The Alexander Run was a meandering body of water, with depths ranging from less than a foot to ten feet deep in the channels, separated on either side by a shallow bar in the center. It was a picturesque Florida river with cattails, water lilies and cypress trees with full beards of Spanish moss lining the banks.
Danny navigated the boat slowly down the river. Sarge sat on the bow pedestal seat, his SAW lying on his lap. Jeff sat on the rear pedestal seat, his feet outstretched, enjoying the warm sun.
“Water’s gettin’ darker,” Sarge said.
“Yeah, the farther we go, the darker it gets. Up toward the spring, it’s crystal clear,” Danny replied.
They cruised on without talking. Rounding a bend in the river, Sarge jumped from his seat and shouted.
“Holy shit! Look at the size of that lizard!”
Danny dropped the boat into neutral. Lying on a small sunny patch was a gator of eight or nine feet. The big reptile paid them no attention.
“Yeah, that’s a big ’un,” Jeff said.
Sarge pointed at it. “That’s all right, Mr. Crocodile. I got your number, I know where you live and I’ll be back to get your ass.”
Danny grinned. “You like to hunt gators, Sarge?”
As Sarge sat back down, he chuckled. “I like to hunt everything.”
Shaking his head, Danny dropped the boat back into gear and they continued down the river.
“How far do you want to go?” Danny asked.
“I don’t know. This thing go all the way to the St. John’s?”
“Yeah, but it’s a long-ass ways.”
“I don’t want to go all the way. Let’s just keep going for a bit.”
“There’s a place up here on the left, we call it the swimming hole. A forest road dead-ends into it and there are some campsites. How about we go at least that far? Past that there really aren’t too many ways to access the river.”
Sarge propped his feet up on the side of the boat. “Sounds good to me.”
They continued down the river, passing two more gators, much to Sarge’s delight, as well as a number of turtles, and birds of many types. As the boat emerged through a narrow opening in the cattails, the river suddenly widened. Sarge put his nose to the air.
“Smell that?”
Danny and Jeff looked around, sniffing the air. “Smoke,” Jeff said, sitting up in his seat.
“Keep yer eyes open, boys.”
Danny moved the boat out toward the center of the river.
“Y’all see anything?” Sarge asked, swiveling his head back and forth.
“Nope,” Danny replied.
“Someone’s out here.”
“That swimming hole is just up ahead; there might be someone up there,” Danny said.
The river soon narrowed again, fallen trees and mats of water hyacinth reducing the channel. Around the bend, the swimming area with its boat ramp came into view. Two uniformed men stood on the concrete ramp looking at the boat as they approached.
“Looks like company, boys,” Sarge said, though he made no movements.
The two men were in what appeared to be current army uniforms, complete with Kevlar helmets. They were leaned in close, talking to one another. One of them took a radio mic from his vest and started talking into it.
“What do you want to do?” Danny asked.
“Keep going. Let’s go say hi.”
Danny ran the boat toward the small ramp. The river at this point was maybe thirty or thirty-five feet wide, the only way out at this point was in reverse or to gun the throttle and run past them. Both of the men cradled M4s across their chest and made no hostile movements. As the bow of the boat pushed into the sand and mounds of ancient snail shells, Sarge nodded to the two men.
“Afternoon, fellers! How y’all doing today?”
Maintaining the little distance between them, the man with the radio replied, “Not bad, how about you?”
“Fair ta middlin’.” Sarge tried to get a look at the patch on the shoulder of the man he was talking with. “What’s that unit patch there?”
“We’re with the Guard, out of Eustis. You with the Hundred and First?” the man asked, nodding at the patch on Sarge’s hat.
“Formerly. Retired now.” Then Sarge thought about that for a minute. “Actually, I guess I still am, having been pressed back into service, so to speak.”
“Where’s the rest of your unit? We haven’t heard of any other units around here.”
Sarge chuckled. “The rest of my unit, all three of them, is back up the river there.”
A Humvee came rolling to a stop at the top of the ramp. Four men climbed out of it.
“I’m Captain Sheffield; who might you be?” the lead man asked.
“First Sergeant Linus Mitchell of the Hundred and First.”
A look of disbelief washed over the captain’s face. “Where’s the rest of your unit? Are you the recon for them?”
“No, sorry, Captain, we aren’t the lead element of anything. Like I told the sergeant here, the rest of my unit, all three of them, are back up the river a ways.” Sarge paused and stood, causing the men on the ramp to back up. “You mind if we step out?” he asked, laying the SAW on the deck of the boat.
“Yeah, sure, sure, come on up.”
“Come on, boys, get out and stretch your legs,” Sarge said to Jeff and Danny.
Danny and Jeff climbed out of the boat, standing uneasily near the bow.
“What are you doing out here?” Sheffield asked.
“Same thing as everyone else, trying to survive.”
“But you said you were pressed back into service,” the sergeant said, then looked at the captain.
“And that’s true.”
“Then what’s your mission?” Sheffield asked.
Sarge smiled. “You will understand if I don’t answer that question.” Sarge paused and looked around. “What are you boys doing out here in the boonies? You’re a long way from Eustis.”
