swaying shrub, using the crashed pod for cover.
The brush moved back and forth quickly, with increasing urgency. Whatever or whoever was behind it, they were coming in a hurry. Judging by the ferocity of the advance, it was more than one man. Possibly several.
“I’ve got a shot.” Chip said, his eagerness evident even through the radio.
“Hold.” Tyco answered, ducking low as the rustling approached. He brought the rifle to bear, watching the shaking grass intently.
Something flashed in the sun, catching Tyco’s eye as it scythed through the brush, slicing the yellowed stalks jaggedly in half. Tyco sighed in recognition, released the trigger, and stood slowly. A thin, knowing smile broke across his face.
“Cap - ?” Chip asked on the comm., worried and questioning.
“Relax Chip.” Tyco sighed into the receiver. “It’s just Ringo.”
Right on cue, Ringo emerged into the bright sunlight, still slashing ferociously at the grass in front of him, and stepped out onto the road. “Ghost, too.” He said, and nodded at the silent man behind him. “We met up on the way.” He placed his blade back into its sheath and nodded at the body behind Tyco. “Who’s that?” He asked, more curious than concerned.
“Adamson.” Tyco said, turning away to look up and down the road. It was too much to hope that Chip’s shots had gone unnoticed, but so far there was no sign of the locals.
“Poor fucker.” Ringo said, and headed for the corpse. “What ammo he bring?”
Tyco shook his head. He counted himself as a hardened veteran, but he still found Ringo’s unquestioning selfishness disconcerting. “Didn’t check.” He turned and nodded at Ghost, who was mopping his sweating brow in the dry heat. “Glad to see you.”
“More than you know.” Ghost answered, quietly, glancing towards Ringo. “Is he always like that?”
Tyco chuckled. “You never had the pleasure before?”
Ghost shook his head, still staring at Ringo incredulously.
“Don’t worry.” Tyco said, smiling thinly. “He gets worse.”
“We still on radio silence?” Ringo knelt and rifled through Adamson’s pockets with the calm efficiency of a battlefield looter.
Tyco shrugged. “In theory.”
Ringo rolled his eyes and punched his comm. “Who’s out there? Hog?”
No answer came. Not even a click of acknowledgment. Ringo glanced at Tyco, confused. “Who were you talking to, Cap - ?”
“Let’s play a game….” Chip’s voice was only made more creepy by the static breaking over the comm.
Ringo jumped out of his skin.
“Chip.” Tyco grinned, by way of explanation.
“Creepy motherfucker…”Ringo said, shaking his head.
Tyco grinned even wider. “Your comm’s live.”
“Thaaaanks Sweetheart.” Chip groaned over the radio. His tone, now warm and friendly, was even more disconcerting than before.
Ringo shuddered as he rose, efficiently pocketing the ammunition he’d taken from Adamson’s body and strapping his grenade belt around his chest. He put one hand to his comm, trying to come up with a response. He gave up and shook his head instead.
“Poke didn’t make it either.” Ghost said quietly, nodding towards Adamson as if mentally linking their fates.
“I saw.” Tyco nodded.
Ringo shrugged easily, adjusting the machete strap around his waist to make room for the grenades. “Name like ‘Poke’, what’d you expect?”
Tyco shook his head and tapped in again. “Chip, you coming down or covering us from up there?”
Static sounded briefly, followed closely by a clipped – “I’m good from here, Cap.”
“Thank God.” Ringo sighed.
“Comm.” Tyco tried to hide his grin.
Ringo stared down at his unit, tapping in and out quickly desperately checking to make sure he was clear. He stopped short and stared from Tyco to Ghost, reading the amusement on their faces as he slowly got the joke.
“Fuck you.” He said, angrily at first, but the
The brush moved back and forth quickly, with increasing urgency. Whatever or whoever was behind it, they were coming in a hurry. Judging by the ferocity of the advance, it was more than one man. Possibly several.
“I’ve got a shot.” Chip said, his eagerness evident even through the radio.
“Hold.” Tyco answered, ducking low as the rustling approached. He brought the rifle to bear, watching the shaking grass intently.
Something flashed in the sun, catching Tyco’s eye as it scythed through the brush, slicing the yellowed stalks jaggedly in half. Tyco sighed in recognition, released the trigger, and stood slowly. A thin, knowing smile broke across his face.
“Cap - ?” Chip asked on the comm., worried and questioning.
“Relax Chip.” Tyco sighed into the receiver. “It’s just Ringo.”
Right on cue, Ringo emerged into the bright sunlight, still slashing ferociously at the grass in front of him, and stepped out onto the road. “Ghost, too.” He said, and nodded at the silent man behind him. “We met up on the way.” He placed his blade back into its sheath and nodded at the body behind Tyco. “Who’s that?” He asked, more curious than concerned.
“Adamson.” Tyco said, turning away to look up and down the road. It was too much to hope that Chip’s shots had gone unnoticed, but so far there was no sign of the locals.
“Poor fucker.” Ringo said, and headed for the corpse. “What ammo he bring?”
Tyco shook his head. He counted himself as a hardened veteran, but he still found Ringo’s unquestioning selfishness disconcerting. “Didn’t check.” He turned and nodded at Ghost, who was mopping his sweating brow in the dry heat. “Glad to see you.”
“More than you know.” Ghost answered, quietly, glancing towards Ringo. “Is he always like that?”
Tyco chuckled. “You never had the pleasure before?”
Ghost shook his head, still staring at Ringo incredulously.
“Don’t worry.” Tyco said, smiling thinly. “He gets worse.”
“We still on radio silence?” Ringo knelt and rifled through Adamson’s pockets with the calm efficiency of a battlefield looter.
Tyco shrugged. “In theory.”
Ringo rolled his eyes and punched his comm. “Who’s out there? Hog?”
No answer came. Not even a click of acknowledgment. Ringo glanced at Tyco, confused. “Who were you talking to, Cap - ?”
“Let’s play a game….” Chip’s voice was only made more creepy by the static breaking over the comm.
Ringo jumped out of his skin.
“Chip.” Tyco grinned, by way of explanation.
“Creepy motherfucker…”Ringo said, shaking his head.
Tyco grinned even wider. “Your comm’s live.”
“Thaaaanks Sweetheart.” Chip groaned over the radio. His tone, now warm and friendly, was even more disconcerting than before.
Ringo shuddered as he rose, efficiently pocketing the ammunition he’d taken from Adamson’s body and strapping his grenade belt around his chest. He put one hand to his comm, trying to come up with a response. He gave up and shook his head instead.
“Poke didn’t make it either.” Ghost said quietly, nodding towards Adamson as if mentally linking their fates.
“I saw.” Tyco nodded.
Ringo shrugged easily, adjusting the machete strap around his waist to make room for the grenades. “Name like ‘Poke’, what’d you expect?”
Tyco shook his head and tapped in again. “Chip, you coming down or covering us from up there?”
Static sounded briefly, followed closely by a clipped – “I’m good from here, Cap.”
“Thank God.” Ringo sighed.
“Comm.” Tyco tried to hide his grin.
Ringo stared down at his unit, tapping in and out quickly desperately checking to make sure he was clear. He stopped short and stared from Tyco to Ghost, reading the amusement on their faces as he slowly got the joke.
“Fuck you.” He said, angrily at first, but the
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