Tailor kept firing at the checkpoint through the back window, forcing the troops to keep their heads down as we made our getaway. He flipped around as I slid my door closed, noticing the blood on the inside of the windshield. “Who’s hit? Wheeler? Sarah?”
“I’m fine!” Sarah shouted.
“I’m okay,” Wheeler hissed, concentrating on the road. “Asshole shot me in the arm.”
Tailor turned back around. “Get us out of here.” He went back to shooting.
Asra had been screaming. I hadn’t heard her over the gunshots. “Shut up!” Hudson bellowed at her as he moved up between the front seats. “Let me drive,” he said. “Let Val look at that, man.”
“I’m okay!” Wheeler snapped. “I’m fine! Let me drive!”
Tailor dropped the empty magazine out of his carbine and looked over his shoulder. “Val, we—” He was cut off as the van swerved violently to the right. Tires squealed, and we were thrown around the cabin.
When I looked back to the front of the van, Sarah was reaching over, holding the steering wheel. Wheeler was slumped forward and wasn’t moving. Just like that, he was gone.
It took us over an hour to get to the safe house, even though it wasn’t all that far from the port. The Zoob had already been in a heightened state of alert because of our exploits and the subsequent spike in terrorist attacks. A shootout at the docks and another at a police checkpoint had put the city on lockdown. We had to go very far out of our way to avoid more checkpoints.
Two vehicles were waiting for us at the safe house. One of them was driven by two of Colonel Hunter’s security men. They grabbed Asra Elnadi and drove off with her before we even got in the door. The other, a van, was driven by Hal and one of the other medics.
Other than some cuts and bruises, I was unscathed. The same went for Tailor, Hudson, and Sarah. Wheeler was dead. The bullet had struck him in the bicep, traveled through his arm, and entered his chest through the armpit opening of his armor vest. He hadn’t even known that he was dying. There was nothing we could have done for him. My shirt was sticky with his drying blood.
After the four of us had been seen by the medics, we assembled outside by the garage. Hal backed his van up to the open garage door and gave us a body bag. Together, and in silence, Hudson, Tailor, and I stripped Wheeler of his equipment. When that was done, Tailor and I stood back while Hudson quietly said a few words to his old friend. We then carried Wheeler’s body to the medics’ van. It was the closest thing the affable former army paratrooper would ever get to a proper funeral.
“Tailor?” Hal said, approaching us after a while. “Hunter wants you to come back for debrief.”
“What?” Tailor said, sounding agitated. “We had kind of a bad night.”
“I know, but he wants you to come back. Valentine, McAllister, he said there’d be a car for you two sometime tomorrow.”
Sarah seemed suddenly uncomfortable. “Wait a minute. Don’t they need me to debrief Asra?”
“You’re not the only one that can speak Arabic, you know. Besides, you’re exhausted. You’re in no shape to do any work tonight. Tailor just has to give a report. Then he can go to bed.”
“Why not just bring us all back?” Hudson asked. He hadn’t spoken in a while. “They need someone to stay here and watch the house or something?”
“Well, there’s only one extra seat in the front of the van,” Hal said. “And . . .” he hesitated. “I didn’t figure anyone would want to ride in the back with Wheeler.”
“I will,” Hudson said. “It’s no problem.”
“You sure, man?” Tailor asked.
“Yep,” Hudson said. “Wheeler and me, we zipped six of our soldiers into body bags last time we were deployed. We carried them away. Stayed with them for as long as we could. I’ll ride with him one last time. I owe him that much. He never would’ve come over here if it wasn’t for me.”
“Okay,” Hal said quietly. “We need to get going now.”
“There any food in this place?” I asked. Hal just shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just need to get some sleep.”
“Take it easy, bro,” Tailor said as he climbed into the van. It disappeared through the gate, leaving Sarah and me standing alone under the stars. We had the big house all to ourselves. Awkward . . .
“Mike, I’m sorry about Wheeler,” she said as we went inside. “Are you okay?”
“I just need to take a shower.”
“Me, too,” she said. Fortunately, the big house had two bathrooms, so it wasn’t an issue. The medics had brought fresh clothes for us to the safe house, so we wouldn’t have to run around in blood-stained khakis for the rest of the night.
After my shower, all I wanted was to get some sleep, but sleep just wouldn’t come. The longer I lay there, the madder I got that I couldn’t sleep. I rolled over, then rolled over again. I was too hot, so I cranked up the air conditioner. Then I was too cold. Then my foot itched. Then I had to go to the bathroom. Then . . .
“Fuck!” I snarled, throwing my pillow across the room. “Goddamn it!” I stood up and began to pace around in the darkness. The clock on the nightstand said 4:45 and I was still awake. I stormed across the room, picked up the clock, yanked the cord out of the socket, and threw it against the wall. It smashed into pieces of broken plastic.
I stood there, breathing heavily, ridiculously mad but unsure of what I was mad at. I just wanted to go to sleep and forget things for a while.
Wheeler was dead. Yesterday he was there, today he was gone, just like that. I had no one to talk to, nothing to distract me, and no alcohol to numb me. All I could do was sit there, awake when I should be sleeping, thinking about how I’d watched my friend die and what I could have done differently. It was killing me.
There was a quiet knock on my door. It was Sarah. “Mike, are you okay?” she asked. Her voice was slightly raspy, like she’d been crying.
“Yeah, I’m . . . yeah . . .” I said, even though I was anything but okay. Sarah opened the door a little bit and peeked in at me.
“Can I come in?”
I sighed. “Sure,” I said and sat down on the bed. I turned on the stupid-looking lamp that sat on the nightstand. Sarah was wearing the same short shorts and T-shirt she’d been wearing the first time she came into my room, our first night in-country. It was strange, but she looked a little older now.
“You broke your clock,” she noted. “And you look like hell.” I became suddenly self-conscious and looked around for my T-shirt.
“It’s been a bad night.”
“I know,” Sarah said. She crossed the room and sat down next to me. “I’ve been in my room crying for an hour.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, looking over at her.
“I don’t know why I was crying,” she said. “I don’t feel anything. I didn’t feel anything when Wheeler died. I didn’t feel anything when I killed that solder. I didn’t feel . . .” Tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes, and her hands started to shake. “I didn’t feel anything at all.”