Free Payload by RW Krpoun

Interstate. We need to get a vehicle, more firepower, food, medical supplies, better gear, clean clothes. Everything, really. Once we get wheels we’ll see how traffic is-we might want to switch to secondary roads. Doc, how’s the Net?”
    “Zero reception. Anybody got a phone with any bars?” No one did.
    “OK, pack your gear. JD, did you check this place for anything useful?”
    “Yeah. Only thing worth carrying is a little first aid kit.”
     
    The Gnomes headed west on the deeply rutted track, seven battered men moving under heavy packs, each alone with his thoughts under the bright Florida sun.
    Stepping along to the cadence in his head, Captain Jack hummed ‘The British Grenadiers’ under his breath. It felt good to be on the march, a pack on one’s back and a weapon in the crook of his arm. It was good to be back in uniform again, serving Her Majesty, a man of action once more, free of the dreaded POW cages. For an instant River Arm’s pastel walls and upbeat art flashed before his eyes, bringing with it a terrible sense of uncertainty, but he forced it down, his humming faltering to a stop. He was an officer of the Queen’s Royal Army and that was that. Yes, he had had a bad turn under interrogation, but such things happen-he hadn’t broken, nor had he told them anything of value.
    He was just getting on in years, he explained to himself. He was due a Major’s crowns and a desk job, and a spot of leave to rest up a bit. After this mission, he promised himself. There was only so much they could ask of any man.
    JD was walking alongside Marv. “Are you married?”
    “Used to be,” the big Ranger shrugged. “Widower, now.”
    “Tough to lose her-and at your age.”
    “Stuff happens. She was in training for a major rock-climbing expedition, you know, where they climb bare-handed. She fell.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “I am, too. We used to argue about it a lot. I thought it was a stupid hobby.” He barked a shaky laugh. “Guess I was right.”
    “That’s a hard thing to bear, Marv. How long ago?”
    “Five years. She used to point out that a guy who joined the Rangers couldn’t talk about pointless risks. Me, I enlisted for the GI Bill, took Infantry for the bonus, went Airborne for the extra pay. Ranger seemed like just the inevitable next step.”
    “So you’re career?”
    “Dunno. I re-upped, so they think I am. But after Deb, my wife, it just seems like too much effort to change anything. I live in the barracks, stay to myself, get along. Did four tours in Afghanistan.”
    “Good career choice for what we’re in now,” the promoter observed.
    “You serve?”
    “Yeah, Navy. Gunner’s mate, made E-5. It was OK, I saw the world, had a good time.”
    “It is good for that,” Marv nodded, scratching his buzz cut. “I need to get another hat. How did you meet your wife?”
    “Hometown girl, started dating her when I got out of the Navy. I wrestled in high school, then later in college, tried to go pro, but there’s way more money in promotions. Like so many other things, it’s the guys behind the scenes who make the real money. It was good for a while, most of it. The last couple years it started getting rough-I think forty hit her harder than most. And things cool off, you know? The kids are old enough to start edging out their parents with their own friends, interests, stuff like that, and that hurt her a bit, probably more than a bit, come to think on it. Who knows? Maybe all that’s bullshit, and I just saw what I wanted to see the whole time.”
    “Thing that bothers me,” Marv said thoughtfully. “Is something that came to me during my third tour. Deb had her whole life ahead of her. Me, I wouldn’t have done more than one enlistment, meaning one overseas tour, two at the worst, and out. More likely one. We could have had an entire life together, and instead she loses a handhold on a cliff practicing for a big climb. A hobby killed her. I’m thinking I didn’t really