Chapter 101
Chapter One Hundred One
They slid into the woods before the sun rose, each of them carrying half the mass they’d carted around on previous runs. Connor oversaw the vehicle loading with a powerful flashlight, checking labels, and strapping things in.
Nothing molested them or even tracked them. The woods were quiet except for them, the air comparatively pleasant, as if the lizards had never been there.
Connor constantly moved around the formation, making sure no one lowered their guard or let the climbing heat get to them.
But it was unnecessary. By early afternoon, they reached the ruins.
He checked his stopwatch, then took a long drink of water from his canteen, noting the strange taste Vicente had mentioned before.
More work to be done.
Kalpana hunched behind the mound she’d used for cover previously.
Connor joined her, keeping a little distance to be safe. “Anything down there?”
In answer, she handed him her rifle.
Nothing moved inside the circle of ruined structures. Where the flying scorpions had erupted from the ground, there were still obvious signs—torn moss and overturned rock—but the rain had gone a little ways toward hiding even that.
The scout took her rifle back. “We doing this?”
He glanced back at Selen, who already had people unloading gear from the vehicle. Ammunition, explosives, rope, the repaired winch: She was committed.
“We’re doing it.” Connor couldn’t think of an argument not to.
“It’s crazy.”
“What’s crazy?”
“Doing the same thing over again and expecting a different result.”
It was an old joke, but Connor had always found it funny.
He smiled. “We’re learned their tactics. We’re adapting.”
The scout shrugged. “Feels the same to me.”
With Kalpana watching the ruins, he jogged back to the vehicle. He wanted some of the improvised grenades. If the scorpions showed up again, they’d find a surprise waiting for them.
Mosiah wiped sweat from his red brow as he studied the distant stones. There was a faint scent of alcohol coming off of him. “This defensive position you have in mind…”
Connor joined the old man. “I want to use a standing structure.”
“The roof for protection against the flying things—it’s a solid idea. Except, those buildings are old.”
“They’re solid enough.”
“What of the multiple entry points? Those are problematic.”
“We’ll seal them off. And we’ll knock out some holes for the team to fire out of.”
The old man harrumphed. “It certainly seems superior to our last plan.”
He meant the plan that had nearly gotten him killed, when Selen had abandoned them.
It wasn’t a knock on Connor. “You’ll stay with the defensive position.”
“I understand the reasoning and applaud your concern for my well-being, but—”
“It’s not a suggestion, Mosiah. Once my team reaches the edge of the pit and gets the winch set up, we’ll bring you and the crates forward.”
“Of course.” But the old man’s nostrils flared.
“I want this over with just as much as you do.”
“That hardly seems likely.” Mosiah bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I sound petulant and ridiculous—a strange mixture, I’m sure.”
“You sound like someone used to getting things done.”
The old man laughed. “You mean someone used to getting his way.”
“That, too.”
“It’s a fair and astute observation. I have a lifetime of mistakes to haunt me, and they’re all the result of my own decisions and the stubbornness to assume that what I’ve conceived of must be the best approach.”
Connor was surprised by the acidity of the old man’s self-loathing. “We all make mistakes.”
“It’s neither the question of mistakes nor the volume of those mistakes. What I’m referring to is the profound depth of them.”
“You mean your friends?”
“Associates, if you would. But that’s merely the skein of my disastrous life. The true travesty is down there.” The old man pointed toward the pit. “Listening to those associates and believing yet another set of lies.”
“It’s none of my business, but why did you associate with them?”
Muscles twitched in the old man’s cheek. “They had wealth and ambition. As a young man, nothing mattered more to me.”
“Can I ask what you did?”
“Hm? Oh, the crimes I committed in search of the money I desired? Everything, I’m ashamed to say. Theft, murder. If it amplified our wealth, we pursued it. All under the guise of legality, too. I’m sure you understand how structures as vague as the regulations regarding mercenaries can lead to questionable decision-making.”
“I do.” Connor remembered the raid to secure Dr. Litvinenko. That had been morally gray, even for mercenaries like the Devil’s.
“Imagine that ambiguity when coupled with the tacit approval of governments and people of great power. Calling it bad form would diminish the brutality of our acts.”
“You didn’t kill anyone coming here, though. These ruins are ancient.”
“True. But we stole from something or someone. It diminished them.”
Was he regretting diminishing a dead culture? Connor thought the old man seemed more frightened than regretful, although there was regret.
A hand settled on Connor’s shoulder, and Selen squeezed between him and Mosiah. “Is this a philosophy discussion? Two wise old men debating the things that went wrong in their lives?” She smiled wickedly.
Mosiah cleared his throat. “Speaking only for myself, I see no harm in reflection.”
“Yeah, well, it’s too late to undo what you did.”
Connor shrugged her hand off. “You really believe that? There’s no redemption?”
She checked her weapon. “I’m not really interested in arguing.”
“But—”
“Connor, we’ve lost people on this mission. I want it to be done with.” She twisted around and whistled at the rest of the team. “Let’s go!”
As she headed down the gentle slope toward the edge of the woods, Connor couldn’t help wondering what she was really thinking. It seemed impossible that she could sincerely see their situation as anyone else’s fault.
They were caught up in a disaster of her making, plain and simple.
And he couldn’t shake the feeling they weren’t done yet.
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