61 |

Approaching the Eastern Seaboard, United States

 

Niner felt ready to pass out as he pulled as hard as he could along with Jimmy and Spock. “Give, you bastard!”

Atlas seemed as cool as a cucumber on a Sunday stroll, if cucumbers could take strolls, not even a bead of sweat on his forehead. “Are you three ready to give up yet?”

“Never surrender! Never say die!” cried Niner as he leaned back, putting all his body weight and muscle power into the effort. Spock and Jimmy joined him, all three of them now hanging onto Atlas’ hand and forearm, putting all of their nearly six hundred pounds of body weight into it, and still the big man’s arm didn’t budge. Dawson stepped into the room and shook his head at the sight.

“I think BD has something to say,” said Atlas, who ended the three-on-one arm wrestling match with one swift motion that had his opponents tumbling toward him. “Oh, and I think all three of you losers owe me twenty bucks each.”

Niner stood, gasping for breath, his hands on his knees, as he cocked his head to the side, staring at Atlas. “I want him cut open so we can make sure he’s not some sort of Terminator under all that bulk.”

Atlas kissed his bicep. “Nothin’ but American made and Army trained muscle under here.” He gave Niner the stink eye. “What’s your excuse?”

Niner, still bent over, freed one hand to flip him the bird. Dawson closed the door.

“Hate to break up the fun—though with the humiliating display I just saw, perhaps I should have shown up earlier—but we’ve been called up again. Our friends at the CIA have a crazy theory, and we’re being diverted just in case they’re right.”

Sergeant Will “Spock” Lightman cocked an eyebrow. “What’s the theory?”

“You’re going to like it.” Dawson turned to Red. “We’ll be dropping you and five guys in Halifax, where you’re going to rendezvous with a Canadian JTF2 team, just in case the CIA is wrong and they attempt a landing in Canada. We think they’re almost out of fuel, so won’t have a lot of choices. You’ll deploy from there as necessary.”

Red smiled. “Always fun to work with some Crazy Canucks.”

Niner raised a hand. “Can I go with Red? I still want to know what the hell a BeaverTail is.”

Dawson nodded. “Fine. Don’t come back until you find out.”

“Or just don’t come back,” rumbled Atlas.

Niner pouted at him. “You’re so mean to me that I know you care.” He leaped over the table and hugged him. “Forget BeaverTails! I’m sticking with you!”