31
“Anything?” Tomiko asked, coming up behind him.
“No. Nothing.”
“Well, they’ll show up. Let’s get on back. Rumor has it that they’ve got some field showers up and running.”
Rev stared at the board for a moment longer. Just because his family wasn’t listed there didn’t mean much in and of itself. There were probably fewer than ten thousand names listed, with more being added all the time as they were recorded from wherever they’d taken refuge. He just had to be patient.
“Earth to Rev. Shower?”
Rev had to admit that sounded pretty good at the moment. A shower, maybe some hot food, and getting Pashu off his shoulder. For someone who’d been so enraptured with his IBHU, he was now beginning to resent her. His body was aflame, but there wasn’t much anyone could do about that for now. All he could do was take her off and have a brief respite.
“OK, let’s go.”
The Centaurs may have left, but the command wasn’t taking any chances. So, an hour after the Heroes Ceremony, where they’d said their goodbyes to their six fallen comrades, they received a partial resupply and were sent back out to their rally point in Tristan Provincial Park.
But it was evident that wasn’t the only reason they were sent away. Camp Nguyen was heavily damaged, and it no longer had the ability to support even the diminished regiment. Better to keep the Marines out in the countryside and rotate them in as they could. And now, after two days out, the Raiders had the next twenty-four hours in the relative comfort of the base.
Relative was stretching it, though. As Rev and Tomiko reached the ballfields where the team had been assigned, nothing much had changed from that first night after the Centaurs ran. Marines were still staked out on the grass, which was now little more than dirt. If it rained—and from the looks of the sky, that was certainly a possibility—the place would become a quagmire.
At the far end of Field 3, a shelter was being erected—not an expeditionary shelter that could foam up in an hour, but as in hammering and nailing wood beams the old-fashioned way. And in the back of . . .
“Look, the rumor was right. That’s a twenty-person field shower kit,” he told Tomiko, nudging her side with his elbow.
“Hallelujah,” Tomiko said with a sigh.
Rev scanned the fields. “There has to be five hundred Marines here, though. And look at that queue.”
At least fifty Marines in various stages of undress were lined up, waiting their turns.
“Don’t care. I’ll spend our entire freakin’ break in line if I have to. So, let’s find the team and get something to eat so I can get clean.”
The two made their way to Field 2, then scanned the Marines until Rev spotted a shirtless Hussein. They made their way down the cleared pathway to the team. Radić was still in his armor and on his back, fast asleep, and Hussein had stripped down to his trousers.
“Word to the wise, Hus-man,” Tomiko said, leaning in and sniffing. “You might want to get over to the showers.”
“I’ve got weapons watch,” Hussein said, pointing to where the team’s weapons were stacked together. “But as soon as Carp gets back, I’m going. Speaking of which, what’s good for the gander . . .”
“Oh, I know I smell like a cesspool. And as soon as I grab a bite to eat, I’ll be heading over. But what about him?” Tomiko asked, pointing at the sleeping Radić.
“He’s got the watch later, so he decided to catch some Zs now.”
“If you two help me take Pashu off, I’ll take the watch so you two can eat and shower,” Rev said.
“You sure? You don’t want to come along?” Tomiko asked.
“I just need to get this damned thing off for a while. So yeah, I’m sure.”
“I’m not going to argue,” Hussein said.
All the care taken back in the IBHU armory was forgotten as he had the two jerk the connectors free and then horse the thing to the ground. Daryll, or especially Doctor C, would have an attack if they’d seen how they took it off, but Rev closed his eyes and smiled as he stood without that dragging weight on his shoulder. And it wasn’t just the shoulder. The harness under his musculature was pulling every which way on him, and without Pashu, eighty percent of that stress on his body was gone.
“You sure you don’t want to go?” Hussein asked.
“No, really. Let me just relax for a bit here. I’ll watch the weapons and sleeping beauty here.”
“Do you want me to wait so we can go together?” Tomiko asked.
“No, really. I’m just going to chill out.”
“OK, have it your way. I guess it’s you and me, Hus-man,” Tomiko said, linking her arm in his. “See you a little later, Rev, and maybe we can try and track down the posse.”
Rev was worried about his family, but he and Tomiko didn’t know yet who, if any one of their group, had made it. Hopefully, they’d find out before they left the camp tomorrow.
“Sounds like a plan, Miko.”
