Page 28 of What is Found

“I’ve kind of had too many things to do and think about.”

“Uh-huh. Well, we can’t take him.” Davila palmed his left shoulder. “You know that, right?”

“Is this where I say that’s obvious?” Arching his back, he let out a small moan as his bones creaked and cracked. Something about what Davila had just said—about how he felt—also niggled at the base of his brain. What was it? “Been a little busy.”

“So, what do we do with the kid?”

“Beats me. We have some time to decide.”

“Mmm.” Davila studied the contents of his mug. “Speaking of decisions…”

When Davila didn’t continue, John stopped stretching. “What?”

“I’ve made a decision.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Rolling his shoulders again, Davila cleared his throat. “I’m done, John. I’m done.”

CHAPTER 2

“What?”He blinked in surprise. “That’s ridiculous. You got a concussion, man. You took a bullet.” Then, he thought,What am I saying?Anyone as dinged up as Davilaoughtto think about bowing out. Ifhewere any kind of doctor—any kind ofman—he’d have insisted on this already.

But you’re scared. You’re chicken. You’re a coward, a piece of…

“Let’s see how you do.” His words came out hard, fast. Too loud. “You’re not dying.”

A corner of Davila’s mouth quirked in a sour grimace. “You forgot to say ‘yet.’”

“EvenIknow the difference between a bad joke and bad taste.” He was angry…and why,why? Atwhom? He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you behind to fend for yourself. That’s insane.”

“Okay, but then you tell me. Where do we gofrom here?” Davila’s expression was solemn. “We’re late. Every hour you stay with me is another hour when you’re not closer to the border, when you’ve not met up with our contact in Ishkashim. Having a new mascot along doesn’t help either. As you have implied, we can’t turn him loose nor can we take him. So, what do we do, John?”

“I don’t know, I don’tknow, okay?” He flicked a look at Matvey, who was watching them both. Then, to Davila: “I found a knife on the kid. An out-the-front on a cord around his neck. That thing has seen some use, too.”

Davila’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Protection?”

“I thought of that. But his owner might have been working a con on guys who want a taste of the kid.”

After a moment, Davila’s head moved in a slow nod. “I can see that. But westillcan’t leave him in zip-ties forever.”

“Can’t we?”

“Since when did you become a cynic?”

Since that last day in Afghanistan, when everyone was so filled with noble intentions, and we got our asses kicked.“If I were to consider going on without you, which I’mnot, leaving him here withyouis a non-starter. You’dhave to sleep with one eye open. So, what do you say, we table this? Let’s just deal with one disaster at a time, okay? All we got to decide right this second is what to eat after the soup.” Grabbinghis pack, he upended the MREs he’d brought back. “There you go. Pick a card, any card.”

“You’re ducking the issue.”

You got that right.“Is this where I say I think I’ve heard this before?” Suddenly furious, he sorted through packs. “Lessee, gotcher Menu 2, shredded beef in barbecue sauce…the cinnamon bun in this one isn’t bad.” He picked up another packet. “Oh, Menu 1, that’s a real fan favorite…not only do you get chili with beans, butcornbreadjust like dear old grandma used to make…”

“John,” Davila said, “you can’t r-run from this.”

Oh, watch me.“Oh-ho, and what do we have here?” He swiped up another packet with a theatrical flourish. “Here, folks, we’ve got the ever-popular Menu…” A sudden welling-up of emotion clogged his throat; the packet’s lettering shimmered and blurred. “Menu10.” He forced the words through clenched teeth. “Macaroni and chili, otherwise known as the Army’s v-version of chili mac and, lookity here, we gotcher…we got a pack of b-berry Sk-Skittles…”

And then he couldn’t go on because Roni’s voice boiled up from memory:“Skittles as bad luck? Probably the moral equivalent.”

“John.” When he looked, Davila’s face, pinched and pale and shiny with sweat, was suddenly swimmy. “Stop.”

---