First Strike

“What the hell do you mean the prisoner is dead?” said Sheridan to Agnar, trying to keep his temper in check.

  “Sir, when I went to check on him, I found that he was dead,” awkwardly replied Agnar.

  Sheridan looked over at Cole. “Sergeant, check on the prisoner.”

  A minute later, Cole returned. “Sir, it looks like he was stabbed under the left arm and left to bleed out.”

  Sheridan glared at Agnar.

  “Sir, it wasn’t me. I swear. The only time I wasn’t guarding the prisoner was when I had to go to the bathroom.”

  “Who watched him for you while you were gone?” asked Cole.

  “It was Andrews, Sergeant.”

  Cole called Andrews over. “What do you know about the dead man?”

  Andrews shook his head. “Sergeant, I didn’t kill him if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Let me see your bayonets,” ordered Cole. Both soldiers handed over their knives.

  Cole inspected them for a minute before giving Agnar’s back to him. “Andrews, there’s blood on the hilt of your bayonet, care to explain how that got there?”

  “It must have gotten on there when I helped Agnar cut meat from the bear you killed, Sergeant,” said Andrews.

  “Agnar, is this true?” Sheridan asked.

  “Yes, sir. Andrews helped me.”

  Cole handed back Andrews his bayonet. “Did either of you see anyone go near the prisoner?”

  “Now that you mention it, Tartov came around asking how the prisoner was doing,” said Andrews.

  “I never saw him,” countered Agnar.

  “He came around while you were off in the woods taking a crap.”

  “Okay, that’ll do,” said Sheridan. “I don’t want the enemy to find the body. Bury him.”

  “Get to it, Marines,” ordered Cole.

  Grumbling to themselves, Agnar and Andrews went to bury the dead man.

  Cole stepped close. “What do you think, sir? Could Tartov be responsible for murdering the prisoner?”

  Sheridan shook his head. “I don’t know. However, while Andrews and Agnar bury the body, I want you to take Obermman aside and ask him about Andrews. From the time they got on shift at the engine room on the Churchill right up to the minute they wandered into our camp. I want to know everything.”

  Cole walked away and took Obermman, who was on sentry, by the arm. He returned five minutes later shaking his head.

  “What did he say?” asked Sheridan.

  “He didn’t say anything that would make me suspicious. I asked him to keep the conversation between the two of us.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It’ll be dark soon,” observed Cole, looking up at the ominous-looking gray clouds as they rolled in.

  “Yeah, let’s hope that we don’t bump into any Kurgan patrols tonight. We’ve been lucky so far. I’d hate for us to get so close that we can touch the city walls only to be caught by the enemy.”

  Cole patted Sheridan on the shoulder. “Sir, you’ve done well so far. Keep it up and we’ll get some real food and a decent night’s sleep for a change in a few days.”

  Sheridan smiled. He noted that it was unbelievable what just a few words could do to raise a person’s flagging spirits.

  Two hours later, Sheridan’s mood turned foul when they stumbled upon a ditch filled with bodies. He stopped counting after thirty. All of them had been killed by a single shot to the back of the head. He had Agnar find two civilian winter jackets. When Agnar returned, Sheridan moved back and led his people around the ditch so Kelly Green wouldn’t see the dead.

  Off to their right, hundreds of Kurgan guns thundered away. The ground shook under their feet. A couple of kilometers away, the forward edge of the capital was a long wall of fire as the houses there burnt to the ground.

  After another hour’s walk, Sheridan called for a fifteen-minute break. They had come close enough to the refugee camp that they could smell the wood burning from a thousand fires. He called Cole up to his position.

  “What are you thinking, sir?” asked Cole.

  “I want to get a better look at the refugee camp. I believe that we may be able to find someone there who may know a way into the city,” explained Sheridan.

  “Even if with your grubby beard, you’re still in uniform; you’ll stand out like a sore thumb.”

  “I thought about that and had Agnar grab us a couple of civilian jackets from the dead bodies we found a while back.”

  “Sir, if you get caught, they’ll shoot you as a spy for being out of uniform.”

  “Sergeant, I think that’s the least of my worries after seeing what they have been doing to the civilians,” replied Sheridan.

  “Okay then, sir, what’s your plan?”

  “I want you to hold up here for the rest of the night. If Agnar and I aren’t back by first light, it’ll mean that we aren’t coming back and you can carry on without us.”

  After a quick handshake, Sheridan handed off his rifle to Cole, as did Agnar. Walking around with a standard issue rifle over one’s shoulder was a surefire recipe to being spotted and shot, reasoned Sheridan. He still had his pistol and Agnar his knife, not the best weapons to go against the Kurgans with, but it was better than nothing at all.

  Keeping to the trees, Sheridan led them toward the closest campfires. When they were close enough to hear voices, he raised a hand; they stopped and listened for a couple of minutes. The voices sounded tired and disheartened. When he didn’t detect anyone speaking Kurgan, Sheridan grew bold. He told Agnar to remain in the shadows while he took a look around. A second later, Sheridan stepped out of the dark and walked straight toward a group of people huddled around a fire for warmth. He could see that they were a mix of people; some were well over sixty while many were young couples holding onto their children.

