Author's Note: Well, here we are at the third book! Thank you guys for all your reviews and for following the progress of my characters. This is further than I ever expected this to go, I can't wait to see what happens in this book. Enough talk, I'll let you get to reading. Special thanks to Terra Booma, Chris 'SG-17, and to you for your encouragement, advice, and assistance.

Sincerely,
Inkfngrz

Gun fire shattered the sleep I'd finally drifted into, after a week of restless nights, startling me awake. Grabbing my PS-90 from where is lay by me, I got to my knees, crouching as I scanned the woods we were camped in for signs of intruders.

"Ash," I whispered, "who's on watch?"

"Tully," Ash replied, his gray eyes meeting mine through the mat of messy black hair that nearly covered mine with the same thought in mind.

We both got to our feet, weapons in hand, as we made our way to where Tully was supposed to be guarding our camp. Sure enough, we saw his stocky figure still standing next to the large oak; his gun smoking slightly. At his feet were two members of the KRIA, an Iranian and a Russian by their uniforms.

The Russian was dead, the Iranian was slowly dying.

"Tully," I called as we drew closer, "what have I told you about silent killing?"

Tully, a guy a head taller than I was, with a personal grudge, turned and snorted, "What, you want me to let them through to kill you?"

I ground my teeth, "No, I wanted you to kill them quietly. Now we've got to move. Again." I was barely containing my anger and frustration.

This was third night he'd done something similar, somehow making sure that we had to keep moving because he'd blown our radar silence. We had to stay low, had to stay out of the eye of the KRIA, until we got to TJ Grove's base in Colorado. We were on the outskirts of the border, almost there. We couldn't afford to make a blip on the rader now.

It's been a year and a half since I lost my family in the chaos of occupation by the Korean, Russian, and Iranian Allies in the United States. (Also known as the KRIA.)Now, after being shot twice, almost dying on numerous ocassions, losing friends, and then being promoted to the rank of lieutenant within that time, things have changed.

I'm on the trail of an old enemy, a Korean called Haeji, as he heads to the base of the traitor TJ Grove. With luck, the small team of volunteers I have brought with me will be able to get rid of Grove and his command center.

Allen- my friend, rescuer, and ally since the beginning- is taking the rest of my command to the safety of the American Rebel Land. There's something between us but whether or not this thing lives during our necessary seperation is questionable.

From here on out, I don't know what to expect.

With any type of war, there's always loss on both sides. So far, it's been the Americans who've lost. But if my team can get Grove down, then we'll have made a huge crippling blow to the KRIA. Grove is powering a munitions plant with prisoners of war, (POWs), as his workers.

If we shut him down, we'll shut down the plant's contribution to the war. At least on the side of the KRIA. Maybe we could use it. . .

Assuming Tully's longing for revenge didn't get us all killed first.

"Sorry," he shrugged, "forgot."

I bent over the Iranian, who was struggling to hang onto life, ignoring Tully. He always 'forgot' and this was getting to a point where my leadership was hanging in the balance. This was going to have to be dealt with, but not now.

"Name, rank," I growled to the Iranian. Any mercy I had was long gone, the Iranians were my enemy in more ways than one.

He coughed painfully, blood staining his mouth, before speaking in rough English, "G-go to. . ."

"Already there, thanks to your Alliance," I hissed, yanking the dying man upright, "Who sent you?"

The Iranian yelled in pain as I moved him, unable to help himself, but he remained silent.

I turned to Ash and gave a nod. Ash took the man by the collar and pulled him away, pulling out a Bowie Knife his father had given him. He would get the information out of the guy before he died, if he could.

I turned to Tully, ready to face the guy, "Let's get one thing straight," I growled, "you are under my command. I don't care about your personal vendetta, I've get enough problems on my hands as it is. I don't care how many of the KRIA you kill, so long as you don't put MY team in danger. If you do this again, I will make sure that you are no longer a threat to this mission. Do you got that?"

Tully ran a hand through his brown hair, "Sure, you're the boss." He said it so carelessly, so flippantly, I knew he wasn't listening.

"Tully!" I barked and he turned back to me, "I mean it. You have one more chance. You endanger them again and you will be sent back to join the others. I can't afford any mistakes, now now. You got that?"

He nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"YES!" He yelled, anger flashing across his melancholy features.

"Good," I said quietly, "now go back to camp. I'll finish this watch and then we're moving by dawn. Let the others know."

Tully nodded and left, heading back to camp.

I sighed, wanting more than anything to just disappear. But I had to get rid of the Russian. Stripping his weapons off of him, I kept the uniform and buried him in his underwear. This was war, this wasn't something I liked doing but I needed the uniform and the weapons.

Ash came back, cleaning off his knife and hands, "You settle things with Tully?" He asked, calmly.

"For now," I replied, "but he's a time bomb. If he doesn't get himself killed then we're going to have to do something about him when we get back to Base." I sighed in frustration.

"Understood," he put back his knife.

"Did you get any useful information?" I asked, changing the subject.

"No, died too quick," Ash picked up the clothes I'd taken from the Russian, "you want me to take the watch?"

I shook my head, "Make sure the others are ready to move out by dawn."

Ash nodded, "Got it."

I took the watch, no longer tired. There was too much to worry about.

Allen's POV

"Stand in the rain," I muttered softly, walking along the road that we were traversing, as mud as deep as my ankles soaked my shoes, "stand your ground. . ."

"Stand on what ground?" The girl next to me muttered.

"It's the lyrics of a song, actually," I turned to see her, drenched as I was and probably just as miserable, "speaking about staying strong when everything feels like it's going against you."

She looked up at the sky, shivering as more rain fell on her face, "Well at least it's accurate..."

I chuckled. The lyrics were the first words that Wren had ever said to us, but at that time I was sort of injured and bleeding to death. That was last year. It was almost Thanksgiving. Looked like the promise I'd given to the eight year old wasn't going to be kept.

"Hey," the girl said, "you alright, sir?"

I nodded, "Just thinking of the past." I admitted with a wry grin, "Not that it does any good."

She nodded.

With any luck, though, we'd get to Base up in Montana or somewhere up there soon. And then I could find Wren.

Wren's POV

Joe's still sick. Since he passed out two days ago, he only moans and groans. The wound in his shoulder looks bad and smells too. I've tried to feed him and give him water from the rain that's been falling but he won't respond and he doesn't drink or eat.

Now he's starting to smell worse than he did before, sometimes I wonder if he's dead when I wake up.

But he's still breathing, if a little slower than usual.

I need help with him. Someone medical or a doctor, maybe a nurse.

Anyone who knows more about his illness than I do. Because I know for certain, each day that passes, he's getting closer to dying.