Matt Archer: Bloodlines (Matt Archer #4) by Kendra C. Highley Page A

Radio silence is one thing; being cut off from everyone is
another, so I made sure to bring my best communications specialist.”
    I groaned before he finished the sentence. “Sir, you
didn’t.”
    The colonel chuckled, then called, “Sergeant Davis! Archer’s
here to welcome you!”
    Davis trotted our way, glaring. “Why do I doubt that, sir?”
    “Because you should,” I answered. Why did Colonel Black
bring him? The man was the most uptight, type-A tech weenie ever born. Yeah, we
needed better communications and he was the best at that, but he was a
ginormous pain in the ass in every other way.
    Davis looked up at me. “Are you ever going to stop growing?”
    “No idea. And how is it that your BDUs are perfectly creased
after two days of travel? Sergeant, we need your secret.”
    Will smoothed the front of his jacket. It was ripped in
several places and covered with a mix of Dingo and human blood. “I don’t
know…the grime adds something to the camo, don’t you think?”
    “You must be Cruessan,” Davis said.
    Will stared at a spot to the left of his shoulder. “Um,
we’ve met. Afghanistan, remember?”
    Davis shrugged. “Must not have made an impression.” Before I
could light into him for ragging on a blind guy—and a wielder, at that—he
asked, “Where’s camp? I need to set up my equipment.”
    “Other side of the bluff,” I said.
    “You’re backed up against a natural wall? You’re lucky the
enemy didn’t try to take you out from an elevated position.”
    “Who says they didn’t?” Will muttered.
    “Uh huh.” Davis’s tone conveyed his disapproval. And it
wasn’t just him.
    By now a dozen soldiers in desert BDUs had hustled past
carrying large packs, and a few hauled crates between them. Every one of them
gave us condescending looks, matching the one Davis wore, like being in trouble
was all our fault and they were here to “rescue” us. The colonel directed them
to the edge of the bluff, where Dorland and Lanningham were helping lower
things down to our campsite.
    “We didn’t have any choice in the matter at the time.
Besides, the colonel doesn’t seem too worried about it.” I turned away from
Davis and took Will’s arm to lead him back to camp. “We need to check in.”
    As soon as we were out of earshot, Will said, “He’s worse
than I remember.”
    “I don’t think he likes field work. But if Colonel Black’s
planning to stay on the ground with us, he’ll want Davis here, so we’re stuck
with him.” I rubbed my eyes; sand gritted between my lids, scratching my eyes.
Tired. I was so damn tired. “Come on, let’s go find some food. Since the
‘A-team’ brigade seems to think we’re a bunch of helpless noobs, they can sort
everything out while we rest.”
    “Amen to that.”
    By the time we made it through the crush of soldiers and
dropped down into camp with Lanningham’s help, three tents were already up, and
a team of new guys was digging a bigger latrine. Captain Johnson hobbled over
and pointed to the tent on the left. “Archer, that’s yours. Cruessan’s is the
one by the supply truck. We had them set up cots and there’s an MRE waiting for
you.”
    “My C.O. is better than your C.O.,” Will said.
    “My C.O. can kick your C.O.’s ass,” I answered.
    Johnson gripped Will’s upper arm to help guide him. “Only if
I’m looking to avoid a court martial for striking a superior officer. Now go to
bed. It’ll all still be here when you wake up.”
    “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I muttered, but followed
directions and went straight to my tent after giving Will a quick whack on the
shoulder.
    Changing out of my smoke tinged BDUs and crawling into bed
was like a tiny slice of heaven. I decided I’d rather sleep than eat and I left
the MRE container on the ground next to my cot. No matter how hard I tried,
though, I couldn’t get comfortable enough to sleep and the dead boy’s face was
all I could see when I closed my eyes.
    Desperate to