They walked off together, and Rev shucked his armor, then sat down near the stacked weapons. His social arm was buried in the rubble of the IBHU armory, but even if he had it, Rev didn’t think he’d attach the thing.
As he sat, he started worrying about Bundy, Ten, Yancey, and the rest, and the worry gnawing away like a little mouse was getting to him. He needed something to take his mind off of it, but what? He’d taken responsibility for the weapons and gear, so he was stuck here until relieved.
And then he had to laugh. He owned one of the largest collections of entertainment known to man. With all the combat, he’d forgotten about it, but here, surrounded by five hundred Marines, he thought he could afford the distraction.
“Hey, Punch, where did we leave off with Flight of the Raven?”
<Season Five, Episode Three. Where Lord Landerman was about to—>
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. No need to narrate it. Let’s just spool Episode Four and find out what happens next.”
<Sure thing. And Rev . . .>
“Yeah?”
<It’s good to have you back.>
That surprised Rev. What the hell does that mean?
Good to have him back? He was never gone. Punch was embedded in his brain, after all.
Sure, ever since the invasion, he hadn’t been exchanging jokes or having discussions over non-consequential things, but they’d been in combat, so their interaction had directly related to that. Rev might be mistaken, but as he thought about it, the change had happened after Punch refused his command up at Bluebonnet Meadows.
Did he miss our chats?
He started to try and frame how to ask his battle buddy without seeming to be crazy, but the credits were rolling, so Rev leaned back against his armor and settled in to find out how Lord Landerman was going to deal with his rebellious youngest son.
* * *
Radić was still conked out, and Rev had already moved on to Episode Five by the time the rest of the team returned from chow.
“You coming with us to shower?” Tomiko asked.
“I’ve got the watch, now,” Porter said. “Go ahead, if you want.”
Rev asked Punch to stop the feed and stood up. Over at the showers, the line was longer now. He could feel the siren call, but his empty belly was complaining as well. Combat rats might give a Marine all the nutrients and calories needed to fight, but it hardly filled the hole that needed real food—even G-rats.
“I’m going to grab some grub. I’ll probably meet you over there.”
“We’ll save you a spot,” Tomiko said.
Rev headed over to the chow line, which was essentially vats of G-rats on an assortment of tables. It was help-yourself with two harried civilian workers popping the vats to heat them and replacing the empties. Each vat was designed to feed fifty people, but these were Marines who’d been on combat rats for going on three weeks now. Young, hungry Marines with big appetites. They were demolishing the vats.
The line moved quickly, though, and Rev reached the front. He didn’t bother to try and pick what he might like best. It was food that would fill his stomach, and that was what mattered. Wishing he had his social arm to make it easier, he grabbed a plate and had to put it down beside the vat to fill it with what looked to be rice and some sort of meat, then snagged a naan. He dipped the flat bread into the meal and shoveled in a mouthful before he picked the plate up and tried to find an empty spot on the ground.
“Rev!”
He looked around and saw Orpheus sitting with some other Marines. He wended his way through the sitting Marines as his friend stood to greet him.
“Good to see you, man,” Orpheus said, giving Rev a hug and slapping his back, almost spilling Rev’s meal. “Come, sit down and tell me what’s happened.”
Rev acknowledged some of the greetings of the others as he took a seat. Between being embarked on the LaSalle with them and the first battle, he recognized most of those sitting there.
“Did you see Miko? She was just here eating.”
“She made it? Thank God. You’re the first of us I’ve seen. But you and Miko. That’s great.” He paused, then in a more subdued voice, said, “I haven’t gotten word about Ten yet.”
“Me neither,” Rev said.
Rev was concerned about everyone in the posse, but especially about Bundy, who he hadn’t seen since just before the battle at Bluebonnet Meadow, and even more especially Ten. The nine of them had an amazing string of survival, with only him and Yancey even being wounded, but if you roll the dice too many times, eventually, they’ll come up snake eyes.
“I’ll keep my eyes open. Hopefully, they’re fine,” Orpheus said.
“How about Mala?” Rev asked, fearing what he might hear.
“Malaika? She’s made it, I think. Hey, Possum, you hear anything about Lemon?”
One of the other Marines said, “Got touched up a bit over at the canyon engagement, but she’s back with Second now.”
“We’re rotating by platoon,” Orpheus told Rev. “Second will be in tomorrow.”
