Free In His Command by Rie Warren Page A

upon rows of razor wire, hundreds more milled around the hot zone. We were recognized by the mixed bag of mobbers, one shout becoming a loud chorus from an army of angry residents bearing down on us. Marauders swarmed the Land Cruiser, rocking it from side to side.
    “It’s the commander!”
    “And that CEO boy. Rice! Rice!”
    I eased my foot on the gas, maneuvering through the melee until the back window was smashed out, showering glass inside. It snipped my face, neck, and hands as I went for my rifle. Taking out my window, I used the M4 to butt the face directly beside me, then the next and the next.
    Blondie was hanging half outside his window, firing into the air.
    A young mother ran through the path I’d cleared beside the vehicle, tears tracking down her dirty face, the baby in her arms squalling.
    She pushed the bundle toward me, screaming, “Take him. Take my Wyatt!”
    “Ma’am.” I laid the rifle aside, holding up empty hands. “I can’t do that.”
    “We’ll die in here. Take my boy!”
    “It’s not safe out there either.”
    Blondie dropped inside to urge, “Drive, Cannon,” his face hard, voice emotionless.
    Sending the Cruiser forward, I checked the mirror, then wished I hadn’t. Clutching the baby, the woman stumbled to her knees behind us, care of a soldier’s fist to her face.
    “Fuck this,” I growled, ready to go back for her.
    Just then, the tide of renegades turned. All the terror, all the vindictiveness the renegades had unleashed on us was directed on the slap-happy soldier.
    I hit the gas hard, slamming us forward. Troops formed a human barrier between us and any other would-be evacuees while the thick fortress of Alpha Territory peeled back like the lid of a can, opening to the Wilderness.
    In the rearview, I saw the razed city and watched mortars light the sky. White knuckling the steering wheel, I gunned over the iron grid and kept going.
    No more looking back.
    At times like this, I was usually flying solo or with Liz. We didn’t so much talk it out as trudge through it. I didn’t know what to make of Blondie, but I knew one thing. “That’s wrong, man. What they’re doing, what we’re part of, it’s not right.”
    Beside me, he shielded his eyes. “I know.”
    His elbow was on the armrest, his hand laid almost on top of mine as I handled the gearshift. A pothole in the dirt road jostled him sideways, against my arm. I wanted to pull him closer. He righted himself to the opposite side of his seat, forming the division I should have. He’d felt good during that brief contact. It would’ve been natural to stretch my arm across his shoulders.
    No matter how much I wanted the fleeting feeling of belonging with someone, especially after what had just gone down, I didn’t move a single muscle toward him.
    Eventually, after watching me for an hour’s worth of dusty miles, he sent me a slight smile. “So, that it? You gonna be the strong silent type the rest of the way?”
    It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make me take my eyes off the track to tease, “Well, I’m not sucking your cock again, if that’s what you’re after.”
    The sudden quirk of his lips said, We’ll just see about that. And then his smile grew when he joked, “Jesus, Caspar. I’m not askin’ you to top me, just to talk.”
    *  *  *
    The hot sun had fallen behind the trees by the time we called it a day, settling into a hollow of soft moss with tufts of green grass, surrounded by a ring of old-growth pines. A clear stream gurgled like the water pipes of my single shower, and beside it a mound of purple-blue wildflowers nodded their starry heads. They were the same shade of blue as Blondie’s eyes. I bent to one knee, lifting a blossom to my nose. Fresh, fragrant. I shut my eyes to savor the clean scent.
    When I opened them, he was staring at me. My cheeks warmed, and for once I wished I’d grown a beard to hide the pink stain on my face.
    “You just gonna stand there, Company Man? Or