Warlord: Dervish (17 page)

“Don’t you think you’re walking into a trap?” Deidre asked him.

“Probably.”

“And you’re still going to go?” She squinted at him in the sunlight.

“Yes.”

“You guys are crazy,” Jason pronounced.

“Hooah!” cried Snork.

“Look, they’ve got a point.” Letitia joined the conversation. “What the fuck are we going to do? Stand around until Hess’ people come looking for us or some rag heads show up?”

“No,” countered Deirdre, “But why don’t we head back the way we came?”

“You have any idea where we are?” There was no kindness in Letitia’s voice. “Cause I don’t, bitch.”

Jason looked at Fleegle. “So you’re going to see the mission through?”

“Something like that.”

“You saw those tanks. We’re somewhere in Afghanistan.”

“I saw what Hess or whoever controlled Hess wanted me to see.”

“What does that mean?”

“Did anyone touch those tanks?”

No, Jason realized, no one had. “You think they were…?”

“Holograms like Hess? Could be. I don’t want to go back and check. You can if you want.”

“Boss!” Drooper called from within Hess’ Stryker. “Come here and listen to this.”

Several of them gathered around the ramp of the eight wheeled vehicle. Drooper crouched in the rear compartment, working a SINCGARS portable radio.

Hahn returned to the vehicles and as she passed Deirdre she said something in her language, pointing over her shoulder. Deirdre walked to where the Israeli indicated to have a look.

“I don’t hear shit,” uttered Snork.

“Wait…” promised Drooper, but all that came over the radio was static.

And then there wasn’t static.

“…
why do you need a clock? You ain’t got nowhere to go and there ain’t nobody gonna care if you get there
…”

“What the…?” Bingo’s voice trailed off.

“Aguilera,” Deirdre asked in disbelief, “what are you doing?”

The Marine squatted down next to a heap of garbage that glowed red. In one gloved hand he gripped a pair of pliers. At the end of the pliers the largest spider Deirdre had ever seen struggled.

He answered matter-of-factly. “Burning a spider.”

“Burning a spider?”

“I’m burning a spider.” Aguilera pressed the arachnid into the embers. The thing made a noise and its eight legs flailed as it smoked.

“Can you raise anybody on this?” Jason asked Drooper.

“Nobody.”

“All nets are down?”

“They’re ignoring us,” declared Fleegle.

“…
eine unendlich ereignisreiche Zeit die uns
…” a tinny, disembodied voice floated from the transmitter “…
die wir sie nicht nur erleben, sondern zum Teil gestalten durften, manches Mal kaum überblickbar zu sein schein
…

“Who was that?” Letitia looked confused.

Hahn knew. She said one name.

“Hitler.” Jason echoed her.

“Hitler?” Snork looked impressed. “No fuck.”

“Where’s this coming from?”

Hahn spoke, looking up into the sky.

“Fuck me,” Letitia grumbled.

“That is what she just said,” Ahmed nodded towards Hahn.

The voice on the radio had given to static followed by a series of beeps and whistles.

“Garbage,” pronounced Bingo.

Fleegle disagreed. “It’s something.”

“It’s nothing to us.”

“We got a comms blackout,” Drooper confirmed.

“You think it’s the terrain?” Jason squinted into the sun hanging over the mountains.

“I think they’re jamming us.”

“Then how were they communicating with Hess?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Fleegle responded, “Major Hess wasn’t real. But in answer to your question, I’m sure they got their eyes in the sky.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Satellite. Drone.”

“I don’t see anything…” Letitia stared up into the air with her mouth open.

“You won’t.”

“Alright, Droop…” There was an air of finality in the way Fleegle said it. “Good job. Let’s roll.”

“You’re still going in?” Jason couldn’t believe the men were so rash.

“You coming?” Fleegle didn’t look over his shoulder as he stalked off towards his own Stryker.

“What are we going to do about the kid?” It was the way Snork said it that gave Jason pause.

“
Whoa
—hold up!” he cried out.

Fleegle stopped to hawk a gob of phlegm into the dirt. “What?”

“The kid…”

“What do you want to do? Leave him for his Haji buddies?”

“He’s got a point,” agreed Letitia.

“I’ll watch him. He’s my responsibility.”

“You’re not asking.” Fleegle gave Jason a very interested look. Something unspoken passed between them, Jason’s M4 in his hands, muzzle down, Snork’s hands empty except for his cigarette, his pistols on his hips, holstered butts out.

“No,” Jason replied. “I’m not.”

“You threatening us?” Snork hissed, the barrel of his M24 up on his shoulder.

“He’s not,” Bronson pulled back the bolt on the Humvee’s fifty, “but I am.”
Clack
.

Fleegle looked at Jason for a long moment, thinking, weighing options. “Okay. Kid’s yours. Snork, mount up. We’re going in.”

“Just like that, boss?” Snork lowered the rifle from his shoulder, the muzzle pointing at the dirt.

“Just like that.”

“I’ll see you again.” Snork glared at Bronson, tapping the scope atop his M24.

“You get no love.” Bronson swiveled the fifty on its mount, tracking the mercenaries as they prepared to board their Stryker.

“You don’t want to bring him?” Letitia called out to Fleegle. She meant Ahmed. The interpreter gave the woman a less than thankful look.

“Why would we want to bring him?” Bingo asked the prison guard.

“Uh
hello
? Because he’s a translator maybe.”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“None of them get it, Bingo,” affirmed Fleegle. “Come on.”

Jason looked like he was going to say something, but Deirdre whispered to him, “Let it go.”

“Hey, Fleegle,” Bronson called out as the merc leader started up the ramp into the truck. The other man looked back, rubbing his mustache. “
Fleegle
?”

