Fireteam Delta J. Halpin (top 10 books of all time TXT) 📖

Cortez looked back at Adams. “We’re just giving you fair warning that we’re going to shut that shit down as soon as we see it.”

Logan smiled at the private. “You’re what, nineteen?”

Adams was doing his best to keep up—and failing. “Almost twenty.”

“Back at my old base, they had a gift shop. It sold wedding rings for ten bucks. It was one of their best sellers.”

Nowak turned back to Adams. “Look, we’re going to be in this town for a while if all goes as planned. Part of you might start thinking it would be a lot easier to just stay here. That’s your choice. We just want to make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons and not because you’re trying to get laid.”

“And so you don’t get shanked by your new father-in-law because you’re some weird foreigner,” Cortez said. “Seriously, I got stories.”

“I got transferred to base because of relationship . . . complications,” Summers added. “I know Cortez had a similar story. So just . . . take our word on it.”

Cortez laughed. “Any ‘relationship’”—she used air quotes—“was wishful thinking on that asshole’s part.”

“Still counts,” Summers prodded.

“Fine. And for the record, it was worth it.”

“What did—?” Adams began.

“You do not want to know. Trust me,” Summers interrupted.

Cortez smiled at Adams in response. He didn’t return the sentiment.

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They found a ditch big enough to fit the Humvee. After some work with a couple branches, it blended into the forest seamlessly. Cortez still rigged a shotgun to a tripwire in front of the largest branch, just in case some nosy locals happened upon it. Maybe that was heartless, but it was a better alternative to letting all those weapons fall into some stranger’s hands. Nowak had carved the words “shotgun” into the nearby tree, in case they forgot about their little surprise. Last thing they needed was a chest full of buckshot.

Summers was busy trying to move the corpse of the monster out of the way for some supplies. Nowak had field dressed it the day earlier, so they hadn’t wanted for fresh meat—at least, not after they experimented by feeding some to the cow. It didn’t look like it had any issues, so they had deemed it safe. Strangely enough, the monster tasted like duck.

Nowak turned to Summers as he finished. “How are we on gas?”

“I’d say we have another week,” Summers answered. “They didn’t build these things with mileage in mind.”

“Think we’ll hit the coast?” Cortez asked. They’d hoped to reach this world’s equivalent of Anchorage by the time they had to leave the Humvee behind.

“Probably.”

Nowak checked the map one last time. “I’m hoping we can follow the road to some port town, maybe charter a ship.”

“With what money?” Summers wasn’t thrilled with the idea of getting on a boat. He was never a great student, but most history classes stressed just how uncomfortable—and deadly—sailing was back before the conveniences of modern life.

“Hopefully, whatever we get from trading will be enough. If not, we can try to find work in town,” Nowak explained. “We’d probably have to hide the guns until we needed them, but that wouldn’t be too hard. We got the bandits’ crap. With cloaks, we could probably pass for locals.”

“So, you want us to wear disguises?”

“I want to look armed. Those bandits didn’t even register us as a threat. I’d like to do as little killing as we have to.” Nowak tossed Summers one of the bandits’ metal-rimmed helmets. “And you said it yourself, we should try to keep a low profile. That means not standing out. Get some cash and supplies, and then get on our way.”

Summers turned the steel helmet in his hands. It smelled like blood and sweat. Nowak had the right of it, he knew. But something told him they wouldn’t be able to keep a low profile for long.

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“No, you can’t squint,” Logan instructed. “Stop. Just keep your face neutral. Cortez, you still look pissed.”

They’d learned, or rather Logan had learned through his many talks with Asle, that elves were not big on facial cues. Not that they didn’t understand them, apparently—they had similar tendencies as the rest of them; happy, sad, it all translated. They just didn’t show those kinds of responses in public. A display of emotion like that was reserved for the people closest to you, in the privacy of their home. Asle had explained that it was considered barbaric to do so freely, in public, and with people you just met.

“That’s my normal face,” Cortez replied.

“Yeah, well, don’t do that,” Logan insisted.

“I have a spear.”

“Cortez, cut the shit and just let him help you, please?” Nowak called over.

Logan was trying to coach them on blending in, with Asle acting as his assistant. They were getting mixed results.

Summers was walking alongside the wagon in the bandits’ scaled armor. There had been about five sets they’d scavenged from the bandits’ bodies. It didn’t look the best, but at least they wouldn’t be seen as easy prey.

“Be like Adams.” Logan gestured to the private.

“What? Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” Adams admitted.

“Yeah, okay, so do that without zoning out,” Logan suggested.

The severed remains of the monster took up the bulk of their wagon, which meant they had to walk. It was large enough that the head of the creature poked out over the front. If that weight was a burden to the brawny cow, however, it didn’t show it. It just marched merrily along the trail, occasionally stopping to graze where and when it felt like before getting back on the road. Given its size, they had no idea how to stop it from acting on its whims short of putting a bullet in its head, so it was allowed to continue as long as it kept