The Lingering (Book 2): Rangers (15 page)
Callum rode into Fort Miles and headed to his old barracks. It had been almost a years since he had last set foot in the place, and being back—especially after the rigors of basic—made him feel good … real good.
Ranger basic training pushed individuals to their absolute limits, and he had relished the experience first time around. However, second time around, he found things much harder. He knew missing a hand would handicap him when competing against the new, hungry cadets, but he never really realized how much of a disadvantage missing an appendage would be. Hell, it had taken him the whole month of his recuperation just to learn how to tie his own laces, so boot-camp was like a journey into hell.
The instructors at Fort Brigs were tough, and they made it perfectly clear to him from the start that they did not think he belonged there. The Rangers was no place for a cripple, least of all a man crazy enough to cut off his own hand. The cadets shared the opinions of their instructors, and had gone out of their way to make his life hard. Callum knew not to react to the provocation directed toward him by instructor and cadet alike. Instead, he turned his considerable will to conquering everything in his path.
Fortunately, he had found one ally at Fort Brigs, Sergeant James Rogers, the base’s armorer. Like Callum, most at the base looked down on him because of injuries he sustained in the field. Rogers’ face, along with the best part of his back, had been badly disfigured by fire. Along with his disfigurement, he had lost an eye, and his left leg beneath the knee. In spite of his injuries, Rogers could make any kind of hand held weapon you wanted. Knives, swords, tomahawks; you name it and he could make it. He took a shine to Callum, and set about the task of equipping him with the tools needed to complete basic.
It took Rogers no time at all to design and make Callum a thick, leather cuff that fitted snugly over his wrist, and then strapped tightly to his forearm. Rogers had incorporated a sturdy catch assembly into the cuff, which made it possible for Callum to quickly snap weaponry in place. It did not take Callum long to learn how to use his new toy, and soon he surpassed the cadets with whom he competed.
By the end of basic training, he had earned the respect of cadets and instructors alike. He also owed Sergeant Rogers a great deal. The old Ranger refused all thanks Callum sent his way. Instead, he merely told him to do his duty, and give the undead hell.
Callum dismounted his horse and looked around. He had sent word ahead of his arrival, and he felt sure La Roux and Anderson would be here to greet him. He turned and started walking toward the small saloon, when he suddenly heard a booming, and very familiar voice.
“Is that you, Wentworth?”
He turned and saw both La Roux and Anderson strolling his way. The big Cajun sported a wide smile, as did his smaller companion.
“Who else were ya expecting?” Callum yelled as he moved to meet them.
After a round of handshakes and hugs, La Roux held Callum at arm’s length and looked him up and down. His eyes fixed on the cuff.
“What’s that?”
Callum looked at the cuff and said, “It’s my equalizer. Without this, I would have never made it through basic.”
“Really?” Anderson said as he took Callum’s wrist and lifted it so he could take a closer look. “It just looks like a piece of leather and a catch of some kind.”
“Watch,” Callum said as he pulled his wrist free and used it to push his heavy Ranger’s coat to one side.
His belt held a number of unusual looking weapons and tools, none of which had any handles. Quick as a flash, Callum drove the cuff toward the hilt of a handle-less blade hanging from his side. The catch on the cuff clicked into a series of holes on the blade, and Callum drew it with the ease of a knife. He held the eleven inch weapon up for the two Rangers to inspect.
“Impressive,” La Roux said as he ran a finger over the blade.” His finger came to a semicircular recess on the blade’s back. What’s this for?’
Callum’s right hand shot over his shoulder and he pulled a short barreled rifle. He swung it down, and the barrel fit perfectly into the recess.
“I’m missing a hand, but I still needed something to hold the barrel of my gun, so Jim made me this.”
“Jim Rogers?” La Roux asked, and Callum nodded. “He’s a good man. I served with him just before he got hurt.”
“You served with him? He wouldn’t tell me how he got injured. Do you know?” Callum inquired as he holstered his gun and snapped the blade back into its place on his belt.
“A horde was heading our way, and he took them all on alone. When it looked like he had no chance of getting out, he set off an explosive. He lost his leg, an eye, and got burned beyond belief. He pulled through though … remind you of anyone?”
Callum realized why he had liked Rogers so much, they were one and the same. “He’s a good man, and he made me a whole array of gadgets like this.”
He pulled his pistol and then pressed it to his cuff. The revolver had a small lug beneath the muzzle, just in front of the trigger shield, and the catch on the cuff locked in place around it. He then released the gun, and it remained attached to the catch.
“Thanks to him, I can reload just as fast as I did before.”
He pulled the gun free of the cuff, then showed them all the tools that attached to it, all of which hung from his belt. He had a small ax head, a hook which he could use for climbing, he even had a sharpening stone set in a metal housing. His two friends nodded, impressed by the versatility and ingenuity of the cuff.
“And of course I still have this.” He threw open the right side of his coat and revealed his father’s tomahawk. “So I’m ready and willing to get started on our next mission.”
“Hold your horses,” La Roux said with a laugh. “You just got here, so let’s spend tonight celebrating and eating. Tomorrow, we head out for the badlands.”
Callum nodded. “The saloon?”
“Yep, meet you there in an hour.”
Callum entered the saloon and the smell of stale beer and poorly cooked food instantly assailed his nostrils. To his surprise, he found the strange combinations of smells oddly comforting. He would never admit it to anyone else, but he had missed the disheveled dive almost as much as he had missed his two friends, which made him realize how much he had changed in the last few months. He was still as stoic and single minded as ever, but a more human side had reared its head. Basic had been hard on him, not just physically, but emotionally. It made him realize how important La Roux and Anderson were to him. He now knew he saw them as his brothers.
