Chapter 239
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 239
Chapter Title: Stay of Execution (11)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The day changed, and as dawn broke on the horizon, a formation of transport helicopters flew in. Large ones that could carry dozens per bird, so loading all the civilians was no problem.
In the midst of it, a commotion broke out among the kids. The plaintive barking of a dachshund. The little girl who had embarrassed the Green Beret yesterday clutched the dog instead of her doll, but it wriggled desperately in her arms until she finally let it drop.
It hit the ground with a thud—must've hurt—but the short-legged mutt sprang right up and bolted in a straight line. At the end of that path stood Schultz and the rest of the strike team members.
"This is one troublesome mutt."
The team members sighed at the dog scampering wildly around their legs. They'd planned to send it off to safety with the civilians. Whether it sensed their distress or not, the dog wagged its lowered tail with a low whine, stealing glances at the soldiers. Already abandoned once, now wary of it happening again.
The Green Beret's village wisdom on the sight:
"Better than the kid."
Just some light bullshit.
The girl came chasing after it, her blue skirt fluttering. The rifle slung on her back bounced half a beat behind each step. Short barrel, and the stock had a trauma pad for recoil absorption. Winter recalled the gun company's ad. Something about the perfect gift for your child.
「If your child doesn't know how to handle a gun, you're neglecting your parental duties.」
The Green Beret snorted at the sight of the rifle. He didn't approve. Made sense—someone who'd kill and kill again to protect his daughter wouldn't like seeing a kid toting a gun. Blame it on us worthless adults for not killing enough, forcing the kids to shoot too.
Schultz held the dog out to the girl. But she wouldn't take it.
"Fernando has to go with you, mister."
"Fernando? You named it?"
A soldier who'd deliberately avoided naming it asked, and the little miss nodded deeply.
"Yeah. Full name's Fernando Francisco de Paula Domingo Vicente Ferrer Antonio..."
It was long. As it dragged on with José Joaquín Pascual whatever, Schultz's face grew more troubled.
"...Calixto Cayetano Fausto Luis Raimundo Gregorio Lorenzo Jerónimo. You have to remember it, okay? Fernando, you can't forget either. I won't forget you."
Tears welling in her eyes at the farewell, the dog barked with an al!
"Uh... that's one hell of a long name."
Hearing the soldier's awkward sentiment, the girl bobbed her head again.
"Yeah. Long names are cool. It's the full name of Fernando VII."
"Fernando VII... who's that?"
"A king of Spain a long time ago. You grown-ups don't even know that?"
Her chin was up high now, eyes no longer red—just like that. The age where kids memorize anything that sounds impressive and brag about it.
"Sorry..."
Apologizing for no reason, Schultz locked eyes with the dachshund for a moment. Fernando Francisco... dangled in midair, tail wagging furiously. Al! Al! Pitiful wet eyes. No way words would work, so humans lost from the start. Schultz turned to Winter.
"What should we do with this one? Force it on board?"
"Dunno. Up to your call. The colonel's not gonna bitch about a dog."
"..."
Even in major wars, units raised animals all the time. As Schultz pondered deeply, the little miss approached Winter and stared up at him. He signaled okay to her parents and the soldiers handling civilian boarding, then knelt to meet her eye level.
"Got something to say to me?"
"Yeah. Make sure Mom and Dad can't hear."
Surprisingly, the kid's business was about the death row inmates.
"The guys in orange jumpsuits—you're taking them with you, right, major?"
"Yeah?"
"What happens to the guy who saved my friends?"
"..."
"I overheard Mom and Dad talking with the other grown-ups. They say those guys deserve punishment. Even the one who saved my friends did something bad before, so no choice. When I ask what punishment, they won't tell me. They think we won't figure it out. But we're not dummies."
They kill them. The girl shook her head with an ugh.
"That's why my friends are all bummed out. Me too. They must've gone to jail 'cause they did wrong, but if they were really really bad, they wouldn't have saved my friends. Killing someone who's not really really bad—that's worse. So I came to ask you. Oh, that half-and-half guy's name is Manuel Hays. You know him?"
"Yeah, I do. Heard it from him. But half-and-half? What's that mean?"
"Half bad, half good—that's half-and-half. That's what we call him."
Amusing turn of phrase. Winter had been encountering kid innocence a lot lately. A smile brushed his lips.
"Now answer me. Does he die?"
The girl prodded. But it was still uncertain. Lying to reassure her felt off after her tone about adults. Déjà vu hit, so Winter answered honestly.
