A Day Out of Time

Chapter 4: The New Kid

A

s Cat walked away, the New Kid finally shook the bedazzlement out of his eyes. "She's amazing."

"They both are," Specs agreed. "Five years ago, Grunt was taking part in a mission with the Navy over in the Middle East when a Day hit. Their influence isn't as strong over there, but the sheer amount of bloody history makes up for it. One minute his Humvee is cruising through open desert, and the next it's surrounded by well over a hundred Persian warriors on the march for Greece."

"No shit?"

"No shit. Everyone around him panicked, but Grunt kept his head and got his unit up into high ground. They were hunkered down on a ridge for six hours before the Baghdad Doghouse could get to them." He motioned towards the glass wall, and the New Kid followed him through a set of doors. "According to their report, the ground was covered in dead Persians, but without any eyewitness accounts it's hard to know how much damage he did on his own."

Glancing around, Specs leaned in closer and said, "I will say this, though: Xerxes's legendary Immortals were more terrified of Grunt than the Humvee or the tanks. The Baghdad Dogs claimed that whenever he walked into sight, they would fall to the ground and call him Verethragna—that's an old name for the Persian god of victory. Even the Dogs were afraid of him, and they've seen some things."

The New Kid swallowed loudly and mirrored the older man's cautious glance around.

"That's what really convinced the council that we needed him on our side," Specs continued at a normal pitch. "With all of the paperwork it took about a month to sort everything out—especially since they had a hard time convincing him how he got all those injuries—but by the end of it, Grunt had a chip in his head and a forever home here in New York."

"As the—the tactical officer?"

"That's his official title, yes, but he also has the rank of captain." Nodding at the grey-clad men and women around them, Specs continued, "The security units that he and the other tactical officers lead are called Watchdogs. There's one unit of about ninety agents assigned to each home and away team, broken up into smaller groups of eight to ten. They're primarily responsible for the physical side of our job."

"Watchdogs," the New Kid mumbled under his breath, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what I'm supposed to be?"

Specs chuckled. "That's up to you. Gamma is fostering you until the Day is over. After that, you'll get to do things properly." Clasping the younger man on the shoulder, Specs said, "Just remember that this isn't a conscription, Kevin. You can join the Watchdogs, or one of the science departments, or the Hive. Or you can walk out that door and never come back. The choice is yours."

"That's not—" Clearing his throat, the New Kid kept his eyes on the ground and tried again. "That's not what it felt like when there was a man in a suit at my door."

Specs's gaze softened even more. "Let's get some food in you, maybe give you some time to relax. You'll need to do a weapons evaluation with Grunt before the end of the day—just so we know that you won't shoot someone in the foot," he soothed when the New Kid looked panicked. "Your file said that you have a license, right?"

"Yeah, but I haven't renewed it in a while," the New Kid said. "My brother—I've got a lot of, of trophies back home. I'm a good shot."

"Then what's the problem?"

The New Kid swallowed. "Just—just Grunt."

His smile turned gentle, and Specs said, "I trust him with my life, if that helps."