Page 5 of Kitty Cafe & The Grump

The heat doesn’t let up. Not even at night.

The mission is simple: find and return the artillery. Three days ago, a car bomb tore through our checkpoint, leaving us exposed and scrambling. We took out most of the threat. Most. A mole on the inside has been feeding the enemy our movements on the daily. We lost two men because of it.

Now we move through the dark, silent and careful. The air is pressing down on everything like a heavy fist.

Anger sharpens me. I don't dwell on fear. I focus on what was lost. “Boone, hug the corner and watch my six.” We are dressed in full tactical gear, black as the night. Sweat burns down my temples and into my eyes. The helmet straps dig into my jaw. Everything itches and aches, and the heat feels like the walls are closing in. I breathe through it.

My men are behind me. That's all that matters.

This isn't a drill. These bullets don’t miss and aren’t rubber.

“Right behind Blue,” Halls cuts in. “Almost at the nest.”

“Boone, flip on night vision and keep checking my six. Chatter from HQ. Target knows we’re coming in hot,” I report.

“Copy.”

I press the comm against my throat. “Halls. SITREP.”

Static. Then Halls’ voice: “Perched in nest.”

I’m reaching for Boone’s shoulder when the air snaps. A soft pop, then a “Copy.” Something smashes against the wall beside me. Stone chips bite into my cheek. Boone’s helmet explodes against the rock with a wet crack. For a second, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Then the warmth hits, sticky, hot, running down my face. The air tastes like copper. Boone’s body folds and hits the dirt within seconds. My throat goes raw, and I shout before I even know what I am saying.

“Overwatch! Target on the move!” The comms explode. Orders. Stationary. Gunfire. Everyone is talking at once, and none of it matters because the world has already collapsed down to three things.

Dust. Noise. Blood.

Then nothing. The world drops away. Memory shatters. I come back to the present with a jerk.

Time jolts forward. I’m upright before I’m awake, gun already in my hand, already cocked, already pointed at the dark. The room is suddenly quiet.

I’m home, not there.

My chest heaves. The room is still. Quiet in a way that feels wrong after the noise, after all that sound. Moonlight cuts through the curtains, and I scan one corner to the next, until my brain finally catches up.

No one’s here.

Just me. Sweat soaks my shirt. Sheets twist around my legs, holding me down. I wipe sweat from my brow, feeling the cold moisture mixed with my racing pulse. I lower the gun. Safety on. Set it back on the nightstand. My pulse hammers. I stare at the ceiling, waiting for my body to settle down. I rub my eyes and reach for my phone to text Todd.