He looked around the almost empty bar, and saw his friends talking to two women. The women had their backs to him, but he felt sure he knew who they were. La Roux spotted him and waved him over. As Callum walked toward the small group, the women turned. Izzy and Tilly looked far better than when he had seen them last. They now carried more meat on their bones, and their faces were fuller. They looked healthy.
Tilly held a bouncing baby in her arms, and Callum’s stomach lurched at the sight of him. The last time he had seen the child, he was covered in his dead mother’s blood. Images of Tilly’s dead sister’s body flooded his mind and he had to stop for a moment. He briefly closed his eyes, lowered his head, and tried to wash away the images of Alice’s mutilated body.
“The boy looks fine and happy,” he muttered as he kept his head lowered. “He’s going to be fine, Tilly and Izzy will see to that.”
He lifted his head and forced a smile.
Keep the past in the past
, he thought as he approached them once more.
“You two are looking mighty well,” he said as he reached the women. “And so is this little fella.” Mostly because he had seen others doing such things, he ruffled the baby’s hair. “What’s his name?”
He had not seen the little tike since rescuing him close to a year earlier, and neither La Roux nor Anderson had mentioned him in their correspondence.
“He be Callum.”
Callum’s eyes shot in Tilly’s direction. “You named him after me?”
“Yep,” Tilly replied with a smile.
Dumbfounded, Callum looked at his two Ranger friends, and La Roux boomed with laughter.
“I knew this would be your reaction. That’s why I never told ya.”
Izzy slapped the big man’s shoulder and told him off. “You play nice, ya big galoot,” she said as she looked at him lovingly.
Callum watched the way Izzy stared at La Roux, and got an uneasy feeling. La Roux had told him of his and Izzy’s arrangement, but Callum felt sure things would be hard for them, or they may even end badly. It was clear the two were deeply in love, which was something Rangers could ill afford. Still, La Roux was his friend, and he would stand by him.
“I’m honored,” Callum finally managed.
“I wanted to tell ya,” Tilly said sheepishly. “But Pierre convinced me to hold my mouth. He said it would make a nice surprise, but now I see he did it just for sport. I’m sorry if I upset ya in any way, twas not my intention.”
Callum smiled at her. “Don’t worry yourself over me. I’ll admit it was a surprise, but a good one.”
“Talking of surprises,” La Roux said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “The General wanted me to give ya this.”
“Could ya open it?” Callum held up his stump. “Opening letters is still a bit tricky.”
La Roux opened the envelope and passed Callum its contents. Callum started to read it, but the Cajun could not wait. “It’s a promotion! Seems you’ll be my new boss.”
Callum reached the end of the letter and then looked at his friends. “I’ve been made a lieutenant.”
“Seems ya impressed the Brass at Fort Brigs. That—along with your work on the Maxwell mission—convinced them ya were officer material,” Anderson said as he offered Callum his hand.
Callum tucked the letter under his left arm, and then shook both Anderson’s and La Roux’s hand.
“This calls for a drink,” La Roux said as he gestured to the barkeep.
“We’ll leave you boys to it,” Izzy said as she took Tilly by the arm and started to move away.
“No, please stay,” Callum said as he stepped between the women and the distant door. “I want to hear how you two are doing. Plus, having women around might make him behave.” He jerked his head toward La Roux.
Izzy looked at Tilly, and then both women nodded. Soon, all five, plus baby Callum, were sat at a nearby table. They ate copious amounts of stew. The men drank beer, and the women water. They talked and they laughed. Izzy told Callum of the jobs she and Tilly had found in the fort. La Roux and Anderson told Callum of the missions he had missed. Callum told them all of his time and trials in basic training. Talk never turned to the dark times of the Maxwell camp, or of that mission.
Instead, talk turned to the future, and of more optimistic times. They talked of a time when Rangers would no longer be needed. They talked of light things, happy things. Through it all, Callum thought of his family, both old and new. All his blood kin were gone, lost to the Lingering, but these people were his kin now. His new family had arisen from blood and pain, but the bonds between them were strong. He may never be able to show them the affection they deserved, but he loved them in his own stoic, dry way. He would die for them, and they he. In his own limited way, he felt happy. Happy for the first time since being a boy … since the Lingering set foot ashore at Hope Cove.
Ben Brown was born in Reading, England. He struggled through school academically. Diagnosed with dyslexia meant being removed from class to attend ‘remedial” lessons. As a child, Ben did not enjoy reading and writing, and left school early to work with his father as a builder. It wasn’t until his mid-twenties that Ben persisted in teaching himself to read — and finally read his first novel.
Ben emigrated to Perth, Western Australia in 1990, where he now lives with his wife Michelle and two adult children, Chelsea and Zac.
To pass the hours working as a bricklayer, he would think about writing a novel. However, it took many years for him to pluck up the courage to turn his dreams into words.
His dyslexia, and informal knowledge of the English language and grammar, made his first book a real challenge. Luckily, he had plenty of people around him to help him on his journey.
His love of scientific facts, futuristic possibilities, and fast-paced action infects his plots and writing style. He thoroughly enjoys pushing himself creatively, which means venturing into many types of storytelling. As a consequence, his catalog is a mixture of sci-fi, speculative and horror fiction.
Ben now has a growing number of novels to his name, and he fully intends to expand on that number.
Questions or comments? E-mail me at [email protected] or find me on the following social networks:
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https://twitter.com/beninoz
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Ben.