BooksBarbecue
Back The Preserve
Chapters (56)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Half-Title Page
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright Page
  5. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  6. 1.
  7. 2.
  8. 3.
  9. 4.
  10. 5.
  11. 6.
  12. 7.
  13. 8.
  14. 9.
  15. 10.
  16. 11.
  17. 12.
  18. 13.
  19. 14.
  20. 15.
  21. 16.
  22. 17.
  23. 18.
  24. 19.
  25. 20.
  26. 21.
  27. 22.
  28. 23.
  29. 24.
  30. 25.
  31. 26.
  32. 27.
  33. 28.
  34. 29.
  35. 30.
  36. 31.
  37. 32.
  38. 33.
  39. 34.
  40. 35.
  41. 36.
  42. 37.
  43. 38.
  44. 39.
  45. 40.
  46. 41.
  47. 42.
  48. 43.
  49. 44.
  50. 45.
  51. 46.
  52. 47.
  53. 48.
  54. EPILOGUE
  55. AFTERWORD
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

“Nope, no sir,” Jock said. “Besides, I don’t take to needles well . . . Weird word, ‘dose.’ It can mean the cure and the disease.”

“I suppose so,” Lett said.

He leaned close to Jock, their ears brushing. “Listen: what do you make of what happened today?”

“Why they used us, you mean? They coulda used anyone. Nah, that was another test. Lansdale wanted to see if we could protect him. And we passed it flying.”

“But we were there for show, too. But for who? The town people?”

“Town people know better to stay clear,” Jock said.

“Supposing it was to show those types coming off the boat.”

“The Oriental-looking ones maybe. They did have at least one Nip. Jap, I mean. Sorry, not supposed to call ’em that anymore. At least one Japanese.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.”

Jock stared ahead. They had cleared the black rock again, heading inland and uphill, the brown scrub along the road giving way to green foliage.

“What do you want?” Lett said. “From The Preserve, I mean.”

“Ain’t it clear, doggie? I want back in.”

“Reenlistment?”

Jock nodded. “I’m a career Marine, way I see it. My family, we’ve been in the military in one form or another going back to the War of 1812. Not even coming out West could stop us.”

That’s no reason, Lett thought. That’s just a treadmill.

Jock patted at his chest. “There’ll be another war someday, and they will need me.”

“Oh, you bet they will.”

Jock’s grin vanished. “I’m not just fodder, Lett. Not me. I survived the Big One. And you did, too.”

“Tell it to the officers in that song you were just singing.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get you. But I figure I got clout now.”

Sometime later the truck started rolling ever slower, and it jostled them, and gears moaned. They were heading higher uphill. They were nearing The Preserve, finally.

The local kid at the tailgate kept peeking out the canopy. “Hey, they all gone,” he said finally and looked forward out the other side to confirm it.

“How so?” Lett said.

“Those two trucks, the sedans, they all went take one side road somewhere. Just us now.”

Lett looked around. The others were sleeping, heads bobbing, the ex-paratrooper slumbering down the middle of the truck bed at their toes.

Lett leaned close to Jock again. “What do you think is in those crates?”

Jock shrugged. “Who knows. Most fellas didn’t notice.”

“Well, I noticed.”

Jock started. He grabbed Lett by the forearm. “Now hold up. What do you think’ll happen if you keep asking that question?”

“So you didn’t think it?”

“Nope. No.”