Killing Game (Veritas Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

known what she was getting into when she joined the Marines. Her family had a deep military tradition beginning with her great-grandfather. Her grandfather, also a Marine, had been a veteran of the Vietnam War, her mom had served in the Navy, and her father was an Army major. Even her brother had put in his four years in the Army and was now starting college in Phoenix. To her, none of them had shown outward signs of post-traumatic stress. They claimed otherwise, but Cait knew it was a lie to make her feel better. So far, she’d been the only one to crack.
    The doctors at the Veterans Administration had recommended various medications for her “issues.” She’d tried a few of them, and they only made her a zombie. She flushed them all and tried hard to keep it together, though day after day, hour after hour, she felt the darkness talking to her, giving her thoughts that didn’t bode well for a future. With more than twenty-two veterans killing themselves every day, she knew she wasn’t alone on this journey, but it still felt like it.
    Only after a trip with Mike into the swamp, she’d realized that the wilderness was her drug of choice, her way of keeping herself alive. Once he’d recognized this as well, he’d invited her to join him on the tours anytime she wanted, no questions asked. He’d obtained the proper camping permits, as well as a permit that allowed her to carry a firearm within the national park. He knew what was at stake if she gave up.
    She’d found the first tour difficult because of the other “campers.” Fortunately, Mike had been there as her backup. Once acquainted with the swamp’s natural rhythms, from that point on she would split off from the group, going it alone, seeking whatever didn’t make her blood pound and her heart race. Seek a tangible means to turn off the nightmares, the memories, the feeling that she’d left too much of herself behind in Afghanistan to ever be whole again.
    After swinging into a parking place at the far end of the tour headquarters, Cait turned off the Jeep. While she was roughing it, she stored the keys at the office and Mike’s wife Kia would keep an eye on the car. As she pulled out her gear and locked the car, she noticed a group waiting on the building’s broad porch, no doubt the others on the tour. She steered away from them; people asked questions, wanted to know what she did for a living, if she was married, did she have kids. The effort to explain was too much, sometimes even made her head ache.
    As was her custom, she would bring up the rear of the group until she reached the point where she’d head off on her own deep into the swamp. Mike insisted she check in with him every day via cell phone or satellite phone, and though it grated, she was willing to accept that stipulation. He knew she could handle almost everything, but having a lifeline back to civilization was wise.
    If she was lucky, this trip would buy her another month or so of sanity. Deep down, she knew that one of these days, even nature wouldn’t have the power to save her. That would be the day the war claimed yet another victim.
    *~*~*
    Brannon parked his rental car near the tour office, next to an old red Jeep with Florida license plates. It was dented and had a bit of rust, but the tires looked new, which seemed an odd combination. He’d spent most of his time trying not to worry, especially when he was getting closer to his goal. To chill, he had taken a five-mile run, worked out, then gone kayaking. The exercise had helped, but he’d still remained on edge. Time spent on the militia boards hadn’t given him any insights into Ellers’s plans either.
    The call finally came in late Sunday night, during which Clarke had been short and to the point: Brannon was to head to Georgia the next morning and be at this particular location in time to take a swamp tour at noon. Everything else had been taken care of. During that tour, he’d be contacted and the money would change