And, of course, we’ll be back out in the bush then.
Still, it was good to hear. Looking around him, if this was everyone left from Alpha Company’s Third Platoon, then they’d been hit pretty hard in the fighting.
“Hey, you guys deploy all your vaccines?” Orpheus asked.
“Vaccines?”
“Yeah, that’s what we’ve been calling the Ninety-threes.”
Rev huffed in amusement. “You do know a vaccine prevents disease, not gives it.”
“Yeah, well, what do we know? We’re just dumb grunts,” Orpheus said with a laugh. “But did you use all of them?”
“After our second clash, after we split up. All expended.”
“Us, too. You think they worked?”
Which was the million-credit question, of course. Something caused the Centaurs to leave, and they did it at the earliest timeline on when the virus could have been taking effect. But there were lots of reasons that they could have pulled out. They’d made a habit lately of retreating once opposition got to be too strong or if the combat stretched out too long. They seemed to be going for quick, decisive victories. But with comms essentially destroyed, Rev didn’t know what had happened on the rest of the planet.
The team had discussed this ad infinitum, but they hadn’t come to a conclusion. Rev had to think the infections must have at least had an impact, unless the R & D folks were completely wrong.
Rev started in on his hot chow as he and Orpheus compared notes. After their combined fight at the meadow, Alpha had moved closer to the city while the Raiders moved out toward the foothills. Alpha had three more fights, one in the Dorchester neighborhood near Rev’s own Beakerville, and that was where they’d taken most of their casualties. Rev didn’t specifically ask, but from the way Orpheus was describing it, it was an outright defeat. And with their virus grenades exhausted and few to no citizens left in the city, a wasted battle from a strategic sense.
More Marines and sailors filed through the line, and the area was getting crowded, so Orpheus and his platoon mates left, but not before the two friends exchanged hugs again and promised to find each other before they headed back out.
Rev’s belly was feeling almost full for the first time in three weeks, and he considered heading through the line again, but from what he could see, the two civilians might run out of chow. Better that more people get something than for him to get stuffed.
The line for showers at the back of the ballfield was looking longer, if anything, and he didn’t really want to just stand there, so he turned and headed deeper into the camp to get a feel for the degree of damage. No one had actually said they had to stay at the bivouac site, and he’d always been of the mindset to act first and ask for permission later. If he wandered into some area that he wasn’t supposed to, he’d just apologize and head back.
Rev had already seen the chapel and the fieldhouse right after they’d returned, so he knew how badly they’d been damaged. But that was only the tip of the iceberg. Area D, where the platoon’s barracks were, was mostly a mass of molten metal and fused glass. The damage was too extensive for any single Centaur—it had to have been done by their ship.
He stood there silently for several minutes, looking to where the barracks once stood. Somewhere in that mass were his personal effects. His clothing, his new pad, his small collection of physical books. Those were nothing and could be replaced. But there had also been the holos of his family, his grandfather’s pocket knife, and the stuffed Marine Corps bulldog Neesy had given him the day he left for boot camp, and those could never be replaced, especially if . . .
He couldn’t follow that train of thought. He turned his gaze toward the city in the distance, wondering what had happened out there. And with a sudden burst of determination, he knew what he was going to do. Once again, act first, ask permission later.
Rev walked to the roundabout, then headed out on Dhawan Avenue. He wondered if he’d be stopped at the gate, but that proved to be needless. The gate had been slagged, and there were no Marines on duty there. He stepped through and kept on Dhawan heading into the city. It would take him at least an hour to get to Beakerville, but it wasn’t as if he had much else to do. The reason they were even in from the bush was to rest their bodies and clear their minds, and Rev couldn’t think of anything better to clear his mind than this.
Damage in the city was more intermittent than on base. There were sections of destruction, then some fairly intact buildings. A big orange tom sitting on the sidewalk, watching him walk by, was the first sign of life he saw, but here and there, another cat, a dog that trotted out to him, and finally a few people scrounging in the rubble were signs that Earth life was pretty hard to stamp out.
The people looked up as he passed, but except for one lady who waved and a man who called out to ask if the Centaurs had really gone, they left him alone. It took almost eighty minutes, not the hour he’d expected, to reach Beakerville. It seemed to have escaped most of the severe damage. Two hovers looked to have crashed, their burnt hulks in the middle of an otherwise undamaged section of the Crystal Terrace Drive, and Rev wondered what the story was on that. Hovers just didn’t crash. Their avoidance systems kept that from happening. But he could see it right in front of him.
