“We can leave tonight,” she whispered. “Rest up. Hit the road.”
“We have to stick together. Maybe Gray was right. We shouldn’t have left the stadium. We left good men to die back there.”
“We would have died with them. What would be the point of that?”
“We’re dead anyway. At least at the stadium, we could have died with some honor.”
“Screw that and screw you. You can’t put that on us. We tried to get them to leave. Staying was their choice. Their blood isn’t on our hands. Me, I’m not interested in suicide. Where’s the honor in that? I’m not interested in dying for something.” Her hand probed until it found his. “Right now, I’m a hell of a lot more interested in living for something.”
They held hands in the dark. For the first time in weeks, Wade felt a sense of calm. He’d reached a decision. He’d tell her. She deserved to know.
“Even if we make it, I’m not sure I’m going back,” he said. “All my friends are dead. Sergeant Ramos is dead. He wasn’t like a father to me because my dad was nice, but he cared. He was tough, but it was because he cared. All he cared about was keeping everybody in the squad alive. He saved my ass more times than I can count in Afghanistan.”
He paused and went on, “I remember this one time, the Taliban totally lit us up. A textbook L-shaped ambush. Men went down instantly. Our lead element was cut off from the rest of the platoon. I dove behind a log and couldn’t raise my head. A PK ripped that log to shreds. Somebody shouted, ‘They got Esposito! They got him!’ Then Sergeant Ramos ran past me. We all got up to provide cover fire. A couple of Taliban had Esposito down in the gully. He was wounded, and they were dragging him away as a prize. Ramos chased after them, shot them down, and brought Esposito back. I don’t know how he did it. But it was something to see. It was really something.”
Wade paused again, lost in the memory. “He was like that. He gave the orders, but we always came first. He has a sister and a nephew here in Boston. He wanted to protect them because they were the only family in the world he had left. He could have walked off the job, but he stayed. He put us first. He put the Army first. And now he’s dead. He died in a fucking hospital we had no business being in. Now his family is stuck in this city. I tell you, if I get out of this, I’m going to pay him back. I’ll go Elvis. I’m going to find them and protect them.”
Rawlings squeezed his hand. “I understand.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. But don’t do it.”
“No?”
“We need you, Wade. I need you. Come here.” She touched his head and guided it to her shoulder. She stroked his hair.
“I’m so fucking tired,” he said. His mind began to slip away.
“Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds.”
Gray grinned down at them, still wearing his NVGs.
“Wade, you take first watch.”
“Go to hell, Gray,” Wade told him.
He closed his eyes and fell asleep in seconds.
THIRTY-FOUR.
HANSCOM AIR FORCE BASE. Oh-dawn-hundred. Already hot and humid. The day was going to be a scorcher. First Battalion kicked off their fartsacks and got to their feet.
Lt. Colonel Lee searched for the big sergeant the men called John Wayne.
Sergeant Andy Muldoon, First Platoon, Delta Company. His squad was a rough bunch of bad apples. He had a reputation of taking misfits and turning them into hardened killers. He’d served seven tours on and off in Afghanistan and had been decorated three times. The Taliban knew his name, and they’d been afraid of him. The war had turned him into the type of man who knew he could never go home. He was on American soil again, but home was gone.
He and Lee had history in Afghanistan. They held no special love for each other. But Lee needed his help.
Lee found the sergeant sitting on a crate with his back against a palette of bottled water, whittling a piece of wood into what looked like a chess piece. Lee once again found himself impressed with the man’s colossal size; he was a virtual giant. His squad loitered around him with their shirts off, trading desserts from MRE pouches, lifting weights and sharpening their big knives. A boom box pounded out Iron Maiden’s “Run to the Hills.”
“Sergeant Muldoon, a word.”
The big sergeant squinted up at him. “Captain Lee. Or is it Colonel Lee now?”
Lee crouched next to him. “Your men are fit? Ready to move?”
Muldoon grinned. “Always. You tracked me down just to check up on me?”
“They don’t look like they’re in a state of readiness.”
“They’re ready.”