Free Dark New World (Book 2): EMP Exodus by J.J. Holden, Henry Gene Foster Page B

long. So, the woman must have been bitten. Good, it served the bitch right. That was God bringing a Holy Can of Whup Ass unto them. If the woman died from the bite, the enemy would be weakened, which was good. And if she lived, they’d have to travel slower for at least a couple days, even if she only got bit by a copperhead. There were only three venomous snakes in the region, and since she still seemed coherent and able to move by herself it was probably not a rattlesnake bite. Either way, this would make it easy for him to follow them, even if he lost sight of them. Hell, he might even have enough time to forage for some berries or maybe a rabbit. He’d been carrying a stupid rabbit stick all day without seeing one damn bunny.
    Yes, this was just proof that God meant for Peter to triumph, to start a new world with the good people of the Farms. He would be a generous leader to his people. Peter smiled as he thought about the terror he’d see on the face of that fat bastard who had tried to confine him to his quarters. If the pig begged enough, maybe Peter would even be merciful. Mercy was a good trait in a leader, he reminded himself, so long as it was used only sparingly.

- 10 -

    2100 HOURS - ZERO DAY +7

    CAPTAIN TAGGART TRUDGED wearily into the safe house Mr. Black had provided. Eagan was there already but sat next to his rifle and pack. Still sweaty, he must have just arrived. Clever one, that Eagan. Taggart decided to revise his view of the soldier. Maybe he would be useful for more than carrying a rifle.
    “Eagan. Glad you made it, son. Any of our civvy friends get back alive?” Taggart cocked his head to one side to show interest, even though in his exhaustion no enthusiasm could be heard in his voice. He leaned against a wall and slid down it, taking a seat to rest.
    “One. The Militia guy who was with the other civvy made it. He said the rest were killed, but that he didn’t think anyone was taken alive. Surprising, from green civs.”
    “Aff. They did better than I’d thought, but Black said they were fighting to feed their families. I imagine the deal holds if they die for the cause, but not if they get captured.”
    Eagan shrugged, then lay his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
    Taggart did the same. He thought about debriefing Eagan about how he got through the desperate people who had turned the simple ambush into a total clusterfuck but decided against it. Time enough for that later. Right now they needed rest and a catnap.
    The door slammed open, and Taggart heard a flurry of curses directed at no one in particular. He let out a deep sigh and fought to open his eyes. He even managed to open one of them. Through his one open, bleary eye he saw Mr. Black storming back and forth in the room, pacing. “All present and accounted for, Black. Only fifty percent casualty rate. Of course, that’s also the fatality rate.”
    “Not really, yo. Militia Boy came in with his arm shot up. He won’t be able to fight for weeks, yo. Great job, fuckers. You screwed up a simple hit. What the fuck, soulja boy? I thought you was all tough and gung-ho, ’n shit.”
    “The mission was going A1 until a bunch of starving civilian shits got in our way. Nice job with the intel, by the way. It would have been nice if your 20s buddies told you about that. Or maybe they knew about it and didn’t say. Do you know them? No.” Taggart’s jaw clenched tightly. “But they did manage to get three of your so-called troops eliminated, so you know, at least they have that going for ‘em.”
    Eagan started to snicker, but a withering look from Taggart shut him up. Mr. Black didn’t seem to notice, and still paced; he was now clenching and unclenching his fists. Bad sign. Time to change the subject.
    “Black, how did the other missions go tonight? What’s the operational situation, now?”
    That seemed to do the trick. Black stopped pacing. He put his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose, eyes closed,