“Yeah, we were but had to leave. Things got out of hand there—too many people and not enough of anything.”
“Why didn’t you get together with the sheriff’s office?” Danny asked.
“They’re in almost as bad shape as we were. They had to leave Tavares too. The fucking feds came in and started demanding stuff. At first we all cooperated, because they said there were supplies coming to us. When that didn’t happen, we quit playing ball.”
“And that’s when things got ugly?”
Sheffield nodded.
“Figures. They always want more than they give, huh?”
“They never gave anything, just kept taking, and then they started hauling people away. Hell, they wanted to take my guys and tried, but that wasn’t happening.”
“How many guys you got out here?”
“I’ve got fifty-seven Guardsmen and a bunch of civilians.”
“That’s a lot of mouths to feed. How’re you managing to do it?”
“Lots of hard work. And everyone’s hungry, regardless,” a man beside the captain said.
Sheffield looked over. “Oh, sorry, this is Lieutenant Bob Hines.”
Sarge nodded to him. “I bet. Where are you set up?”
“We’ve set up in the campsites by the river over here. We fish, hunt, forage, whatever we can come up with,” Shane said.
“Had any trouble since you got out here?”
“No, no one knows we’re here. There’s only one road and we’ve blocked it at the other end and keep a watch on it. No one’s come up the river—well, until now.”
“So what are you boys going to do now?”
“We don’t know,” Sheffield said, pausing. “The orders we’ve received didn’t come through our command chain, and we disregarded them.”
“What if I can get you some help? I know this isn’t your command chain, but I can put you in touch with some higher-ups.”
“First Sergeant, as long as the orders come from the United States Army, I’ll follow them, and these men will as well. But if they’re coming from any alphabet soup agency, you can fuckin’ forget it.”
Sarge laughed. “I can assure you, Captain, I ain’t part of any soup sandwich. You got any comm gear?”
“We do.”
“Let’s set up a channel we can talk on.”
“Bob, take him to Livingston and see if they can set something up.” Sheffield looked at Danny and Jeff. “You guys can come too. They’ll keep an eye on your boat.”
Together, they made the short walk over to the campsites. Large areas had been cleared to make room for the military tents that were set up everywhere. Mixed in and around these tan and green tents were civilian tents of every sort. The ones close to the edge of the camp were covered with camo nets. People both military and civilian were sitting around. Almost everyone had a weapon.
Fire pits were scattered throughout the area, some with pots or kettles sitting on them. Despite the number of people living in such close proximity to one another, the camp and the people alike were clean. Sarge was led into a tent while Danny and Jeff stopped outside and waited.
Danny looked around at the faces peeking out of tents or from under tarps strung in the trees. “Man, I wouldn’t want to be here.”
“Yeah, no shit.” Jeff looked around. “Too many people.”
Inside the tent, Sarge was introduced to man sitting behind a small folding table crowded with electronic equipment. Even though he was in civilian clothing, his short-
cropped hair and military bearing made it clear he wasn’t one.
“Ian, this is First Sergeant Mitchell.”
The man stood up, cradling a radio handset against his shoulder and shook Sarge’s hand. Sarge looked at him with one eye half-squinted, turning his wrist over and inspecting the tattoo on his forearm, then back at Shane.
“What the hell y’all doin’ with a jarhead running your comm gear?”
“He wandered into the armory a couple weeks after the shit hit the fan.”
Sarge smiled looking at the marine. “An’ you fed him and he won’t go away.”
Ian smiled. “Dog’s gotta eat.”
Sarge made a show of looking around, looking under the table and lifting papers piled on it.
“What are you looking for?” Ian asked.
“You fuckers are like roaches; where there’s one there’s usually more.” The comment got a laugh out everyone in the tent.
“No, I’m the only one. They give me hell for it”—Ian looked at Shane—“but I keep telling them that since I’m active duty they all work for me.”
“If you’re active, how the hell did you end up here?”
“Was on leave at home; when the balloon went up I wanted to get back to my unit but couldn’t. They were the next best thing.”
“Well, I don’t care how you got here. We need to set up a channel we can talk on.”
Ian smiled. “No problem.”
With the communication channels set up, Sarge left the tent and waved for Danny and Jeff to follow. They went down a path to another tent and Sarge went in, leaving Jeff and Danny outside.
“Captain, we’re all set. That sea-goin’ bellhop’s got my call sign, Stump Knocker.” Pulling a pad out of his pocket and looking at it, he added, “an’ you’re White Four Delta.”
“Correct.” Sheffield crossed his arms over his chest. “You think you can get me some help?”
“I can’t promise anything, but what I can promise is if I do, there will be strings attached.”
Sheffield’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of strings?”
“You’ll have to earn your keep. Nothing’s free, Captain.”
Sheffield slowly nodded his head. “All right, you get me some help and we’ll go to work.” Sheffield offered his hand and they shook.
Sarge spun on his heels and left the tent, Danny and Jeff followed him out to the boat and they quickly boarded.
“Take us home, Danny, we got work to do.”