Chapter 23
Lukas
Dear Mags,
I thought by now I’d be used to all this noise. We took over an abandoned warehouse as our hideout, and even though it’s toward the outside of the city, the noise never stops.
Every creak in the stone walls, every cough has me jolting awake, terrified we’ve been found.
It makes me long for those nights back home, where the only sound is the crickets or the occasional owl howling in the night.
I don’t sleep much anymore, and I think it’s taken its toll on me. I used to sleep like a rock, remember? Most nights I sit awake, a death grip on my rifle as I stare into the dark so long my vision crosses. But it gives me more time to think about you.
This life isn’t for me. When Collins talks about his future, he could see himself staying enlisted. He'd be good at it, I think. He has the right mindset, the right attitude, but for me, it’s just too loud.
Too many guns, vehicles, people screaming, fighting. It's eating at me, Mags, and there’s no way to make it stop.
Iset the pen down on my wrinkled piece of paper and lean my head back against the stone wall. We’ve been stationed at this post for a week now, no sign of our target. We’re all exhausted, starving for a meal that doesn’t come out of an MRE, in desperate need for a shower.
Each day that passes without finding anything, without even a small win makes all of this feel like it’s in vain. I should have been back in the States by now. I should be on the road to putting this behind me.
I let my eyes drift closed, and Magnolia’s face comes to mind.
The way the sunlight reflects off her blonde hair.
Her smile. The way she stretches when waking up, whether it’s after a long night of sleep or a mid-afternoon nap.
Her arms straighten above her head, her long, lean legs pointing down, toes flexed to the floor.
The sting of fresh tears builds behind my eyes and I sniff them away, shoving my half-written letter into the front of my flak jacket and pushing up to stand.
“Gonna walk around for a bit,” I murmur to Collins.
He nods, rising to stand. “I’ll come with you.”
Normally, I’d grumble, having wanted to be alone, but Collins has become one of my closest friends.
Someone I could see myself wanting to stay in contact with after this is all over with.
We’ve spent nearly every single day together these last two years, and I’d say, besides Mags, he’s the person that knows me the best.
We search the perimeter of the building, finding a small alcove on the outside to lean against. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out from the front of his jacket, offering one to me as he pulls one out for himself.
“No, thanks.” I nod and he snickers.
“Still can’t believe you haven’t picked up the habit.”
“It’s because he’s a pussy,” another voice adds, and we turn to see Brutus walking toward us, his steps taking a now-worn path, likely having gone to take a shit in the woods.
“Just trying to turn out better than your dumb ass,” I tease, and he huffs out a laugh, reaching for his own pack of cigarettes.
“You guys ready for tomorrow?” he asks, tucking a cigarette between his lips. Collins nods, but I stand still, knowing they don’t need to hear that no, I’m not ready.
“It’s a long drive to the city. I’m sure our asses will be watched the entire ride.”
We’re leaving our stakeout tomorrow morning before sunrise and heading toward another location. The men we are after are always one step ahead of us. They have been for this entire mission, so tomorrow, we’re skipping our first planned stop, hoping the extra time will give us a jump on them.
The more they talk about tomorrow, the more the excitement grows in their voices. They’re laughing, swapping stories like we’re talking about a football game instead of risking our lives.
With each moment that passes, a familiar rush starts in my chest. My heart races, blood coursing through my veins so fast the tips of my fingers go numb.
I clench my fists in and out, in and out, as they hang at my sides, knowing that if we were approached by an enemy right now, my gun would be useless.
My vision blurs, and I slump the rest of my weight against the brick wall, closing my eyes and inhaling a slow, steady breath in through my nose, letting it purse out my lips.
“Dude, Hart, you alright man?” Collins’s voice is faint, but I hold onto it, briefly nodding a fake agreement.
“Fine, just dizzy, that’s all.”
A heavy hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing, and I open my eyes to find Collins staring at me, Brutus nowhere to be seen.
“You don’t look alright, man. You getting sick?”
“Naw.” I nod off his concern, staring up into the black sky.
I’m fucking panicking, that’s what it is.
This is what Mags was good at, pulling my feelings out of me when I can’t figure out how to put them into words.
Without getting to talk to her, these feelings just sit inside.
They bubble, fester, turning my insides to ash.
“Just feel off. Not ready for tomorrow, I guess,” I finally admit.
