Chapter 1 #2
A brief pause, then Bear added quietly, “We got your six.”
He ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket just as the hum of activity around him grew louder.
The team moved efficiently, finalizing preparations as the engines roared to life with a deep, throaty rumble.
Flight crew dressed in standard military flight suits and headsets moved with flawless coordination, checking instruments and securing gear.
Their seamless operation was a testament to rigorous training and constant repetition.
Moose sat quietly, helmet resting in his lap, eyes drifting to the vast, unending desert sprawling beneath them. The weight of everything pressed down—family, duty, and the uncertainty ahead—yet in this moment, the desert’s endless horizon offered a strange kind of calm.
The weight of the situation pressed heavily on him—Jim’s distress, Nancy’s disappearance, and the responsibility now resting on his shoulders as Warden’s SIC.
Moose’s shoulders slumped slightly, his fingers tightening into a loose fist on his knee.
He ran a hand over his stubbled jaw, the rough motion a silent attempt to push down the knot twisting in his gut.
Taking a slow, deliberate breath, he straightened just enough to steady the storm inside.
Blast slid into the seat beside him, humming softly; a familiar tune that usually lifted the mood. Moose offered a faint, tight smile but couldn’t clear the thoughts lingering in his mind.
Across from him, Nova settled quietly, her calm eyes meeting his with unspoken understanding. Her steady presence was a comforting anchor in the silence, a reminder he wasn’t alone.
Dog leaned back with a slow exhale, his gravelly voice cutting through the hush. “You’ve been quiet since that call. I don’t know much about your folks, Moose, but whatever it is; it’s wearing on you.”
Clenching his jaw, Moose ground out, “Mom’s always wandered, lost in her own world.
She doesn’t talk—never has. But Flora and I have talked about it, and we think she’s on the spectrum.
It’s not that she’s ‘retarded’ or anything like those small-minded folks around town called her.
It’s different. She doesn’t forget things exactly; it’s more like she just doesn’t connect with the things that don’t matter to her.
Jim calls it ‘demencha,’ like it’s a joke. But it’s not that simple.”
Dog’s eyes narrowed further, his jaw tightening as he considered Moose’s revelation.
“Autistic, huh? That explains a lot, maybe. Folks don’t understand it.
They see what they want to see.” He shook his head slowly.
“Still, it doesn’t make it any less dangerous.
Those mountains don’t care why someone wanders. They just see a lost person.”
Moose shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing away for a moment before meeting Dog’s gaze. He clenched his fists loosely at his sides but said nothing.
Dog glanced at Moose, his voice rough but firm. “Means you have to watch out for her even more. Know what makes her tick, what sets her off, what comforts her. Because if she gets turned around out there, it isn’t just about finding the way back. It is about keeping her safe.”
Moose’s shoulders tensed, his jaw tightening as he swallowed hard. Finally, he exhaled slowly, the weight of the responsibility settling heavier on him.
Dog’s expression softened. “You carrying that weight alone? You don’t have to.”
Nova nodded quietly. “And with Jim calling it ‘demencha’—I think it’s his way of coping. But it’s serious.”
Dog’s gaze darkened, his voice stern. “It ain’t just a joke.”
He shook his head slowly. “Sounds like you’ve been carrying a heavy load for a long time.”
Moose glanced at the ground. “I guess I have.”
After a pause, Dog added softly, “That kind of mess wears on a person—on the ones left trying to keep her safe.”
Moose’s shoulders sagged slightly at Dog’s words.
He rubbed the back of his neck, a small, tired sigh escaping him.
The raw truth in Dog’s voice stung, but it also cut through the silence Moose had been holding on to for so long.
For a moment, he let himself acknowledge just how much the burden had grown.
“Yeah,” Moose admitted quietly, his voice rough. “It’s been like that for as long as I can remember.”
He glanced away, swallowing the tightness in his throat. “You’re right, though. It’s dangerous out there. And I don’t know how much longer Jim can keep doing this alone.”
Spider leaned in, tapping his comm pack. “If there’s any tech that can find her faster—drones, heat signatures—we got your back.”
Moose looked around at his team, his second family.
These were the people who’d seen him at his best and worst, who’d fought beside him through thick and thin.
The anger at Jim, the family secrets he carried, and his own recent promotion pressed deep inside.
But here, with them, it felt easier to breathe.
He muttered under his breath, almost to himself, “No matter how hard I try, I just can’t forgive him.”
Nova’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to carry it all alone, Moose.”
Moose nodded slowly, almost in a daze. “You know, maybe it’s time.
” His eyes met each teammate’s in turn—steadying on Dog’s quiet strength, lingering on Nova’s gentle understanding, catching Blast’s focused calm, and settling briefly on Warden’s silent support.
Each look was a silent plea and a quiet affirmation.
With a wary tension gripping his gaze, he added, “Maybe I should explain a bit.” His voice dropped, stripped of the usual humor.
He took a deep breath, biting back the familiar impulse to joke. “My mom…she’s different. She’s wandered all her life. Not just recently.”
His gaze flicked away, uncomfortable with the weight of the words. “Growing up, her family just assumed she was… slow. Retarded, I guess. I don’t usually say it out loud.” He swallowed hard, the shame barely hidden beneath the surface. “They didn’t try to get her help or anything.”
Moose ran a hand through his hair, then shrugged as if trying to shake off the past. “Jim was the youngest of four boys until their mom got pregnant with Nancy when he was thirteen. When Nancy got pregnant at sixteen, her parents kicked her out, and Jim let her come live with him. Figured she could keep house while he worked the farm.”
His voice grew steadier, though the weight was still there. “By the time I was six, I was my mother’s keeper. Jim told me what chores Mom and I had to do, what time dinner had to be ready…and if either of us screwed up, I took the whipping.”
He looked back at the group, eyes raw but determined.
Dog exhaled deeply, his tone low. “Sounds like a hell of a childhood, Moose. Carryin’ that kind of burden from so young.”
Blast’s usual lighthearted hum faded as he turned serious. “That kinda pressure eats at a person. But you’ve carried it this far—doesn’t mean you gotta do it alone now.”
The engines thundered as the plane surged forward, pounding across the desert runway. Moose sat still, helmet resting in his lap, gaze locked on the endless sands slipping away beneath them. The weight of everything pressed down—Jim’s distress, Nancy’s disappearance, his own unresolved guilt.
He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Though weariness and emotional exhaustion weighed on him, he found quiet strength in the resolve of his team.