REAPERS - Book Two: The Hunger and the Sickness

10

Camouflaged tents huddled on a high ridge against the painted beyond. The sky an ocean of bruises. The camp's view afforded sweeping vistas of the green lands to the west where humans called home and the gray lands to the east where the sandmen dwelt. After the battle of Fort Nothing, the brass had decided that it would be wiser to keep the Reaper base mobile rather than in a stationary locale and so the garrison was dismantled and its lumber used to build war machinery. From Fort Nothing's death, Camp Nothing was born. A headquarters that could nimbly relocate wherever needed most. The Nation's army and militias had to contend with the activity closer to home but the Reapers' missions took them deeper into enemy territory, far from the bloody fronts. And now Team 3 had returned with fearsome news indeed. The sandmen were not building roads. They were etching runes of abominable scale for who knew what diabolical purpose.

"Thunderous work, men," said Commander Barda. The bulldog instructor had replaced Rooster as regional special-operations commander in the reorganization following the events of Fort Nothing. He had the members of Team 3—Nail and Jasha and Blacwin and Riddle and Thirteen and Vulture—gathered in his tent, the camp's largest. "We'll send the plans you secured to the Triad for analysis. Hopefully they can make heads or tails. But we can't afford to wait for them to puzzle through this mess." Barda turned to Lieutenant Gossom, his second in command. "Team 9's still the furthest out in the Wastes. They'd be right in the thick of that witch's web, I'm guessing. Tell Castle and his boys to start scouting and crippling this 'doomsday rune' immediately. Send a body. It may be slower but I don't trust this one to a bird. And maybe our messenger can find out why they've been so quiet of late."

Gossom nodded and twice put his fist to his chest. He left to fulfill his orders and find a man to dispatch into that fierce wilderness to contact Team 9.

Barda looked Team 3 over. Disturbing how quickly a roster could shift. But this new makeup was already proving strong and capable despite the recent loss of key members. "This'll go a long way, boys. I don't need to tell you that things are sensitive when it comes to the Reaper program of late. 'Three's had its share of mishaps—through no fault of your own—and we've had debacles with our other teams as well. Tarnishings. Not everyone can appreciate that black operations are often ugly affairs. Rooster's in Camshire fighting the battle to clear our names and let us keep on doing what we do best. This victory will only make his job that much easier. Now go unwind, get some shuteye. I'll fill you bloods in on what's next at the cock's call tomorrow. Nail, stay a minute."

The Reapers filed out of Barda's tent. All but Nail. Barda poured them each a small measure of wolf wine once they were alone.

"How're the eyes, long-timer?" Barda asked, handing Nail his cup.

"Worse by the day," said Nail. He drank and it was good.

"Shame," said Barda. "I reckon what's behind them is sharp as ever, though."

"Negative," said Nail. "It's all goin' to shit. Brain and body. I'm gettin' old, brother. My bones ache. I'm tired. Won't be fit for this kind of duty much longer. Everythin's changed. Don't even recognize half my teammates anymore. Barely recognize myself. After this one, I'm out. Got no more fight." Another sip and a sigh. "Time to put me out to pasture."

Barda snorted. "You think the Nation'll just let you hang up your crossbow and walk off into the sunset now? Don't work like that anymore, soldier. We're at war. Every swingin' snake, you understand. And retire to do what, anyway? Become a farmer, work the fields? Trade in a war against sandmen and ferals for one against gophers and weeds? That don't happen anymore either, deadeye. The Nation's claiming all the farmland. Every crop and animal is to be put toward the effort. They took my own brother's land and forced him to keep workin' it for scraps. But I tell him to shut his whinin'. These are times of war, and that calls for extreme measures." Barda poured another splash into Nail's cup. "I know what it's like when your body begins to fail you, trust me. That curse is why I'm not in the field anymore, myself. But there's a life after active Reaperdom within the army. Look at Rooster, look at me. We each found new roles to play. You can be of service to your people and country till the day you die. I don't know about you, but that fills me with nothing but pride."