Fighting Rough

11

“They killed three of your men,” said Marshal.

They were standing apart from the remaining men in a snowdrift, the snow practically up to their knees.

Anton was determined not to show weakness in front of Marshal or his men. He was determined to show nothing but victory. He was going to plow on ahead no matter what.

He’d destroy Max and the rest of them.

The idea of capturing the radios had become completely secondary to him.

“They didn’t fight well,” said Anton. “If they’d been better, they wouldn’t have died.”

“I don’t know, man,” said Marshal. “They did what they could.”

“I thought you were tougher,” said Anton.

“There’s more to being tough than big words and a tough-guy attitude,” said Marshal.

“What are you getting at?”

“I think this mission is a complete failure. We need to turn around. Unless you want to lose the rest of your men.”

“You’re just worried about your own skin. You don’t want to die out here in the snow.”

“Look, man, I’ve been through worse. Much worse. I’m like a cockroach. Nothing can kill me.”

Marshal’s eyes stared right into Anton’s. They seemed to penetrate him. They were dark and moody, intense and also horrible. Marshal saw something there that he hadn’t seen before. After all, he wasn’t in the habit of studying men’s eyes. Or what they contained.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Anton. “You’re just scared.”

“You can’t trick me,” said Marshal. “I’m not someone you can use petty little psychological tricks on to get what you want. I’ve been through the Army. Before prison. You didn’t know that, did you? I’ve seen more combat than you’ll ever see. I know how to survive, trust me. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“You don’t know shit,” said Anton. “Anyone can say anything. There’s no way to confirm that.”

“Nope,” said Marshal. “The EMP changed everything. We’re just who we are now. No records. No nothing. You can think whatever you want of me. I don’t give a shit. What I’m telling you is that if you continue, you’re going to lose all your men, and probably your own life.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” But the more Anton protested, the more he really did think that Marshal knew what he was talking about.

“It’s your call, Anton,” said Marshal. “It’s your decision. If you want to attack, I’ll be right there with you.”

“But you’ll ditch us at the last moment to save your own skin, right? Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me?”

“You should know those of us who’ve been incarcerated take loyalty very seriously. I’m loyal to my old gang. And I’m loyal to the militia. I’m loyal to Kor. And my mission is to aid you. It’s a matter of honor, of loyalty.”

Anton eyed him, trying to see if he was telling the truth. He probably was. From the sound of it, those militia guys were crazy. Almost too intense.

“Hey, boss?” said one of the guys, calling out across the swirling snow. “What’s the word?”

“You wait!” shouted Anton. “Until you hear otherwise, got it?”

“We’re freezing our asses off, boss.”

“Then light a fire or some shit,” yelled Anton.

He thought being a leader was going to be easy. Kara had made the whole thing look like a cakewalk.

But here they were, his own men, questioning his orders.

It was enough to drive anyone insane.

He felt the anger rising through his chest, which felt as hot as a burning coal, despite the freezing wind.

He felt the anger in his head. His forehead was scorching hot.

“You get more respect from them talking to them… differently,” said Marshal.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, OK?” snapped Anton.

“Whatever you say, Anton.”

Anton stared at Marshal, quivering in anger.

But Marshal remained calm. Nothing seemed to shake him.

“Look,” said Marshal. “I’m here as an envoy. Observe. But also help. Right?”

Anton just stared at him.

“What I’d do,” said Marshal, “is I’d send in a scout. A single guy. See what’s going on.”

“But we know right where they are. The marks in the trees… they must lead back to the camp.”

“Yes, but there’s a reason you’ve been here stalling for an hour, right?”

Anton didn’t say anything.

“Obviously the enemy knows how to fight. They know how to shoot. We can’t underestimate them, and we’ve got to assume they’re taking this time to set up some defenses.”

“You don’t think they’ll just flee?”

“No, and neither do you. Or else you would have rushed in.”

Anton knew he was right. Max and the others wouldn’t want to abandon their gear. Their radios. Leaving their camp was as good as committing suicide. Anton knew that they didn’t have proper winter gear. They didn’t have it when they’d visited the compound, at least.

“Max is probably setting up some defenses,” said Anton. “I don’t think they’ll flee. For a variety of reasons.”

Marshal nodded. “I don’t think they will, either. Now we’ve got to know what we’re up against.”

Anton nodded. The anger was starting to leave him. He was starting to see that Marshal was making some sense. Maybe Marshal really did want to help.

It had all gotten turned around in his head. It’d been the cold, the snow, the intense wind. He hadn’t been expecting any of that.

Just a few hours ago, he’d been convinced he’d impress Marshal.

Now he wasn’t sure what the roles were. It was all muddled.

Anton didn’t like things like that. He liked things cut and dry. Clear. That was why he’d wanted to be the leader, to take power. If he ruled the compound, he could keep things simple. He could make things the way he liked them, and not have to worry about the wishes of others muddling things up for him. It’d be his way or no way.

“All right,” said Anton. “I’ll send someone in to see what they’re up to. We’ll be able to better coordinate our attack.”

“All right,” said Marshal, nodding. “Sounds like a good plan.”

Anton shivered in the cold. His fingers and toes were freezing and going partially numb. He couldn’t feel the end of his nose. There was ice building up on his eyelashes.

He’d never expected a storm to move in, nor for it to move in this fast. The dropping temperature was a surprise. Normally it dropped during the night, not during the day.

Marshal didn’t seem affected by the cold. Maybe he was made of tougher stuff than Anton.

Anton was trying his best not to appear cold. But his body was shaking almost uncontrollably at this point.

He wasn’t unusual. Marshal was the unusual one. If Anton was this cold, surely his men would be too.

If they were going to fight well, they’d need to warm up.

“OK,” said Anton, clapping his numb hands together, and walking towards the men. “Ricky, you’re going to be scouting.”

“But, Anton…”

“I don’t want to hear it, Ricky,” said Anton, raising his hand. “Get in there close enough to see what’s going on. Report back with information that’ll help us attack.”

Ricky stood there, his mouth hanging open. There was ice forming in his beard.

“You heard me,” shouted Anton. “Now get going!”

Ricky stood frozen for a full ten seconds before he started to move.

Anton stared him down as he walked away, his eyes drilling holes into his snow-covered back.

Morale wasn’t good. Anton could understand that. But he needed people to do what he said. He was the leader, after all.

“OK, you, over there.”

“Wilson, sir.”

“Wilson, yeah, get a fire started. The rest of you, help him get the wood.”

“I don’t know if we can start one in all this snow.”

“I don’t care how you do it. Just get it done.”

Anton’s voice was already feeling a little horse from yelling above the gusts of wind.

He walked back over to Marshal, who wasn’t shivering.

A wry smile appeared on Marshal’s lips. “You really told them, huh?”

“Maybe they’re right,” said Anton, ignoring him. “I don’t know how they’re going to get a fire started in this snow.”

“If we don’t, we’re going to freeze to death. The sun’s going to be going down soon.”

“You don’t sound worried about it. And why the hell are you smiling? You just said we might die.”

“I’m just along for the ride,” said Marshal, cryptically.