“Oh, you know… Wang’s stuck playing medic and I got bored and you know how I am when I get bored…”
“Annoying,” Helena mumbled.
“… and, well,” he continued, “Wang told me to go bother someone else. So who am I gonna but my two most favorite people?”
“Lucky us,” I whispered.
“Besides, I figured you might need a chaperone. We all know what happened the last time I left you two alone to watch my back.”
“That… only happened a… few times,” I reminded him. Helena turned and glared at me.
“Yeah,” Santino said, stifling a laugh and moving near Helena to sit against the rock she was seated on, “and the last time was only a few weeks ago. You two are practically like bunnies.”
The first time it had happened had been completely innocent, and a short story, but one he rarely let us forget. Helena and I had been tasked with providing sniper cover while he snuck into a warehouse of some sort to recover stolen goods. For some reason, he had taken an excessively long time, and it had been a full moon… and Helena and I got a little distracted.
A little frisky, if you will.
It had been one of our first missions as Vani, so long ago that we were always in the mood. The next thing we knew, Santino had caught us in the act, looking more pissed than we’d ever seen him. He then angrily explained while we got dressed, how he had been forced to extract under pursuit and because we hadn’t been there to provide cover, had to deal with the threat himself. He’d been fine, but it would have been much easier for us to just shoot them.
“Anyway,” Santino continued, tapping against Helena’s boot like a child until she shooed him away, “since the Romans have been pretty quiet this past week, I figured I’d come up here and…”
“Shut it,” I said, waving my hand at him.
“Well that’s not very…”
“Shut up, Santino,” Helena ordered, jerking her rifle left and right across the horizon, “What do you see, Jacob?”
“Ten o’clock, sector 2A. IR strobes.”
“I see them,” Helena confirmed. “Two of them.”
“You think its Gaius and Marcus?” Santino asked, squinting out into the darkness.
“No,” I replied facetiously, “I’m sure it’s just some freak atmospheric anomaly screwing with our night vision.”
Santino smiled. “Nice.”
I rolled my eyes and clicked my com. “8–5, 8–1, over”
“8–5 here,” Bordeaux replied.
“We’ve got some bogies out there. IR strobes, meaning you know who. They’re in your sector. Take 8–6 and go round them up. Bring them to HQ. Everyone else, rendezvous with us in thirty mikes.”
“Wilco, 8–1,” he acknowledged, followed by a series of double clicks from everyone else on coms.
“Think they have good news?” Helena asked, packing up her rifle and gear.
“Hopefully,” I replied, following suit.
“I just hope it gets us out of the city,” Santino said, offering Helena a hand to help her from her perch. “I think Madrina and Helena here are the only two ladies left for me to conquer in this dump.”
Using his helpfulness to his benefit, he yanked on Helena’s arm and spun her like a ballroom dancer into his arms and against his body. He wrapped an arm around her waist and swung her into a dip, puckering his lips and smooching the air in front of her.
“In your dreams,” she said, as he allowed her to stand. She nudged him away from her and slapped him across the face. “And that’s for even thinking about it.”
“Ow,” he said, rubbing his cheek, still smiling. “So close…”
“Come on, Fabio” I said, smiling at the show as I hooked my arm through Helena’s, leading her off the roof. “Let’s go see what Gaius and Marcus have to say.”
Caesarea didn’t look quite as posh as it had two months ago. Once the legion showed up to suppress the uprising, they immediately went to work laying siege to it. This meant constant bombardment by catapults and onagers, which laid waste to the once beautiful seaside city, leaving it to resemble any number of war torn and ravaged locales like the ones I’d see on CNN every night back home. The city even had men scurrying about with wraps around their heads, only these men carried swords and shields instead of AK47s and RPGs.
The image was surreal and almost nostalgic, and it was also very dangerous. Within the first week, we had our first casualty: Wang. He’d been on a patrol when a random boulder the size of a Volkswagen Bug had come crashing into the building next to him. The ensuing rubble had killed two of his Jewish companions and had crushed Wang’s left tibia. He’s been laid up ever since, relegating him to maintaining our small field hospital instead of having him out on the lines. As Santino had just complained about, it kept him from getting into the shit as well more often than not, and this past night hadn’t been the first time he’d come to bother Helena and I while on sniper duty.
However, while the bombardment had toppled buildings and left large chunks of the city uninhabited, it had also created extremely defensible positions for habitation. Within the rubble, the Jewish rebels had carved out vast networks of connecting chambers and hidden passageways. Tons of concrete and adobe buried on top of itself had left strong positions for us to hold out in during the siege, and also ensured the Romans would have plenty of trouble exterminating the rebels should they decide on a full out assault.
It also made traversing the city annoying, especially in the dark. After repelling from our sniper hide, my two companions and I climbed, jumped and precariously made our way to the small bunker we had turned into our headquarters. Three large buildings had collapsed onto a smaller fourth one, the smaller one having remained more or less intact, but with a ton of rubble atop it. The only entrance was a small skylight left open from the impediment.
It took us twenty minutes to reach it, long enough that even Bordeaux must have made it back already with Gaius and Marcus. Santino and I shifted aside the planks of wood covering the entrance and waited for Helena to drop in. Santino followed, and after a quick look around, I joined them. Landing in a crouch, I reached up and gripped the pole connected to the planks and shifted it back to where we’d found it. Our bunker secure, I did a quick head count.
Everyone was present and accounted for, each wearing their night ops combat fatigues, except for Madrina. While Titus had been given McDougal’s set of night ops and Multicam combat fatigues, Madrina had simply been given our late commander’s BDU duty clothing, even if they didn’t quite fit. McDougal had been Helena’s height, just shy of six foot, but Madrina was almost as tall as I was. Combined with her more shapely figure, she fit into them snuggly, but it was worth it for the added durability and efficiency.
And just as I knew they would be, Gaius and Marcus were also already here, chatting with Wang and Santino, two pairs of Tweetledees and Tweetledums if I’d ever seen them. Their faces were dirty and they wore their darkened lorica segmentata armor over their ninja garb.
I ignored them and moved to a small niche excavated from one of the walls. It had served as my bunk for the past few weeks, ever since the city fell into ruin, and it was the most comfortable place in the room. I plopped myself down on the extra wide cot and took note of our latest home. It was dark, dreary and overly pessimistic. Cramped, dank and with poor ventilation, it was easily the worst posting I’d ever had, even worse than Mexico. Eight bodies that hadn’t showered in weeks sharing it didn’t help either.
That one night in Byzantium had been one thing, but three weeks in this hell hole was getting ridiculous.
Leaning back, I reached into a small shelf I’d created out of the rubble and reached for a jug of wine, some of the last we had. Pulling the stopper out with my teeth, I spat it out against the wall and took a swig. I got comfortable and watched as Helena walked over and seated herself next to me on our bed. I offered her the jug. She took a long swallow, coughing as she tore the container away from her lips. I smiled, returned the jug, and wrapped my arm around her shoulder. She rested her head against my chest and we simply waited in contemplative silence.