Chapter 44
Ford
My shoulder slams into the window as the Humvee roves over the rough terrain.
Drake’s boots brush my elbow from where he stands in the sling footrest designated for the scout.
He’s scouting for IEDs, and if I think this ride is rough, he’s surely got to think this is as smooth as standing on a mechanical bull.
We’re halfway through the nearly two hundred eighty-kilometer trip for a supply restock. With only two weeks left here, this should be our last supply run. We even left Michaels and Smith back to hold things down until we got back, since this should be a light trip.
“Stay vigilant,” Hale reiterates from the front as Vesper maneuvers the vehicle. We’ve already had to stop three times for Suarez to check something out that could’ve been a buried explosive.
Hale gave us all a talk before we left on this run about not getting complacent now that the end is in sight. But there’s a cloud hanging over our unit since we lost De Luca, with no sign of that storm moving on. Everyone’s ready to leave this slice of Hell on Earth.
Where there’s always been easy, mindless chatter, there’s only silence now, the rattle of the Humvee the only noise. I rub at the back of my neck, my fingertips coming away damp with sweat.
“Got something forty meters ahead on the right, just off the road,” Drake’s voice booms from the hatch above us. Normally, Vesper and I would dismount and help secure the area, shutting down traffic in both directions, but this stretch of road gets almost zero traffic, so it’s not necessary.
Suarez slips from the Humvee without a word.
The hair on the back of my neck crawls as he carefully approaches the shiny metal object.
Our dirty windshield distorts my vision a little, but it doesn’t blur things enough that I don’t see the moment he triggers the blast, sending him rocketing into the air.
The force of the blast ripples through the area, jolting the Humvee, and splintering the front windshield, sending shards of glass raining down like confetti. My head slams into the steel plate behind me, my helmet preventing any real damage other than whiplash.
With my mind still hazy, I blink to clear my vision. Glancing around me, the first thing I notice are Drake’s legs, cut up from shattered glass, but relatively uninjured.
Calling out, “Everyone okay?” I wait for a response.
“Good,” he grunts, scrambling down from the lookout hatch, and the snake around my chest uncoils a bit.
As Drake climbs from the vehicle to check on Suarez, I crawl to the front, but my stomach sinks and my throat goes dry as I take in the scene, jumping into action.
Fucking fuck.
A shard of glass is embedded in Vesper’s neck, blood spilling from him like a faucet, and I clamp my hand over the wound, careful not to remove the slice of the windshield. With my other finger, I feel for a pulse, which is faint, but there.
“You’re okay, Vesper. I’m going to get you out of here.”
His eyes are heavy as he meets my gaze. Death looms there, ready to take him, and I swallow hard. “Stay awake, stay with me.”
“Medivac is twenty out,” Drake’s voice crackles through the radio of the Humvee.
Glancing over my shoulder, I find Hale, clearly deceased. Blood is splattered across the headrest, telling me that there’s not much to be done.
I don’t know how long I’ve been applying pressure to Vesper’s neck when Drake returns, carrying Suarez. He gently, respectfully, sets him in the back seat before swinging open the front door.
“Goddamnit,” he mutters, and I watch as he feels for a pulse on Hale’s neck and shakes his head. Blood rushes between my ears, and I feel like I’m drowning, being pulled under by the worst day of my life.
“We’ve got company,” Drake exclaims, as the sound of tires crunching over the dirt road filters through the static filling my mind.
Adrenaline shoots through me as I peer through the back seat window, my hands never moving from Vesper’s neck. Sure enough, a small, compact car is approaching the scene.
I meet Drake’s eye as he explains, “I’m going out there.”
I don’t like that one bit, but I nod, nonetheless.
I outrank Drake, but I’m not going to pull that shit, even if I don’t have a good feeling about this.
It’s entirely possible that the insurgents were watching this unfold from a distance and are coming to clean up what’s left of our unit.
However, I trust Drake, and he can handle himself.
