rotors powered down, the smoke cleared, and Orpheus took a look into the back seat.
Of course it was Ralston, and Orpheus once again berated himself for letting himself get caught in the position of having to answer to him.
"Play nice," Ethan said.
"Ugh."
The pilot hopped out and slid the door open. Ralston climbed down, all smiles and waves. He was quickly followed by another man with a professional photography rig, it seemed.
Ethan said, "He does know that it's not an election year, right?"
"Would you knock it off, I ... no fucking way is that who I think it is."
"Who?"
"This just keeps getting better and better," Orpheus grumbled. He waited for Ralston to approach, then snapped off a crisp salute, which was lazily returned. "Colonel." There was a flash of light as they shook hands. Orpheus ignored the photographer for the moment.
"You work fast, Captain."
"Not fast enough, it seems. I wanted to have a secure landing area by tomorrow."
More flashes.
"We checked the sat images. This area is clear enough. I'll be honest; my curiosity got the better of me."
Another flash, and Orpheus cast an annoyed glare over at the photographer. He'd never gotten a name, but he'd never forget the face of that pain-in-the-ass reporter.
The reporter grinned, as if to say, bet you didn't see that one coming. He extended his hand. Orpheus shook it and managed to avoid crushing every bone in it.
"Iver Thompson," the reporter said. Cocky.
Ralston said, "He tells me that you two have met before."
"You could say that," Orpheus replied. "Why is he here?"
Ralston's tone changed to a more serious tone. He clearly didn't like being challenged. "Because I want him here. I owe a favor to a certain editor-in-chief, so I agreed to allow Thompson here to be embedded with your op, per our contract."
Orpheus tried to figure out a way to politely object, but was having a hard time.
Thompson spoke up and filled the silence. "You see, you have all of that spiffy satellite imaging, but they don't actually tell any story, give the human interest angle. That's what I'm here for."
Orpheus paid him no attention and spoke directly to Ralston. "I won't be responsible for him. I agreed to lead men who went through specialized training."
"Understood."
"Hey, I can handle myself. I've been in a dozen warzones. This is a tourist spot."
"I'll remember you said that when you have dead people coming for you."
Tino yelled, "Cap, we got incoming!" from the top of a Rhino.
Orpheus smiled coldly. "Well, imagine that." He grabbed Thompson by the arm and said, "Come with me."
"What, I, don't ... Colonel!"
Ralston showed his palms, indicating hands off, and Orpheus actually liked him for a split second.
Thompson climbed the ladder. He had no choice but to do it quickly, because Orpheus was right behind him.
German looked at Thompson. "We taking in strays now?"
"Don't even get me started. Clip him in and arm him." A small mob of five zombies was coming. They weren't really a threat, but they could serve as a good test.
Tino unslung his weapon and held out his hand. "Trade."
Thompson looked confused, then realized that Tino was talking about his camera. He took it from around his neck and shakily handed it over, while accepting the weapon with his free hand.
German clipped the reporter in, aimed his own weapon, and said, "Like this."
Thompson mimicked him. Tino flicked the safety off and said, "Just like a camera. Point and shoot. Steals souls."
The zombies had closed to within fifty yards. Orpheus watched Thompson's attempts at aiming. Sweat had broken out on the man's brow, and the barrel was swaying too much to be attributed to breathing.
"Still plenty of time to make the kill," Orpheus said flatly.
The zombies closed to within twenty yards, and the reporter still hadn't taken a single shot. Orpheus grabbed the weapon from his hands, aimed and squeezed off several shots. Two were headshots, the other three were to the body, which didn't kill them,
Of course it was Ralston, and Orpheus once again berated himself for letting himself get caught in the position of having to answer to him.
"Play nice," Ethan said.
"Ugh."
The pilot hopped out and slid the door open. Ralston climbed down, all smiles and waves. He was quickly followed by another man with a professional photography rig, it seemed.
Ethan said, "He does know that it's not an election year, right?"
"Would you knock it off, I ... no fucking way is that who I think it is."
"Who?"
"This just keeps getting better and better," Orpheus grumbled. He waited for Ralston to approach, then snapped off a crisp salute, which was lazily returned. "Colonel." There was a flash of light as they shook hands. Orpheus ignored the photographer for the moment.
"You work fast, Captain."
"Not fast enough, it seems. I wanted to have a secure landing area by tomorrow."
More flashes.
"We checked the sat images. This area is clear enough. I'll be honest; my curiosity got the better of me."
Another flash, and Orpheus cast an annoyed glare over at the photographer. He'd never gotten a name, but he'd never forget the face of that pain-in-the-ass reporter.
The reporter grinned, as if to say, bet you didn't see that one coming. He extended his hand. Orpheus shook it and managed to avoid crushing every bone in it.
"Iver Thompson," the reporter said. Cocky.
Ralston said, "He tells me that you two have met before."
"You could say that," Orpheus replied. "Why is he here?"
Ralston's tone changed to a more serious tone. He clearly didn't like being challenged. "Because I want him here. I owe a favor to a certain editor-in-chief, so I agreed to allow Thompson here to be embedded with your op, per our contract."
Orpheus tried to figure out a way to politely object, but was having a hard time.
Thompson spoke up and filled the silence. "You see, you have all of that spiffy satellite imaging, but they don't actually tell any story, give the human interest angle. That's what I'm here for."
Orpheus paid him no attention and spoke directly to Ralston. "I won't be responsible for him. I agreed to lead men who went through specialized training."
"Understood."
"Hey, I can handle myself. I've been in a dozen warzones. This is a tourist spot."
"I'll remember you said that when you have dead people coming for you."
Tino yelled, "Cap, we got incoming!" from the top of a Rhino.
Orpheus smiled coldly. "Well, imagine that." He grabbed Thompson by the arm and said, "Come with me."
"What, I, don't ... Colonel!"
Ralston showed his palms, indicating hands off, and Orpheus actually liked him for a split second.
Thompson climbed the ladder. He had no choice but to do it quickly, because Orpheus was right behind him.
German looked at Thompson. "We taking in strays now?"
"Don't even get me started. Clip him in and arm him." A small mob of five zombies was coming. They weren't really a threat, but they could serve as a good test.
Tino unslung his weapon and held out his hand. "Trade."
Thompson looked confused, then realized that Tino was talking about his camera. He took it from around his neck and shakily handed it over, while accepting the weapon with his free hand.
German clipped the reporter in, aimed his own weapon, and said, "Like this."
Thompson mimicked him. Tino flicked the safety off and said, "Just like a camera. Point and shoot. Steals souls."
The zombies had closed to within fifty yards. Orpheus watched Thompson's attempts at aiming. Sweat had broken out on the man's brow, and the barrel was swaying too much to be attributed to breathing.
"Still plenty of time to make the kill," Orpheus said flatly.
The zombies closed to within twenty yards, and the reporter still hadn't taken a single shot. Orpheus grabbed the weapon from his hands, aimed and squeezed off several shots. Two were headshots, the other three were to the body, which didn't kill them,
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