Chapter Sixty-Six

Briggs

I have one last promise to keep.

Geared up, I rest against the wall behind my single bed, with my earbuds in, and insert the disk while the guys rally around me, amped up for our mission.

We’re heading out soon, just waiting on the call. Infantry is the bottom of the totem pole. To put it simply, we follow orders, strapped up with ammo. I keep the adrenaline at bay for the moment as I sink into the support of my mattress. An hour in, I’m tossing my head back in laughter when one of my buds is pulled from my ear.

Henley glances at the screen before looking down at me. “What the fuck are you doing, man?”

“Have you seen this?” I say, choking on the sight of Cuba Gooding, Jr.’s bare ass as he proclaims he’s all heart.

“Jerry McGuire? Who the hell hasn’t?”

No wonder they were fucking laughing at me.

Damn you, Scottie.

I can’t help my smile. “Me. Damn, man, Cuba shoulda won an Oscar for this.”

Henley looks down at me with a chuckle. “He did. Where the hell were you?”

It’s Scottie’s question, and it stings, but I laugh through it. “I have no idea. The movie’s old, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s older. I guess I need to rephrase the question. What the fuck are you doing watching Jerry McGuire before we roll out?”

“Simple. There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing.” I put my earbud back in as he gauges my ‘fuck off’ vibe and takes off with a shake of his head. It’s only minutes later that the raw ache starts to take the place of the laughter, and I sink into no man’s land.

You matter. You matter. You matter so much.

I can’t ignore it anymore. No matter how hard I try to reason with myself that the way we left it is the way it should be left, I can’t accept forever without her. Eventually, I’ll have to, but the agony in her voice tortures me. She deserves the same type of declarations from me. Often, I replay her last words in my head—filled with desperation and love—and I wonder if what she hears when she thinks of me are the hurtful words I spit at her.

If I die tomorrow, is that all she’ll remember?

Tossing the remote, I make a beeline for the communications tent and steal the last available space. My fingers fly over the keys. I hear Henley call for me just after I finish up and hit send. Stepping away from the desk, with my heart laid bare, I grip my tags and squeeze, making peace with it before tucking them into my jacket.

Fifteen minutes later, we have our orders. I fasten my helmet, rushing out to join Henley, Tucker, and Dunn at the Humvee.

“I’m driving,” I say as he eyes me.

“Help me, help you,” he mocks with a chuckle.

“Fuck yourself,” I say as he climbs in next to me, riding shotgun. I can’t help my chuckle as I start it up.

“What’s your fascination with that movie, Sarge?” Henley asks.

Dunn speaks up on my behalf. “It’s not the movie—it’s the girl.”

“Intuition will do you better where we’re going,” I snap back in the rearview. “Make sure you use that shit today.”

“Where we going?” Tucker asks, his eyes bulging. He’s just been freshly delivered, which puts me on edge. But I have to believe they’ve done their job back home and trained him well.

“We’re assisting on finding a person of interest,” I say. “We aren’t going alone, so you may just get a chance to fire that fucking gun today, Tucker. Do us all a favor and follow direction.”

“Yes, sir,” he squeaks behind me, and I swear I hear the first visible hair sprout on his balls. Dunn reaches over the backseat and grips the top of his helmet, jarring him.

“You’ll be all right,” he assures. “Just keep your eyes open.”

Pressing the gas, I sweep away any stray thoughts of her, my chest lighter than it’s been in the last few months.

“Henley says you got thrown from one of these,” Tucker says nonchalantly.

Henley glares back at him and bares his teeth.

“Yep,” I say.

“How badly were you cut?” Tucker asks.

“Not bad,” I say, thinking back to that day.

“IED?”

“Yeah,” I nod as we clear the base, and I follow the speed of the two trucks in front of us.

“Not bad? How’s that possible?”

“How is what possible?” I say, annoyed with the questions. Henley does the honors, turning back to eye him.

“Tucker, in case you didn’t get that ‘shut the fuck up’ tone coming out of Sarge’s mouth, I’ll repeat it for you, shut the fuck up.”

“It’s fine,” I say as one of the Humvees stops for a herd of goats. I scan the rocky, desolate terrain, as sand whips against the side of the truck and Henley does the same.

“It’s nothing,” Henley says.

“Keep locked on the rocks,” I say, scanning the desert.

My speaker sounds with an all clear, and I reply with a “Roger that.”

Ten goats later, we’re en route to the market. Civilians line the streets, and small kids chase us, throwing rocks and yelling with excitement as we motor through.

“All I’m saying is, it doesn’t make sense,” Tucker mumbles under his breath.

“Jesus Christ.” Henley looks back at Tucker, livid. “Let it go, man.”

Ignoring them both, I slow to a stop as the two trucks in front of us roll to a halt.

“He shouldn’t have gotten thrown,” Tucker mutters.

The radio bustles with a safety check just as my spine pricks with awareness. There’s too much commotion. I lift my hand to quiet the voices around me just as I spot two men start scrambling down the side of the alley next to us.

“Henley, see that?” I ask.

He’s already got his scope trained on them out the window.

“Yep—”

“Get out, get out!” I hear over the radio just as the earth rattles beneath us while the first explosion rockets through the air. The first Humvee explodes in front of us, lifting with the blast as we all jerk back. Relief covers me temporarily when I see the driver and four others fly past us, with their guns trained on the surrounding buildings. Civilians scream as they scurry to safety that no longer exists.

