relative of one of the countless people who’d suffered at the hands of Lenin’s Legion? That possibility sent shivers up Gilbert’s spine because it was the most likely of the scenarios rampaging through his mind. If that were thecase, would he be next? And if so, how would the killers locate him, tucked away out here on the outskirts of town near a creek in the forest? What would they do to him when they found him? He shuddered at the prospect of being burned to death in the same manner as his former comrades.
CHAPTER
13
R yan looked at the clock next to his bed and saw that it was four forty-five. He rolled out of the sack, grabbed his shaving kit, and went down the hall to the guest bathroom, where he showered and shaved.
Dressing quickly, he stashed his green beret in the cargo pocket of his ACUs, laced his boots, and headed for the kitchen. The smell of coffee and bacon greeted him. He was met by Rosie, who wisecracked, “It’s about time you got up, shitneck. I was just fixin’ to pour some ice water on your lazy ass.”
Ryan laughed. “Now I see why they call you Rosie. You look so domesticated and feminine, puttering around your kitchen like a little old lady.”
Rosie feigned a frown and chuckled. “One more crack like that and you’ll be wearing over-easy for a hat, boy.”
They were just finishing up breakfast when Monique wandered into the kitchen. She grabbed a cup and poured herself some coffee. “So, what do my two favorite fellas have going on today?” she asked.
“I’m gonna take Ryan out to the range and show him around. We have a qualification going on at the flat range this morning and some demolition classes in the afternoon. Pretty full schedule, so don’t expect us home before 1700,” Rosie replied.
“You planning on staying another night, Ryan?” asked Monique.
“Probably, if that’s all right with you, little sister,” he replied.
Monique smiled. “You know it is.” She was pleased Ryan was staying. It had been a while since she’d seen her husband relax the way he had the night before. She attributed the improvement in attitude to Ryan’s visit. Rosie had been moping around a lot lately. He missed the camaraderie that came with sharing danger with other men in mortal combat and found the transition from warrior to instructor about as fulfilling as sitting in a rocking chair.
“Come on, Irish, it’s time to shove off,” Rosie said as he motioned to Ryan. He bent over and kissed Monique good-bye, and they were soon out the door and driving away from the housing area toward the far reaches of the reservation where the ranges were located.
Rosie passed the red range flag and stopped to chat with the communications NCO, who was preparing his equipment for the day’s qualifications. There would be two of them today, one with the Beretta and the other with the M-4.
“How’s it going, Charlie?” Rosie asked.
“Okay, First Sergeant. Everything’s good to go. The ammo’s here and the troops will be out at 0900 sharp.”
“That’s great. Is the doc here yet?” Rosie inquired.
“Roger that, First Sergeant. He arrived a few minutes ago.” Staff Sergeant Charlie Bradford pointed to the medic, who was setting up a table and removing his aid kit from a Humvee about fifty yards down the line.
“Yeah, I see him. By the way, Charlie, this is an old buddy from my days as a fighting soldier. Name’s Master Sergeant Ryan O’Hara. If I get preoccupied, look after him and show him around the operation, will ya?”
“You got it, Top,” replied the staff sergeant as he shook Ryan’s hand.
Rosie drove toward the makeshift aid station, which, like the communications station, was mandatory at all live-fire exercises. He greeted the young medic. “Good morning, Doc. All ready for another day of operating?”
“Just about, First Sergeant,” replied Staff Sergeant Wilrolan Nunes.
“Very good, Doc. Carry on,” Rosie said.
After introducing Nunes to Ryan, Rosie
CHAPTER
13
R yan looked at the clock next to his bed and saw that it was four forty-five. He rolled out of the sack, grabbed his shaving kit, and went down the hall to the guest bathroom, where he showered and shaved.
Dressing quickly, he stashed his green beret in the cargo pocket of his ACUs, laced his boots, and headed for the kitchen. The smell of coffee and bacon greeted him. He was met by Rosie, who wisecracked, “It’s about time you got up, shitneck. I was just fixin’ to pour some ice water on your lazy ass.”
Ryan laughed. “Now I see why they call you Rosie. You look so domesticated and feminine, puttering around your kitchen like a little old lady.”
Rosie feigned a frown and chuckled. “One more crack like that and you’ll be wearing over-easy for a hat, boy.”
They were just finishing up breakfast when Monique wandered into the kitchen. She grabbed a cup and poured herself some coffee. “So, what do my two favorite fellas have going on today?” she asked.
“I’m gonna take Ryan out to the range and show him around. We have a qualification going on at the flat range this morning and some demolition classes in the afternoon. Pretty full schedule, so don’t expect us home before 1700,” Rosie replied.
“You planning on staying another night, Ryan?” asked Monique.
“Probably, if that’s all right with you, little sister,” he replied.
Monique smiled. “You know it is.” She was pleased Ryan was staying. It had been a while since she’d seen her husband relax the way he had the night before. She attributed the improvement in attitude to Ryan’s visit. Rosie had been moping around a lot lately. He missed the camaraderie that came with sharing danger with other men in mortal combat and found the transition from warrior to instructor about as fulfilling as sitting in a rocking chair.
“Come on, Irish, it’s time to shove off,” Rosie said as he motioned to Ryan. He bent over and kissed Monique good-bye, and they were soon out the door and driving away from the housing area toward the far reaches of the reservation where the ranges were located.
Rosie passed the red range flag and stopped to chat with the communications NCO, who was preparing his equipment for the day’s qualifications. There would be two of them today, one with the Beretta and the other with the M-4.
“How’s it going, Charlie?” Rosie asked.
“Okay, First Sergeant. Everything’s good to go. The ammo’s here and the troops will be out at 0900 sharp.”
“That’s great. Is the doc here yet?” Rosie inquired.
“Roger that, First Sergeant. He arrived a few minutes ago.” Staff Sergeant Charlie Bradford pointed to the medic, who was setting up a table and removing his aid kit from a Humvee about fifty yards down the line.
“Yeah, I see him. By the way, Charlie, this is an old buddy from my days as a fighting soldier. Name’s Master Sergeant Ryan O’Hara. If I get preoccupied, look after him and show him around the operation, will ya?”
“You got it, Top,” replied the staff sergeant as he shook Ryan’s hand.
Rosie drove toward the makeshift aid station, which, like the communications station, was mandatory at all live-fire exercises. He greeted the young medic. “Good morning, Doc. All ready for another day of operating?”
“Just about, First Sergeant,” replied Staff Sergeant Wilrolan Nunes.
“Very good, Doc. Carry on,” Rosie said.
After introducing Nunes to Ryan, Rosie
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