It was Charlie’s anniversary, and I needed to forget. Or maybe I needed to hurt. I’m not sure anymore. The line between the pain and the relief has blurred so much it’s become the same thing.
I stare at the ceiling. My chest heaves. The familiar ache settles deep into my bones.
The memories don’t wait for permission. They never do. They rise. Sharp. Merciless. A choke hold dragging me back to the day everything went wrong.
* * *
I feel the heat first. Not the warmth, but punishment.
A suffocating, relentless force pressing down on us until every breath feels like a negotiation. Even the trees looked defeated, their dead branches reaching toward the sky as if they’d finally surrendered, as if they said: “Fuck it.”
Every inhale. Work.
Every exhale. Stolen.
The exhaustion was bone-deep. Dehydration causing my tongue to stick to the roof of my mouth like sandpaper. Every step felt heavier than the last, the earth pulling at my boots, as if it was trying to bury us ahead of schedule.
Deck bitched the entire way. It’s the only thing keeping the madness at bay.
“We’re pushing shit uphill,” he’d muttered. “This is bullshit. Our superiors can go fuck themselves. When I get back…”It went on and on.
He wasn’t wrong. Not then. Not now.
My head was constantly on a pivot. Left. Right. Scan. Listen. Move.
The silence in the valley was deafening, a heavy pressure against my eardrums, yet every single crunch of our boots sounded like a gunshot. A beacon, announcing our exact position to the shadows.
I felt them before I saw them, that shift in the air, that vibration I get under the skin. It’s something deep, a primal shift that vibrates inside my bones, whispering that we’re no longer alone. I tried to explain that exact vibration to Deck once.
Now, the smart-ass calls meYoda, always telling me to use the Force.
I tell him to get fucked, but the truth is… I don’t think he’s entirely wrong.
Every muscle in my body locked tight. An icy wave rolled over me, my stomach twisting violently as adrenaline slammed through my system like a freight train. We weren’t alone. Someone was watching us.
“Move!” I barked, the urgency ripping from my throat.
Deck glanced over at Charlie, a grim smirk touching his lips. “Yoda’s on the ball today.” They followed my lead instantly, never doubting my call.
Five steps later, the first shot cracked through the heavy silence. Rocks exploded beside us. More shots. More dust. More fear.
I didn’t see the shooter, but the deafening sound ricocheted through the jagged mountains as another rock exploded right beside Deck. Another burst next to Charlie.
Then another.
And another.
We sprinted hard for higher ground as lethal rounds tore through the surrounding air. With every stride, I expected the sharp agony of a bullet burying itself in my back.
I risked a glance over my shoulder and spotted them. They’re hunting us. We had taken something from them. Now, they wanted our blood to pay for it.
When we finally reached the extraction zone, we threw our bodies behind a cluster of massive boulders. The heavy impact rattled my teeth.
Charlie’s knuckles were stark white as he keyed the radio, his raw voice barking over the static, giving our coordinates and marking the hostile area. The reply came back almost instantly:
“Five minutes. Hawks inbound. FRIES collection.”
We were going out by ropes under heavy fire in five long, fucking minutes. Enough time to make it home. Or just long enough to die trying.
