Wake of War by Zac Topping

Author:Zac Topping
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

16

ENEMY CONTACT

Alpha Company began reaching out from the hospital, setting up traffic control and checkpoints farther into RF territory like feelers, testing the waters before making another long march beyond the help of support. First Platoon had left the hospital behind and moved into a part of town colloquially known as “The Turf” because of the gang activity in the area, and was currently holding down a checkpoint at a traffic circle in the middle of a usually busy market square.

Trent stood guard at the gate, which was nothing more than an opening between a couple concrete barriers with some sandbags and trash stacked in piles out front. There was no actual gate to close in the event things went south, which was why Creon had given orders to act with extreme aggression in regard to force security. Street vendors came by every so often pushing wheelbarrows of useless trinkets with hopes of selling the garbage to gullible soldiers, but they were quickly driven away. The other day Trent watched as one middle-aged man of questionable intelligence failed to take the hint and kept pressing O’Malley for a sale. The man just kept smiling as O’Malley tried to shove him off. Creon came over and dropped the guy with the stock of his MX. The man crawled away and hadn’t been back since.

Trent took a drag on his cigarette and scanned the street. Beyond the traffic circle there were a bunch of shops, an internet café, a satellite phone service, and some small general stores. There was usually a lot of activity; from sunup to sundown, the street was filled with shouting pedestrians, honking cars, and lots of sideways stares.

This morning, however, the street was empty.

That emptiness was accompanied by a deadly silence so palpable it set Trent’s skin to crawling. He checked his watch. 1027 hours. Prime business time. Something was off.

“Hey, Bodine.”

The corporal grunted. “What.”

“Shouldn’t there be more people out here?”

Bodine stood off to the side watching the north end of the traffic circle. “Ya know, I was thinkin’ that.”

Trent stubbed out his cigarette. “I’m gonna call it in.” He got on the radio and sent it up. Less than thirty seconds later, Creon was at the gate.

“What’s the issue?” he said, scanning beyond the barricades, rifle at the ready.

“This time yesterday there had to be a hundred people out there,” Trent said. “Today it’s a ghost town, Sergeant. Something’s not right.”

Creon stood silently, eyes narrowed on the street. Somewhere in the distance a generator purred, a dog barked, the breeze pushed loose paper down the sidewalk. But there were no voices, no patter of footsteps, no rumbling car engines or honking horns. The shops were open, doors propped and wares set out.

“How long’s it been like this?” Creon asked.

“The whole morning,” Trent replied.

“How long have you been on guard duty?”

Trent knew where the sergeant was going. He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Uh … since zero six, Sergeant.”

“And you just now figured it worth reporting?” Creon said, eyes still locked on the street.

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