So, I simply watch as my best friend stalks toward the car, his rifle perched in his hands. While his posture and demeanor appear calm, I’m certain he’s anything but.
Vesper groans, his throat rattling against my hand. I attempt to split my attention, keeping one eye on Drake and the other on Vesper.
“The medivac is coming. You need to stay awake, okay? You’re supposed to come to my wedding with Internet Girl, remember?” My attempt at levity is lame as shit. His eyes are heavy, and I tap his cheek. “Stay the fuck alive for me.”
Flicking my gaze back out the window, I catch Drake gesturing down the road in the direction we were headed, nodding his head. Without a translator, his conversation could easily be going poorly.
Fear sizzles through my veins like a potent drug and when Vesper’s hand clamps down around my thigh, I know that Death is coming to claim him. He draws a crude letter S on my thigh, and I nod.
“I’ll tell Sarah you love her,” I promise Vesper. “I’ll tell your girls that you love them, too. They love you. They’re proud of you.”
When his hand falls from my leg, I know he’s gone.
Reaching up, I close his eyelids, fighting the pain gripping my chest, but there’s no time to mourn my friends now. Grief has no place in this desert. We’re exposed and vulnerable as we sit here waiting on the chopper.
Looking through the back window, I watch as Drake raises his rifle just as the window of the backseat rolls down a few inches. I hold my breath, expecting to see a barrel shoved into the gap, but nothing happens.
Slowly, the car rolls away, leaving Drake standing there with his rifle in the air. When the little car passes our Humvee, I commit the faces within to memory, just in case.
When the car disappears from view, Drake jogs back over to the Humvee, and I shake my head when our eyes connect.
“Motherfucker,” he shouts, kicking the dirt the way I want. Of the two of us, he’s the one far more prone to displays of emotion. The longer I’m here, the more I find myself locking things away in tight little boxes in my mind.
This place is changing me. If I’m not careful, I’ll become someone new entirely, someone I no longer recognize.
It’s another week before I’m able to check my messages again. But now that I’m staring at @dc_d0ll’s latest message, I’m filled with regret that I’ve left her hanging. She clearly needed me, and I couldn’t be there for her. I didn’t answer her call for help.
@dc_d0ll: I should’ve listened to you and listened to my gut. I’m developing a nasty habit of trusting the wrong people.
I close my eyes, resting my elbows on the table as my head falls in my hands. I’m a week away from meeting this girl, but what if a broken soldier isn’t the man she envisioned being with?
This place, this war, has fucked me up. I think my grandfather is picking up on the change in me, too.
When I called home this afternoon, he asked me three times if I was alright.
Whether or not I’m okay is irrelevant until I get home.
It’s kill or be killed here. There’s no place in Hell for my goddamn feelings.
My only goal is to survive until I step foot in Logan Circle, and I’ll figure out the rest later.
“You good?” Drake’s voice sweeps through the room, and I lift my head to find him sinking into the chair next to me.
He’s the only other person who knows about the girl who’s stolen my attention and my fucking affection. I shrug, explaining, “I can’t shake the feeling that she’s in trouble, but she won’t tell me what the threat is.”
Both of his eyebrows raise as he settles back in the seat. “Maybe she thinks you’ll be tempted to eliminate the threat.”
I snort, lifting a shoulder. “I could protect her, if she’d let me. It’s like she won’t let me all the way in.”
“Have you ever considered that she’s holding herself at arm’s length until she meets you.
It’s hard to go all in with someone you’ve never even met.
” I’m surprised he’s not calling her the Catfish Queen, but his next words explain his solemnity.
“Fuck, after everything we’ve seen and the guys we’ve lost, you should tell her how you feel.
We could die tomorrow. It’s stupid to hide that shit. ”
I stare at the screen, the blinking cursor at the bottom taunting me in a cadence that somehow echoes Drake’s statement in my mind.
Eventually, I find my own words and start typing.
@livingh3ll: It’s not a nasty habit since you can trust me. I promise that I’ll protect you.