Demon by Erik Williams Page A

problem, sir.”
    â€œJesus, what now, Gunny?”
    â€œThe convoy on the road to Basra, sir.”
    â€œThe one that was raided earlier this morning. What about it?”
    Mike remembered passing it on the way to R91 and seeing the bodies. Covered and aligned perfectly.
    â€œIt wasn’t raided, sir.”
    Greengrass was silent for a few seconds. Mike stared at the gunnery sergeant, hoping he wouldn’t say what he thought he was going to say. Lowe’s jaw twitched. Shit, he was going to say it.
    â€œWhat was it, Gunny?”
    â€œThey killed each other, sir. Just like here.”
    Greengrass walked over to a table and placed both hands on its surface, fingers spread wide, and leaned heavily on them.
    â€œWhy are we just now hearing about this?”
    â€œThe investigating unit thought they were attacked based on the amount of rounds expended by the contractors. But they haven’t been able to find any shell casings other than what the contractors shot. Bullets removed from some of the victims confirm they were shooting at their own people. There were a few, too, who beat each other to death.”
    â€œAnd a suicide?” Mike said.
    â€œAffirmative. One shot through the mouth and out the back.”
    Mike closed his eyes. It had spread. One big major fucking problem.
    â€œFarther up the Basra highway, north of the contractor massacre, a couple of dead Bedouin and camels were found on the side of the highway,” Gunny said. “One cut the other to pieces before doing himself.”
    Greengrass moaned.
    â€œIt gets better, sir. At the contractor massacre, another Bedouin killed his camel before slicing his own throat.”
    â€œWell, we know it’s not a vapor cloud spreading it, or we’d all be fucking dead.” Greengrass pushed off from the table and turned back around. “It’s this Prince guy. Can’t be anyone else. He was here and hauled ass when the shit hit the fan. Where he goes, they all die.”
    Mike nodded. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
    He walked around to the table and saw a map of southeastern Iraq. Mike located site R91. Then he estimated where on the Basra highway he’d driven past the decimated convoy. The first two Bedouin had been found north of it. The next Bedouin found nearby. But nothing else beyond that. The drive from Basra had been peaceful, albeit hot, until he’d reached the highway massacre site.
    â€œMajor,” Mike said, “take a look at this.”
    Greengrass and Gunny moved to either side of Mike and looked down at the map.
    Mike pointed at R91. “We’re here.” He moved his finger to outside An Nasiriyah. “The Bedouin were found somewhere around here.” Then he traced his finger a little more down the Basra highway. “I passed the convoy around here on my way in.” Then Mike slid his finger down to Basra. “If I had to take a guess, I think Henry Prince is on his way here. There’s not much in between but if he gets to Basra . . .”
    â€œThere should have been more outbreaks,” Greengrass said. “There’s traffic all over that road by midmorning, including you. Plus, he’d have been to Basra by now. We should be hearing something if he made it there.”
    Mike shrugged. “True. Maybe he took a different route. But so far, we’re hearing everything on a delay. What people think is a normal day in Iraq with a few insurgent strikes and some random violence is showing a pattern. Do you want to assume he isn’t going to Basra?”
    â€œJesus,” Greengrass said. “What’s Basra’s population?”
    â€œOver two million now.” Mike took his finger off the map. “Now imagine what happened here on that scale.”
    Greengrass turned to Gunny. “Spread the word to Camp Bucca and Basra what we’re dealing with. They need to secure all routes into Basra. Give them