A Long Time Until Now Read Online Free PDF Page A

do differently.
    He noted the available water was depleting.
    “Okay, listen up! Save your water bottles, we may need to refill them. Don’t crunch them up, and don’t throw them away. And get the pop cans, too.”
    “What’s it matter?” Oglesby asked. “Either we get back or we don’t.”
    He’d known that kid was going to be a problem. He was a specialist, and a mouthy one.
    “Secure the crap. It matters because we may need water storage, and because leaving trash here is an OPSEC violation.”
    Then Oglesby was in his face.
    “Newsflash, asshole! There aren’t any Taliban around here. We’re in some fucked up sci fi world, and either we find water or we fucking die! Didn’t you—”
    He punched the kid.
    Oglesby fell backward and sprawled, a welt already showing on his cheek.
    “Put your helmet on, too.”
    The kid came up fast, looking angry, but Barker and Dalton grabbed him.
    Dalton said, “Dude, it’s cool. Save the bottles, okay?”
    They eased him away, as Spencer burned. The young kids always thought they knew better, and for whatever reason, he was frequently ignored, even as an SFC. It had to be his presence. Whatever it was, he couldn’t command people properly.
    It was obvious to him that tossing bottles off a convoy was different from leaving them in a hasty bivouac. He grabbed two, and a Monster can, and tossed them into the back of Charlie Nine.
    He saw the LT, whose jaw was clenched, but said nothing.
    He turned back to Oglesby and said, “Are you finished? We do the best we can. Keep track of everything. If you fire a weapon, find the brass. Keep the MRE pouches, we may need them to hold water, or as dressings. Keep cardboard, we can write on it or use it as tinder. Burn cigarette butts and all other small trash. Everything must be kept neat. It may be all we have for a long time.”
    Devereaux said, “Everyone should have had about six bottles or a full Camelbak by now. And change your socks. Hygiene.”
    Martin really didn’t want to go to the effort of taking his boots off, but he’d just made a stink about keeping cans, so he led by example and took his boots off. Then he put them back on to climb into the truck and dig through the pile of bags until he found his, and dig through that for socks. Under the gore-tex, under the towel, into the other boots, where the clean socks were.
    He changed them, noticed his feet were black and lint covered, with creases from the socks and whatever sandy grit had gotten into the boots. He put the dirty ones in his laundry bag, and resecured everything, then tied his boots.
    That did feel a bit better. And how did a very simple task become such a labor?
    Fatigue, stress, everything.
    The others were changing socks, and there were creases and stains on their feet, too.
    Then he realized he actually was hungry. He’d have to go get an MRE.
    He hadn’t mentioned that once the food ran out, they’d either be hunting or eating grubs. There wasn’t much else around here.
    The chicken fajita MRE was adequately edible. But it made him thirsty. Another bottle of water went down.
    The LT was still standing, staring at nothing. But he had changed his socks.
    “Sir, water is going to become an issue shortly. We’ll need to find some.”
    The LT replied, “What do you suggest?” without any emotion at all. That was creepy.
    “Downhill, sir, north, to where there’s likely a watershed.”
    “Denied. We will wait in this location for recovery.”
    They could wait a bit longer. He’d give the LT another day before taking action.
    “Understood, sir.”
    The man was completely gone.
    Oglesby was violent. Caswell seemed to just sit against a rock ignoring everything around her. He wasn’t sure about the others. Both Trinidad and Ortiz sat chattering in Spanish, cursing occasionally and throwing pebbles. Alexander kept looking at things through her camera. He couldn’t tell if she was taking photos. Dalton bowed his head and prayed a lot. Barker