Lee picked up one of the pins. He would be dishonorably discharged if he put it on, maybe even jailed. Hell, maybe even shot. But who was going to shoot him? Walker was right. The Army was falling apart. The battalion was on its own, and it was unraveling fast. The men needed leadership, even if that leadership was technically a charade.
For Harry Lee, the mission was everything. It superseded even himself.
Had he heard everything, and was it the truth? Did the major have a game? Did Walker intend to lead through him? If so, the man was going to be severely disappointed.
Lee downed his drink. He closed his hand around the pin.
Walker smiled. “How does it feel, Harry?”
“Like I’m robbing a corpse.”
Walker smirked. “It might feel different.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re saving the battalion.”
“I’ve got to get my head around it.”
“As long as your head is in the game.” After a slight pause, Walker added, “Sir.”
“All right. I’ll address the men at the funeral. We’re going to need a game plan.”
“I have some information that may help,” the major said. “I’ve been talking to my counterparts at other battalions across the Northeast and Midwest. They’re all worse off than we are. Everybody is actively engaged. Civilian authority has bled out. The military commanders are beginning to act independently. They don’t like the strategy, and they’re starting to break off on their own. Prince was one of the last die-hards.”
“Options, then. We could pull out of the city, regroup and take it back block by block. Announce a curfew to keep the citizens off the streets. Shoot everything in sight.” Lee might go down in history as another Attila the Hun, but it just might save the city.
“Problem, sir. Major General Brock wants to absorb the battalion into his command.”
Lee sighed. “And he’ll order us back into the city to do what we were doing before.” He thought about it. “The other option is to resist. We can’t take on the Massachusetts Guard.”
“Correct. I don’t think we have the men, materiel or energy to do what you’re thinking, in any case. Resupply has slowed to a trickle. I’ve been carefully shepherding what we’ve got.”
“That doesn’t give us a lot of options. We either work for Brock or fight him.”
“There is another way.”
“What’s that?”
“We could leave Massachusetts.”
Lee looked at him in surprise. Walker had told him they needed to start thinking outside the box, but it appeared the man was ready to throw away the box. “And go where?”
The major sipped his drink. “Florida.”
“What’s in Florida?”
“General Wallace. He’s cleared the peninsula of infection. He’s got air assets to keep anybody out he wants kept out. He’s got considerable strength and resources and the closest thing to a working civilian government outside of Mount Weather. I’ve been in contact with a few units that have had the same idea. If enough of the military can make it to Florida, maybe Wallace would have enough strength to take back the country.”
It was Lee’s plan for Boston but on a national scale. “Let me give it some thought, Major.”
“Very good, sir.”
Lee regarded Walker with new respect. “You know, I was wrong about you.”
Walker grinned. “I doubt that. I’m no hero. I want to stay alive, and I figure being right here, in the middle of a combat-effective battalion, is the best way to do that.”
Lee would also be the man who might get shot once they reached Florida for disobeying orders and giving up Boston. If they were going to Florida. First, they would go to Fort Drum and find out what had happened there. They needed to ensure the soldiers’ families were safe and get supplies. Maybe that would be enough.
“I think we’ll work well together in any case,” Lee said.
“I share the sentiment, sir.”
“Good, good. And, Major?”
“Sir?”
“You contravened the Colonel’s orders. If you do the same to me, I’ll have you shot. Are we clear on that?”
Again, that enigmatic smile. “Crystal, sir.”
TWENTY-SIX.
WADE HOPED A passing unit would bring in more wounded so he could hit them up for news, but nobody came. They had no radio. They were cut off.
He kept to himself all morning. He nursed his banged-up ankle, his face. Something was in there, deep in his wound, tickling. Moving. Searching. He inventoried his emotions as a matter of routine. He didn’t want to hurt himself or anybody else. The truth was he felt numb.