“You stay here,” Melvin said. “You rest. You stabilize as much as you can. You learn to ride the spikes instead of letting them throw you.”
Reynolds’ eyes flicked between them. “And you two?”
Mac and Melvin didn’t look at each other, but the room tightened anyway. The Stewards saw it, the way Reynolds steadied when they were close. They’d measured it.
“They’re going to watch us too,” Melvin said.
Reynolds’ brows pulled together. “Why?”
Mac’s hand tightened once on Reynolds’ forearm, then eased. “Because you calmed when we were here,” he said. “And they need to know if that’s help or hazard.”
“So you’re… this isn’t something people are supposed to know.”
“Not usually. Right now we’re focused on keeping you alive.”
Reynolds’ mouth opened, then closed. He nodded once, because that was what soldiers did when they didn’t have power but they had trust.
A medic passed the doorway, glanced in, and kept walking. Melvin’s stomach twisted at how fragile the concealment was. The Stewards cloaked the room while they were present. Once they were gone, the base returned to routine, unaware of what had been decided inside.
Mac’s gaze followed the medic for a second, then returned to Melvin. “We need to talk,” he said quietly.
Melvin nodded. “Outside.”
He waited until Reynolds’ breathing steadied and the monitor held its line. Then he stepped into the corridor with Mac, keeping their pace controlled and their faces neutral, as if they were discussing routine disposition.
The hallway smelled like bleach and sweat and old coffee. A wall fan rattled. Somewhere a radio played tinny music low enough to be more comforting than annoying. The normalcy felt almost insulting.
Mac stopped near a supply alcove where the light was dimmer. His voice stayed low.
“Stateside,” he said. “You’re sure.”
Melvin nodded. “They didn’t say it like a suggestion.”
Mac’s eyes narrowed. “How does that happen without paperwork?”
“That’s the point,” Melvin said. “It doesn’t happen through the Army. It happens around it.”
Mac exhaled through his nose. “And leave?”
Melvin felt the shift in his chest. The two-week pause they’d been promised. After the convoy and the bite, it felt less like a gift and more like a test.
“The leave is real,” Melvin said. “But it’s also convenient.”
Mac stared at him. “For them.”
“For them,” Melvin agreed. “They want to see how he holds up outside this place.”
Mac’s jaw tightened. “And if we go stateside,”
“Then we’re under their jurisdiction more than the Army’s,” Melvin said. “Even if we’re still wearing uniforms.”
Mac’s eyes flicked away, scanning the corridor on reflex. “So they can move Reynolds. And they can move us.”
Melvin nodded. He hesitated, then added the piece that sat under his tongue like a secret. “They talked about moving him like it was easy.”
Mac’s gaze snapped back. “Easy how.”
Melvin’s heart picked up, not fear, recognition of something that didn’t belong in a world of Humvees and manifests. “When they cloaked the room,” he said, “they weren’t just locking a door.”
