Jameson came jogging casually down the stairs.
“Good morning,” he said cheerfully.
“Morning,” she replied. Bower couldn’t bring herself to add the adjective good, not yet at least. Ah, she was being too grumpy and she knew it.
“There’s coffee in the kitchen.”
“I’m good.”
There, she said it, good was out there for all to hear. Well, Jameson at least.
“We should be ready to go within—”
“Fifteen,” she added, cutting him off.
He smiled. She could see he was a little confused by her abrupt comment. Bower softened her attitude, saying, “Yeah, I thought we’d be ready in around fifteen minutes.”
If she could figure out who had thumped on her door, she was going to throttle them.
Jameson seemed a little perplexed by her attitude, but he clearly wasn’t in on the joke. He just nodded as he put his pack in the Hummer.
“Wouldn’t it make sense to just take the truck?” Bower asked out of curiosity, watching as Jameson rummaged around in the back of the Hummer. “It’s big enough for all of us. Won’t our fuel go further that way?”
“That old piece of shit?” Jameson replied. As the words left his lips he seemed to soften, apparently not wanting to offend her. “Nah. Two is one, one is none.”
“Sorry? I didn’t catch that.”
“Oh, it’s an army phrase,” Jameson said, grabbing another pack from the rear steps of the hotel. “If you’ve only got one set of wheels and something breaks, you’re screwed, if you’ve got two, you can pack everyone into the one remaining vehicle if one of them breaks down. Two is one, one is none. It means, ensure you have redundancy.”
“Oh,” Bower replied, nodding at the realization.
“And besides,” he added. “We’re a small force. Two vehicles make us appear bigger, a force to be reckoned with. A bit of bluster goes a long way.”
The sun was low, barely creeping over the horizon, casting long shadows down the dusty city streets. Above them, the alien craft soared through space. The mothership orbited Earth once every two hours, appearing overhead for roughly thirty minutes as it gracefully soared through the sky. During the night, the craft shimmered like a chameleon, changing colors. Like oil in a puddle, there was a greasy, rainbow of colors, almost metallic in their appearance. The fine tentacles waved as though caught in a breeze. Bower wondered about how big they were, knowing their size was deceptive given the distance involved, but they looked as fine as the hair on her arm.
The previous night, they’d sat up talking until the early hours of the morning, watching for each passing of the alien spacecraft like kids waiting for Santa, at least that’s the way she felt. Across the city, a cry would resound as the inhabitants recognized the unearthly shape drifting smoothly above them. At first, Bower thought it was a cheer, but as the night went on she realized it was a wail, like that of mourners at a funeral.
In the early morning light, the craft took on the purples and pinks of the dawn. For her, the sight was hypnotic.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” Jameson replied.
“I don’t mean to doubt you, or anything like that, and I do appreciate your… ” She was struggling for the word, “expertise in things military, if that’s the right way to phrase it. But, why did we wait here so long? Why stay two nights in Ksaungu instead of pushing on to Lilongwe. I mean, I know it wasn’t because you’re afraid or anything like that. I don’t think that at all. It’s just, I thought there was a plane waiting for us there or something… ” She was tripping over her words. What started out as a good question had slowly degraded into blather.
Jameson smiled. He really was a gentleman at heart and seemed to understand what she was getting at far better than she did herself.
“Combat isn’t about shooting guns madly at bad guys, it’s about planning and preparation. Rule number one: Never walk blindly into a new arena.”
Bower sat on the dusty steps of a fire exit as he spoke. She finally recognized Smithy on the second floor balcony, peering out across the city with her machine gun at the ready, having kept watch through at least part of the night. Bower wasn’t sure how often the sentries rotated, but she knew Jameson had two of his team awake at all times.
“Combat is fluid, never static, always changing. Lilongwe is an unknown. While there was the chance of rest here in Ksaungu and no good intel on Lilongwe it was prudent to sit tight.”
Bower nodded thoughtfully.
“Besides, we needed to get that radio fixed. Now Bosco’s got the shortwave circuits working on the radio we’ll be able to contact any troops still in Ksaungu. Shortwave won’t give us over-the-horizon coms, but we will have line-of-sight. The standard operating procedure when someone’s MIA is for a high-altitude fly over, listening for MAD chatter.”
“Mad Hatter?” Bower replied, surprised by the term. “What? Like Alice in Wonderland?”
“No,” Jameson added, laughing. “Chatter, MAD chatter. MAD is an acronym meaning Military Air Distress. They’ll be listening for us on the MAD frequency.”
“Oh,” said Bower, feeling a little stupid. “And how far is line-of-sight?”
“About fifty to a hundred clicks, depending on our terrain and their altitude.”
Bower didn’t ask what a click was, but she figured fifty to a hundred of them was neither close nor that far away.
“From what we’ve heard, the road to Lilongwe is littered with burnt out army vehicles. The rebels fought hard to break the supply lines between the two cities, but the army’s kept the roads open. I mean to squeeze through before the rebels regroup and try their hand again.”
Bower breathed deeply. Jameson made the plan sound routine.
Kowalski walked out with Leopold.
Jameson said, “We roll in—”
“Fifteen,” Bower added, again cutting him off. She grinned at Jameson, showing her teeth in a half smile. He looked a little confused and must have realized she had her own private joke going on.
“Actually,” he replied, “since everyone’s up I was going to say, five.”
Jameson disappeared inside the rear entrance to the hotel.
Bower screwed her face up.
“They’re not going to like that,” Leopold said, talking to Kowalski more than Bower. “I think the staff here quite liked having the Rangers around. It was like they had their own personal security service, mercenaries that didn’t drink or shoot up the bar. This whole section of town has been quiet since you guys arrived. I don’t think anyone wanted to upset the Americans, hoping they’d stay. No one wants to be abandoned, and seeing US soldiers on the ground has given the Africans some hope, false hope for sure, but hope nonetheless.”
The two men sat next to Bower.
“Have you changed your mind?” Bower asked, turning to Leopold.
“Nope. Have you? Better the devil you know, and all that. Besides, there’s an NBC film crew due in here at the end of the week. I’ll hook up with them.”
“Keep your head down,” Bower replied.
“You too.”
Kowalski sipped coffee from a styrofoam cup.
“Hey, why didn’t you wake me?” Bower asked.
“I thought you’d prefer a little more sleep,” Kowalski replied. Bower knew he meant well, but she’d have rather he didn’t try so hard. Kowalski was always trying too hard to be considerate. As long as she’d known him, he’d always been like that, always prepared to put himself out for others. For once, she wished he’d be selfish, and not just so she didn’t feel so bad. He needed to be selfish for himself, so he didn’t burn out.