A Lover's Lament(106)

I can’t blame him for his frustration. I want to know why they’re calling the search off too. They tell you what you need to know, and often that’s not very much. I also want to know that they’ve found Adams alive and well, but that’s not how this sort of thing works.

I look back at them again and see the worry in Thomas’s eyes. He’s not doing well, and I know my words must be gentle.

“Listen, we do what we are told—always. We don’t question our orders, we execute them. We’ll report back to base and figure out what’s going on soon. I’m sure they found him and just don’t need us looking anymore.”

With my last word, a head pops up from a rooftop in the distance, and I immediately shift my rifle from ready at the hip to eye level. Elkins notices the same thing I do and whips his muzzle toward the activity with the enthusiasm of a twenty-year-old grunt with too much testosterone and not enough common sense. “Hold it, Elkins. It’s a kid.”

I pull my weapon back down and tap the top of his muzzle for him to do the same. He lowers it, and then the four of us continue along the wall. As we pass the house, I peer up toward the child—a girl, no more than five years old—who is now standing upright and curiously gawking in our direction.

So young. She doesn’t have a clue why we are here, or what we are doing. At this point, she doesn’t know the difference between an AK-47 and her blankie, but one day this girl will hate me just as her parents do—and as their parents did before them.

I shake the thought from my head and nod toward the girl with a smile. She giggles before taking off, her curls bobbing on top of her head.

“Let’s pick it up, gentlemen, not too much further—” I’m cut off by a round screeching past our position and burrowing into the wall just a few steps ahead of me. Shards burst from the concrete in every direction as the bullet rips through the mortar. I jump back, immediately fighting to collect my thoughts. Another shot whizzes by just over our heads, forcing me to react.

“Up and over, up and over! Thomas, you lift Elkins. Navas, I got you.” I drop to a knee and interlock my fingers. Navas plunges his foot onto my hands, and with one brisk push, he hurdles atop the wall. Thomas and Elkins follow suit, and then I kneel before Thomas to do the same for him.

Navas and Elkins stand behind the half wall with rifles, scanning the rooftops, searching for the culprit. Two more rounds come tearing in, hitting the wall just to the side of us. I hoist Thomas to the top so that the others can pull him over. Instead of joining them, Thomas shifts around and reaches an arm down for me. I sling my rifle behind my back and grab hold. His other hand reaches down further and he latches his fingers into my belt loop, giving me a tug. My free hand grips tightly onto the edge of the wall as he works at pulling me up. The sound of another round explodes through the air, and I instinctively duck my head. It tears through the hand I have grasping the wall, and I yank it back with a deep howl. As I do, my weight pulls me back toward the ground and Thomas along with me. He flips backward away from the wall and crumples to the earth like a ragdoll. Navas fires a few shots at no one in particular as I help Thomas to his feet. He’s dazed, but quickly shakes it off. I fight the pain off as best I can, blood pouring from my hand.

“Come on, Thomas, I need to get you over.” I drop to a knee to assist him, but he shakes me off.

“No, Sarge, your hand’s f*cked. I’ll get you over first,” he says defiantly. I can’t argue because I know he’s right. I stick a boot onto his palms and he heaves me up. I shift my weight around and lock my good hand with Thomas’s just as another gunshot breaks the still air.

Thomas’s eyes go wide and his hand goes limp in mine. A bullet now sits burrowed inside the wall, having made a pathway through his innards. He falls back, hitting the ground hard, and a pool of blood quickly stretches out around him. Before I can react, Elkins grabs my legs and yanks me down with them on the other side so hard that I fall to the ground. Navas locates the enemy on a rooftop in the distance and sends several of his own shots in that direction. Elkins does the same.

Adrenaline kicks in, and within seconds, the pain in my hand ceases. I scramble to my feet and use an oil drum to prop myself up onto the wall, my armpits clinging to it for support. I see Thomas reaching his hand up toward us, blood pooling in his mouth as he struggles to breathe. The return fire erupting from Elkins and Navas’s rifles is muted and the wind halts, releasing grains of sand back down to the earth. Time stops. Thomas looks me square in the eye, his face void of color, and although he seems to be slipping away, his eyes are begging me for help. If they could speak, I know just what they’d say—please, don’t let me die.

Elkins and Navas stop to reload, and three more rounds come through. One rockets past the tops of our heads. The other two rip into Thomas’s dying body, successfully yanking away any remaining life.

I can’t move. I can’t speak. I can’t think. I just stare at the new contortion the round has made of his face and I’m numb. Completely numb.

I don’t hear my team yelling for me to get down. I remain on the wall, my head still exposed to the enemy, when something inside of me snaps. I shoot my attention back to my team—a fierce determination now blazing from my eyes. “We aren’t going to f*ckin’ leave him here!”

“We aren’t saying that, Sarge. We can come back and get him once we have some support!” Elkins hollers, his voice strained and raw. He fires three more shots toward the enemy. “No way we make it out alive going back over there, Sarge. No f*cking way!”