“Yes,” Noam said. “Always.”
Lehrer pushed away from the window and drew close again, resting his fingertips atop the back of Noam’s chair, close enough his knuckles grazed the line of Noam’s shoulder blade.
Noam held his breath.
“Good,” Lehrer said. “Then I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.”
Winter in Texas was snowless, but this close to the coast, the wind that blew in off the Gulf chilled to the bone. Noam drew his military-issue jacket a little closer around his shoulders as the icy air rippled through his hair and sent the evacuation notices fluttering against every window, every wall.
“These are the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” Bethany announced when she emerged from the little corner store, the screen door falling shut behind her. The sound of her voice seemed to echo down the empty street. Her cheeks were a little pink, but that was the only sign she noticed the cold at all.
“You said that about taquitos.”
“That was before I had these.” She kicked his ankle with the edge of her boot and held out the open bag. “Go on—try one.”
Noam peered at the label. “Cheese straws? We have cheese straws in Carolinia.”
“These are jalapeño flavored. It makes them ten times better. Trust me.”
Noam took a handful, popping one into his mouth. It was crunchy, cheesy ... and Bethany was right: the spiciness did make it better.
“I’m going out on the lines tomorrow,” he said after he’d chewed, swallowed.
He felt Bethany’s gaze like the point of a blade pressed against his cheek. When he turned to look at her, she tilted her chin up. The bloody light of the late sun deepened her hair from blonde to red. “Are you going to ...”
“No,” he said with a heavy exhale, and he wished he wasn’t holding so many cheese straws; he fought the urge to knot his hands in fists. “No. Not yet. We should wait for orders.”
“Wegive the orders out here, Noam.”
Noam pushed another cheese straw into his mouth to buy time before answering. “I meant from Major General García.”Or Lehrer.“Believe me. I’d love to end it all tomorrow, but—”
“Field Commander Álvaro, sir!”
Noam turned. A private stood at attention, hand drawn to his brow in a salute.
“What is it, Private?”
“There’s a call for you and Field Officer Glennis in the officers’ barracks from the First Battalion, Twenty-Third Regiment.”
Noam and Bethany exchanged glances.
“Thank you,” Bethany told the private, and she rolled up the bag of cheese straws and stuck it in her pocket as they headed back.
The combat outpost had been a school before it was their base. Not Noam’s first choice. He tried to avert his gaze as they passed by the corkboards posted full of children’s drawings and framed awards:Science Olympiad,Mathletes,Battle of the Books. The town had been evacuated bloodlessly, empty by the time their battalion got here.
Even so.
Lieutenant Colonel Harris was in the comms room when they got there, sipping black coffee—burnt, Noam could smell it from here—and scrolling through something on her holoreader. She had the privacy settings on so no one could see her screen; not that it made a difference, with Noam around.
“We need the room,” Noam said.
She shot him a narrowed glare over the edge of her holoreader, looking very much like she was considering snapping back. Harris hadn’t taken well to the idea of Level IV cadets being afforded tactical command over her unit. Which, yeah, if Noam had his way, he wouldn’t be in charge either. He was seventeen. But Lehrer gave the order when he sent them out here to organize the push toward Houston. All Level IV cadets were provisionally promoted for the duration of wartime.
Noam swallowed back his urge to addplease. The moment he pretended subservience, he’d never claim his authority back.
After a moment the lieutenant colonel sighed and flicked her holoreader off, tucking it into her back pocket and heading out through the side door.
Noam took her vacated seat and put the phone on speaker. “Hi, Ames.”
