* * *
Big-assed helos sounded on the wind, which meant they were close. Throughout history, wartime had meant the invention of bigger, better, stronger, more stealthy, smaller, and more precise weapons and defenses. The Sikorskys were modern weapons, muted to near silence with dynamic enviro-camo. But they were still machines. By the faint sounds, they were fighting the gusts and the snow and probably had some rotor blade icing, despite tech upgrades. The world was mostly desert now, and nothing was built to operational standards for blizzards.
The moment the helos touched down, they would likely be stuck here. Same as we were.
More of our OPLANs gone with the wind. We were winging it now.
I tapped comms. “Anything else headed our way?” I asked Jolene.
“Nada. Nothing, Sugah.”
“Copy that.”
Three helos landed and began powering down. They were loud enough to be heard over the wind, the change in pitch telling me what was happening.
Further away, something hit the ground. Hard enough to vibrate through the bedrock.
“Jolene?” I asked. “Did something crash?”
“The smaller Bell-Huey,” she said. “If I can get a drone in, I’ll check for survivors.”
There were no sounds from that direction. No explosions, no screams that could be heard over the howling wind. Moments later, Jolene said, “All dead. It’s a mess over there. And I’m taking my drones away. You’re on your own.”
“Copy that,” I said.
“Copy that,” others echoed.
I closed comms and opened the lead box with three of the anti-EntNu slivers. I removed one and put it in a pocket. Now, neither side could reach base. Neither side had comms of any kind. The crews and warriors on the helos were as cut off as we were. The playing field had just shifted into our favor because we knew they were here. They didn’t know we were here.
I trusted Tomika to film everything she could at the smaller pond, and her sisters to film everything they could from the dilapidated buildings. But no one was filming the helos themselves or the people inside, not close enough to be useful when we released this to the world.
My nanos spiked.
Jagger dropped down beside me and I hadn’t seen him coming, but my nanos had known.
“Hey, Little Girl,” he said, that slow voice speaking about sex and sex and more sex. Except he wasn’t. “I can feel you plotting, you know.”
“Mmmm,” I said. “Lots to think about.”
He yanked off his snow crusted bike helmet. Neither of us was wearing armor, because we hadn’t expected to be shooting anyone in a blizzard, and also because we hadn’t brought a charging station for armor batteries. But we did have winter camo, provided by the old crone known as Mother Nature, in the form of sticky snow.
His eyes gleamed with amusement and speculation and maybe a bit of suspicion. “We just lost EntNu. You know anything about that?”
“What am I? A physicist?” I asked.
“Mmmm,” he said back at me, just as noncommittal. He grabbed my head with one hand and yanked me to him. His hand was frigid. His mouth on mine was hot. His tongue was— “What the fuck?” He backed away a good five millimeters. “You taste like chocolate.”
I pulled the last bite of the chocolate bar from my pocket, opened its torn wrapper, and waved it between us, in front of his mouth. “It’s yours for a promise.”
He eased back another millimeter, suspicion overtaking all the other emotions in his eyes. “What kind of promise?”
“You come back to the roadhouse when this is over and get in my bed, and . . .” I let my words trail away.
Through the snowfall, his eyes narrowed with agreement and more than a little lust. “I’m in full agreement so far. And?”
“You tell me everything about why you broke your promise to me and didn’t retire. And not just the part I know. Everything.”
He opened his mouth and he took a tiny bite. Closed his eyes in ecstasy as he chewed. “Deal,” he said through chocolate-covered, clenched teeth. “But somewhere in there we’re gonna have some mind-blowing sex.”
