03-Strength of the Mate (23 page)

Sergeant Brandt hailed Adam on the radio. Snatching up the handset, he replied quickly.

“Possible ambush ahead. We’re gonna temporarily divert the convoy off the main highway, to try to avoid the kill zone.” Brandt informed him.

“Copy that,” Adam replied.

“Sergeant Mercer is staging his Humvee at the demarcation point. All rigs bear right to the frontage road. Keep to that route until advised otherwise.”

“Roger that.” The CIA must be right about threats to the convoy. The Marines had never altered the route before, once they were on the road. It made Adam nervous that they were being taken off road.

He considered the best way to get the info to his drivers without tying up the radio for too long. Adam decided to start simple. He hailed all the drivers as a group, then he repeated Brandt’s instructions. When he finished, Adam ordered each driver to broadcast an acknowledgment, in the same order as they were driving.

A couple of drivers requested clarification, but to Adam’s relief, they were briefed and ready to go in just a few minutes. When Adam hailed Brandt, the answer was immediate.

“Convoy drivers are all ten-four on the route change,” Adam advised him.

“Roger that. Impressive. Are you sure you never served as a Marine?”

A year ago, that question would have pissed Adam off. Now, he recognized it for the compliment it was.

“Must be genetic,” he quipped, returning his mic to the holder.

Up ahead, the lead tanker turned right, leaving the paved highway. Adam caught sight of the Humvees and gun trucks that were part of their escort. The drive to the frontage road was going to be rough. Based on where the military vehicles were turning right, they wouldn’t be off road for very long. At least Adam hoped not.

He reached the point of demarcation. A Humvee was parked across both lanes of traffic, blocking progress down the highway. Marines encircled the vehicle, M16s and SAWs aimed outward as they scanned for targets in the desert.

Adam changed gears, preparing to make the turn off road. Mercer stood facing the oncoming convoy, directing them all where to make the turn. Adam gave Paul a brief wave, and turned the wheel to the right.

The ground was uneven and covered in rocks. His rig shuddered and shimmied as he drove. Beside him, Jason struggled to keep his balance, widening his stance in the seat. Large dust clouds rose up from the line of trucks as they crossed the small patch of desert.

Adam reached the frontage road. He didn’t think his rig was any worse for wear. Checking his instrument cluster again, all the gauges appeared to be reading normal. He spotted a second Humvee parked on the frontage road, making it obvious which direction the convoy needed to turn. Marines also stood around this vehicle, weapons raised. Adam’s unease grew as he realized they were standing guard, as much as they were providing direction.

He started to get the idea that the Marines were downplaying the severity of the threat. What the hell had the CIA found out? Adam swore under his breath as he thought about all the extra fuel they needed to move. The timing of this increased threat couldn’t be worse. He was starting to doubt this was a coincidence.

Adam would worry about that later. As soon as he hit the frontage road, the ride smoothed out. The road surface wasn’t as good as the highway, so they traveled slower. At least Adam’s teeth didn’t feel like they were vibrating out of his head.

He listened to the Marines execute a controlled det on another IED. Adam couldn’t remember when they’d ever come across more than one live device. Decoys were scattered all over the place. Live devices were common. Multiple live devices targeting a single convoy was new.

From the corner of his eye, Adam detected movement. He glanced over quickly, relieved to see a Humvee speeding past, toward the front of the convoy. A few minutes later, a gun truck rolled by on the other side. Adam couldn’t tell from the radio traffic what they were doing. The IEDs didn’t seem to be too much of a threat. The convoy traveled down the frontage road for several miles, without incident.

He wondered how much longer they had to stay on this route. Adam caught sight of vehicles ahead, turning back toward the highway. Several Humvees led the way, tanker rigs following. Adam shifted gears. He spotted a Humvee, surrounded by Marines, obviously showing the demarcation point.

“Get ready for another rough ride,” he told Jason as he turned his rig off road again.

Jason was ready this time. He’d already widened his stance and lowered his posture for stability. Adam’s teeth still felt like they were going to bounce right out of his skull. When the convoy reached the highway again, he was relieved.

Checking his mirrors, Adam picked up his radio mic. He ordered his drivers to check in when they returned to the highway. He listened as each one confirmed they were still in line and their rigs were still road worthy.

Adam wondered how much longer their luck could hold.

Gunfire erupted nearby. Adrenaline flooded Adam’s body. His skin tingled. Everything looked brighter, sounded louder. Loud impacts and tearing metal sounded nearby, but Adam couldn’t identify them.

