Page 61 of The Barn: Frost and Q
The words hit him, directly in the chest, and he tried to breathe around them. “I’m trying so hard,” he admitted. “I want to do it right, to figure this whole thing out.”
“You did. You’re doing it. You’re not trying. You’re figuring it out. Frost is proud of you. Hell, we all are. I can’t… I can’t imagine how I’d do it. I know I would, like I would figure it out just like you figured it out. Or at least you know, I would figure it out in my own way. But it’s hard to imagine.”
“I keep telling myself I’m lucky. I’m lucky I did this thing. I survived it. I came back, I’m even walking pretty good. Most of the time. It could have been so much worse.” The words tasted like dust in his mouth, still.
“Jesus, I bet you get tired of thinking that and hearing it. I would. I’d been tempted to bite somebody. In fact, every time somebody says it to you, I kind of want to bite them.”
“That’s why we’re friends. Because every time somebody says it, I kind of want to bite them. I don’t feel lucky sometimes. And I don’t want to have to be grateful all the time. Once in a while, I just want to wallow in my own crapulence.”
“Wallow away, man, I give no shits. I don’t care. Frost isn’t here. We’ll eat tater tots and dip them in ranch or cheese.” Boone’s eyes lit up. “Oh, we could get chili cheese tater tots.”
“Dude, I do love a chili cheese tater tot. Can we get a double order?”
Boone arched one eyebrow. “We’re the bosses. We can have whatever we want. That’s why we work twenty hours a day—so that we can literally have everything we want.”
“Rock on, rock lobster.” He held out his hand for the printout. “Let’s get this done.”
Nineteen
“I’m gonna need you leading the jump team.” Cap glanced up from the piles of paperwork on his desk—maps and notes and flight plans.
Frost blinked, totally taken aback. He’d just landed and was coming in for a nap and a long shower. “Wait, you what?”
He hadn’t been on the jump team in two years. He didn’t mind it being in the thick of it, but he tended to fly, drop the guys in. He was a fucking amazing pilot, and he knew it. “Are you sure about this, Cap? Jeffrey’s bringing his guys in. I know they’ve been picked up.”
“Jeffrey’s hurt. So were Fredericks and Piland. I gotta do something. I don’t even think Fredericks is going to make it through the night, man. I need you down on the ground. You’re the most experienced jumper I’ve got. This team is full of hot shots right now. Solid guys, they know their shit, and thank God for it, but…”
He knew. Hot shots were amazing at fighting on the ground. It wasn’t even the jumping into the fires that was a challenge here. He could teach anybody how to jump out of a plane. No, it was the getting down there and having to survive until either you got your asses picked up or you got back to civilization.You never knew what the exact situation was either. There was no way to be sure if these were a bunch of little fires popping up, or hiding a huge blaze. Or if there was a crazed asshole out there just waiting to set another fire. It seemed hard to believe that these were things people did. Some of the places were just so remote that it was hard to believe that there were any people there at all.
“When do we leave?”
“We lock and load at zero six hundred. Try to get some sleep tonight.” Cap nodded to him, the older man’s lips in framed in a white mustache. “Thanks, man.”
“Yeah. I got some phone calls to make.”
Frost headed to the barracks, the fresh guys—his new team—were hyped up and ribbing each other.
The teasing stopped when he walked in, the guys all staring like he’d grown a second head. Taking over an existing team, even for a couple jumps, was hell. These guys were hard, fueled, and loyal to death, but that made it a challenge to lead that snake around.
“I heard you are here to lead the team,” one of the younger kids asked, and he nodded.
“I am.”
“You sure you’re strong enough to?”
He considered answering by hitting the guy as hard as he could and just laying him out and seeing what would happen. Monologuing was never a good thing, and so it was nice to think about, but team morale and all that.
“Keep your dick in your pants, man. I got phone calls to make. I got plans.” He yawned, proving his boredom. “I don’t need this, not from you, not today. Deal?”
The kid opened his mouth, but Chauncey, one of his friends and a jumper with over a decade of experience, bodychecked thekid a little bit. “Drop it, Peters. Drop it like it’s hot.” Then he got a warm grin. “Good to work with you always, my friend.”
“Yeah.” He yawned again, stretched, and then headed back away from the guys.
“I heard about Quentin. I’m real sorry.”
It took a second to follow what Chauncey was saying. Sorry? Sorry for what? Then he got it, and that confusion actually felt amazing. “He’s doing really good. He’s staying busy; he’s doing his PT. You know I can’t complain.”
“He keeping an eye on us when we’re on the ground?”
