Page 8 of If This is Love

“Stassar’nt! I can’t see anything!”

I finally got my body to cooperate, sending up a quick, silent salute of gratitude to the powers that be that my legs were slowly getting their shit together and pushing me toward the one voice that was right there near me.

I coughed and spat before sucking in as much of the debris-caked air as I could. “Miller! Get behind something!”

“I can’t see anything!”

I pushed off the ground and staggered. “Get behind something!”

ThePOP-POP-POPof a Kalashnikov ricocheted against the stone walls of buildings I couldn’t see, but I kept moving forward. I had to keep moving forward. You had to keep moving forward.

You have to keep moving forward.

Forward was more like a long, slow zigzag, and my boot clipped something that sent me flying forward and slamming down onto the hard, packed dirt.

“Stassar’nt?”

I threw my arm to the side to grab for the straps on Miller’s gear and started dragging him. To where, I had no idea. I just had to keep moving forward.

“I can’t see!”

I kept dragging him. Amidst the chaos, I could hear the crunch of shoes slamming the ground, and someone was heading straight for us, and there was no telling who it was, and I just had to keep moving forward.

I repeatedly blinked away the sand-and-gunpowder cloud and could finally see something. There was a building only fifty or so yards away, and I just had to get us behind it. I just had to keep moving forward.

“Stassar’nt, I can’t see!”

“Then fucking blink until you can!”

“I can’t!”

I had to crawl with only one arm because I was still dragging Miller, but we were slowly moving forward, and I whipped my head around instinctively to check on him. The sight caused me to choke on the sand and gunpowder. He looked like he was crying, except that his tears were made of thick, crimson blood. He’d probably caught shrapnel in his eyes, and the kid who was my baby brother’s age would never see another damn thing as long as he lived.

The last thing Miller ever saw was the explosion, and what a fucking sight to be left with. Pieces of bodies flying through the air like they were nothing more than the shrapnel packed into the explosives, but I couldn’t think about the shattered people I’d already failed to save and had to focus on this one.

I turned my head forward to keep moving, and I was now staring down the barrel of a gun.

It was so close to my face that I couldn’t even identify the weapon beyond it being a gun, and my gaze flicked up to meet the eyes of the man with his finger on the trigger. The man who would decide in this instant if I would die now, or in a few seconds, or an hour, or maybe not even today.

And all I could do was stare back and wait. My side arm was strapped to my thigh, and even though I could quick-draw and shoot in just under two seconds, this motherfucker could squeeze that trigger in about .03.

I waited for all of a beat and a half before the gunman inched the barrel to the right, pulled the trigger, and then Lance Corporal James “Jimmy” Miller was nothing but a warm body and a bunch of memories.

I allowed myself to blink. Because if you’reme, you just toe the fucking line, and there were still a handful of your guys unaccounted for, so you couldn’t do anything but try to stay alive long enough to account for them and get them the hell out of here.

I splayed my fingers, opening both hands to raise them at my wrists benignly, and I stared up at him. The barrel shifted back to the center of my forehead, and I swallowed, thinking of the only two people I ever did in the not-rare-enough times when I was in this situation.

She’ll be okay. This is why you married her. She’ll have the benefits, and that’ll be enough to get her started in life, and Luke will make sure she’s okay. He can handle it. He knows what to do. He’ll do it when he has to, and he’ll be fine, too. You did everything you could to take care of them both, and they’ll be okay.

POP.

There was a rush of energy and heat in the space around my face, and I allowed myself to blink.

* * *

A deep,booming bark rattled me all over again, and I allowed myself to blink.

Gunner was standing on his hind legs with his front paws bracing on my lap. I blinked again and reoriented with my actual, current surroundings.

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