“Your point?”

“That’s a whack ass name.”

“See you in town,
Bronson
.”

“Not if I see him first.” They all heard Snork’s threat as the ramp raised into position.

“Aguilera’s torturing spiders,” Deirdre divulged when the Stryker bearing the mercenaries drove off. Neither Jason nor Ahmed, who were closest to her, responded. The boy stood next to Ahmed, looking unsure.

“So what do we do?” Letitia looked expectantly at the others.

“Now you social, huh?” Bronson asked her.

Letitia gave him a dirty look.

“He had a point about just standing around out here,” Deirdre mentioned to Jason. Everyone seemed to be looking at Jason to make a decision. He wondered why. He didn’t feel very decisive. Maybe because he had stood up for Areya with the mercs. But he’d
had
to do that. God knew what Snork was planning for the kid. Jason wouldn’t have that on his conscience. No way. Not after the little girl.

“Okay, look…” He figured keeping quiet wasn’t going to help matters. “Let’s hump it to the top of that hill. See what we can see. See what’s going on in the city.”

“We drive up there, no?” asked Ahmed.

“No.”

“Want me to grab the SMAW?” Bronson asked hopefully.

“You feel like lugging around an extra thirty pounds?”

“Nah.”

“Wait a second,” Letitia called out, “where are you two going?”

Aguilera and Hahn had detached themselves from the group and climbed into a Humvee. Hahn called something out that no one but Ahmed understood. Aguilera waved as he drove off.

“And then there were five,” Deirdre noted, looking at each of them, concerned about their situation, “and a very dirty little boy.”

“Come on,” said Jason, “Let’s get going.”

“Why do we have to walk?” Letitia challenged him. “
They
didn’t.”

“You want to drive, go ahead.” Jason didn’t have the time or the inclination to argue with her. He wished she would have driven off with Aguilera. Hahn at least could fight—he’d seen that firsthand. What did he know about Letitia? That she could complain and terrorize prisoners.

“Better yet,” suggested Bronson, “whyn’t you wait down here, keep an eye on shit?”

“No,” the woman snapped quickly.

“Well then come on then.”

They circled the dump, doing their best to ignore the fetid stench wafting from the burning trash. They filed up the dusty path Aguilera, Hahn and the mercenaries before them had taken.

“You think the city is over this hill?” Deirdre caught up to Jason at the head of the column.

“You find shit,” Jason referred back to the garbage dump, “you find people.”

“It never ceases to amaze me, the potty mouths soldiers have.”

“I’ve got a foul mouth,” Jason admitted, eyeing the ridge in the distance. “But I meant what I said,
literally
. You find a garbage dump or cess pool, you know people are around.”

“Oh. Well then, I guess I’m just glad we didn’t find a cess pool.”

They walked for several minutes in silence. Letitia hung back in the rear, looking none too happy. Bronson, Ahmed and the boy were several meters behind Jason and Deirdre.

“It’s hot out here,” Deirdre drank from her canteen, replacing it on her web belt. “You’re a history teacher, aren’t you Jason?”

“
Was
.”

“What do you know about Diogenes the Cynic?”

“Not much.” He smiled, thinking of the shower. “Shined a light looking for an honest man. Something like that, right?”

“He said he was looking for a human being, but all he found were rascals and scoundrels.”

“I know what that’s like.”

“Is that what you think of Bronson and I?”

“No. But I look at myself in the mirror everyday.”

“I don’t know, Jason. You’re not that bad.”

“Yeah, well, thanks. But ask my ex-wife you ever get the chance.”

“The reason I asked you about Diogenes…He ate in the marketplace when it was against all custom to do so.”

“Uh-huh.” Jason focused on the road in front and ahead of them. Two vehicles had passed this way and drawn no fire. That didn’t mean someone wasn’t waiting in ambush for his little party of five to walk on through. Five, and a very dirty little boy, like Deirdre had said.

“…he would urinate on people who offended him.”

“No kidding.”

“He defecated in the theater and masturbated in public.”

“That so?” Jason squinted towards the ridgeline. It seemed a long way off. “Knew a guy like that in college.”

“He was studying a pile of bones when he met Alexander the Great. And he told Alexander, I’m looking for the bones of your father, but I can’t distinguish them from a slave’s.”

“Guy had a way of winning friends, huh?”

“Diogenes was considered antisocial. He thought civilization was regressive. He thought modern man should study the dog.”

“The dog?”

“His behavior was referred to as ‘doggish’ by his contemporaries. Cynic comes from the Greek
kynikos
, which means dog. He believed people lived artificially and hypocritically, but the dog, on the other hand, lives in the present, free from anxiety. Dogs know their friends from their enemies instinctively.”

“You got a brain on you.” Jason smiled at her. He wondered how old Deirdre was and figured she was older than Bronson and Letitia but younger than himself, maybe in her early thirties. He thought this would put her around the same age as Ahmed, but he honestly had no idea how old Ahmed was. “How do you know so much about old Greek guys?”

“Diogenes Incorporated has been a little, let’s say, pet project of mine for some time.”

“They’re bad news, aren’t they?”

“The worst. Corporations in general, Jason. They’re unaccountable to anyone but their share holders, and their bottom line?
Profit
. Always, in every way. They’re amoral.”

“Amoral, eh?”

“They’re top-down, undemocratic institutions. And your Supreme Court decided they’re individuals in the eyes of the law. You know the Vice President still sits on Diogennes’ board?”

“How’s that possible?”

“How’s any of this possible?”

“Good point.”

“Jason, a question.” Ahmed had come up behind them with the boy and Bronson.