Free In Harm's Way by Shawn Chesser Page B

allowed for quick takedown. And in a pinch, the rifle could be used for CQB (close quarters battle).
    “Wyatt... I made you. Therefore I know you. There are two Remington rifles coming along for the ride.” The usually stone-faced Desantos smiled, his white teeth making a rare appearance. Cade thought he looked like a movie star waiting for the director to yell action. All he needed was a cigar and he could have been easily mistaken for Hannibal from the A-Team television show.
    “With all due respect, Cowboy, Beeson introduced me to the art of sniping. You introduced me to the teams... for which I will be forever grateful.” Cade looked over his shoulders to make sure they were alone. “I’ve been meaning to say something to you. I cannot thank you enough for what you did for Brook, Raven and my brother-in-law. If you hadn’t intervened, I have a feeling they wouldn’t have made it here from Bragg.”
    “Don’t sell the girls short. Annie told me Brook was her rock throughout the entire ordeal.” He paused for a moment and broke eye contact with Cade. “ Good women picked us, young man,” Desantos said, looking to the distant horizon. “ Good women .”
    ***
    Desantos drove the four-person golf cart the same way he attacked life: fast and furious. Cade gripped the chicken bar with one hand and the black SCAR with the other. Sergeant First Class “Low-Rider” Lopez and Sergeant Darwin Maddox took up the seats in back. Desantos cut the corner like Al Unser at the Indy 500. Tires squawked as the cart listed on two wheels, forcing the operators to brace themselves to keep from tumbling out onto the tarmac. The General let loose with a loud, out of character rebel yell.
    A bevy of flat black helos came into view from behind the southeastern hangars. Cade hadn’t been to this part of the base since he first arrived in Springs with Duncan, Daymon and the young stutter-prone soldier from Camp Williams. On approach he expected, hoped is a better word, to see a bustling triage center full of incoming survivors. However, that wasn’t the case here. He noticed there had been a new addition. Next to the induction center a larger tent was erected inside the jumbo hangar. The nylon roof and walls ruffled gently; there was a natural rhythm to the movement, almost like the structure was alive.
    “General, what’s in the big tent? Cade asked.
    The cart chirped to a halt. Lopez and Maddox hopped out and began offloading their gear.
    “That’s a state of the art laboratory for the good doctors from the CDC. He and his lady colleague have the best equipment the U.S. Army could pilfer for them. Word is they are working on an aggressive antidote that when taken would boost a person’s immune system against Omega as well as an antiserum to be used immediately following infection. This is need to know, the Alpha patient is in that tent,” Desantos said in a hushed tone. “That thing was a mess, Doctor Fuentes was experimenting on him when we came knocking. The worst part: we had to bring the thing back kicking and moaning.”
    Lopez, who had been eavesdropping, interrupted. “Easy for you to say General. You didn’t carry that demonio up fourteen flights of stairs.”
    “Still sore Lopez?” Desantos joked.
    “No, but I had to burn my stinking uniform afterward,” Lopez shot back.
    “Someone call Batman... he’s missing some toys,” Cade said to the rest of the team. He had just noticed the two sleek Gen-3 helicopters sitting on the flight line in the shadows of the hulking, dual rotor, CH-47D Chinooks. Cade had ridden in one of its predecessors, known as Stealth Hawks, but never in a Ghost Hawk also affectionately called “Jedi Rides” by the Night Stalkers that piloted them. It was the ultimate, super secret, stealth helo that the 160th SOAR would never comment on, let alone admit existed. And here they were, waiting to take him into battle. Oh well, no one to keep them secret from now , Cade thought.
    The