Biting the Bullet by Jennifer Rardin Page A

agreed. Amazon Grace and Jet exchanged amazed glances. Cam mouthed the words “Is he flirting — with a girl?” to Natch, who replied with a stupefied nod. The rest of the unit seemed equally stunned, except for Adela, who was new enough not to realize how monklike Dave’s existence had been since his loss. She kept her attention on Vayl, and though she made no outward sign I sensed, of everyone in the room, she was the unhappiest with his presence there.
    The sound of a distant engine broke the silence.
    Dave dropped his hand. The smile he gave Cassandra was the first I’d seen since before Jessie died. “I’m glad Jaz has someone like you on her team.” While I totally agreed, an aggravated Puerto Rican chica stomped to the front of my brain and screeched,
    “Someone like who , you testosterone-crazed hunk of beef? You ain’t known Cassandra more than ten seconds!” I was just wondering how much more complicated this whole mess could get when Dave turned to his team. “Okay, let’s pack it up,” he said calmly. “Our ride’s nearly here.”
    Within two minutes we were all ready to board the truck, which was just now slowing to a stop in front of the farmhouse.
    “Stay inside until Mehdi opens the back doors,” Dave had ordered, so we waited and watched while the driver parked his rig, hopped down, and walked around to the back of the truck. He carried a flashlight, which trembled as he trained it first on the road, then on the back of the truck. He never flashed it at the farmhouse. Maybe he’d been told not to. After some fumbling, he threw open the doors.
    “All right,” Dave whispered into the small headset he and his team all wore for communications. “Let’s go.” It wasn’t far from the farmhouse to the road. Maybe thirty yards. Of dirt. Yeah, I know. It sucked. No trees to hide behind. No little outbuildings. No cover whatsoever. But it worked in our favor too: We’d see anyone coming well before the bullets could hit us.
    Dave had set Terrence and Ashley at the windows to guard our move. Terrence operated their SAW, a lovely light machine gun currently set on a tripod for maximum stability. Ashley, not willing to entrust this duty to his new Manx, held his M4 ready.
    Dave led us out with Cassandra by his side. I hadn’t been sure about mixing my people with his so soon, but I could trust this pairing. So too, the next one.
    Natchez, who’d told Bergman his real name was so embarrassing he’d legally changed it to his birthplace, hadn’t stopped asking him questions about his inventions since he’d broken out the guns. They’d discovered a mutual interest in weapons engineering that I figured would at least carry them through Iraq before Bergman said or did something that made Natch want to rip his face off.
    Jet came next, followed by Adela. Moments later Ricardo left the farmhouse. Grace hung back, probably to keep an eye on me.
    Cam lingered as well. I got the feeling he wanted to make sure she behaved. And Boom decided he too could bring up the rear with Vayl, Cole and me.
    With the exception of our doubled teams, everybody walked out on his or her own, advanced a few feet, stopped, crouched.
    Stared into the darkness. Strained to see beyond the blackness and got ready to shoot. The idea was for the guy behind to move forward, tapping the frontrunner on the shoulder as he passed. In this way we meant to leapfrog to the semi.
    The first two groups had reached the truck and Mehdi had helped them inside when the reavers attacked.
    They were better organized than the last bunch, coming at us almost in formation from the north side of the road. The distant whinny of horses told us how they’d arrived so quick upon the heels of the last group. They were also better armed than their predecessors. When I heard pistol fire followed by an agonized scream my heart stopped for an anguished moment as I tried to place the voice. “Doc!” somebody yelled from midpack, and then all hell broke