Page 29 of What is Found

“Stop what?” He willed his tears not to fall, though his voice was hoarse, raw. “What are youtalking about? Oh, is it Menu 10? Not your cuppa? That’s okay.”

And then, before his mind caught up to his body was going to do next, he whirled on his heel and threw the packet with all his might: with all his pent-up fury and grief. With all his regrets and every ounce of self-loathing for himself and his failures because he had killed Roni; he had left her behind to save those kids and his own sorry ass.

An MRE might be designed to last forever, but its pouch whirring along at ninety-plus miles an hour is no match against a metal wall. The packet smacked metal with a loudbapand instantly burst, releasing a starburst of smaller packets of food and dehydrated drink powders.

For a long moment, there were no sounds save for the harsh, gasping rasp of his breath, the soft hiss of the heater, the burble of still simmering soup. When he finally turned away from the ruin, he saw Matvey’s dark eyes, his startled expression, his mouth open to a soundless little O over a mug of soup that hovered halfway to his mouth. Propped on the cot, a hand massaging his left shoulder, Davila only regarded him with eyes that seemed to peer from deep, black pits.

“John,” he said, “what’s done is done. You can’t change the past.”

He dragged his voice up from where it had fallen. “Yeah? Wife teach you that, too?” A sudden wave offatigue coursed through his veins, and he swayed. Staggering over to the heater, he dropped to a sit and pulled the sleeping bag he’d left puddled there around his body. “Listen,” he said, his voice hoarse with weariness, “we have a couple of choices here but only one makes sense. The problem with goingonis we have no idea when or how we get you decent medical care. Our contact will beinAfghanistan. I doubt there’s a state-of-the-art facility at the border crossing.”

“And we still have the problem of the kid.”

He nodded. God, his head was heavy. All he wanted was sleep, deep and dreamless. “Or we go back. We get you taken care of, get in touch with Patterson. He contacts the guy or team or whoever’s waiting in Afghanistan and then we postpone…”

“L-live to fight another day?”

“Yes, with an emphasis onliving.Have you not been paying attention, Davila? I got youshot. You bashed in your skull because of me.”

“I’ve heard this song before.”

“Lyrics won’t change.”

“True,” Davila said, “but I’m not a quitter. Neither are you.”

Oh, you’d be surprised.Instead, he said, “Is that what you want me to tell Hannah? When I break it to her that she’s a widow, I mean. Yeah, boy, that Davila, he sure wasn’t a quitter.”

“There is another alternative.”

“And just what, pray tell?”

“We go together as far as the border. I drop you off before the crossing, and you go over alone.”

He hacked a laugh. “And you drive back alone.”

“No, I drive back with the kid.”

“Same diff.” Then he reconsidered. “No, actually, it’s probably worse. Remember the knife, Davila? You have no idea what the kid’s capable of.”

“I’ll work out something.”

“Like what? Keep him in zip-ties? Put him on a leash when he needs to go potty?”

Davila ignored the jibe. “I get myself to Dushanbe. I go to the embassy. I get in touch with H-Hank. Meanwhile, you…” Davila paused, winced, then said, “You go with the other people on the team, whoever they are, and retrieve Captain Keller’s remains. You finish what we started.”

“I…” The pressure in his chest was unbearable. He wished he could pretend this was the only time he’d ever felt as if he were simply going to die from grief and guilt, but that would be a lie. If grief was a stone he was forced to hold as he treaded water, guilt was a ball and chain around his waist pulling, pulling, dragging him down—and how easy it would be to drown in that sea of remorse. When, shackled by guilt over actions he could not change, the taste of gunmetal seemed a viable alternative. Anything was better than this slow, inexorable tug of the past. Thatwaswhat this was all about, wasn’t it? Returning to a nightmare from which he’d never truly awakened?

Or have you made it one?The imp or his conscience…it didn’t matter because the words rang true.Have you sabotaged yourself so you don’thaveto face your own culpability? That you survived and she didn’t?

“I…I should’ve told you,” he blurted. “About the Glock, I mean, and Parviz’s AK. I should have told you as soon as I figured it out. Might have saved us a world of grief. Might have kept you from getting hurt.”

“Might have, yeah.” Davila gave a slow nod. “You know why you didn’t?”

“Yes.” He kept his gaze fixed on his gloved hands. Funny, how all his anger had suddenly drained away. “Pride. I wanted to prove I was worth something. That I wasn’t just another used-up, traumatized soldier. I wanted to show you up, simple as that. You’re tough; you’re strong; you’ve got a woman who loves you. I bet seeing you is the best part of her day and yours, too. You’ve got a home, a reason for taking up space. Me…all I have are…” His throat tried to clog, and he had to clear it. “All I’ve got are bad memories and regrets.”

A sack of bones as the burden I’m too afraid to shoulder.

Davila let a beat go by and then another. “John, I would’ve d-done the same thing.”

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