Fighting Rough

15

“Ricky’s not back yet?” said Anton.

The man shook his head.

Anton couldn’t remember his name. To Anton, he was just another lackey. Nothing but a soldier. Someone who would do his bidding. Someone who would raise Anton to greatness. He wasn’t one of the important ones. Not someone he was trying to impress.

Not like Marshal.

“What’s the word?” said Marshal.

“Seems like Ricky’s not back,” said Anton.

The men were sitting around the fire. They’d been there for what felt like hours.

At this point, they were once again warm. Not to mention well fed.

They’d bought plenty of good food with them, and Anton could tell the men were feeling better.

This was the rest they’d needed.

The snow had stopped falling, and the night seemed peaceful and calm. If it hadn’t been for the reality of the mission and the EMP, they could have been mistaken for a group of very committed hunters.

Not that their weapons would have been typically used by hunters.

Anton, though, wasn’t as relaxed as the rest of the men. The pressure to impress Marshal was growing on him. He needed to get this over with. And the sooner the better.

Anton glanced over at Marshal, who seemed as calm as ever.

“All right,” said Anton. “We’re going to move on out. It’s time.”

“What about the scout? Ricky?” said Marshal.

“What about him?”

“I thought the plan was to wait until he got back.”

“It was,” said Anton, inflating his chest instinctively, even though it wasn’t visible underneath his parka. “But apparently he’s not coming back. Maybe he ran off. He was always a coward. Or maybe he got killed. We don’t have anything to worry about, anyway.”

“I don’t know,” said Marshal. “I thought this Max figure was supposed to be clever. And dangerous.”

“What do you care? I thought you said you were just along for the ride?”

Marshal shrugged and gave Anton one of his perplexing half-smiles. It unnerved Anton, right down to his bones. But he chose to ignore it.

“I’m in charge,” said Anton. “These are my men, and I’m saying we go.”

“Your call,” said Marshal, seeming not to care too much either way.

Anton gave the order, and the men started packing up their gear, checking their weapons. The mood was jovial. They’d eaten, and spirits all around were better. The men joked with each other as they got ready.

“We’re going to slaughter them.”

“They won’t know what hit them.”

“Max is as good as dead.”

“I’m going to be the one who gets him.”

“Says who?”

“Yeah, says who? He’s fair game to all of us.”

“No, he’s mine.”

“That’s what you think.”

“He killed my brother.”

“At the compound?”

“Shit, man, I didn’t realize.”

“He’s still fair game.”

“Come on, you better let Art have him. He killed his brother, man.”

“He killed a lot of people.”

The banter was getting Anton feeling better about it all. They would, after all, completely slaughter Max and his group.

Max, for all of his apparent cunning, didn’t stand a chance.

Anton’s group were committed men. Basically soldiers. They were well fed, well-rested, and better armed.

Sure, they’d had to walk a long way to get here. But for all the past weeks and months, they’d slept on their bunks in the compound. Max’s group, on the other hand, had been living like animals, sleeping where they could, struggling to eat, struggling to survive.

Anton’s men were strong. They’d take them easily.

“All right, men,” said Anton, addressing the group.

The banter died down.

Anton tried to make his voice deep and commanding-sounding.

“We’ll break into two groups,” said Anton. “You three, come with me. We’ll approach from the north. The rest of you, you’ll go with Marshal. You’ll hit them from the east.”

Marshal glanced at Anton.

“That OK with you, Marshal? You leading one of the groups.”

“Fine by me,” said Marshal. That strange smile was still on his lips. It worried Anton. Was Marshal up to something? He tried to push the thought to the back of his mind.

“We’ll all head there together,” said Anton. “Once we get in sight of the camp, we’ll break up into our two groups. We won’t have to worry about crossfire if we stay strict with our approach angles. So use your compasses. Visibility’s good, so we won’t have to worry about that. We’ve got the advantage of better firepower. We’ll hang back and pump them full of bullets.”

“We can’t lose!”

“They won’t know what hit them.”

Anton smiled wryly at the men. They were obviously ready for victory.

There was no way they could lose.

Max didn’t stand a chance.