“You can’t know that.”
“I do. This is Whitlock we’re talking about. Then again, if he did court marshal me, at least they’d send me back to a military prison in the States. That would be preferable over another six months in this hellhole. God. What the fuck’s happening right now, Sully? The past few years have felt like this one long, unending nightmare that just won’t seem to quit. Day after day of humping packs and shooting at civilians, suspicious of everyone and everything, the madness creeping in so gradually that no one seems to notice, until one day the guy standing next to you in line at the chow hall does something so monumentally insane that you suddenly see it, it suddenly clicks, and that’s when you realize you’re only a heartbeat away from doing the same crazy shit yourself.”
He was barely coherent, hands gripping at his khaki t-shirt, sweat beading at his temples. I’d never seen him look like this, and I’d never been so worried for him. People always talked a lot about the bond twins shared. The supernatural link between them. One of them gets hurt, the other feels the pain. One of them is unhappy, the other’s down, too. One is in danger, the other is gripped by such an overwhelming sense of foreboding that they have to call and make sure everything is all right.
Ronan and I never experienced such a thing, but I didn’t need a made-up psychic link right now to understand how he was feeling. The tension was rolling off him, thick in the air, and his eyes were wild with panic. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tight. “Fuck, dude. It’s gonna be okay. Six months is nothing. We can do that no problem. Just you wait and see. We’ll barely even break a sweat.” Ronan buried his face in my shoulder, breathing hard. He was on the verge of breaking down and losing it entirely. Holding onto him as tight as I could, I told him over and over again that it was going to be okay, that another six months wouldn’t break us, but this awful notion of dread was coiled in the pit of my stomach like a deadly snake, and it was threatening to strike at any moment. I didn’t know if he could make another six months out here. I didn’t know if everything was going to be okay. All I knew was that I had his back, and I was going to do everything and anything in my power to get him through it as best I could.
We stood for a long time in silence while Ronan caught his breath. We would have stood for much longer if one of Ronan’s specialists, Crowe, hadn’t burst into the tent, yelling out my name.
“Captain Fletcher? Ah, there you are. Sorry, Sully. Colonel Whitlock’s looking for you. He asked if you could please head straight to his office. He has some paperwork for you to fill out.”
So there it was. Ronan was right; they were extending everybody. Looked like I was up next. My brother stepped back, breathing in deeply, straightening his t-shirt. “Thanks, Sully. I’ll see you later, man. Let me know how it goes, huh?” He turned and walked away before I had a chance to reply to him. He obviously didn’t want his guy to see he was freaked out, and I didn’t want to put him in that position, either.
“All right, Crowe.” I turned to the specialist, slapping him on the back. “You lead the way. I’m right behind you.”
The entire walk to Whitlock’s office, the Italian’s mortars continued to rain down on the city four miles away, sending bursts of fire and death into the sky.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sunshine Scramble
“Are you ready for this? Are you sure you don’t want to wait until after Christmas like we planned?”
Connor was sliding a brand new notebook and a pack of pencils into a dark blue book bag I’d bought for him at the store. Stationary supplies on The Causeway were a little thin on the ground, so I’d had to do the best I could. As a result, Connor had everything he needed for his first day at school, but he was hardly going to be the cool kid in his year. If we were back in New York, I’d have been able to take him all over the city, buying the best shoes, the best clothes, a mountain of different paper, pens, glue sticks etc. He didn’t seem to care that he wasn’t decked out in brand names, though. He just seemed happy to be getting out of the house.
“Yes, it’s fine. I want to go. Really.”
Rose had shown up at the house after work the day before, saying wouldn’t it be a great idea if the children could make some friends before the holidays, so they’d have people to stop by and visit. She’d already spoken to the principal at the elementary school, who was fine with taking Connor as an early admission. I hadn’t had much input in the decision at all—fine with me, because Connor actually appeared to be excited for once, and that was a wonder in itself.
“Do you want me to drive you, or Rose?” I asked him.