Read THEM (Season 1): Episode 3 for Free Online Page B

a distraction, and then you can go in and get her.”
    “Uh-uh, no dice. These guys aren’t the sharpest knives in the drawer, but that doesn’t mean they’re completely stupid. Somebody halfway competent is giving them orders and keeping them together as a unit, and I doubt a simple distraction will cause them to drop their guard or shift personnel enough to leave a hole in their perimeter.
    “So, I’m thinking we need to take an alternate tact. Meaning, this is going to have to be an inside job. I’m going to get myself recruited into their militia and then formulate a plan to get the doc out once I’m inside and in their trust.”
    Bobby whistled softly, “That sounds pretty risky. I don’t know if I like it.”
    “Me neither,” Gabby whispered.
    “Well, it’s the only plan we got. Now, Bobby, I’m going to need you and Gabby to take turns observing their compound, because when I give the signal I’m going to need you to make a delivery for me...”
    - - -

[6 ]

REGIMENT
    T he next morning, I was standing inside the tree line within shouting distance of the gates to the camp, and wishing I was anywhere else but here. There were three ways this could go: they could shoot me before I got in the camp, shoot me after I got in the camp, or take me in as a new recruit. I hoped like hell they were in the recruiting mood.
    I walked out from the trees with my rifle held over my head. “Don’t shoot!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. I saw the gate guard and two wall sentries perk up and shoulder their rifles, aiming them in my general direction.
    The gate guard yelled back, “I don’t know who you are, but you’d best turn around and head back the way you came. We don’t take in strays, and we don’t do handouts.”
    “I’m not looking for a handout—I’m looking for work. I have my own gear, and experience, of the sort an outfit like yours might desire.”
    One of the sentries eyed me more carefully. After a moment’s consideration, he yelled back, “Hold there.”
    I could see the two sentries speaking to the gate guard, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying. I remained silent and waited with my weapon held overhead, expecting a bullet in the gut any second. Instead, I saw the guy at the gate peel off and head back toward the center of their camp. The sentries kept their rifles trained in my direction, never taking their eyes off me all the while. A few minutes later the gate opened and four of them came out of the gate, weapons sighted in on my torso. Each was armed with an assault rifle; I noted two AR-15 variants, an AK-47, and an SKS. So, they were armed, but not too well supplied then. Good to know. They quickly surrounded me, took my rifle and sidearms, and began marching me inside the compound.
    I looked at one of the goons that took my weapons. “Do I get a receipt for those?”
    He pushed me roughly in between the shoulder blades with the butt of his rifle in response. “Just keep moving. The commander will decide whether you’ll get them back.”
    - - -
    O nce inside the compound, they took me to one of the quonset huts and marched me inside. Just inside the door there was an older white male, maybe early fifties, standing behind a portable table that was covered in maps. He was dressed in Army fatigues with full birds on his lapels, which I found rather strange. That might indicate he wasn’t on active duty when the bombs dropped, as Army personnel stopped wearing rank insignia on their uniform lapels after they transitioned to the ACU-style uniforms, right around the time I was hunting terrorists in the ’Stan.
    Just for shits and giggles, I snapped to attention and saluted him. I figured, what the hell, in for a penny, in for a pound.
    The “colonel,” or commander, or whatever the hell he was ignored us for the better part of five minutes. During that time, I studied him to see if I could get a handle on what I’d gotten myself into. He was stocky, perhaps once muscular,