He found a T-shirt and pulled it on, then hurriedly tied his shoes. He went out into the main room, where Jen was waiting for him. When she saw him, she ran and threw her arms around him. He’d been back for two days and this was only the second time they’d been together. The first had been yesterday, when she’d made him meet her at the Homecoming statue. He’d arrived by taxi to see her standing in a summer dress, the wind picking up the hem of the orange and yellow material and the locks of red hair framing her face. He’d immediately felt a deep welling of pride and love as he strode toward her. She’d been right. Fighting for the living was much better than fighting for the dead.
“Hello, sailor,” she’d said. “Glad you made it home.”
She said the same thing now and kissed him on the cheek.
“Watch the PDA,” Laws said, laughing as he came into the room. Both of his arms had been professionally sutured. He’d been angry at first that he couldn’t get Purple Hearts for the wounds. He wanted to add to his collection, but was told that it didn’t count if another SEAL stabbed him. Unable to explain that it was because the SEAL had been under the power of a demon, he’d had to accept the judgment.
Yaya entered next, with Hoover beside him. The qilin that had dragged him into the jungle had been all but dead when it had tried to eat him. Yaya had managed to stab it in an eye with one of its own spikes. He’d ripped as many of them free as he could, then set out determined to save his fellow SEALs.
“Are we ready to go to McP’s?” Jen asked.
Laws nodded. “Holmes is already there setting things up.”
“Ruiz would rather we blow shit up than drink,” Walker said.
Laws smiled mischievously. “There might be some of that too.”
Yaya slid his mirrored sunglasses in place.
As they strode out the door, Walker couldn’t help commenting, “What worries me is that the spikes hurt Chi Long, but my bullets didn’t.”
“The spikes came from a supernatural creature. Maybe that’s why—maybe it could only be hurt by something supernatural,” Laws surmised. “But it’s Charlie Mike. Don’t dwell on something that’s over.”
“Sorry. I was just thinking. I mean, if my bullets didn’t hurt it, what makes us think that bombs did?”
They all turned and looked at each other.
“But the bombs cause fire,” Jen said. “Wouldn’t the fire kill him? I mean, nothing could have survived all those bombs, right?”
They all started walking again.
“God,” Walker said. “Let’s hope not.”
Suddenly they all stopped and turned. “Hoover!” Yaya shouted. “Get your ass in gear.”
The dog ran toward them, eager and happy as only a dog could be. She wasn’t bothered by her host of new scars, or the hundred sutures that banded her front legs. She was just happy to be home with her family, if only until the next mission.
As were they all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
WESTON OCHSE has won the Bram Stoker Award for First Novel and been nominated for a Pushcart Prize for short fiction. He is a retired U.S. Army intelligence officer and current intelligence officer for the Defense Intelligence Agency. Visit Weston online at www.westonochse.com.
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.
SEAL TEAM 666. Copyright © 2012 by Weston Ochse. All rights reserved.
First Edition: November 2012