Jason’s yelp of pain filled the cab. Adam startled violently, his seatbelt was the only thing that kept him in his seat. Jason yelped again, this time nearly howling. Adam glanced over at him, trying to see what had gone wrong. He struggled to keep his rig traveling straight as he wondered what the hell had happened to Jason.

Adam could still hear gunfire. He thought something impacted his rig. Christ, he was actually being shot at. He snatched up his mic and looked over at Jason again. He saw blood. Jason held his right paw off the seat. Blood dripped from his elbow onto the upholstery. The window was intact, so maybe a round tore through the thin metal of the truck’s door. Shit.

His hand trembled as Adam held the mic to his mouth. He took a deep breath, hoping he’d sound steady on the air. Adam broadcast the code the drivers used for life and death emergencies. It was comforting when Lieutenant Wilkins answered immediately, asking him what had gone wrong.

“My werewolf passenger appears to have taken a round to the right leg,” Adam said.

“Gunnery Sergeant Rivers, did you copy that last transmission?” Wilkins asked.

“Affirmative,” Dawson replied immediately. “Please advise if Rodriguez is still conscious. If so, is he still upright?”

“That’s affirm on both. But you can hear him in the background, obviously in pain.”

“Copy that. How fast is he losing blood?”

“Appears to be dripping rapidly. No pools have formed yet.” As Adam talked, Jason made several yowling sounds.

“Rodriguez concurs with your assessment. He seems stable enough to make it into Fallujah. If his status changes abruptly before we arrive at the truck yard, advise me and we’ll adjust the plan.”

“Roger that.” Adam didn’t like the plan. He wanted to pull over and get a corpsman to treat Jason now. He hoped to hell Dawson knew what the fuck he was doing.

Jason sat with his wounded paw tucked up to his chest. The bleeding seemed slower. Jason licked at the wound. Adam forced himself to concentrate on his driving. He needed to keep the right amount of distance between his rig and the one in front of him.

Adam tuned into the radio traffic. The convoy was still taking fire. A couple more Marines were wounded. It sounded like one of Adam’s drivers had been sprayed by shattered glass. A chill ran through Adam’s body.

He hailed his driver on the radio. The Marine riding shotgun answered for him.

“Can you advise how serious my driver’s injuries are? Can he make it into Fallujah?” Adam asked.

“He’s pretty sliced up on his left side, but the bleeding’s already slowing. Looks like he’s got full function of both hands and arms. Facial injuries are minor.”

Adam exhaled a relieved breath. “Roger that,” he replied. “Advise if his status changes.” They’d need to make a quick driver switch if there was a risk of crashing the rig. Adam refused to risk his driver’s life any more than it already was.

Replacing the mic, Adam looked over at Jason again. He was still licking at his wound. Adam didn’t think he looked worse, so that was something.

“How are you holding up?” Adam asked.

Jason glanced at him briefly. Something in his wolf-eyes told Adam he was in pain, but at least he was alert. Blood wasn’t pouring off of him so he was probably okay. Adam wanted to pull over and get Jason the help he needed. The only thing that kept him driving was knowing that more lives would be at risk, including Dawson’s, if they stopped moving.

As if he’d read Adam’s mind, Dawson hailed him on the radio. When Adam replied, Dawson asked, “Update Rodriguez’s status. Is he still upright and alert?”

“Affirmative. He responds when I speak to him. Is it okay that he’s licking the wound?”

“Affirm. Those are all good signs. The route looks clear the rest of the way. You’re about five mikes out.”

Adam wasn’t clear about that last part, but it seemed like Dawson was confirming their ETA to the truck lot. “Copy that.”

When they finally rolled through downtown Fallujah, the streets were lined with U.S. Marines. Adam was sure there was a Humvee parked at every intersection they crossed.

He made the final left turn leading to the truck yard. “Just a few minutes longer,” Adam said. “Just hang in there.” He told himself he was reassuring Jason.

Adam saw the entrance to the truck lot. He snatched up the radio mic again. “We’re approaching the yard. I need the corpsman over here for Corporal Rodriguez.” With one hand, he began to unfasten the chin strap of his Kevlar helmet.

“Doc’s rollin’ in right behind you.” Dawson’s reply was immediate.

Adam glanced in his review, relieved to see a gun truck right behind him. He pulled the rig in line, parking next to the one ahead of him in the convoy. As soon as his air brakes sounded, Marines converged on them.

