Divided We Fall by W.J. Lundy

CNRT was back on mission, and the alliances knew it. Some were
once again cooperating with the CNRT, while others—like the Midwest
Alliance—were hunting their own vaccine.
    The general knew
that finding and controlling a vaccine would be the last chance at pulling the
nation back together; control of the cure would unify the alliances back under
the CNRT.
    The plane bucked
hard and rattled. Cloud heard the wheels dropping and the whine of the gear
lowering into position. He looked ahead and could see the airman calmly sitting
in a rear-facing seat, waiting patiently. The plane bumped hard against the
road, and then he heard the wheels squawk as the pilot applied the brakes and
the engines were reversed. Cloud felt his body move forward with the
deceleration of the plane. The aircraft came to an abrupt halt and then spun
around.
    The airman jumped
to his feet and ran to the back. Light filled the fuselage as the ramp dropped.
Cloud unbuckled his lap belt and got to his feet. He moved to the rear of the
plane just as the last of the men in black filed down the ramp. Cloud walked to
the last row of modular seats and stood waiting with his hands on his hips. The
ramp was down and obscured in bright dust; he couldn’t see beyond the bottom of
the platform.
      “Sir, we have a
problem,” the airman called out. “Could you please join us on the ramp?”
    “With the
aircraft?” Cloud asked.
    “No, sir; the
count… Please, sir, I think it would be easier if you came down here.”
    Cloud grunted; his
right hand reached up to check the Glock in his shoulder holster as he said to
himself, What now?
    He moved through
the open cargo space and to the top of the ramp. Standing next to the airman, wearing
multi-cam trousers and a brown cotton shirt, a bulky, bearded man materialized.
Beyond the pair, he could see the recovery team formed up and surrounding a ragtag
band of civilians and soldiers alike, all standing in a cluster clutching
children and bundles of belongings. Soldiers were in a guard position, watching
the road. Cloud took them out of his view and marched directly to the airman
and the bulky man.
    The bulky man’s
rifle slung behind his back with the barrel pointed down just visible near his
hip. No rank on his uniform, the man’s posture identified him as a senior
non-commissioned officer. When the pair saw Cloud, they moved in his direction;
approaching swiftly, they met him near the bottom of the ramp. Although the
dust still swirled from the aircraft’s engines, the bulky man attempted to
force his way ahead. Cloud stepped forward and began to point a flat hand at
the stranger when the airman positioned himself between them.
    Cloud ignored the
airman and looked over his shoulder at the newcomer. “Sergeant Turner?”
    The man shifted to
the right to make himself seen. “Yes, sir. We’re all here; what’s the hold up?”
    Cloud looked at him
sternly. “Sergeant, how many are in your party?”
    Turner hesitated,
then looked up and locked eyes with Cloud. “One hundred and twenty-six—including
women and children, sir.”
    “Do you think this
is a game? I told you twenty-five!” Cloud shouted.
    Turner took half a
step up the ramp; his eyes swept the rows of empty seats, he turned and looked
into the expansive empty cargo bay, and then he looked back at Cloud. “Sir, I
can’t leave anyone behind. If we take our guns out of the fight, these
civilians are good as dead. Even with us here, I don’t think anyone will
survive the winter.”
    “That’s not our
problem, Sergeant. I’m ordering you to get your men on this plane.”
    Turner shook his
head. “Not going to happen, sir; you can court martial me,” he put his wrists
together, reaching to Cloud. “Do what you want, but we won’t leave these people
behind.”
    Cloud turned and
walked back into the body of the aircraft, fully prepared to kick Turner off the
plane and order the pilot to take off. His thoughts flashed to his wife