"Not sure yet. I don't want him to die either. Like you said, pure evil's rare."
"Then just save him."
"Not my call. But I promise—I'll do my best."
"Real promises hook pinkies."
The little miss stuck out her tiny hand. Winter hooked his finger with hers. The oblivious onlookers watched the warm, heartwarming scene. The pilot with dark circles under his eyes in the helo cockpit filmed it on his Net Warrior terminal. Probably video, not photo.
The girl swung their hands up and down, humming.
"Pinkie promise, pinkie promise. Whoever lies sinks to a scary place and never comes up."
The short song ended, fingers unhooked. The girl warned Winter.
"Now if you break it, bad stuff'll happen, so watch out."
"I'll keep it for sure."
"Take this."
She held out a paper folded like a pill bug.
"A letter?"
"Yeah. My friends wrote it together. Give it to the judge."
The condemned wouldn't face trial again, but the kid didn't know that.
"Got it. I'll deliver it."
Winter replied, picturing Colonel Rogers' stern face.
No more time to drag this out. Pilots had schedules. As engine noise rose, Winter led the girl back to her parents. Waving goodbye and walking backward, she called him to stop.
"Loan me your ear a sec."
What now? Winter obliged, and a smack sounded on his cheek. The little miss finally returned to her parents. Nestled in her flustered mom's arms, she turned her head and beamed.
"Thanks for saving Mom and Dad, Mr. Barnes, Aunt Natalie, and everybody! You were so cool! I'm Marie! Marie Patterson! I'll sleep a hundred nights and grow up, then come marry you, major!"
The Pattersons glanced between Winter and their daughter. Wife laughed like it was funny; husband pouted. Weren't you marrying Daddy just the other day? Daughter shot back. You think I'm still a kid?
The soldiers whistled. Playful jeers mixed in. They'd assigned the good ones to civilian herding, and this was the result. Even Morales chimed in.
"Goddamn. That pinkie swear—was that a marriage vow?"
"No, it wasn't..."
"Hey, if you can wait, what's wrong with it? Saw on TV—some old president from Cleveland or wherever courted his wife since she was tiny."
President Grover Cleveland was infamous for marrying his dead friend's daughter.
"Yeah? Say one more word."
Of course, he didn't. Giggling was enough for a sergeant.
Civilian boarding done, next came the wounded and crazies. Including the sergeant from last night who'd blown off his shin with a demo charge and cauterized it with thermite. He bellowed like a beast. Wooooooar! All remaining eyes turned.
"I'm on the helo! I'm fuckin' on the helo! Look at me, all! I'm on the goddamn helo right now! See this badass bird! Haha! I'm going home, you fucks!"
I'm king of the world! Hahaha!
The cargo door shut. After the helo lifted off, a soldier flicked his middle finger and wiped a tear.
"Holloway, that bastard was one solid son of a bitch."
"..."
With the transport formation airborne, the provisional company was next to roll out. After a quick meal, the soldiers looked way better than when they'd arrived. Plenty of vehicles—no walking, thank God. Ragtag unit or not, firepower was solid.
Winter gave orders.
"Rangers up front on point, Alpha Team rear security. One Hummer per team. Air recon says clear to destination, but no slacking. No radio silence needed, but crossing west of Sevastopol, stick to platoon channels max. Check freqs before we move."
Coincidentally, the local river was the Russian River, with a Sevastopol settlement along the bank. Sprawling residential area mixed with farmland nearby—possible mutant ambush spots.
The sky buzzed the whole move. So many aircraft crisscrossing east to west, clouds gridded up. Below, farmlands cut off from irrigation were green splotched yellow.
Just in case, Winter pulled his Net Warrior terminal—mid-strength signal. He'd carried it for ballistic calcs or linking Blue Force Tracker on armor, but now comms were back.
‘High-altitude relay like Scaled Composites Proteus up there?’
Different channels from tactical PDA. Winter fiddled, then pocketed it—wrong time. Soldiers were sneaking peeks. Even America couldn't issue terminals to the whole damn army.
Halfway across the plains, the provisional company swung south, hugging Highway 1 on the flank.
"Major. Cavalry scout approaching."
Harper's report from the pack radio. The riders who showed were literal cavalry. Pre-plague, it'd be traditional name for mechanized; now, straight Wild West. Their mounts gleamed even from afar.
"Whoa, what the hell are those? Shine like crazy."
Morales gawked at the lead. Heat haze over the fields, spring-summer cusp—the golden steeds popped unreal.