Tales of the Forgotten Read Online Free Page B

pipe.”
    “Well,
sounds like you have it all figured out then,” chuckled Brad.
    “So
seriously, you really leaving us or what?” asked Turner, licking the cigarette
then sparking a match to light it.
    “Word
sure travel fast here, I guess some things never change.”
    “So
is that a yes then? The way you’re jumping around the subject I’m assuming that
it is.” Turner took a long drag on his cigarette. “Hey man, seriously, don’t
worry about me, I got your back whatever you decide. I’m more concerned about
the men, and they rely on you.”
    “I
think it’s for the best, Turner. We can’t just sit here forever. I want to go
see what’s left down south, maybe we can contact the States from there, you
know. And technically I am still on the job. I’m sure if they knew we were
here, the Army wouldn’t approve of us just getting cozy. It’s time for me to
move on.” Brad rose to his feet. “I really do appreciate your support, Turner,
I really do,” he said as he walked past the basin and tossed in his bowl.
    Brad
made his way to the main gate. He spoke to the remainder of his men, informing
them of his plan and that he would be leaving with the SEALs in the morning.
Many volunteered to go with him; he explained they would be needed to provide
security to the camp. Brad promised to return for them as soon as he could, and
somehow he would make contact with the camp again. There were no arguments, and
the soldiers shook his hand and promised to help him prepare his gear for the
coming journey.
    He
went back into the guardhouse and took a seat on his bunk. Looking around his
living space, he took stock of things he would need on the trip. He didn’t have
much that the Army didn’t issue. Brad opened the mouth of his large rucksack
and stuffed in his clothing and the remainder of his gear. He placed the most
needed equipment on top or in the outside pockets. Tightly rolling his bedroll,
he attached it to the top of his pack. He stared at his protective gas mask for
a second before smiling and tossing it aside; it landed with a thud on the
bulletproof plates that he had removed from his body armor long ago.
     He
checked and double-checked the ordnance on his vest. He still had twelve
magazines for his M4 and three for his M9, plus a couple of frag grenades just
in case. He looked over the snaps to make sure everything was securely
fastened. He picked up the Sigma pistol, carefully removing the magazine and
making sure it was topped off. For some reason he had started considering the
pistol his good luck charm, even though he’d never fired it. Maybe the fact
that he had never needed it made it lucky. Brad wiped the pistol off and tucked
it into the smaller day pack that he had attached to the outside of his larger
rucksack, then put on the overloaded vest and hoisted the heavy pack onto his
back. Taking a last look around the room, he sighed, then headed out the door.
    Brad
found Brooks and Sean working on a late model Land Rover Defender in their
makeshift motor pool situated between the warehouses.
    “She
was a gift from Junayd,” said Brooks over his shoulder as he watched Brad make
his way to them.
    “You
don’t want to take the MRAP?” asked Brad.
    “We
thought about it, but decided it wouldn’t be right. That MRAP makes a hell of a
life boat if your men ever need to bug out of here in a hurry. I don’t think
I’d ever feel good about taking that piece of security away from them,”
explained Sean. “There won’t be a lot of room, but we should do OK. Can you get
your gear over here so we can start packing?”
    Brad
dropped the heavy rucksack and attached it to the vehicle’s roof rack. He saw
that the SEALs had done the same with their own bags. Unlike the SEALs, who
carried an abundance of weapons, Brad still considered himself a light infantry
man. He carried a standard issue 9mm pistol and his M4 carbine augmented with
the suppressor he’d been given. On his vest, he carried a full