Boots on the sand, I search the rooftops with the scope of my M4. “Tucker, with me!”

“Right here, Sarge,” he replies as he follows behind, his gun at his shoulder just as the first snap flies past the both of us.

“Henley, where the fuck is he?”

“I’m on him,” he says, returning fire.

“Dunn?” I shout.

“Here, Sarge!”

The radio fires off with commotion south of us as I try to get a handle on it, the crowds of people screaming around us making it difficult to hear. We’re under too much fire, so I search for the safest point of refuge to regroup.

“Ten meters to the right. Dunn, Tucker, clear this one until I get my radio back.”

Thirty feet ahead, I spot one coming in hot, and so does Henley, who fires first, taking him down.

Spotting Tucker stalling in my peripheral, I bark out an order. “Fuck, Tucker, you need a formal invite? Go, go!”

They come at us rapidly among the scattering crowd, fully armed.

They were waiting.

Our mission was probably a result of some bullshit tip from one of the assholes who plays both sides. Nothing about the situation is appealing, but I can hear the excitement flying out of Henley’s mouth as he covers the ground in shells. Adrenaline takes hold as I fire back, waiting on any word over the radio. There’s too much commotion, and we’re trying to take them down without hitting any innocents. With two buildings cleared and four other friendlies on foot joining us, we’re able to keep the line and push it back. I do constant checks and take pride in the immediate response. After twenty minutes of exchanging fire, we’re on the hunt. I’ve offered to stay back with the Humvees as the rest of them scatter back out to try to secure the perimeter.

Keeping Tucker close, I pull him from the dirt. He leans over and pukes before looking up at me, a little helpless and a little lost.

“You’re all right, man,” I say, slapping his face playfully. “You needed that. Now grab your fucking gun and help me catch these assholes.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dunn shouts from a foot away. “Motherfucker! Got something on the roof, Sarge, ten o’clock!”

“Talk to me,” I say as I slide next to him. “What is it?”

“It’s a kid. Oh, my God, it’s two fucking kids.”

“Teens?”

“Yeah, maybe younger,” he says just before one of them opens fire our way.

“Henley,” I bark as he shoots back. “Cease fire!”

“Your call,” he says, glancing over at me.

“No—fuck no,” I say. “We’ll get around.” I look over to Tucker whose eyes are trained on our six.

“Okay, Tucker?”

“Good, Sarge.”

The market is lifeless. All that’s left is what remains of our convoy and the scattered sounds of soldiers and gunfire surrounding us.

“Briggs,” I hear across my radio.

“Briggs,” I bark back.

“What’s your twenty?”

“Sitting like fucking ducks with the Humvees.”

“Stay put, we’ll be there shortly.”

I press the button at my neck. “Roger that.”

“Thank Christ,” Dunn says as fire flies past his head, snapping into the stone behind us.

“Dammit, Sarge, these two little fuckers aren’t stopping,” Henley shouts in warning, his voice rising with every word.

“Fire around them, try to scare some sense into them,” I say. “We have our orders. I’m not fucking calling that.”

If I don’t, someone else will.

I shouldn’t care, but two little kids are about to die because they only know blind hatred. They’ve been taught this way—conditioned from the minute they were old enough to understand. In five or ten years they might be good enough at it to actually hit their targets, and one of my brothers may die. But for now, they’re two little kids with Daddy’s guns, and it’s time to police them. I’ve got to get to them before someone makes that call.

“Dunn, with me,” I bark before looking pointedly at Tucker and nodding at Henley’s back. “Don’t let me down.”

“Sir,” he says, taking position.

Dunn looks at me with a hint of fear. “I’ll let you toss the first grenade,” I say as a bribe, sweeping my arm out with a grin as we prepare to tango.

Henley covers us, firing rapidly in the air around the rooftop thugs as we make a beeline for the building. We pass a woman screaming over her dead husband as Dunn fires into the air announcing our arrival.

“Get the fuck down!” Dunn yells at the spectators, who watch with morbid curiosity and fucked-up smiles. Just as I clear the image of the woman with bloody tears, I feel the shrapnel strike my back, and my footfalls cease.

“Fuck!” I hear Dunn exclaim as I turn in the direction he’s firing. The woman mourning her husband has his gun aimed at me. Our eyes lock briefly before I watch her go down lifeless on top of him. Dunn turns to me, and instantly I’m staring at the blue sky behind him.

“Aw, fuck,” Dunn exclaims, giving me wide eyes.

“Talk to me,” I say, staring at the rooftop above him, where heaving fire ricochets off the edge, taking chunks out of it.

“Man down! Man down! I need a medic!”

“Dunn,” I say, gripping his vest, “Talk to me right now.” That’s when it hits, and the adrenaline gives way to the throb in my chest. Henley comes skidding to a halt at my side. He’s hovering over me. I don’t feel a hint of relief until I see Tucker’s face, and it’s only then that I let the reality sink in and the time slice starts.

“Hang in there, Sarge,” Dunn says, his face morphing with fear.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say with a smile. “Jesus, you’re all idiots. It’s just a flesh wound.”

“Goddamn it!” Henley barks into his radio and gives our location. “I need a medic!”

Gunfire draws closer as realization dawns, and I shake my head, desperate to speak but unable to say a single fucking word.

“What?” Henley says, his eyes watering. “What, Sarge?”

I am a stupid son of a bitch.

Staring at the sky behind him, I draw the warmth from the sun and let myself sink into ocean blue.