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"In other words, if the enemy doesn't kill you, we will," Randolph added. "Hate that it's come to that, but there you are. Six-bullet sentencing."
"How does that look stitched on a brigade flag?" Valentine asked.
Randolph let out a harrumphing noise that was half squawk and half bark. "Don't question us unless you've lived what we've been through. Valentine, the more I see of you the less I like you as an officer."
* * * *
Randolph's light platoon was light on experience. Valentine doubted any of the soldiers were much over eighteen; beneath the dirt the majority looked like they should still be in school. They moved over the hills with youthful energy, however, and came upon Post's camp before noon the next day. Finner rejoined his Wolves, who appeared and disappeared in wary silence. Hank spotted the approaching column first, and when he saw Valentine he took off his straw hat and waved it.
"We've been ordered to rejoin Southern Command," Valentine said to Post as the two groups eyed each other. "These kids are here to make sure we do it." Ahn-Kha rose from a squat behind a wagon and some of the light platoon grabbed at their rifles.
"What are you doing with Grogs?" Randolph asked, hand on the butt of his pistol.
"As I explained to General Martinez, they're on our side and they're trained. They helped us in the KZ, and I expect them to be treated with the respect due any other soldier in Southern Command," Valentine said.
"And we speak," Ahn-Kha added. "Have those children take more care with their rifles."
"Seems suspicious, you coming out of the Zone with Grogs."
M'Daw rose from the campfire. "Mister-"
"Quiet, M'Daw," Valentine said. Then, to Randolph: "He escaped the ambush in his underwear, Captain, and the only clothes we could find that would fit him were Quisling. We don't have any dye, so I'd appreciate some, or a change in uniform for him. I don't want him shot by accident on standing orders."
M'Daw sat back down and huddled under a blanket in such a way that his stitched-on name didn't show.
"Let's load up, Post," Valentine said. "Ditch the lumber; we won't need to build shelters after all, and there's no point hauling it up that hill. Let's make Mrs. Smalls' journey as comfortable as possible."
"Yes, sir."
Valentine, Ahn-Kha, and the two Grogs unloaded the Quickwood while Post put the marines and the civilians in marching order. Valentine marked the spot, triangulating off of the peak of Magazine Mountain.
"Something wrong, my David?" Ahn-Kha asked as they threw another beam on the pile.
"I don't like the way this outfit we're joining is being run. I have no business challenging a lawful superior's methods, but... hell, I've seen groups of Chicago hookers that are better organized. I didn't come all this way to hand over the Quickwood to a bunch of outlaws."
"Do we have an option?"
"Southern Command is finished, if this is representative of what's left. I'm thinking we might be better off with your people in Omaha, or maybe mine in Minnesota. In six more months this crew is going to be robbing towns and trains to feed themselves, with the meanest knife fighter calling the shots. I want to see M'Daw and the Smalls safe, then we'll talk about taking off."
Ahn-Kha's ears sagged. "Better do it quickly. If they break the marines up into other units-"
"Randolph is coming," Valentine whispered. Ahn-Kha's ears pivoted to the sound of footsteps.
"Why's everyone got wooden spears along with their rifles?" Randolph asked.
Ahn-Kha growled an order, and led the Grogs back up to the wagon.
"For the feral pigs in these hills. Those are boar spears."
"One of your men said it was for killing Reapers. That black cripple said the same thing."
"Have to tell them something or they just run at the sight of one. They think it's got big medicine. But so far they've just been used on pigs."
"Hope you boiled the meat good. I've seen men die eating wild pig. You might want to have your men check their shit. Our doc has a great remedy for worms. Just tell him you need to be sluiced out."
"Thanks for the tip. Is there contact with any other pockets of resistance?"
"General Martinez gets his orders through special channels. When it's time to move we'll hear it from him. There's talk of a counteroffensive next fall, when the Kurians think the Ozarks are pacified."
