Page 33 of Escape into the Night

He turned his back on the past and focused on the present, on the men and women gathered in the community center for the weekly veteran's support group. He hadn't attended these particular meetings in the past, but he'd been here hundreds of times for the support group for spouses of soldiers lost to the often thankless career. Sometimes he would come simply to sit in the space and reminisce as little Parker would nap, later learning to crawl in this very building. Not all of the memories were bad. He'd found many friends here, support from unlikely people who knew, at least a little bit, what he was going through. Hell, he’d met Adelaide here, and despite the current status of their fractured relationship, he found happiness in the memory because it had brought him Theo, Toby, and Anna.

The gathering was a mixed bag of generations and it was easy to see the different experiences that shaped them into who they were today. Older men proudly wore their VFW hats and patch-emblazoned jackets proclaiming their service. The younger generation, all wary eyes and stern faces, told anotherstory. Some still wore bits and pieces of their history in their clothing—Army t-shirts, combat boots, the occasional pair of fatigue pants as if they were unable to break from the uniform without losing a part of their identity. They didn't wear flags or patches or insignia, though. The conflict was still too fresh, the disillusionment too real.

“Appreciate you being here,” an older man said as he shuffled forward, pausing to shift his cane into his left hand before they shook. “Not too often we get politicians in here to actually sit down and listen.”

Elias returned the firm grip with a sad smile. “I'd say that’s the real failure in leadership.”

A derisive snort from nearby caught his attention. Tracking the sound, he found a young man, younger than Connor, slouched in a folding chair with his arms wrapped across the broad expanse of his chest. Fatigue pants and combat boots, barely hanging on by a thread, mirrored the man’s hardened eyes and barely there smirk. God, he couldn't be more than a year out of the service if his haircut, build, and stiff posture were anything to go by.

“Hey there, soldier. Elias. Elias Cohen-Williams.” He stepped forward and held out a hand. The young man eyed it before sucking his teeth and glancing up.

“Yeah. I know who you are.”

“I'm happy to be here—”

“Right. Keep telling yourself that. It's a nice show for your little photographers over there. Words are nice, but what about action?” The man jerked his chin toward Elias’ outstretched hand with another scoff. “Handshakes and patriotism ain’t enough to survive on. I've heard all the empty promises before. My unit, we lost three guys to suicide in the last year. The VA is underfunded. Every time things get a little tight, the first thing to go is mental health programs. Eight years of service and I beenout of a job for six months now. But sure, you're happy to be here.”

Elias let his hand fall to his side and looked at the guy. Really looked, searching the hard set of his jaw and that spark smoldering in his eyes. The slow-burn fire of anger over being betrayed, of giving everything up for a country who gave him little in return. It was the same thing he had seen in countless faces. It was the same look he’d seen in Theo’s eyes.

“You’re right.” Elias plucked at his trousers to take a knee, kneeling down to look the younger man in the eye. “We have failed you. I'm not going to pretend otherwise and I'm not going to feed you bullshit stories for sound bites and optics.”

A single eyebrow arched at him as he rested his hand on the man’s knee. “What I can tell you is this: I don't want your vote because I say the right things. I want your vote because I will fight for you the way my wife fought for this country. I will fight for you the way you have fought for this country. I want your vote because I will look every corrupt politician in the eye—just like I'm looking you in the eye—and remind them that leadership is not about power. Leadership is about service. And I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for your service.”

The moment stretched, silent entreaty against silent disdain, before a subtle shift softened the younger man's features and his eyes sparked with something other than anger. If he had to put a name to it, Elias would have called that microscopic sparkle hope.

“I'm gonna hold you to that,” he murmured, eyes darting around Elias’ face before he moistened his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. “Man to man, I'm holding you to that.”

The rest of the afternoon progressed in much the same way, leaving Elias somber but determined. Dozens of stories were shared with him. Stories of grit, loss, hardship, but most of all, stories of resilience. Soldiers turned into fighters by thegovernment and left eager to fight against the injustices brought upon them by that very same entity. It was sobering but not surprising. The passion it inspired in him was enough to steal his breath away. He made sure each and every single attendee had his personal contact information as the day wore down, but one particular young man also left with Connor’s number and a promise of a personal recommendation for employment. On the surface, it was simply his desire to do the right thing, but he suspected a lot of what drove him to do it was the fact that the young man’s haunted hazel eyes acutely reminded him of Theo’s.

He excused himself from the group still lingering over coffee and made his way to the restroom. It had been a long day and he was eager to get home, to return to that slice of normalcy before that, too, was inextricably altered forever. He was confident in the abilities of his bodyguards, so it didn't cause him any alarm when he heard the door open and someone enter the neighboring stall. Nor did he feel any apprehension when the stall later opened and a figure approached, choosing the sink immediately next to where he washed his hands. A quick glance in the mirror had his spine stiffening in an instant.

He'd never seen this man, not personally, but the appearance definitely matched the one Caleb had given him. It also rang true of the description Luke had shared with them. The hair was different—closely shaved instead of tightly coiled—but the rest rang true. Dark brown eyes, soft features but a hard jawline, complexion rich and warm. He had carefully constructed his outfit to blend with the surroundings, but unlike the business casual outfit Caleb had recalled or the rags Luke had mentioned, these items looked well-worn and perfectly tailored to the man’s lean muscle tone. His tactical pants were faded, the boots showed evidence of many years worth of care, and the blackHenley could have been painted on for how it hugged every muscle.

“Nice speech out there,” the stranger grinned back at him through the reflection in the mirror. “Real nice.”

“Thank you. Have we met?” Elias knew the answer to his question, but it seemed like the most logical response as it fell from his tongue.

“No. Not formally.” He leaned closer with a wink. “We have mutual friends.”

“Ah, of course.” Elias turned just as the man stepped closer, invading his personal space. “How can I help you—”

“Careful out there, boss man.” He tipped his head toward the exit with another slow smile. “The game's already rigged. But…”

Elias tensed as the man reached toward the back pocket of his pants. Briefly, visions of being gunned down in the public restroom of a community center flashed through his mind before the stranger revealed a small square of paper. Nevertheless, his adrenaline spiked.

“We might be able to stack the deck in your favor.” Without hesitation, the man slipped the paper into Elias’ palm. He stepped back, gave a jaunty little two-finger salute, and said, “See you on the other side, Mr. President.”

He disappeared as quickly as he arrived, leaving Elias alone in the dank humidity of the restroom, his hands still moist from the faucet and stress sweat combined. Pursing his lips, he glanced down and carefully unfolded the square of paper to discover a handwritten message in ink that was already starting to bleed and run from the moisture.

“How about a game at your place? Monday. 18:00. We’ll bring the playing cards. You bring all your friends.”

Elias huffed a small breath through his nose. Refolding the slip of paper, Elias admitted three very important things to himself. One: this was a terrible idea. Two: it would take a lot ofconvincing to make it happen. Three: he was sure as shit going to do it. If only because he needed to know what the hell was going on and he definitely didn't trust any sources outside his close circle of friends. Curiouser and curiouser.

Chapter Nineteen

Taz

TheTreehouse.Fuck,ithad been a while since Taz had come here. The last time was when he had met with Theo after almost two years of no contact and a boatload of unreconciled feelings. That was the day Theo asked him for help and his life changed forever as a result. Maybe that's why he was there despite the fact that he rarely frequented bars, hardly ever drank, and didn't particularly enjoy people or the noise that came along with them. He had to try something new but not too new. Something familiar but just uncharacteristic enough that it would offer him some reprieve from the perpetual chaos in his world and the maelstrom in his mind.

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