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

behind them. Dozens of wagons were coming into view, carrying hundreds of people.

They’d decided to rest. With the alpha dead, none of the other lizards dared to even come close. Summers had been trying to rig up some kind of makeshift wagon from the remains of their Humvee, but so far, he’d been unsuccessful. It was starting to look like they’d be leaving with only what they could carry, so they’d decided to try lightening their load, starting with the crate of booze Synel had gifted them.

Which was why it took Summers so long to register the procession that was edging closer and closer.

“Right. Uh, masks?” Summers said, looking for the balaclava he’d stashed somewhere nearby.

“Think they’re from the city?” Nowak worked the action on his gun.

“You think they’d send an army after us? Kind of overkill, don’t you think?” Cortez cradled her rifle in hand as she spoke.

“To be fair, that’s probably what it would take.” Summers looked through his scope at the procession.

He spotted a silver-haired woman moving to the front; it was the trader they’d met, Synel. She held up her right hand up, palm facing toward her. Summers remembered that was a type of challenge the elves used, so she probably wanted to talk. Or she wanted them to get close enough to stab. Either way.

“That’s our trader, yeah?” Logan asked.

“Yeah.” Summers looked over to Nowak. “What’s the call?”

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It was an awkward thing to walk with so many eyes on you.

Synel stood at the center of the road, hands folded in front of her. She looked as placid as any other elf Summers had seen, but there was a definite tension in her voice, even if Summers didn’t understand her words.

“She says it’s good to see you well.” Asle looked up to Summers. They’d decided he’d run point on the negotiations, if only because Synel seemed fond of him.

Now that Summers was in front of the woman, though, he wasn’t so sure that was true. She was nervous. Actually, given the standards the elves used to socialize, it probably meant she was two seconds away from losing her shit.

“Likewise. Ask her why we’re talking right now.” Summers wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, not with the growing crowd in the distance.

Synel had come up to meet them alone, but that didn’t mean it would stay that way. If there was one thing Summers had learned in his time here, it was not to underestimate what people were capable of. Even if all they had were primitive weapons.

He registered a moment of surprise on Synel’s face as Asle spoke.

“She apologizes if she offended you. She’s . . . apologizing a lot? They only want to pass,” Asle explained, just as Synel gave them a slight bow. “They’re offering tribute for . . . the honor. To honor us? I don’t know what that means.” Asle turned back in confusion, or as close to that emotion as the girl could manage.

Summers paused before responding, remembering the towering monster that lay dead behind them. Now that he thought about it, Synel had mentioned she was heading south as well. Which meant there was a chance their meeting here was entirely accidental.

“Hold on, I think I’m the asshole here.”

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As it turned out, the city didn’t bother sending anyone after Summers’ group. From where they’d found the bodies, and what they knew of the guards who were killed, it was pretty clear what had happened. Whether or not that would have helped their case should they have stayed in the city was unclear, but it was obvious that Summers and his friends were not the kinds of people you fucked with.

So, the city’s leaders, in their wisdom, had placed the blame solely on the dead. With the rumors Summers’ group were actually godlings in disguise—a translation that took far longer than it should have because of Asle’s confusion on what exactly constituted a god—the caravan was all but begging them to show mercy.

After that had been cleared up, Summers had, in the most polite way he could manage, asked for a ride. And Synel had provided. In fact, she’d provided a little too well.

“I feel kinda guilty . . .” Nowak walked beside the wagon whose previous owners Synel had—by Summers’ best estimation—kicked to the curb. Or rather, they now looked to be sharing a wagon three sizes too small with another group. There was an argument brewing between the two. Summers was sure it was going to end badly, but it wasn’t like they didn’t need the space themselves. Between their supplies and the gear they’d managed to save from the Humvee, the wagon was a godsend.

“I don’t. Pretty sure we just fed these people for a month.” Cortez gestured to the growing mass of people around the corpse of the lizard alpha.

Groups of men were doing what they could to preserve the giant creature, all while taking slabs of meat, bone, and other choice cuts to wagons of their own.

Summers had sold the rights to the beast to Synel almost immediately. He was certain the wagon they’d received in payment was a sweetheart deal, but he wasn’t about to complain. It’s not like they could have taken it with them.

“Just be happy we don’t have to walk,” Summers agreed. Logan grunted from his side. He doubted that sword he was using for a leg would hold the weight of a full-grown man and a fully loaded pack.

“Either way, we got a lot of eyes on us. Make sure you’re keeping your heads on a swivel,” Nowak called over to the rest of them. He was on edge.

The paranoia was not unearned, however. Almost every elf in the caravan had paid special attention to their group. They’d even picked out the biggest, meanest-looking cow to pull the