329
‘Nice work, Cal,’ says Captain Frankland, as he climbs into the back of the Toyota.
‘Yeah, well done,’ says Haskell, echoing the captain’s sentiments. ‘I sure weren’t looking forward to hoofin’ it all the way t’ Tucson, I can tell you.’
He vaults into the back beside the captain then extends his right hand to help you aboard. You are reaching out to grip his palm when you hear the sharp crack of a gunshot. Haskell raises his hand to his forehead, a look of shocked surprise registering on his strong, angular face. Then his eyes roll back to reveal just the whites, and a trickle of blood oozes from a neat hole two inches above his nose. He wavers and then falls limply across the tailgate.
For an unknown length of time you stare at Haskell’s face, oblivious to your surroundings, until the frantic thumping of your heart begins to subside. A sick feeling hits you in waves and you are unable to move. Then you feel yourself being lifted and pulled into the truck by the front of your leather jacket. Captain Frankland is screaming at Knott to drive away as fast as he can. As the back wheels spin and the Toyota begins to accelerate, the horror of witnessing Haskell’s death at such close quarters makes you shiver with shock: lose 3 ENDURANCE points.
The truck races out of Rodeo and within minutes you are crossing the state border into Arizona. Respectfully, Captain Frankland covers the sergeant’s face with his combat jacket, and, although your minds are full of unanswered questions, you say nothing to each other until Knott brings the truck to a halt at the edge of a great expanse of mountain timberland once known as the Coronado National Forest.
‘It must have been a clan sniper,’ says Frankland, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. ‘I didn’t see a thing, did you?’
You and Knott shake your heads silently, both deeply saddened by the loss of your brave companion. For Knott it is a specially bitter blow, for he and Haskell survived the post-holocaust years together at the WDL base in Brownsville, Texas.
‘We had better take care of the burial right away,’ says Frankland, scanning the surrounding landscape. ‘There’s no sign of anyone following us on the highway. It should be safe to bury him here.’
