“An IED.” Arthur closed his eyes. “We were on patrol through a town and passing by an alleyway. A woman screamed for help.” He turned to his friend. “Genuine terror, not the kind you can fake.” Or so he’d thought.
The sympathy on Brandon’s face told him he understood. They’d been taught to ignore such things because insurgents often used women to lure soldiers into traps. “A child was being dragged away.” The clarity of the vision seared on his mind took his breath away. He’d run through the scenario hundreds of times, trying to figure out what he might have missed, how he could have done things differently.
The dirt, the rotten refuse stench coming from the alleyway, the oppressive heat of the day, had all disappeared into nothing as he’d focused on the man dragging the child away. Arthur was an excellent shot, but if the woman had gone after the child at the wrong moment, he might have shot her.
“I took one small step forward to get out of the glare of the sun and into the shade of the building so I could see better.” He shrugged. “The click was almost inaudible, but the explosion that followed wasn’t.”
“Fuck. Do you remember much of what happened next?”
“All of it.” His teeth clenched at the remembered pain and his leg throbbed. “Someone dragged me away and put a tourniquet on my leg. They carried me to an extraction point and got me out of there.” Sounded easy enough, but every step, every jolt had been agony, made worse because he’d glimpsed the woman smiling at him, no longer afraid—an actress to lure him forward into the alley. All he’d been able to think of was how disappointed his father would be that he’d made such a rookie mistake. “They triaged me at the base, then flew me home.”
“Did the major chew you out?”
Brandon understood. It was a comfort. “Yeah. Ordered me not to return to the army.”
“He doesn’t have that power.”
“No, but I’d never progress up the ranks.” Arthur glanced at Brandon. “He’s got connections.”
“He’s a bastard, but you shouldn’t have let him win. We kept telling you he wasn’t worth it.”
“I wasn’t ready to listen.”
“And now?”
“I’ve seen the proof. I might be delusional, but I’m not blind.” And the further he got from the army and the major, the clearer he could see.
Brandon clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m glad. We’re your family now, and we won’t abandon you.”
Arthur swallowed past the lump in his throat and looked away, blinking rapidly. “I appreciate it.”
“It’s too hot to be standing around here. What help do you need to get into the water?”
He welcomed the change of topic, but there was something else he needed to say. “I’m sorry, Brandon. Sorry for swearing Sam to silence and not trusting you had my back. Sorry for how I treated Amy.”
“I get it, and I forgive you for being a sulky little bitch.” Brandon smirked and nodded to the water. “Now, how do we get you in there?”
Arthur chuckled, his friend’s words making him feel light. “You’re my crutch.” He’d worn shorts under his pants, not ready to show his leg off to all the world yet. He slid his pants off and lowered himself to the ground.
Brandon crouched next to him and watched him peel off the layers. “There’s more to it than I realised.”
“Yeah. You get used to it.” He removed the leg, pouring the sweat out. “It’s still gross, though.” Across in the ocean, everyone was playing Marco Polo, splashing and laughing. As he rubbed suncream on his limb, he said, “Not very stealthy.”
Brandon laughed. “Shall we show them how it’s done?” He stood and offered Arthur his hand.
Arthur clasped it. “Absolutely.” Then he let his friend help him into the ocean.
***
Playing Marco Polo with only one leg made Arthur rethink his tactics. Next to him Brandon moved stealthily through the water, taunting Lara, who was it, by touching her hair and then moving away before she could catch him. But Brandon had two legs to balance on.
Arthur had to resort to swimming for his quick getaway. He also had to contend with two shadows in the form of Jordan and Cody, who had decided they needed to stick by his side and study everything he did.
It made things far less stealthy with all their whispered questions and splashing.
When Lara tagged him, Arthur wasn’t surprised.
Before closing his eyes, he made note of where everyone was. But the question was, who should he go after? “Marco,” he called.