He turned onto his street, and up ahead, to his relief, the home still stood. He broke into a jog, jumped the low fence, bounded up the steps, and pounded on the door.
“Mom, Dad?”
There was no answer.
“Neesy? Grover? Kat?”
Silence. He hadn’t expected to find them sitting at home, but still, it was something of a let-down.
The door was locked, and when Rev tried to scan his retina for entry, it didn’t budge. With the power out, that was what it was supposed to do. No problem. Rev counted out six of the stepping-stones that led to the backyard, pulled it up, and retrieved the mechanical key. A minute later, he was walking into the home.
It looked surprisingly normal. There were dirty dishes in the sink, and he could imagine his mother taking the time to put them there while everyone else was fleeing. But the place was clean with no sign of disarray. Almost no sign. When he went into the girls’ bedroom, neither bed was made, and in their house, beds were always made before people went on with their day.
Rev took a moment to make both beds, once again wishing he had his social arm. It had been over two years since he lost his left arm, but what with both issued arms, he hadn’t really gotten the hang of doing things with only his right.
“You can thank me later, girls, when you get back,” he said as he smoothed out one last wrinkle in Neesy’s blanket.
He went back to the living room and took one last look around before leaving, but then he thought better of it. He scrounged up a stylus and a plastisheet and wrote:
I am fine. When you read this, please get to the base and put your names on the Family Finder board near the chapel, so I know you’re fine, too.
Love you,
Rev
He placed it on the kitchen counter, then put the Happy Bear cookie jar on the top edge to keep it in place.
“Think they’re still alive?” he asked Punch after he locked the door again and returned the key to its hiding place.
<The evidence is strong that they were able to leave safely. As to their continued survival, I’m sorry, I can not even conjecture.>
Which is what he expected. Punch had a wealth of knowledge he could pull up, but guessing like this was beyond his programming.
Night was falling, and the shadows were getting long. Rev could make it back, take that long-delayed shower, get some sleep, and hope comms could begin to get restored before the team headed back into the bush. But he wasn’t ready. Instead of returning, he just started wandering. He passed the neighborhood MaxiMart and paused. A MaxiMart didn’t have the widest variety of food, with only a small shelf of naturals and their basic fabricated favorites, but to be honest, a Spaghetti and Maxiball sounded really good at the moment. The store would be sure to have them at the back of Aisle Three.
He was tempted, no doubt about it, but in the end, he sighed and turned away. It might be a cheap meal, but he had no way nor anybody to pay. And just taking one would be looting.
He crossed over to Willow with no particular destination in mind.
“Reverent, is that you?” a voice called out.
Taken by surprise, Rev spun around to see Mr. Szeth coming out of his house.
“Hi, Mr. Szeth. Yes, it’s me.”
“I thought so. Are the Marines moving back in?” he asked, then frowned as he took in Rev’s missing arm and lack of a weapon.”
“Not just yet, sir. I came back to see if I could find anything out about my family. Have you seen them?”
“Sorry, son, no. We’re at the Pine Creek Refugee Camp, and I don’t think your folks are there. I would have seen them.”
Another small blow.
“That’s OK. I was just asking.”
“They’re probably at one of the other camps. I’m sure they’re all right.”
“Yes, sir. I hope so. Uh . . . how is your family?” he asked.
“We’re all fine. We made it to the Wash and hid there. It got scary, I’m not afraid to tell you. There was fighting right beside us. But yesterday, some Marines told us to go to the camp, and they’ve got food and tents there. I’ll tell Mia that I saw you. She’ll be happy to know you’re OK.”
Rev was hoping to avoid mention of Mia. While his mother might still harbor the impression that he and Mia were a thing, that boat had long since sailed. Rev didn’t know if Mr. Szeth knew that, and he’d just as soon gloss over their past.
“So, Reverent. Um . . . when you get back, you won’t, you know, mention that you saw me here?”
“Sir?
“It’s just that at the camp, they told us to stay there and not come into the city. But I had to check to see if the house was OK. And I’ve got my collection, you know. Lots of them are one-of-a-kinds, irreplaceable, you know, and I know lots of people would love to get their hands on them.”
