them where to find the headquarters shut the door behind him. He hefted two bags in his hand, one of water bottles and one with the tan Meals-Ready-to-Eat bags. He started toward the general before veering toward her. “Ma’am.”
Closing her eyes, Mavis reached inside the bag. Plastic scratched her hand as she rooted through them. She pulled one out, turned it over and looked at the name stamped on it. “Yes! The pork sausage patty.”
A few men chuckled.
“My favorite.” Which only tasted a little more rubbery than the apple oatmeal. If she never ate oatmeal again, it would be too soon. Tucking it under her chin, she plucked a water bottle from the other bag. Now she just had to figure out how to open the pouch and heat it up.
When she turned around, David was there. “Allow me.”
She handed first the water bottle then the MRE to him. “Thanks.”
A shadow crossed his eyes. “No problem.”
They definitely needed to talk.
“Get to cooking, Lance Corporal. Lieutenant, tell us what you found on that bastard.”
Every officer gave Sally her undivided attention. “When he registered, the Reverend gave his name as Benjamin Trent. Later, when Doctor Spanner asked his name, he gave it as Trent P Franklin.”
Mavis blew on her coffee. Steam wafted back at her. She carefully took a sip. Bitterness flooded her mouth. Bleah, it was even worse than she imagined. She lowered her hand to the desk when the coffee kicked in. Heat settled in her gut and radiated outward. Maybe there was something to this coffee thing. She took another sip then scraped the grounds off her tongue. This would be so much better if her tastebuds didn’t work.
“Can’t shoot a man for lying about his name, can we?” Lister rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “Even if it’s martial law.”
The Air Force Colonel shook his head. “Now if he’d impersonated an Army chaplain or officer, I think we’d have grounds.”
“Are you a lawyer?” Mavis plugged her nose and forced down another sip.
“No, Ma’am.”
She scratched her nose then set the cup on the table. Liquid lapped at the lip from the tilt. “Too bad, we could use one.”
The young Marine and David slit open the MRE pouches, added water to the heaters and combined the two bags.
“Oh!” Lister’s face brightened. “The good Reverend has been a naughty boy?”
And then some. Mavis watched David’s face. Would he recognize Trent? “Sally.”
“Trent Powers is not a reverend.” The lieutenant scrolled through the screens then turned Trent’s smirking face toward her audience. “He sells insurance.”