slung bunk.
“It’s on the west side of the Teton pass in Idaho. Driggs is where all of the po’ folks live. The money stays on the other side of the pass in Jackson,” Daymon replied, his words muffled as he struggled to pull another shirt on over his dreads.
“Cade told me he was greasing the skids and trying to get me a bird. You wouldn’t know by the way he carries himself, no swagger, no bullshit buffoonery, but he’s seen a lot of shit and been right smack dab in the middle of it. He’s a good man... he’ll come through.” Duncan said, weighing whether he should ask Daymon about the goody bag on the floor, but what he really wanted to know was how the man received his new injuries. Duncan quickly decided that later would be a better time to try and pry out the details behind Daymon’s apparent tangle with Freddy Krueger. “How bout we get some chow? I’m buying ,” Duncan joked.
“Sure thing old man.” Daymon gestured toward the door with a regal flourish. “Age before beauty.”
Duncan was out the door first. Age is only a number , he thought.
Chapter 7
Outbreak - Day 8
Schriever AFB - 50th Space Wing Command
Colorado Springs, Colorado
Airman Davis opened the door for Captain Cade Grayson. With a barely perceptible tilt of his head, the newly promoted captain ordered the airman to fall in behind him. The men entered the room, filled in the two spots nearest the door and stood with their backs against the wall, waiting for the briefing to commence.
General Mike Desantos made eye contact with Cade, crowded Colonel Shrill over a few inches, and nodded toward the newly created opening.
Message received. Leaving Airman Davis behind, Cade made his way, as inconspicuously as possible, to his mentor’s side.
Mike Desantos offered his right hand to his dear friend and teammate, pressing a folded piece of paper into his palm. Cade quickly unfolded the half sheet of legal pad and covertly scrutinized the scribbled words.
Cade stared laser beams at Davis until the airman finally glanced over. He then motioned with his head to have the young airman join him.
After threading his way through a sea of rank much higher than his, E-2 Davis stood at attention and saluted the very intimidating row of officers.
Cade had been watching the major as she cued up some type of media on the immense wall-mounted monitor before he turned his attention to the E-2. “Airman Davis.”
“Sir?”
“Have you met General Desantos?” Cade asked.
“Sir, no Sir,” Davis replied nervously.
“At ease, Airman Davis,” Desantos ordered. “How do you know Wyatt here?”
“Wyatt?” Davis furrowed his brow. “I don’t follow, Sir.”
“It’s his nickname from the teams. The boy is quick with a pistol,” the General said.
A hush fell over the room indicating Major Nash was about to begin the briefing.
Cade pressed the folded paper into the airman’s hand and whispered into his ear, “Find Duncan and give this to him.”
“Sir, yes Sir.” Airman Davis snapped off a quick salute and with a sense of déjà vu tickling the back of his mind he went about his new mission.
Major Freda Nash stood front and center, on an elevated stage, and began speaking to the assembled group of uniformed men and women. Although the feisty Major was small in stature, she still commanded attention as if she were Goliath himself.
The Major had a soft spot for Cade. Their service to the country had constantly brought them back into each other’s orbit. They had worked together off and on over the years and each held a strong mutual admiration for the other. If Freda had noticed Cade enter the room, she didn’t let on.
She communicated only the facts, rapid-fire, targeting points of utmost importance on the LCD with her laser pointer. The beam danced over a still image, portraying in full color a very large metropolitan area which Cade failed to recognize. It was obvious even from the vantage point from which the picture
“It’s on the west side of the Teton pass in Idaho. Driggs is where all of the po’ folks live. The money stays on the other side of the pass in Jackson,” Daymon replied, his words muffled as he struggled to pull another shirt on over his dreads.
“Cade told me he was greasing the skids and trying to get me a bird. You wouldn’t know by the way he carries himself, no swagger, no bullshit buffoonery, but he’s seen a lot of shit and been right smack dab in the middle of it. He’s a good man... he’ll come through.” Duncan said, weighing whether he should ask Daymon about the goody bag on the floor, but what he really wanted to know was how the man received his new injuries. Duncan quickly decided that later would be a better time to try and pry out the details behind Daymon’s apparent tangle with Freddy Krueger. “How bout we get some chow? I’m buying ,” Duncan joked.
“Sure thing old man.” Daymon gestured toward the door with a regal flourish. “Age before beauty.”
Duncan was out the door first. Age is only a number , he thought.
Chapter 7
Outbreak - Day 8
Schriever AFB - 50th Space Wing Command
Colorado Springs, Colorado
Airman Davis opened the door for Captain Cade Grayson. With a barely perceptible tilt of his head, the newly promoted captain ordered the airman to fall in behind him. The men entered the room, filled in the two spots nearest the door and stood with their backs against the wall, waiting for the briefing to commence.
General Mike Desantos made eye contact with Cade, crowded Colonel Shrill over a few inches, and nodded toward the newly created opening.
Message received. Leaving Airman Davis behind, Cade made his way, as inconspicuously as possible, to his mentor’s side.
Mike Desantos offered his right hand to his dear friend and teammate, pressing a folded piece of paper into his palm. Cade quickly unfolded the half sheet of legal pad and covertly scrutinized the scribbled words.
Cade stared laser beams at Davis until the airman finally glanced over. He then motioned with his head to have the young airman join him.
After threading his way through a sea of rank much higher than his, E-2 Davis stood at attention and saluted the very intimidating row of officers.
Cade had been watching the major as she cued up some type of media on the immense wall-mounted monitor before he turned his attention to the E-2. “Airman Davis.”
“Sir?”
“Have you met General Desantos?” Cade asked.
“Sir, no Sir,” Davis replied nervously.
“At ease, Airman Davis,” Desantos ordered. “How do you know Wyatt here?”
“Wyatt?” Davis furrowed his brow. “I don’t follow, Sir.”
“It’s his nickname from the teams. The boy is quick with a pistol,” the General said.
A hush fell over the room indicating Major Nash was about to begin the briefing.
Cade pressed the folded paper into the airman’s hand and whispered into his ear, “Find Duncan and give this to him.”
“Sir, yes Sir.” Airman Davis snapped off a quick salute and with a sense of déjà vu tickling the back of his mind he went about his new mission.
Major Freda Nash stood front and center, on an elevated stage, and began speaking to the assembled group of uniformed men and women. Although the feisty Major was small in stature, she still commanded attention as if she were Goliath himself.
The Major had a soft spot for Cade. Their service to the country had constantly brought them back into each other’s orbit. They had worked together off and on over the years and each held a strong mutual admiration for the other. If Freda had noticed Cade enter the room, she didn’t let on.
She communicated only the facts, rapid-fire, targeting points of utmost importance on the LCD with her laser pointer. The beam danced over a still image, portraying in full color a very large metropolitan area which Cade failed to recognize. It was obvious even from the vantage point from which the picture
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