Read Online The Remaining: Trust: A Novella by D. J. Molles - Free Book Online
Authors: D. J. Molles
Tags: Fiction, Science-Fiction, Action & Adventure, Horror, Military, Dystopian, Apocalyptic & Post-Apocalyptic
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said. Then he pointed his pistol and pulled the trigger.
Before he could talk himself out of it.
Just kept thinking, Not true. Not true. Not true.
Abe holstered and walked away. He walked numbly, like his feet were not touching the ground. He leaned into the wind. Dirt and scrabble stones and dried brown grasses passed underneath his feet. The residue of them clung to his boots like memories and fell away just the same. The dirt turned to dust-covered asphalt. He crossed over worn and barely visible road lines. Lines that had once been bold and plain, but now you didn’t even know you were crossing them until they were already under your feet.
He climbed onto the outboard bench. Secured himself with the lanyard.
One hand lying loose on his rifle.
He keyed the radio. “I’m good to go, One-Three. Good to go.”
FIVE
The Little Bird landed him on the bridge. The smoke cloud from the IED had mostly blown away, but the wind had kicked up and stirred a layer of fine dust that seemed to have settled over everything in the Midwest. Little dust devils spun up in the rail yard below them. Trash skittered along the bridge. The sun was high over the horizon, dispelling the shadows. It dimmed and brightened rapidly as clouds raced across the sky, sailing the wind from northwest to southeast.
Both Blackhawks were nowhere in the sky. They had already loaded up the troops and the wounded and were headed back to the Greeley Green Zone. Abe instructed the pilots of the Little Bird to check the convoy’s route back and make sure there were no other hang-ups. They acknowledged, and then lifted off, and then they were gone.
The bridge was a mess of military vehicles, all of them being shuffled around like a tile puzzle as they tried to make way for the HEMTT with the wrecker attachment to get through and clear a path through the south side of the bridge. The soldiers from Fargo Group stood on perimeter, sweating despite the cold and bearing that certain edginess that came from being in a firefight. They huddled in small groups that spewed cigarette smoke and tobacco juice, cussing and bitching.
Abe found Lucas and Tyler at the front of Tyler’s Humvee.
Tyler shook his head when Abe approached, a sign of relief. He was a thickly built guy, with a head that seemed a bit large for the width of his shoulders—a source of amusement for all of his fellow Coordinators. At thirty-two years old, he was prematurely gray, and his short salt-and-pepper hair was matted on the sides in perfect squares that would match the inner padding of his helmet.
Tyler extended his hand. Abe took it, slapped the man’s shoulder.
“You good?” Abe asked.
“Yeah,” Tyler said. “Could’ve been worse.”
Abe glanced left. Met Lucas’s gaze.
Lucas seemed to know. “What happened out there?”
Abe lowered his voice. “We need to talk.” He looked around them. There was no one within earshot. No one watching them or concerned with them. Everyone was doing their job. Abe cleared his throat. “You find anything when you were clearing your rooms?”
Lucas pursed his lips. “Yeah. Green Zone day passes.”
Tyler’s eyes ricocheted between the two of them. “Wait…what are we talking about?”
Abe scratched his beard. Wondered how to say it, but then decided to just come out with it. “The people who attacked you,” he said to Tyler, still keeping his voice down. “They were all from the Greeley Green Zone. They all had day passes.”
Tyler’s expression said that he thought this might be an ill-conceived joke. “That…uh…that doesn’t make any sense.” He shifted his weight. Seemed to grow a little agitated. “Why the fuck would they do that? It doesn’t make any fucking sense.”
Lucas still stared at Abe. Waiting.
The conversation with the man out on I-25 rattled around in Abe’s brain. The truth loud in his ears, struggling to get out of him. Like a punch in the gut, the air wanting to be expelled from his lungs. Or maybe
Before he could talk himself out of it.
Just kept thinking, Not true. Not true. Not true.
Abe holstered and walked away. He walked numbly, like his feet were not touching the ground. He leaned into the wind. Dirt and scrabble stones and dried brown grasses passed underneath his feet. The residue of them clung to his boots like memories and fell away just the same. The dirt turned to dust-covered asphalt. He crossed over worn and barely visible road lines. Lines that had once been bold and plain, but now you didn’t even know you were crossing them until they were already under your feet.
He climbed onto the outboard bench. Secured himself with the lanyard.
One hand lying loose on his rifle.
He keyed the radio. “I’m good to go, One-Three. Good to go.”
FIVE
The Little Bird landed him on the bridge. The smoke cloud from the IED had mostly blown away, but the wind had kicked up and stirred a layer of fine dust that seemed to have settled over everything in the Midwest. Little dust devils spun up in the rail yard below them. Trash skittered along the bridge. The sun was high over the horizon, dispelling the shadows. It dimmed and brightened rapidly as clouds raced across the sky, sailing the wind from northwest to southeast.
Both Blackhawks were nowhere in the sky. They had already loaded up the troops and the wounded and were headed back to the Greeley Green Zone. Abe instructed the pilots of the Little Bird to check the convoy’s route back and make sure there were no other hang-ups. They acknowledged, and then lifted off, and then they were gone.
The bridge was a mess of military vehicles, all of them being shuffled around like a tile puzzle as they tried to make way for the HEMTT with the wrecker attachment to get through and clear a path through the south side of the bridge. The soldiers from Fargo Group stood on perimeter, sweating despite the cold and bearing that certain edginess that came from being in a firefight. They huddled in small groups that spewed cigarette smoke and tobacco juice, cussing and bitching.
Abe found Lucas and Tyler at the front of Tyler’s Humvee.
Tyler shook his head when Abe approached, a sign of relief. He was a thickly built guy, with a head that seemed a bit large for the width of his shoulders—a source of amusement for all of his fellow Coordinators. At thirty-two years old, he was prematurely gray, and his short salt-and-pepper hair was matted on the sides in perfect squares that would match the inner padding of his helmet.
Tyler extended his hand. Abe took it, slapped the man’s shoulder.
“You good?” Abe asked.
“Yeah,” Tyler said. “Could’ve been worse.”
Abe glanced left. Met Lucas’s gaze.
Lucas seemed to know. “What happened out there?”
Abe lowered his voice. “We need to talk.” He looked around them. There was no one within earshot. No one watching them or concerned with them. Everyone was doing their job. Abe cleared his throat. “You find anything when you were clearing your rooms?”
Lucas pursed his lips. “Yeah. Green Zone day passes.”
Tyler’s eyes ricocheted between the two of them. “Wait…what are we talking about?”
Abe scratched his beard. Wondered how to say it, but then decided to just come out with it. “The people who attacked you,” he said to Tyler, still keeping his voice down. “They were all from the Greeley Green Zone. They all had day passes.”
Tyler’s expression said that he thought this might be an ill-conceived joke. “That…uh…that doesn’t make any sense.” He shifted his weight. Seemed to grow a little agitated. “Why the fuck would they do that? It doesn’t make any fucking sense.”
Lucas still stared at Abe. Waiting.
The conversation with the man out on I-25 rattled around in Abe’s brain. The truth loud in his ears, struggling to get out of him. Like a punch in the gut, the air wanting to be expelled from his lungs. Or maybe
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