He’s quiet for a moment, a slow nod of his head the only indication he heard me.
“It’s not a bad thing if this life isn’t for you,” he murmurs, blowing out a puff of cigarette smoke into the night.
“Some people worry that it says something bad about them if they don’t like all this noise, all the adrenaline and violence and anticipation, but I think it’s the opposite. ”
He tosses his cigarette to the ground, stubbing out the cinder with his toe before reaching into his pocket for another, immediately lighting it up.
“I think it’s the opposite. There’s something wrong with us who love it, who can’t see ourselves doing anything else.
” He turns to me, showing a half-crooked smile in the dim lighting of the moon.
“This is what I was meant to do. I belong out here.” He gestures to the darkness surrounding us.
“The adrenaline rush I feel could never be found sitting at a desk somewhere, pushing papers. I want to fight for what’s right.
I want to fight for those who can’t defend themselves, you know? ”
I nod, wishing like hell I could adopt his attitude. “Would those chill me out?” I ask, pointing to the cigarette pack he’s stuffing back into his pocket.
He stills, glancing down at the pack before looking up at me. “They do for me.”
When I don't say anything else, he shuffles one out of the pack, and I reach for it. The soft filter feels foreign against my fingers. I’ve never so much as held a cigarette before.
It wasn’t something that ever interested me.
Mags neither. Avoiding peer pressure was easy when we were always together.
Back then, I had more to lose. But now? I’m not sure what else is left.
I press the cigarette to my lips as Collins holds up the lighter. I’ve watched the guys do this hundreds of times, but I still cough when I inhale, and he chuckles, tucking the lighter back in his pocket.
“This tastes like shit,” I tell him, taking another drag, followed by another fitful cough.
“Yup,” he agrees. “But you’ll get used to that.”
I latch onto the cig like it’s my lifeline, and by the time it's halfway gone, I’m getting the hang of it. The initial rush of adrenaline I felt earlier starts to subside, and a small, but noticeable calm takes over. I close my eyes, leaning my head against the wall.
“That’s the stuff, right there,” Collins says. “That feeling is what keeps me coming back.”
“Mags would kill me if she found out,” I add, bringing the cigarette to my lip for another drag.
“What she doesn’t know, can’t hurt her.”
That’s never been my mentality when it came to her. She was always the person I’d confide everything in, because I knew that she’d make it better. She’d understand.
But I’ll add this to the list of things I already have to keep from her.
There’s no way I’d ever tell her what I’ve seen over these last few months.
What I’ve had to do. The damage I’ve done.
She’d be disgusted if she could see the man I’ve become, and for what?
Because I was trying to be someone. Trying to become a better version of myself.
I thought joining the military would save me, would give me direction, and for guys like Collins, it does.
But for me? All I feel is more fucked up than ever.
“I definitely don’t love this,” I tell him, referencing his earlier comment.
It takes him a minute to remember what we were talking about, but he nods. “I can tell.”
He’s quiet for another moment before adding, “That doesn’t make you a bad guy, Lukas. Doesn’t make you a bad Marine, or man, or whatever.”
Lukas. He never calls me Lukas. That friendly touch has my throat tingling, and I purse my lips, working them back and forth to tamp down the emotion.
“Just gotta make it through this deployment, then hopefully a calm year or so on base, then you can be done. Get home to your girl. Work on the farm, whatever it is you want to do.”
I chuckle at that. I hated that the farm was the only thing going for me.
I didn't want to be like my family, like my brother Grayson, focused on the land and animals, being at the mercy of the weather. It never felt like it was enough. Some part of me always pushed for more, and now that I have more, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than on that farm, driving a tractor into the sunset.
Dinner with my family around. Now, I can see it wasn’t the environment I was in that was restless, it was me.
“Let’s try to get some sleep, yeah?” He claps me on the shoulder, and I nod, tossing what's left of my cigarette into the dirt, crushing it with the sole of my shoe.
Collins is two steps ahead of me by the time I catch up. Shoulder to shoulder, we walk in stride back to our hideout. “Thanks,” I mutter, not sure if I’m referencing the walk, the cigarette, or his words.
But with him, I don’t need to explain. He just nods, one exaggerated nod to let me know he heard me. “You’ll make it, Hart. I have a good feeling about that.”