Page 16 of Redemption (Devil Dogs of the Apocalypse #4)

“Nothing much. Hey, what the hell was that?” He takes a pinch of dip and situates it in his mouth before pointing his thumb over to the podium Lieutenant Colonel Higgins just exited from. “No calling off-base? When the hell did that shit start up?”

I nod in agreement, showing my concern as well. “I guess right fucking now, apparently. Which sucks ‘cause I’d really like to check in on a few people and let my girl back home know what’s up.”

At the mention of a girl, Long’s demeanor changes, turning mischievous.

“Aww, shit, Cruz.” He punches my shoulder playfully, bouncing on his toes and smiling as I roll my eyes.

“Didn’t know you had a pretty thing back home.

Why didn’t you ever tell me? Could have given her a run for her money,” he says, lowering his tone before stepping back, sticking his tongue out while waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

I’m not sure why I called her that. She’s, technically, not my girl anymore.

Not since I left. Although, I’ve always been hers.

Even though I did leave her behind, she’s always been in my thoughts.

My first of the day and the last at night as I hit my pillow.

Even in my dreams, she graces me with her gorgeous presence.

I love her.

And because of that, I had to leave her.

“A run for her money? With what? The pencil dick you’ve got hidden behind your zipper?

Fat chance.” Funny thing is he’s actually freakishly huge in that department, but that’s not the point.

“But hey, I’m a gambling man. If you want to give it a shot.

..,” I cross my arms over my chest, my biceps straining under my too-tight, rolled-up cami sleeves.

“I’ll be here all day, ready and waiting to fight you for the chance. ”

He lifts his hands in a surrendering move, but his cockiness is still up front and center.

“Alright, alright. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna stalk your girl.

So you can go on and fuck off with that gun show you got goin’ on there.

” He pauses, a conniving smirk pulling at his lips. “Bet she’d love to see mine, though.”

I smile, knowing he meant nothing by it and is just trying to rile me up. We all do it to each other and know it’s benign fun. It doesn’t stop me from nut-checking his ass for good measure, though.

“Ah fuck!” he groans, folding over onto himself to the point his head now rests on his knees, the dip in his lower lip hanging on for dear life as his mouth opens wide in pain.

“Yup, I earned that. Good shot, asshole.” With a tortured smile, he lifts his empty water bottle to his lips and spits just in time, the remnants of his nicotine addiction falling into the plastic container as he breathes through the pain.

Knowing he’ll be fine in a minute, I grin at his crumpled form and turn to go to my Platoon Commander, 2 nd Lieutenant Oakley.

He’s in the corner, talking with Captain Tannis along with the other PC’s.

Their heads are close together as they gather as much information as possible to relay down the chain of command.

I’m one of the guys next in this data-tapped relay race as a Staff NCO, so I wait with the rest of the grunts while the pencil pushers figure out what the fuck is going on.

It seems to be taking forever, but eventually they separate and fan out into our own little groups.

With determined steps, he approaches me along with a handful of others who fall under his jurisdiction.

At about five-foot-four, he’s almost a foot shorter than any of us gathering around him, but the look on his face tells each of us that he doesn’t give two shits about that fact.

He just lifts his someone-definitely-pissed-in-his-cheerios face and gives us the business.

Unfortunately, LT has nothing to say that hasn’t already been said.

“Alright, no communication. No liberty for the foreseeable future. And no fucking desertion. File out.” He goes to dismiss us, but I can’t seem to help myself.

“Uh… Sorry, Sir?” He stops abruptly and turns on his heel, returning to the grouping.

“Um, do you happen to have any more information to distribute? People are going to have questions. The debriefing didn’t exactly provide a lot of transparency or details to the mission, Sir.

” I almost stop myself. Almost listen to that fucking-shut-the-hell-up voice ringing in my ears. But I don’t. “I think—”

“Is it your job to think, Staff Sergeant?” He interrupts me, his face scrunched up in disgust as he steps closer.

“No, it’s mine.” Tilting his head to the side menacingly, he waits for me to say more, but I choose then to listen to that voice in my head.

Satisfied, he steps back, the threat dissipating even though his fists are still clenched at his sides.

“Now follow the orders given and relay them to your men.”

“Yes, Sir,” I reply, holding back the response I wish I could say.

“Dismissed.”

I raise my hand, saluting him as my Officer in Charge, before he responds with a mirrored gesture. As soon as he lowers his hand and moves away, I turn and make my way to the entrance doors. I need to get some air before I punch something and ruin my career.

I’m in charge of an entire platoon of men. What the fuck am I supposed to tell them when they start questioning shit? Shut the fuck up and deal with it? Take their phones from them? Turn off the internet? With no proper directive, their morale is going to go right in the gutter.

Is it your job to think? Such a fucking idiot.

I’ve been active duty for over eight years now.

He just graduated college, what, a year ago?

He hasn’t even deployed yet! This is his first fucking mission, and he’s acting as if he knows everything about anything.

I swear they get more and more arrogant as the years go by.

And what can I do about it? Absolutely fucking nothing ‘cause while he’s commissioned, I'm enlisted.

The boots on the ground. The grunt in the mud when the shit hits the fan.

Fucking butter bar asshole.

I take a few minutes pacing outside the field house to gather my thoughts and rein in my temper.

It has no place here. I’m a Marine. A living, breathing weapon of mass destruction.

I can’t let a freaking greenhorn of an officer get under my skin.

There are more important matters to attend to, so I make my way back inside and walk through the building, seeking out the other Staff NCO’s to try and get more information.

My buddy, Terns—another Staff Sergeant—is just up ahead and nods in my direction when he sees me. I take that as a good sign and head towards him. “Hey man, any news on your front? CO gave me nothing over there.”

“Fuck, man, it’s not looking good. The communication halt?

It’s to deter mass hysteria. Apparently, shit’s worse than they’re letting on.

” He nods to my pocket. “Turn on your phone, but be discreet about it.” I take it out and hide it between us as it powers on, curious as to what he’s referring to.

“Try the internet. Google. Anything.” I do, but the service isn’t there.

It happens on base on occasion, but never in this particular building, from what I can remember.

The Field House is known to hold massive meetings, military balls, and even host upper-ranking officials if they happen to stop on base and need a space for conferences. Secure internet servers are a must. Why they wouldn’t be functional right now makes no sense... Unless it was done on purpose.

I look up at Terns to see him nodding back at me in understanding.

“Cell phone towers, satellite, internet. It’s all down.

It’s not that we can’t communicate. It’s that we have no communication.

Nothing. At this point, I think the only people who might have outside communication are the Generals so they can talk to the DOD, the Commandant, and the Pentagon. ”

I gawk at him, impressed as to where he got this intel. “Your CO told you all this?”

He shakes his head, pursing his lips as he responds, “Nah, man, I overheard it when I was leaving the head. They don’t want this getting out. To anyone . That’s why they’re not telling us shit.”

I nod in response, trying to process all of this new information. He claps me on the shoulder, saying, “Keep your chin up and your head on a swivel, Cruz. Shit’s about to get fucking real,” before turning away and heading over to his squad.