Sunlightstreamedthroughthewindow the next morning, warming Noah’s tiny bedroom. Sparks of joy rocketed through Zeke as the warm skin of Noah’s bare leg pressed against him. But then, memories of Splat jumping through the roof came flooding back, repeated punches in his stomach. Although he tried to contain it, his intense sobbing fit woke Noah. The out of control, manic version of Noah he’d met yesterday was now long gone. Noah calmly kissed away his tears, before suggesting he change into his own clothes before breakfast. He left Noah with a heavy heart; he’d have done anything to stay in his bed with him all day.
Zeke found his glasses waiting for him on his pillow in his empty dorm. He must have left them in the bathroom yesterday. Who’d returned them and did they wonder where he was all night? He hurried to change, figuring the others must have gone for their workout routine, even today.
When he reached the field, the familiar sight of Meredith, Savannah and Aoife in the warrior pose while the others ran laps around them soothed his soul. Itwouldbe okay. They could get through this. The others already had ample experience with grief, after all.
Frankie gave up running to join Zeke on a bench, confessing she’d spent most of the night crying to her mother on a voice call.
When Zeke asked her how Meredith was doing, Frankie scrunched up her face. “As well as can be expected, I guess. They let her out of isolation at midnight. She didn’t say much when she got back to our room.”
A sick sensation came over him when his eyes scanned Meredith’s puffy face. She and Splat had respected Noah’s request for them to maintain a professional distance. Now he and Noah were waking up together and shoving their tongues down each other’s throats. If he himself felt bad about it, how must Noah be feeling right now?Great, another thing for him to beat himself up over.
“We’re off duty today to recover and regroup. Also, apparently Splat’s dad wants to talk to us. He’s been told what happened, but still wants to hear it firsthand.”
Zeke hesitated. “Do you think Luo or someone else who was up there could do it?” he asked. “Noah wasn’t in a very good place yesterday and I don’t want—I mean, he probably shouldn’t—”
Frankie threw him a curious look, questions dancing around in her eyes.
Heat bloomed on Zeke’s cheeks. He quickly turned to face the runners. “Well?”
“Sure,” said Frankie, smooth as ever. “I’ll ask Vitt what she thinks about who should call Splat’s father.”
Noah didn’t join them until breakfast, which was a sombre, quiet affair. It started badly from the beginning, when they quickly realised that it was Splat’s mug duty. Then commenced the stream of soldiers coming up to their table to offer their condolences, when all any of them wanted was to be left alone to brood in silence. Near the end of breakfast, Noah announced he had an appointment with Doctor Herbert early that morning. Under the table, he squeezed Zeke’s thigh before jumping up, calling Wolf to follow him.
“So, what happens today?” Zeke asked Luo. Everyone had finished eating and was staring down at their empty plates and mugs.
“Aoife has agreed to call Splat’s family,” said Luo. Zeke nudged Frankie’s leg with his foot in thanks. “We get today just to breathe and process. This evening, we’ll say a few words around the fire before releasing some sparks for him.”
“Before heading straight back out tomorrow,” added Meredith, her bleak frown causing deep creases in her forehead.
“If you need more time, Mere, we—” Savannah started, but Meredith held up her hand and shook her head.
Members of Squad E slowly peeled off. Zeke headed back to his room, where he spent two hours on a voice call to Zaya. She did her best to cheer him up, even succeeding in making him laugh at one point. He opened his mouth several times to tell her about Noah, to confess his guilt over Splat and Meredith, before remembering that Command monitored all their communications.
Afterwards, Luo, Frankie and Zeke took a long walk around Avantis’s surrounding countryside, the cold yet beautiful winter day distracting Zeke slightly from the depths of his grief. When Zeke saw Noah, with Wolf by his heels, waiting for them at that gate when they returned, his heart jumped to his throat. He wanted to run to him, gather him in his arms and whisper into his ear about how he had missed him. Instead, he settled for a shy smile that he hoped communicated volumes.
That evening, Squad E gathered around the fire pit for Splat’s send off.
They sat in a circle, bright clothes and tight smiles. How many times had the other members of Squad E done this? Ten? Twenty? More?
No matter how many deaths came before Splat’s, he knew this one was different. Tears streamed down almost everyone’s blotchy, swollen faces. Everybody loved Splat.
Although Zeke hadn’t known him for long, he’d been one of the friendliest and kindest towards him—after that initial first day—and now his absence was like a missing limb.
Habib began the ceremony by reciting a funeral prayer in Arabic. Vitt and Aoife then shared some of their favourite memories of Splat. Some of them were familiar to Zeke, as he’d heard them last night from Noah. He found himself chuckling feebly along with the others as Vitt acted out the story of when Splat tried to break into the alcohol cupboard in Command, and hid under a desk for two hours until Captain Murphy left the room.
The ceremony was tears and smiles. It was pain and laughter. It was the sense of an ending, but a story unfinished.
“Speaking of alcohol,” Aoife said, once Vitt finished her tale, lifting up two bottles of red wine. “So, Squad K was kind enough to share this wine they stumbled upon. And wouldn’t you know, they ‘accidentally’ didn’t declare it at the border. Ain’t that just our luck?” Aoife shared the dark liquid out between their metal mugs.
A collective, “To Splat!” accompanied the traditional tapping of mugs against one another, the wine sloshing and spilling onto the mossy floor. The fire warmed Zeke’s face, and the wine warmed his belly. Further memories were shared until everyone, exhausted, agreed it was time to light the fireworks. Habib lined up twenty-four tiny rockets—not quite far enough from where they were sitting for Zeke’s liking—that looked alarmingly homemade. Habib waved a stick into the fire to form a makeshift match.
“Evening,” said a familiar voice. The expression on Noah’s face could only mean one thing: Tobias Newman.
The intruding soldier stepped into the middle of their circle. “Just came to pay my respects. Splat was such a great guy.” His gaze swept over each of them.
Noah tensed, folding his arms.
“This is a private ceremony, Tobias,” said Vitt. “Like usual. Thank you so much for your kind words, but we’d appreciate it if you left us now.”