Leaving the engine running, Adam opened his door and sprang to the ground. He tossed his Kevlar back into the cab. The Marines had Jason’s door open when Adam made it around the tractor. The corpsman—Marchesi—was already examining the bloody wound.

“Jesus Christ, it missed his vest,” Adam declared. He was horrified by the sight of Jason’s front leg covered in blood-matted fur. “What good is that fucking thing if it doesn’t cover the place he got shot!”

“It covers his vital organs.” Mercer’s voice was calm and matter-of-fact.

Adam turned to where Paul had appeared behind him. “He’s bleeding all over the truck, so something vital was hit! He needs help.”

“You’re damn lucky, Madison,” Marchesi said, not looking away from the wound on Jason’s leg. “The round went clean through.”

“How the hell does that make me lucky?” Adam demanded. Why the fuck were they all just standing around? Jason needed help.

“Height and angle of the shot, man,” said Paul. “You’re lucky it didn’t end up in you after it hit Rodriguez.”

Adam’s stomach soured. He swallowed several times, struggling not to be sick. “I’m fine,” he said insistently. “Why the hell is everybody standing around? Jason needs help. He’s bleeding all over the place!” Adam started to push through the useless Marines. He’d get Jason out of the truck and to the hospital himself.

“The bleeding stopped already,” Doc Marchesi replied. “He just needs an x-ray and to have the wound cleaned.” The corpsman gave Adam a strange look over his shoulder.

Paul’s hand was heavy on Adam’s shoulder. “Rodriguez is fine, dude. Doc Marchesi is taking good care of him.” Mercer used his hand on Adam’s shoulder to pull him away from the truck.

Adam tried to shrug off Paul’s hand. “I’m not leaving Jason,” he said angrily. “He needs my help.”

“Gunny!” Paul shouted, looking somewhere past Adam. “Gunny Rivers!”

Dawson would understand. Adam glanced around, looking for him. Dawson would make sure his werewolf got the help he needed.

“What’s up, Mercer?” Dawson asked. “How’s Rodriguez doing?”

“He’ll be fine…” Paul started to answer.

Adam pulled free of Mercer’s grip. He turned toward Dawson. He had to make him understand. “Jason got shot. He’s bleeding everywhere. He needs help.”

Dawson nodded his understanding. “Okay. Let’s go take a look.” He shot a brief glance at Mercer. He gripped Adam’s shoulders, steering him back to the open door of the cab.

Jason was still inside the tractor, his leg covered in blood. Adam was suddenly lightheaded.

“Glad you’re here, Gunny,” Marchesi said. “I need to get Rodriguez somewhere I can work on him to patch him up.” Doc unfastened some of the Velcro strips on Jason’s vest.

Adam started forward. He’d get Jason out of the cab himself. Dawson’s hands on his shoulders stopped him.

“Where we gonna move him to?” Dawson asked. He sounded too calm.

“Tailgate on the back of the truck is perfect,” replied Marchesi.

Adam took another step forward. Dawson tugged him backward. “Remember, Jason’s a werewolf,” he said calmly. “We’re big and we’re heavy in wolf form. Mercer and I will handle it.”

“I need to help him,” Adam blurted.

“You are helping.” Dawson kept using that smooth tone that infuriated Adam.

As Marchesi slid Jason’s armor vest off his back, Dawson held out a hand. He took the vest, then handed it to Adam. “He’s going to need this. Would you hang on to it for him, please?”

Adam took the heavy armor from Dawson. He folded it neatly and held it against his chest. He watched Marchesi step back, out of the way. Dawson approached Jason, turning to lean his back toward him. Reaching over his shoulder, Dawson lifted Jason at the chest. Carefully, Dawson draped the front half of Jason’s body over his own shoulder.

Jason stood his rear legs up on the seat beneath him. Dawson took one step forward. Paul slid in behind him, bracing a shoulder beneath Jason’s hips. Together, Dawson and Paul carried Jason’s large wolf-body toward the rear of the rig.

“Be careful,” Adam demanded. He followed them to the gun truck parked behind his rig. “Don’t hurt him any more than he already is.”

The tailgate of the gun truck was already lowered. Inside, Adam saw a bedroll, and a lot of emergency medical supplies. He sighed in frustration. Jason had been shot. A first aid kit wasn’t enough, he needed a doctor in a hospital.