Free Surviving the Dead 03: Warrior Within by James N. Cook Page B

him. “Jesus, five deployments?”
    He nodded, his mouth set in a firm line.
    “No wonder you’re such a grumpy bastard. If I had to go that long without getting laid, that many times, I’d probably be an asshole, too.”
    He didn’t quite manage to keep the grin off his face when he punched me in the arm. Hard.
    “Hey, not in front of the kids,” I said, pointing a thumb at the recruits behind us. “Nobody wants to see mom and dad fighting.”
    Gabe was still grinning when he opened his mouth to say something, but a low chattering sound in the distance brought him up short.
    “The hell was that?” I asked.
    Gabe had gone still, staring toward the chopper. “That’s a fucking fifty-cal.”
    Just as he said it, the Chinook began to lose altitude and for a brief, heart-pounding moment, I thought it was going to crash into the forest and I would have to stand there watching, helpless to do anything about it. At the last second, the cargo net detached and dropped down into the trees, freeing up engine power for the massive helicopter to gain altitude and take evasive action.
    “Grabovsky!” Gabe turned and yelled. “The chopper’s under attack!”
    The other soldier was already moving and barking out orders. “Squad leaders, round up your squads. Do it now! Sanchez, Flannigan, Vincenzo, get to the armory and start issuing weapons. Marone, Helms, Jeffreys, we need trauma kits and stretchers. Robinson, you’re my runner. Get your skinny ass into town, find Doc Laroux, and tell her to get ready for wounded. MOVE IT!”
    I yelled out that Allison was at home. Robinson took off as fast as his long legs could carry him. The other recruits erupted into a flurry of action. I slipped my rifle around to the front and gripped it, watching the Chinook climb higher and turn back in our direction.
    “What now?” I asked, looking to Gabe.
    He was still watching the chopper, fists clenched at his sides. “We need to secure that cargo before the Legion gets it. Tell Grabovsky to get these recruits ready to move out platoon strength, then grab two people and meet me at the west trail.”
    With that, he turned on his heel and sprinted for the instructor’s barracks. I assumed he was going for his weapons, pried my hands loose from my rifle, slid it around to my back, and ran toward the armory.
    “Grabovsky,” I called out on the way. “We’re gonna go find those supplies. Gabe wants you to get the recruits ready to move out and meet us out there.”
    He gave me a thumbs-up. “Will do. Watch your ass out there, Riordan, the place is probably crawling with Legion. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He turned and began shouting orders at the recruits with renewed vigor, speeding them along with his cane.
    When I reached the armory, I grabbed the two closest recruits and shoved them at the door. “You two hand out rifles. Sanchez, Flannigan, you’re with me, let’s go.”
    They both grabbed a carbine, a bandolier of ammo, and followed me as I ran toward the western edge of the field. Gabe caught up with us on the way. He had two long, green cylinders slung over his back, and he was carrying his big SCAR 17 battle rifle.
    “Are those rockets?” I asked, pointing over his shoulder.
    “Yep. I don’t know where they got that fifty, but I want to make sure we have the firepower to take it out. Grabovsky can fucking bill me.”
    Flannigan spoke up from behind me, “Hey, you wanna tell us where we’re going?”
    “Hold up, Eric,” Gabe said, slowing to a halt. I stopped.
    “Listen, playtime is over.” He turned to face the two recruits. “This is the real deal. That cargo you saw drop? That’s shit we need, and we can’t let the Legion get their hands on it. We have no idea how many of them there are, and the fuckers have a fifty-caliber machine gun. We have to get there, take out that fifty, set up a perimeter, and hold out until backup arrives. You two come with us, you might not come home. If you want to back out