The Remaining: Fractured by D.J. Molles Read Free Book Online Page B

have family back at Camp Ryder?” LaRouche asked.
    “Joel and Dorian both have wives, and Nick has a wife and a kid.”
    “Fine.” LaRouche snatched his rifle off the wall. “We’ll do it your way.”
    He marched over to the group of ten that had formed a tight circle between the LMTV and the tanker, enjoying the residual warmth of the engines as they laid out their bedrolls and got a few small propane camping stoves burning. Wilson and Jim followed behind, but kept their distance as though they feared being present for the backlash.
    LaRouche stopped in front of the group and held up a hand. “Listen up for a second.”
    The sound of quiet conversation and the clank of cookware ceased and the eyes of the team went to LaRouche, who did not look happy.
    LaRouche looked back at them. “At this point, you all know I don’t beat around the bush, so I’ll just spit it out. It’s been two days since we’ve had any radio contact with Camp Ryder. We have no idea what the problem is. Could be something as simple as a malfunction with one of our repeaters…” he cleared his throat. “…Or it could be that something very serious has happened at Camp Ryder that is preventing them from responding to us.
    “I’ve considered the options, and my decision remains the same as it has always been. We were given a mission, and we’re going to complete it. We’re not turning back. We’re not splitting up the team to send anyone back. I know that a few of you have wives and children back at Camp Ryder. I also know the threat we’re facing ahead of us. If we encounter The Followers, I’m gonna need every gun I can get. Not to mention the importance of the mission.”
    He found the faces of Joel, Nick, and Dorian, and he looked directly at them when he spoke. “If you choose to leave, I won’t stop you. But I won’t help you either. You’ll go with what you have on you. You won’t get any extra food or water or ammunition. I can’t loan you a vehicle, or send anybody with you to watch your back. I’m not doing this to be a dick, but like I said, I still have a mission, and I intend to complete it no matter what.”
    Of the three men, Nick seemed to be the most perturbed. He stood his tall frame up, raised one of his long, thin arms in question. He was a tall man, in his thirties. He had a skeletal face and an awkward gangly-ness to his stretched-out frame. His deep-set eyes were close together, and a thin, blue vein bulged noticeably under his left socket, so that it seemed no matter what his mood, he appeared to be intensely angry about something. He stood there, his shoulders cinched in a permanent shrug. “We can’t make it back to Camp Ryder by ourselves. It’d be fucking suicide.”
    “Yes, it would,” LaRouche nodded.
    “Well, you’re not giving us much of a choice, are you?”
    “No, I’m not,” LaRouche said. “But that’s the situation. If we don’t make it to the bridges, if we get wiped out by some jack-fuck religious fanatics before we can do what we came here to do, then we’re talking about annihilation. Everything on south of us gets wiped out.” LaRouche shrugged. “So, no, I’m not giving you much of choice. Because I don’t have much of a choice to give.”
    He shook his head and turned away from them. “I’ll take first watch.”
     
    ***
     
    He found a rusted old ladder on the outside of the building, leading up to the roof. With a bottle of water and a pop-top can of ravioli, LaRouche climbed to his post just as the last shade of gray collapsed from the sky and left complete and utter blackness.
    He looked back and forth across the sky but saw no sign of moon or stars. Somewhere above him was a thick cloud cover, and the wind buffeted against him. Perhaps he wasn’t doing anyone any favors by taking the first watch—it seemed like there might be a late-night storm coming through, just in time to soak the other two watchmen.
    He climbed up on a dusty air conditioning unit, scared