Free A New World: Reckoning by John O'Brien Page B

lead. Follow me in,” I say. Two clicks on the radio affirms his acknowledgment.
    Pulling the throttles back, I begin a descent and turn back toward the lone, smoldering Stryker. Approaching the plains, I separate Robert off to circle the area without getting in the way of our low approach and subsequent landing. Lining up with a straight section of the highway near the wreckage, I do a low approach checking for obstructions. Coming back around, I set the aircraft down. Billows of dust stream forward as I apply the reverse thrust. Bringing the engines back to normal idle, we taxi clear of the dust cloud and come to a stop, the stricken vehicle only a short distance across the flats. I leave the engines in idle, playing with the reverse thrust to avoid creating a wind storm to the rear of the aircraft, and notify Lynn that we are good. With Robert providing a top lookout, Lynn will lead Gonzalez, Henderson, and Denton to check out the Stryker and bodies.
     
    *    *    *    *    *    *
     
    Gathering weapons and ammo, Lynn steps down the ramp with the three others of Red Team. Amid the roar of the four idling engines, she adjusts her M-4 and, with a nod to the others, walks across the highway and down the embankment toward the Stryker smoking in the near distance. With a heavy heart, thinking they are too late to save Greg and his team, she walks across the soft dirt of the high plain, dust puffing up with each step.
    Tall mountains to the northeast and northwest look over the steppe, completely oblivious to what has transpired, and not caring one bit. It may be that they do care, but their time is measured so vastly differently and this is only a brief moment in their seemingly eternal lifespan.
    With Gonzalez, Henderson, and Denton spread to the sides, Lynn, still feeling ill at what she may find, skirts around the vehicle as she cautiously makes her way toward the bodies. She’ll come back and check the Stryker once she has taken a look at the bodies and identified them.
    Approaching the scene, she comes across the first body. The ground has been chewed up and the figure mutilated by multiple bullet strikes. Lying inert with splotches of blood that has soaked into the ground, the body is missing part of its arm from the elbow down. Lynn can’t identify whether it’s part of Greg’s team as a round has taken off most of the face. With nausea rising in her throat, she kneels and reaches down to see if there is a dog tag present. Peeling back the collar, stiff with blood, she sees a chain around the neck. Pulling it clear, she wipes drying blood from the connected tag.
    Walking to other mutilated bodies that have been torn apart by heavy caliber rounds, she pulls more dog tags from five others. Along with the soldiers, there are also four civilians among the dead.
    With a sick feeling, she rises and keys her mic, “Jack, this is part of the team that went with Greg.”
    “Are you sure? Never mind, of course you are,” Jack responds. “Have you found any alive?”
    “Negative. I’m pulling dog tags now. I can only account for five of them at the moment and there were four others with them. I’m working toward the Stryker now.”
    “Copy that.”
    Lynn hears the dejected note in Jack’s voice. Backtracking to the armored vehicle, she gathers an additional dog tag from a body lying alongside it. An acrid odor surrounds the Stryker from a small stream of smoke escaping from it.
    Rounding the corner of the vehicle, she looks inside. Equipment and gear is strewn about the interior. On one bench, a young boy lies staring blankly to the side, his face pale from blood loss. Discarded, bloodied bandages, wrappings, used IV bags, and other medical supplies are scattered throughout and, underneath all of the debris, pools of blood are drying on the floor. Looking to the other side, she gasps as she sees Greg’s body lying on the opposite bench, one arm and leg draping to the floor.
    Tears well in her eyes, not only