“We can definitely fix this,” Alex said.
He heaved the pack behind Samantha’s back toward Kate, who had turned Charlie onto his stomach and propped his left leg against the front door. She sat under the leg, pressing on his calf. The amount of blood on the floor in the foyer was unsettling, but not indicative of life-threatening arterial damage. Through sidelights next to the door, he saw one of the Matvees cruise past the house, headed west. The gray vehicle reappeared in the great room windows and stopped in the backyard between the barn and the house.
“Kate, use one of the QuikClot dressings and tape it up tight. The marines will take care of the rest. Ryan’s good?”
“I haven’t seen him, but he sounds good,” said Kate, digging through the medical bag. “Emily is fine with your mother?”
Alex smiled at Kate and nodded. “Mom has them locked down tight.”
“Let me see the wound here,” he said, gently moving Ed’s hand. “Definitely the entry, which means…”
He pushed Ed’s right thigh up a few inches and stuck his head against the floor.
“Through and through. Lucky guy,” said Alex, tearing open one of the packets and handing it to Samantha.
“I don’t feel very lucky,” grimaced Ed.
“Lucky it wasn’t your head. Sam, could you slide that trauma pad under his head, I mean ass? I get the two confused,” he said, winking at Ed.
“Was he like this in Boston?” asked Samantha.
“Worse,” replied Ed, wincing as Alex lowered his buttock against the hemostatic pad.
Samantha held out the second pad for Alex.
“Press this firmly into his thigh,” he said, moving out of the way. “It’ll stop the bleeding. I need to check on Linda.”
“What happened to her?”
“No idea. She stopped answering her radio,” he said, walking toward the stairs.
“Stop! Hands on your head!” bellowed a voice through the sitting room.
Alex complied, glancing through the shattered French doors. A rifle pointed at him from the lower right corner of the sitting room windowsill, locked tightly into a woodland MARPAT battle helmet.
“Captain Fletcher?”
“Affirmative.”
“Have all of your people stand fast while we clear the house. Hands visible and clear of any weapons until we positively identify all friendlies. Ooh rah?”
“Ooh rah,” said Alex.
“Dad?” called Ryan from their bedroom.
“Place your rifle on the bed and wait for the marines,” Alex said, leaning his head into the railing behind him. “Linda!”
“What?” she screamed.
Everyone made it.
Alex kept his hands in the air as the first marine appeared, aiming his rifle past the safe box toward the great room. He recognized Corporal Lianez immediately.
“Lianez, my dad’s by the wood-burning stove.”
Staff Sergeant Evans appeared on the other side of the kitchen island and aimed at the sandbags. “Hands up. Stand where I can see you.”
Chloe and Daniel Walker rose slowly, with their hands on their heads. The marine activated his rifle light and swept it through the safe box.
“These two are clear. Lianez, check the room across from the kitchen table.”
“On it,” said Lianez, winking at them as he moved forward to check the dining room.
“Captain Fletcher, what is your dad wearing?” said Evans, aiming his rifle past Lianez.
“Should be old-school woodland camouflage marine cover.”
“Check. Any tangos in that room with you, sir?”
“Negative,” said Tim Fletcher. “I didn’t let any by.”
Evans turned his point of aim to the covered porch. “That’s a no-shitter. Jesus.”
A third marine glided through the sitting room, examining the damage to the sandbags and nodding at Alex.
“Clear in the front room, Staff Sergeant!”
“Same here,” echoed Lianez.
“Clear on the first floor,” said Evans, activating his tactical radio. “Lianez, get these two stabilized for transport.”
“Copy that, Staff Sergeant,” Lianez said, dropping his MARPAT assault pack on the floor next to Ed.
Staff Sergeant Evans glanced up the stairs.
“Sir, is there any chance one of them slipped by you and made it upstairs?”
Alex shook his head. “We stopped them here.”
PART V
“Far from Over”
Chapter 43
EVENT +75:51
Limerick, Maine
Eli Russell stumbled out of the forest with four of Bertelson’s men, nearly collapsing on the dirt road.
Where the fuck is McCulver?
Flames leapt from the charred frame of a two-door sedan, superheating each breath of air he greedily sucked into his suffering lungs. He was at his breaking point and needed something to go right. Searching through the dense black smoke, he spotted the extraction vehicles crossing Old Middle Road. Finally. He took a knee and triggered his radio.
“Liberty Three, this is Actual. We are at the secondary extraction point. What is your location, over?”
A calm, composed voice responded, “Switch to the emergency frequency. Over.”
Eli fumbled with the buttons, his fingers slipping from the sweat that poured from his hands. “Brown, I need you at the extraction point immediately. If the tactical vehicles catch up with us, we’re done.”
“You’re good for now, Eli. No marines in pursuit. One of the Matvees is behind the house. The other is in front. Looks like they’re loading up the casualties.”
“Brown, why are you still there? You were supposed to head north and pick up the thirty-cal.”
“Northern egress wasn’t an option. I’m sticking. I want to know why I lost an entire squad to some guy wearing a Daniel Boone cap.”
“What? Never mind. What’s your E and E plan?”
“I’ll head north in a few hours, tracing Route 5. Radio checks at the top of the hour on channel 18, code 93. How copy, over.”
“Solid copy. Don’t get caught. Actual, out.”
Kevin McCulver’s black, matte-finished Bronco sped past the burning wreckage and skidded to a halt in front of them. A mud-spackled red SUV followed, pulling up several feet to the left. He turned to the survivors and signaled for them to get in the SUV. McCulver leaned across the seat and pushed the door open for Eli, who heaved himself into the seat and slammed the door.
“What the fuck took you so long?”
“What about Brown?” said McCulver, eyeing the road to the compound.
“He’ll be fine,” said Eli.
“Did you see him on the way back?”
“What is it with the twenty goddamn questions? Back up and get us out of here!”
“All right,” said McCulver.
“How about a yes, sir, once in a blue moon?” he said, pounding his right fist into the dashboard.
Without saying a word, his second in command navigated the truck onto Old Middle Road and sped west, with the rest of the convoy falling in behind.
“Are all of the drivers on your radio net?” asked Eli, lifting the handheld radio from the drink holder.
“Yes, sir,” he muttered.
“Don’t be a smart ass, Kevin.”
“Liberty Mobile, this is Liberty Actual. It is imperative that the last vehicle in this convoy watches the road behind them. Report any and all vehicles spotted. I want the last car to respond, over.”
“Liberty Actual, this is Jim Huxitt in the last car. I’m scanning the road with binoculars, over.”
“Roger. Out,” said Eli, leaning into his seat and closing his eyes.