Page 6 of Proof Of Life

“Fuck, a flood wouldn’t clean this place up. There’s dirt everywhere. It’s the fucking desert.” West sits up and wriggles out of his khaki t-shirt. “I only brought one other shirt, so I better keep this one dry.”

He balls it up and sticks it behind his head, like a pillow. I decide to do the same, and pull mine over my head before balling it up. The rain feels blessedly cool against my heated skin, and I welcome the refresher by sticking out my tongue to catch a few drops to drink. The temperature will drop fast now that the sun has set, but for these few minutes, it feels like the closest thing to heaven I’m going to find out here.

West rubs his hand across his stomach, smearing the water over his skin. I look down the length of his body, appreciating the ripples and valleys of his abs, the tight definition, his skin bronzed from the relentless sun. Black and colored ink covers his broad chest and obliques. His thick arms are heavily tattooed, as are his thighs and calves. I’d been there by his side for every one of them. Every time he added another one to his body, he dragged me along with him. Yet I only have half as many as he does.

It’s a sort of addiction for him, a way to process his stress and anxiety.

He lets his hand drift down by his side between us, and when his fingers brush against mine, I don’t pull away. Nor do I pull away when his pinky deliberately rubs against mine. In fact, I let him hook our little fingers together. Muted fragments of the team’s conversation hover in the darkness. It sounds like they’re playing ‘name that show’ by singing theme songs from nineties sitcoms. We lie here in silence for several minutes, staring up at the sky, processing our own thoughts. God only knows what’s running through his head.

“Do you remember the last time we did this?”

A snicker that holds no amusement trickles from my lips. “Yeah. You got pulled for guard duty overnight and dragged me along with you. Then you fell asleep on my shoulder and I had to stay awake and do your job.”

“You’re a real friend. Someone I can count on in a pinch.” He laughs and rests his head on my shoulder, staring at me with a blinding smile.

“And you’re an asshole,” I return, shrugging him off. “Two days later, I got called up, and you were nowhere to be found. I was still exhausted, and I ended up falling asleep. My ass got written up.”

He rolls onto his side, facing me, laughing so hard his body curls around mine. “They made you wash every vehicle in the parking lot,” he wheezes.

Fucking dick. “You’re a real friend. Someone I can count on in a pinch,” I parrot.

His laughter dies off, and he sits up, leaning on his elbow as he stares into my eyes. “You can always count on me, Reaper. Nobody loves you like I do.” A moment of silence passes between us, and I swallow hard, the intensity of the moment making me feel vulnerable. He lies back down, but this time, his hand doesn’t find mine in the space between us. “You gonna stay with me again tonight?”

“Of course. But if I get called up for duty when we get back to base, I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing; I will find you, and I will drag your ass to the parking lot with me.”

West sighs long and loud, folding his hands across his bare wet chest. “Deal.”

“Pack up! We head out in five.”

I watch my team scramble to pack up their tents and rucks as ordered. The curve of the morning sun teases the horizon, threatening to set the world on fire with its blazing orange-and-red hues. My gaze falls on Brandt, already behind the wheel and ready to go. We slept there last night, inside the Humvee to avoid the rain, and early this morning, before any hint of the sun breaching the horizon, I woke him and we broke camp quietly. Last night we took turns sleeping as the other kept watch so that we would both be rested enough for our mission today.

That’s the best part about having a partner. You’re never at your weakest because there are two of you. Two of you to share the burden, the struggles, and the victories. How can I fail with him beside me? Brandt is like my emergency battery pack. When I’m running on empty, he recharges me.

Last night’s rain made a mess of things, turning the landscape into a swamp of thick sludge. The sand that had piled up from the windstorm is now wet quicksand, sucking at our tires as we make our way back to the paved road. It’s slow going as we crawl through the spongy terrain. At one point, Rosie jumps out to check the depth of a puddle too wide to go around before we carefully make our way through it. We all breathe a sigh of relief when we’re back on the A75, except Brandt. I think he actually prefers the mud.

“It’s my little girl’s birthday today,” Micah muses, ducking his head back inside.

Rosie turns in her seat and looks up at him. “Were you able to call her before we left base?”

“Nah, communications were down because that storm started kicking up, but my girl got her something from me and put my name on it. I’ll call her when we get back to base.”

I feel both regret and relief that I don’t have a family stateside sitting around missing me, lighting candles for my safe return and shit. After I lost my grandma, there was no one left for me to count as family, aside from Brandt. His parents live in Charlotte, not far from Fort Bragg, but he doesn’t make it a priority to go home and see them often, nor do they make it a priority to visit the base.

We have each other, and that’s enough for us.

“I talked to my wife the day before yesterday,” Tommy recalls with a grin. “It was our anniversary. Been married for four years now. She said she wants to start a family when I make it back home.”

“You ready for that?” Rosie asks excitedly.

“Been ready. I don’t think I have another tour in me. I’m ready to go home and get fat, kick around the house on the weekends and grill shit, watch the game, and argue with my wife.”

“Sounds like heaven,” Micah seconds, “but I think I’ll stay in the service in some way, maybe reserves or something. What about you, Rosie girl?”

“I’ve been talking to someone,” she admits shyly. Catcalls and whistles ensue, elevating the noise level in the vehicle to a roar.

“Hey, settle down back there,” I bark. “This isn’t a Taylor Swift concert. Reaper’s trying to concentrate.” They catch my grin in the rearview mirror and realize I’m kidding.

Tommy taps me on the shoulder. “What about you, Professor?”

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