Rev kept the surprise off of his face. Mr. Szeth had a collection of Tarylyn figurines, and he bragged about them all the time. Twice when he was dating Mia, Rev had to stand and listen while the man showed him each one, giving its latest value. Rev didn’t see the allure of the figurines, but to each his own. For him to sneak into town to check on that, of all things, was so . . . so . . . so like Mia, he decided. Or Mia was so like him.
“Don’t worry, sir. I won’t say a thing.”
“Oh, thank you, Reverent. No need to get people excited when they’ve got better things to do, right? Well, I’m going to go back in and finish my inventory. You take care of yourself, and if you get the chance, come over to the camp and say hello to Mia. I know she’d get a kick out of it.”
“OK, sir. If I get the chance. And I’ve got to get going, too.” He turned and started off, not wanting to give the man a chance to keep the conversation going.
The irony of him looking down on Mr. Szeth wasn’t lost on Rev. But he justified it by the fact that he’d never specifically been told not to leave the base, and he was only trying to find his family, not some piddly-ass collection.
He kept walking as night took over the city. A few emergency lights shined here and there, but for the most part, the city was dark. Rev didn’t have any problem with that as his night vision kicked in. But he was feeling the effects of his harness. He might not have Pashu dragging him down, but the grating under his muscles wore at him. He’d just decided to return to the base when he realized where his subconscious was taking him.
The Veterans of Galactic Wars had taken a hit knocking out a large section of a wall, but it was mostly intact. He crossed the street to get a better look. A couple of booths were kindling, but beyond them, some chairs were still upright.
Rev didn’t bother to use the door. He just stepped through the broken wall and stopped to look around. The huge bar looked intact, and as Rev stepped farther inside, around one of the bar posts . . .
With a smile, Rev walked the length of the bar to the end. He picked up one of the barstools from where it had fallen, set it up against the bar, and said, “How’re you doing, Mr. Oliva?”
“I see you’re alive, Sergeant.”
“Corporal.”
“Huh. Corporal? I guess you’re a real Marine after all, not some kiss ass. I always said if you haven’t been busted at least once, you’re doing something wrong.”
“Well, that’s me now. So, you just hanging out?”
“Go ahead and ask what you really want to know.”
“OK. What the hell are you doing here?”
“This is where I’m supposed to be every night, son. Where else would I be?”
“How about at some refugee camp where it’s safe?”
“You see any damned Centaurs here, Corporal?”
“No, I guess not. But they were here.”
“And I missed thirteen nights coming in, the bastards. I couldn’t get out and about.”
“So, you stayed in the city the entire time?”
“Safer than me humping around the forest with my old legs. ’Sides, I wasn’t gonna let some damned alien run my life. After my dear Paula passed, no one runs it ’cept me.”
Rev hadn’t known Mr. Oliva had been married or that his wife had passed. In fact, he realized that as much as the man meant to him, he knew very little about his life. That was something he’d like to rectify. Having the planet invaded did tend to change how he looked at things.
“I’d like to buy you a beer, but Maude isn’t here,” Rev said.
“Don’t make no never mind. The taps need power, and unless you want to cut one of the lines and suck on it, you’re outta luck. For beer, at least, and my throat’s been mighty parched. But wait one.”
Mr. Oliva slowly got off the stool and walked around the end of the bar and to the shelves. Rev watched him reach up to a shelf lined with bottles, then count five bottles in from the right before he closed his hand around the neck. He used his other hand to guide himself back and onto his chair.
He unscrewed the cap, took a swallow, and held it out to Rev.
“You mean to tell me you had a bottle here the entire time, and you haven’t drunk it yet?”
“Don’t like to drink alone. So, you want a hit or not?”
Rev hesitated. First, he was still in a combat status, and he wasn’t supposed to drink alcohol. Second, he really needed to get back. He’d been gone over two hours now, and staying longer increased the chances that he’d get caught.
But third, he couldn’t let a vet drink alone, right?
“Of course, I’ll have a drink with you,” Rev said as he took the bottle and downed a swig.
“So, tell me about this Paula and how she managed to put up with a cranky old jarhead like you.”
Mr. Oliva’s face broke out in a smile, and he said, “Ah, my sweet Paula. Let me start at the beginning, then, back when I was a private—young, dumb, and full of cum—and I saw the most beautiful girl on the planet . . .”