  “May I join you?” asked Sheridan, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible.

  A man with a scraggly gray beard and thick glasses looked up at Sheridan. He studied the dirty and disheveled man standing before him for a moment. With a warm smile, he said, “Of course you can, stranger. Please join us by the fire. I’m sorry that we can’t offer you any food as we have none to give.”

  Sheridan thanked the man and took a seat on a log next to the old man. Before he could say a word, a blanket was laid over his legs.

  “They have drones flying over the camp night and day. They’ll see your trousers, soldier boy,” whispered the man.

  “Thanks,” replied Sheridan, realizing that he was safe and among friends.

  “Are you from the capital?” asked a woman cradling her child in her arms.

  Sheridan paused for a second unsure what to say. For now, the less they knew, the better. “No, I’m trying to get there. My men and I were trapped outside of the city when the Kurgans landed. We’ve been trying to make our way there ever since.”

  “Are there a lot of you?” the old man asked.

  Sheridan shook his head.

  “That’s too bad. By the sounds of it, they sure could use a lot of soldiers to help defend the capital.”

  Suddenly, from above, a spotlight shone down on the people sitting around the fire.

  “Don’t look up,” warned the man.

  A pleasant-sounding woman’s voice filled the air. “People, you have been abandoned and left to starve to death by your cowardly leaders. This is not how citizens should be treated. Mothers, please think of the children slowly dying in your arms. A safer, more prosperous future awaits you and your children. Anyone who wishes to join us will not be turned away. Please make your way to the open field near our aid station and you will be looked after. Remember, your fate is yours to decide: citizenship or death.”

  The light switched off.

  Sheridan glanced up and saw a circular drone hovering above their camp. A second later, it moved toward another group of refugees further down the river.

  “We should go,” said a young man to his wife. “They’ll be able to look after Sarah.
If we stay out here any longer, she’ll die of starvation.”

  The man’s wife looked down at her sleeping child wrapped in several dirt-encrusted blankets and sadly nodded.

  “If you go, they’ll take you off world,” cautioned Sheridan.

  “We know,” answered the woman. “We’ve all heard the rumors, but what would you have me do? The military won’t allow us into the city. They say there are too many people there already. My child is going to die out here. I’m willing to take my chances with the Kurgans if it means that Sarah will live.”

  “She’ll be raised as a Kurgan.”

  “At least she’ll live,” responded the woman.

  There was to be no more discussion. The couple stood and slowly shuffled off into the dark.

  “That’s been happening nightly,” explained the old man. “First, they took all the children between twelve and sixteen years of age. Then they dragged away any man who wasn’t married and was deemed capable of fighting.”

  “None of them has ever returned,” added a black woman.

  Sheridan thought about telling them about the men they stumbled across in the ditch but decided to keep his mouth shut. Anything he could tell them would only make things worse.

  The old man continued. “Now they’re targeting the parents with young children. I figure before too long it’s just going to be us old folks waiting out here to die of starvation or the cold.”

  “Why would they take teenagers?” asked Sheridan.

  “It’s easier to mold a teen’s mind into that of a fanatic than an adult who has already formed strong opinions about what is right and wrong,” explained the black woman.

  “Eve used to teach at the university,” said the old man proudly.

  Sheridan swore. “What about the kids’ parents, did they go with them?”

  Eve shook her head. “Most were killed trying to stop the Chosen from dragging away their children. The others haven’t been seen in days.”

  Sheridan thought of Kelly Green. After hearing what the people had told him there was no way he could leave her out here to die. He resolved that she was coming with them, no matter what. “How often do the Chosen patrol through the camps?”

  “They come and go as they please,” explained the old man. “They were a lot in the first few days, rounding up people. They haven’t bothered us in . . .”

  “Two days,” said Eve, finishing the sentence.

  “Well, that’s some good news at least,” Sheridan said.

  “Ever since they started shelling the city, the Kurgans’ focus has switched from us onto the people trapped in the capital. It’s mainly drones peddling their propaganda now.”

  A tired-looking man leaned forward and looked over at Sheridan. “You’re a soldier, why would they tell us to come here to evacuate the planet, only to bar the gates and leave us out here with the Kurgans?”

  Sheridan shook his head. “Ten to one, the message was fake. The Kurgans wanted you all in one area so they could pick and choose those people they wanted to take. They must have sent the message. After jamming all communications coming and going out of the capital, it would have been easy to have one of the Chosen send out a message ordering all of you here.”

  “I knew it,” said Eve. “The military would never deliberately abandon us.”

  Sheridan had heard enough. He thanked everyone, took a quick look up into the night sky for a drone. When he didn’t see one, he stood. “Please forget that you ever saw me and good luck to all of you. I wish I could stay and help you, but I’ve got to get into the capital and let them know what is going on out here.”

  “Soldier boy, you can help us by staying alive,” replied the old man, shaking Sheridan’s hand.

  Sheridan gave the man back his blanket, turned around and then jogged back to the woods. He quickly briefed Agnar on what he had learned. Sheridan then carefully led them back the way they came. Sheridan had to get the information he had into the hands of his superiors. How he was going to do it, he had no idea. He only knew he had to find a way.

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