The soldiers called it R and R. Rest and relaxation.
Blake thought it was probably more like a last hurrah. A ramshackle feast of questionable canned goods and whatever burned hottest after they swallowed. That afternoon, Gabriel had slammed the map of the Metro down, tossed his pen into the corner of Irving’s office, and announced they were done. That they were prepared. Every ‘I’ had been dotted, ‘T’ crossed, and there was nothing left to do but celebrate a job well done.
What he really meant was their last night alive, but he was their commander, so he couldn’t say that.
Didn’t stop Blake from thinking it though, as he leaned back on the grassy knoll over the river, warm soda can warping under his fingers. It was a nice day. A gift, or maybe an omen.
Blake felt like a plant, rolling up his sleeves and turning to face the sun, letting it bathe across his skin. He’d even taken off his socks and shoes, toes squishing in grass that wasn’t quite green but didn’t have that crunchy, brown dead look of winter.
To his left, Tommy was shirtless, tossing a stick to some of the dogs that followed him around. Phin was behind him, a grumpy shadow who made sure everyone knew exactly where not to look. Sometimes he’d cajole Phin to throw the stick,marveling at how far he got it. Phin tried not to look too pleased as he subtly flexed his biceps.
Gabriel was fishing. He had some kind of bet with Victoria and was taking it very seriously. They’d found an old rod at the back of a shed next to some moth-eaten uniforms and a stack of yellowed newspapers. Neither one of them had any luck, and eating anything out of the Potomac was questionable at best, but Gabriel had shucked most of his clothes so he could wade into the muddy river. His arms and back flexed as he cast, sweat sticking to skin that only needed a few moments of sun to bloom the most beautiful bronze.
Blake didn’t really care for fish, but he sure as hell liked watching them get caught.
Everyone else was scattered. Some retired to their rooms, others lounged around the hotel. Irving thought some recreation was good for morale. What he consideredfun,Blake couldn’t guess. Probably reading fiction.
Tipping his head back, he watched the sun begin to fade, and the blue sky turn a pink sherbert. Colors splashing across the thick, fluffy clouds meandering across the sky. The trees were beginning to pop leaves, small little buds tentatively sticking their heads out to see if the coast was clear.
It was a nice day. Would be nicer if tomorrow wasn’t looming.
In less than twenty-four hours, they would either have DC…or be dead.
The thought of probable death should be more worrying than it was. Blake could feel the small kernel of anxiety sitting low in his stomach, threatening to pop if he just gave it enough attention. But he was ignoring it. Telling himself they were ready. Gabriel thought so. Even Irving had given his assent. That had to mean something.
One summer—Blake couldn’t recall exactly which—they’d had a spider infestation in their hall coat closet. They were harmless. Small, fuzzy, quick-moving things that skittered in the corner of his eye and lingered in dark corners. His mom said to just ignore them. His dad didn’t have the heart to call an exterminator.
Blake thought they were funny. In the heat of summer, bored out of his mind, he’d open that door and poke at them with a pen. Prod at them just enough until they’d rear up, waggle their furry front legs at him. Defensive posturing.Beware! I’m bigger than I seem! Rawr!
It made him laugh.
Now Blake knew exactly how they felt. Small, helpless, desperate to protect yourself against an entity bigger than you, smarter than you, with more resources than you. Karma might be a bitch, but damn was she effective.
Gabriel was confident in the way a man who had planned and executed dozens of military missions could be, but Blake felt like a furry spider backed against the baseboard, flailing his arms and hoping the Off Formers and Monkey Cats would be intimidated enough to leave him alone.
It would have to be enough. Ithadto. Operation: ET Get Fucked was their best bet. Tomorrow morning, Blake would be boarding a helicopter, a syringe in his pocket with enough methamphetamine to kill him three times over. It had to be him. He had the best chance of finding the weak point. The spot where the drugs would have the best chance to infiltrate their system.
But that was tomorrow. Today, he was watching the sunset with warm soda in his belly and the people he’d learn to love like family all around him. As far as last days go, it could be worse.
“I tried to eat a cloud once,” Judd said, his drawl carrying over from where he was sitting with Sara. They were sprawledout on their backs, looking up at the sky. Coloring books, broken crayons, and an open box of cookies between them.
Sara giggled. “Nuh-huh!”
“I did.” He lifted his hands, touching his thumbs and pointer fingers together to make a square. He centered a cloud in it. “Got all the junk from around the farm and piled it into the bed of my momma’s truck. Climbed high up into the sky and took a big ol’ bite.”
Rolling onto her belly, she leveled him with a serious look. “What did it taste like?”
“Dirt.”
Sara’s face crumpled in confusion.
Judd dropped his hands and snagged a cookie. He chewed it slowly. “Fell off the tower and broke both my wrists.”
When realization dawned, she squealed, “You liar!” She smacked him on the chest. He stole the box of cookies and took off across the grass. Sara chased him down the hill. Judd clutched the cookies to his chest, darting behind Victoria, nearly slipping into the water. She knocked him to the ground, stole his cookies, and laughed when Sara tackled Judd.
“He’s ticklish,” she told the girl around a mouthful of snickerdoodle.
“Betrayal!” Judd shouted as Sara exacted her vengeance with her tiny fingers.
