Page 54 of Crocodile Tears

“Easy, Sergeant. It’s only me,” Hunt said calmly. “I’ve called for backup from the nearest base camp – we’re outnumbered by the scavs, but they’re badly organised and largely unarmed. We only need to hold out for another ten minutes until the choppers arrive. Think we can do that?”

Crouching beside him, Josiah grinned. “Of course we can, sir.”

Suddenly, there was a loud screeching sound above them, and then a mass of scavengers flurried down the side of the truck towards them. Looking around desperately for the rest of the unit, he saw Little Jen laying waste to a steady stream of scavs in the distance, while Chang, Banks, and Big Jen worked their way over to her. Even Frankie the chef had joined the fray, wielding his kitchen knife like a pro. They were holding their own, but he and Hunt were hemmed in: they’d be fighting this one out alone.

Josiah glanced at Hunt. “Got your back, sir,” he said, standing up.

“Ditto, Sergeant,” Hunt replied.

Josiah felt the warmth of Hunt’s body against his own for a brief second before the scavs were upon them. They fought hard, fists smacking on flesh and knives flashing in the dark. Josiah soon fell effortlessly into that exhilarating zone where he was a mass of pure instinct, a smooth, confident fighting machine, dispatching scavs left and right, and all the time with his captain at his back.

When, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a scav lunging at Hunt with a long, curved knife, a wave of protective anger swept through him. He howled in rage and knocked out the scav with one massive punch to the side of his head, snatching the weapon out of his hand as he went down. Catching a brief glimpse of Hunt’s startled expression, he heard a muttered, “Christ – didn’t see that one,” and then the next scavs were upon them.

Josiah fought like a demon, his main aim to keep anyone from harming his beloved captain. He felt invincible as he laid waste todozens of scavs, screaming out his anger that they dared to threaten his people.

When he was in the zone like this, it was as if time slowed down. He could see more sharply and hear more keenly, which gave him time to react and dispatch his enemies with ease.

He was so much in the zone that he didn’t hear the sound of the helicopters overhead, or realise help had arrived – until he looked around to see that the scavs had melted away into the night.

“You can stand down now, Sergeant,” a voice said quietly in his ear.

He turned to see Hunt standing behind him, breathing heavily, his face bloodied and bruised but looking otherwise unhurt.

“You okay, sir?” Josiah swung up his hand to touch the captain’s face, but Hunt caught it. He held Josiah’s hand for a second too long, gazing at him quizzically.

“I’m fine. How about you, Sergeant?”

“Me? Not a scratch on me, sir.” Josiah grinned.

“No, nobody got close enough,” Hunt said, glancing at the pile of fallen scavs around Josiah’s feet. His own tally was far more modest. “Come on, Sergeant – we have work to do,” he ordered briskly, striding off.

They lost six of the company that night, including Barry Chang, who’d taken a stab wound to the back.

“And he thought joining the Peacekeepers was the easy option,” Big Jen said, her eyes glittering fiercely. “The idiot thought it’d be safer here.”

There were plenty of dead scavengers, too, but Josiah couldn’t take any comfort in that. They restored order, clearing up the worst of the damage, and took stock, finishing as the sun’s rays began to penetrate through the trees.

“What about Hattie, sir?” Josiah asked as they made their way to Hunt’s bullet-riddled tent. “Is she okay?”

“I hope so,” Hunt replied grimly. “I put her in here when it all kicked off.” He strode into the tent and knelt down beside an armour-plated box with holes drilled into the side for air.

Josiah peered over his shoulder as he opened it, to reveal Hattie lying inside on one of Hunt’s old sweaters – fast asleep.

“How the hell could anyone sleep through that?” he laughed as Hunt reached inside and picked her up. She yawned and nestled against his chest for a cuddle, her tongue darting out to clean some blood from the cut on his jaw.

“Here.” Hunt handed him the puppy. “Take care of her – I have to go and check on something.”

Josiah sat down on the floor with Hattie, leaned back, and decided to close his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, he’d been covered with a blanket and Hattie was fast asleep on his lap. He glanced over to see Hunt sitting at his picnic table, flicking through his nanopad.

“Sorry, sir. You should have woken me,” he said. Carefully, he removed the blanket with Hattie still in it and placed it on the floor, then got to his feet. “There’s still work to be done.”

“You looked like you needed the rest.” Hunt gave Josiah another of those searching looks. “I thought I’d take a couple of minutes to glance through your file, Sergeant.”

“My file, sir? Why?”

“I was intrigued. You see, they send me this sergeant – he’s been promoted rather too fast, but he seems like a nice chap – kind to dogs, and a loyal, decent sort all round. He tells me he likes chocolate, but he doesn’t drink because he doesn’t like being out of control. Then I see him fight. Now, I’ve seen good fighters before, but I’ve never seen anyone totally annihilate the opposition like that. You’re a big fellow, sure – how tall are you? About six-five?”

“About that, sir.”

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