Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
JESSICA
The sun is barely up, but the heat is already creeping in. I sit on the edge of my cot, boots half-laced, trying to remember how to breathe like a normal person. Noah’s outside, waiting. I can hear the scrape of his boot against the gravel, steady, patient.
I don’t know what possessed me to ask him to eat with me. Maybe it was the fact that when I finally came too, he was holding me and soothing me. He pulled me from the nightmare and I have to admit, being in his arms made me feel safe.
I step out of the tent, and he looks over at me.
“Ready?”
I nod. Neither of us say anything, we just fall into step like we’ve done this a hundred times. Like it’s routine. Like I didn’t fall apart in his arms a few moments ago.
The mess tent is quiet. A few soldiers linger over coffee, their eyes hollow but polite. I nod at them, and they nod back. No one says Langston’s name, but I feel it in the silence.
We grab our trays and allow them to put eggs, toast, something pretending to be sausage on there. I’m not really hungry, but I eat anyway. Noah watches me, not like he’s worried, but like he’s making sure I don’t disappear.
“Thank you,” I say.
“No need to thank me.”
We finish eating in silence. I feel steadier, but it’s a fragile kind of calm, like a glass balanced on the edge of a table.
“I need to check on the wounded,” I say, standing.
“I’ll walk with you.”
“Noah….”
“I know. You don’t need a shadow. But I’m not here to hover. Just…to be there in case you need something.”
I nod, and we head toward the medical tent. Inside, the air smells like antiseptic and sweat. Rachel is already working, her movements sharp and efficient.
She glances up when I enter. “You’re early.”
“I needed to be.”
She doesn’t argue as she hands me a clipboard. “Private Morales is stable. Sergeant Vance is asking for you.”
I move through the rows of cots, checking vitals, offering quiet reassurances. When I reach Vance, he’s sitting up, bandaged shoulder stiff.
“Doc,” he says, voice rough. “You okay?”
I blink. “Me?”
“Yeah. I saw how losing Langston hit you hard yesterday. I wanted to make sure you were okay, and to let you know we all know you did your best. We don’t blame you.”
I swallow hard, tears pool in my eyes and I choke out, “Thank you.”
He nods. “He’d want you to keep going.”
“I’m trying.”
I finish rounds, then step outside for air. Noah’s leaning against the tent, arms crossed, eyes scanning the horizon.
“You’re still here,” I say.
“Didn’t feel right leaving.”
The sun climbs higher, and the heat settles into my skin like a second layer. I sit beside Noah, watching the horizon blur into the shimmer of rising air. It’s quiet, but not peaceful. The kind of quiet that comes after something breaks.
“I keep thinking I should’ve done more,” I whisper.
“You did everything you could.”
“I made a vow.”
“So did I.”
Rachel steps out of the tent, wiping her hands on a rag. She sees us and walks over, her expression unreadable.
“You’re pushing too hard,” she says, not unkindly.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re functioning. That’s not the same. I’ll bet you didn’t get much sleep.”
I glance at Noah, but he stays silent, letting Rachel speak.
“You’re not the only one who lost someone,” she continues. “But you’re the only one who thinks grief is a weakness.”
“I don’t…”
“You do. You hide it, you bury it under work and vows and this idea that if you just keep moving, it won’t catch you,” she says, interrupting me.
I stand, jaw tight. “I don’t have time to fall apart.”
Rachel steps closer. “You don’t have to fall apart, but you do have to feel it, otherwise it’ll rot you from the inside.”
I want to argue, but the words won’t come. She’s right, and I hate that she’s right.
Rachel places a hand on my shoulder. “You can’t pretend it’s not real, when it is. It hurts, but you’re still here. That matters, and so does taking care of yourself. Otherwise, you won’t be able to take care of these soldiers when it’s time. Remember you are not alone, we’re here too.”
She walks away, leaving me with Noah and the weight of everything I haven’t said.
“Damn, I hate when she’s right,” I murmur. I sit back down, staring at the sand. “I used to think strength meant never showing pain.”
“It doesn’t,” Noah says. “It means showing up anyway.”
I nod slowly. “I want to be strong, for them. For the ones still breathing.”
“You are.”
We sit in silence again, but this time it feels different. Not like a truce, but like a beginning.
A breeze kicks up, carrying the scent of dust and diesel. Somewhere, a radio crackles to life. The base is waking up, and so am I.
I stand. “I need to check on the civilians.”
Noah rises with me. “I’ll come.”
I glance at him. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
We walk together toward the tents, toward the people who still need saving. I don’t know what the day will bring, but I know this, Rachel’s right, I’m not alone. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough to keep going.
I check on all the civilians while Noah stays with me the entire time, jotting down names, date of births, and social security numbers, while I conduct all the tests.
Aside from dehydration and malnourishments, they are all in pretty good shape. I make sure all their IV’s are good and tell them all to get plenty of rest.
We leave the civilian’s tent when the Lieutenant finds us and tells us the Commander wants to see us both right away.
Walking into the Commander’s tent, immediately I know the news isn’t going to be good. If I have to go out, will I be able to? I think to myself.
“Have a seat Major Stevens, Captain Reyes.”
We both take a seat and the Commander begins.
“First, what happened yesterday is no one’s fault.
Unfortunately it’s the casualty of war. Private Langston knew the risks, this is what he signed up for.
Is it tough to lose a member of the team?
Absolutely, but we have to move forward as the enemy continues to move forward,” he tells us both, but looks directly at me.
We both nod.
“Second, a convoy has gone dark twenty miles north of the base, last seen transporting medical supplies and refugees. No radio contact. No GPS signal. Just silence.”
My hands are shaking, but I keep them in my lap and my eyes focused.
“This isn’t a search-and-rescue,” the Commander says. “It’s a recovery. Assume hostiles. Assume casualties.”
The map glows on the screen behind him, dusty roads, collapsed bridges, and red zones marked with skulls.
I study it, then speak. “If they were ambushed, we need to move fast. Supplies won’t last long.”
The Commander nods. “Major Stevens, you’ll lead the medical unit. Captain Reyes, you’re on recon and comms. I want eyes on the ground in thirty minutes.”
“Yes, Sir,” we both say as we stand and make our way to our respective areas.
Noah gathers his team and briefs them before they gear up. I grab a small group and begin checking packs ensuring we have enough gauze, morphine, sutures, adrenaline. My hands are shaky, but I know I need to get out of my head.
Noah hands me a radio. “Stay close. If it gets bad, fall back.”
I meet his gaze. “If it gets bad, we go forward.”
We load up and my team follows Noah’s team out of the compound.
When we reach the convoy site it’s a graveyard.
Three trucks burned out. Bullet holes in the metal. Blood on the gravel. No bodies.
I kneel beside a shattered crate, taking inventory of what I see. Bandages scattered like confetti and when I pick one up, I freeze.
Footprints, small, bare. Noah walks up to me, “What do you see?”
“Children,” I tell him. “They ran.”
Noah signals to Rachel. “We’ve got survivors. Somewhere.”
We follow the trail, through brush, over rocks, into a ravine. Then we hear it.
A cough. Weak. Human.
I rush forward and find five children, huddled beneath a collapsed tree, eyes wide with fear.
I drop to my knees, sighing at the sight. “You’re safe now. We’ve got you.”
One girl, maybe ten, clutches a bloodied cloth. “They took the others.”
My heart sinks at her words. “Who?”
The girl whispers, “Men with masks.”
Noah’s jaw tightens. “We need backup.”
I look at the children, then at the horizon. The mission just changed.
It’s not a recovery anymore, it’s a rescue.