Free The Pit (The Bugging Out Series Book 4) by Noah Mann

Enderson, and Hart followed him as we all regrouped with Schiavo and Acosta near the stacks of supplies.
    “That last burst of minigun fire was dead on,” Enderson said. “We just made sure he was down.”
    “I think he was already wounded when he fired at the chopper,” Lorenzen said. “There was a blood trail.”
    “He was alone?” Schiavo asked.
    Lorenzen nodded.
    “Where’s the radio?” Westin asked, eyeing what we’d salvaged.
    Schiavo’s gaze widened.
    “Get it,” she said, and Westin hurried back into the crashed chopper.
    “If it’s...” Lorenzen began, apparently not needing to complete the worry.
    “Yeah,” Schiavo said, nodding sharply, some self-directed anger working on her.
    A moment later Westin emerged from the Sea Stallion with his rifle slung and his hands empty. He shook his head.
    “Wonderful,” Schiavo said, turning away for a moment.
    “What is it?” Elaine asked.
    “Without the radio we’re deaf,” Lorenzen said. “If something’s happening where we’re heading, the garrison there might have reported it. But we’ll never hear that.”
    “We could head right into an ambush,” Enderson said.
    “We’re not really heading anywhere,” Neil said, gesturing to the Sea Stallion.
    Schiavo turned to face us right then, looking very purposely at me, and Neil, and Elaine.
    “Yes we are,” the lieutenant said.

Twelve
    T he Sandy would carry us north. All of us. That decision was not agreed upon. It was imposed.
    “I’m not saying we’d resist,” Neil told Schiavo. “I’m just saying you don’t have to use the terms you are.”
    Requisitioning. That was what Schiavo had said. That she and her men were ‘requisitioning’ the fishing boat we’d brought north from Bandon. There was no asking. In essence, they were taking it.
    “This isn’t a negotiation,” Schiavo said. “I have the authority to—”
    “Don’t,” I interrupted her. “Don’t.”
    “What?” she pressed me.
    “You’re going to take the boat, fine,” I said. “But please don’t claim authority over it, or us.”
    She stared at me for a moment, then that look turned to a glare.
    “I let you on the chopper,” she said, her tone verging on anger. “I was going to get you to your people. Was that some kind of authority you were opposed to? Because if it was, and if what I’m doing now is, I also have the authority to leave you right here on this rock with a three day supply of food and water. That authority has been given to me as well when I encounter civilians who may impede my mission. So, if you are dissatisfied with me requisitioning your transport and still allowing you to come along, let’s decide real fast who’s on the boat, and who’s making Mary Island their new home.”
    It was a calculated rant. And I suspected Schiavo regretted the tenacity with which she’d given it as soon as she’d finished.
    But I had sparked the response from her. And I wanted her to understand the why and where of what might have seemed like defiance on my part.
    “You don’t need to exert authority over us, Lieutenant Schiavo,” I said. “You didn’t come off that chopper and prone us out when you landed. You gave us consideration as civilians. As human beings. All I’m saying is you don’t need to revert to whatever position some bureaucrat with stars on their collar has given you. I’ve seen authority exerted since the blight, and it’s not pretty when all those on the receiving end of it want is that same kind of consideration we already know you’re capable of.”
    I didn’t know if my words would stoke the sudden fire that had ignited her response, but I doubted they would, and I was right. She breathed, slow and shallow, absorbing what I’d said to her, and, if anything, a measure of calm seemed to come to her.
    “Sergeant, have the men start getting these supplies onto the boat,” Schiavo said while looking directly at me.
    Lorenzen knew what she wanted. Shifting the cases of