Page 114 of The Art of Dying

Sloan looked at his watch, giving her a side-hug. “Damn. It’s ten ’til.”

“The only thing I did was not die,” Trex said from the hallway just before walking in to join the rest of us. He was thicker than he used to be; he hadn’t worked out in the desert or jungle in a while, that was obvious. After his injury, he’d gone into the FBI for a couple of years before realizing he hated it. Maybe that had made him a little soft. Not that I was one to talk. I’d gained twenty pounds or so since the last time I’d seen any of them.

“Fuck me in the ass,” Martinez said.

We all took turns hugging him, except for Harbinger, who shook his hand.

“Who’s that?” I asked Harbinger, nodding toward the short, curvaceous woman with Trex.

“That’s Bianca. She’s the assistant to the general. I think,” Harbinger said. He spoke quickly and quietly, as if he’d get in trouble for speaking without raising his hand first.

Bianca directed us to the hall, where she informed us we’d be taking a tour. We walked down a labyrinth of corridors while she talked incessantly about each one. But soon, the generic hallways became damp tunnels. The tile floors ended and we walked along metal grids instead. I could tell by the team’s body language and expressions I wasn’t the only one feeling the strange buzz coming from the rock that made up the walls.

“Doesn’t feel right,” Martinez said.

“Easy,” Trex whispered.

“What you’re feeling is a combination of frequency and vibration experiments and the way it affects the mountain.”

I turned to see where the voice had come from, seeing a thin, pale woman, her round eyes peering at us from behind peach-rimmed glasses. It was like she’d appeared out of nowhere.

“You’re not wrong,” she continued, pushing her outdated frames up her crooked nose. She was in her sixties, her frizzy blonde hair waved and pinned back on the sides like my mom used to wear. She held out her hand to Trex. “Dr. Sybil DuPont.”

I sniffed, unimpressed. “Doctor of what?”

“Astrophysics,” she said, matter of fact.

Trex glanced at Naomi, who checked for my reaction. I traded looks with Sloan, who then side-eyed Harbinger.

The rest of the tour only left us feeling more uneasy. We all, for one reason or another, were looking forward to a nine-to-five where we could still point our guns without being arrested, but something sketchy was clearly going on, even for a secure government facility. We met a senator and General Tallis, who commanded the entire complex. We were told where we could go and where we couldn’t, shown our locker room, met employees of different sections we’d need to familiarize ourselves with, and other boring things no one on the team cared about. More than once, I had to growl at Martinez and Sloan to keep their complaints and jokes to themselves.

Christ, it’s like herding cats.

When it was time to clock out, we walked out together, passing Bianca and five or six MPs. Trex fist-bumped me, and I climbed into my truck, starting it up and impressed that, despite the heat, I didn’t have to turn the A/C on full blast because I’d been parked in the shade.

Colorado is fucking amazing.

I was the first to leave, and once my Ford blew past the final gate, I felt that same happy feeling returning that I’d had when I’d first climbed into the truck that morning. Mack was going to be home, frazzled by the kids, but the difference was, I was about to be home to relieve her of mom duty, and she hadn’t failed once to thank me for it since she’d shoved a fixed-blade hunting knife between Mason’s ribs and straight into his black heart.

I could tell she missed Gina and Apollo, especially on the rare days she’d get to chat with her on the phone, but every time I’d mention the sad look in her eyes, Mack didn’t hesitate to reassure me. Her sweet speech always ended the same: she wouldn’t trade me for anyone.

Day after day, I went to work and came home, and day after day, I wondered if I’d ever miss going down range, or worse, that Mack would get tired of seeing my face every night, but at dusk, I’d walk through the front door and my family would come running with wide smiles and outstretched arms. Mack would listen intently when I’d update her on everyone’s lives. Trex was falling in love with Darby, a desk clerk at the hotel he was staying at. Naomi was getting close with a hotshot firefighter named Zeke. Every time I’d tell Mack something particularly shocking, it was with hope that she’d finally say she was ready to be part of their stories instead of a spectator, but weeks went by and then months, and still, she’d tear up anytime I’d mention it.

Even when Trex and Naomi’s relationships started to unfold like a goddamn Spanish telenovela, Mack would just nod and listen with both intrigue and concern, as if I were recounting a reality show instead of the lives of people she loved. Trex’s girlfriend was pregnant, but not with his baby. Naomi was practically in a love triangle with her firefighter and a senator. Once, I was gone for a full twenty-four hours to help Trex get Darby back because her ex had grabbed her in the middle of the night and taken her all the way to Texas. We traded gunfire. People died. Darby delivered her baby in the midst of it all. I had to call Tiger to place some of his people in Pueblo so I could sneak into a restricted area to help Naomi spring her boyfriend out of the Complex and back to her dad’s militia compound in Sasabe, Arizona. We had a standoff with the US military and won. I figured Mack would want to have a front row seat after that, but the more she nodded, the more I felt bitterness seep in.

“And then what happened?” she asked, chewing on a celery stick out of pure anxiety. She was standing behind the kitchen island, crunching away in the dim light, wearing a pair of gray pajama shorts, a black tank top, purple robe, and slippers.

The house was quiet except for our muted voices, like our friends were a damn dirty secret.

“It was last year. I don’t remember every detail.”

She shook her celery at me. “That’s your fault. You should’ve told me when it happened. Naomi’s boyfriend and his hotshot team get cornered in a ravine, you guys go out to save them, and you and Martinez get into it. You really thought that wasn’t something I’d want to know?”

What does it fuckin’ matter?I thought.

“It’s not that, it’s just… I’m not proud of it. I pulled my knife. But Naomi heard the hotshots, and we got them out of there in time. Barely. It was close. Everyone was okay.”

“Good. But aknife? Kitsch! I know you’re protecting our story, but holy hell! You took it too far.”

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