Page 42 of Digit's Deflection
“Digit, call for our transport home.”
It takes me a moment to process his words as I watch Kansas, the medic from Maverick’s team, zip the body bag closed. It’s clear from the care he takes in closing the zipper, to the way Kansas and Merlin lift the bag, that my brother-in-law was well loved and respected.
“On it,” I reply.
Digging the satellite phone out of my pocket, I arrange for our extraction and throw myself into the task of prepping for departure to keep my mind occupied. Soon enough, I will have the heavy task of telling my sister her husband is dead. For now, I need to stay calm and focused so I can do my job.
When we board the chopper, I insist on sitting beside Maverick’s body. As I sit vigil beside him on the flight home, all I can think of is getting to Liora, wrapping her tight in my arms, and never letting go. I don’t know why she’s suddenly found her way back into my life now, after all these years. But it’s as if the universe knew I’d need her, like I’ve never needed anyone else.
As the helicopters rise up and head for the horizon, we all turn at the sound of the first explosion. A cheer goes up as the detonations chase each other until the last one goes off and themountaintop compound is reduced to nothing more than stone and rubble.
A fitting metaphor for how I feel in this moment.
21
DIGIT
The atmosphere in the packed debrief room is somber as we sit or stand, waiting for Commander Hurt. The low conversation in the room is nothing more than white noise in the back of my brain, my thoughts occupied with the difficult task ahead of me.
Once the debrief is over, I’ll be flying out to accompany Maverick home, and to break the news to my sister in person. I don’t want some stranger knocking on her door, telling her the love of her life, the father of her children, is dead. She’s going to be devastated as it is. I don’t need someone who’s “just doing their job” being the one to do the ugly deed.
I want it to come from someone who loves them both, and has respect for how delicate this situation is. Yeah, I’m probably being overly sensitive about this – I mean, we have people trained for just such situations, but who the fuck can blame me? I watched a man I love and respect die before my very eyes, so I’m sure I’ll be excused for feeling this way.
Commanders Hurt and McVie – Maverick and Merlin’s commander — enter the room, their expressions serious.
“Gentlemen,” Commander Hurt greets.
The room quietens down, and all eyes turn to the two men standing stiffly at the front of the room. Commander McVie’seyes go directly to his team, assessing each member with shrewd eyes. Commander Hurt does the same. His gaze settles on me.
“Digit …” He pauses a moment, clearing his throat. “Son, I’m sorry for your loss.” His gaze shifts to Merlin and his team. “Gentlemen, I’m sorry for the loss you’ve all suffered too.”
“Thank you, sir,” Merlin replies. The rest of the team simply nod their heads in acknowledgment.
“I’ve spoken to Knight, and I understand you’ve requested that the chaplain not be called upon to break the news of Maverick’s passing to your sister. That you be allowed to be the one to carry out this task. Is this correct?” he asks me, his gaze returning to me.
“Yes, sir. That is correct.”
“Very well. Your request is granted. As you weren’t a single witness to events that transpired, I have no problem with you sitting this debriefing out. Should there be a need for you to clarify a point or, potentially, add something, we’ll contact you.
“For now, I think it’s important for you to be with your family. Commander McVie’s made the arrangements for Maverick to be flown home in a couple of hours. Go on home, get your bag packed, make your arrangements, and be back at base in time for departure. You’re dismissed.”
“Thank you, Commander.” It’s all I’m able to say without embarrassing myself in front of everyone in the room.
Knight is the first one to step up and hug me. Not one of those one-armed bro hugs, but a solid, bone-crunching one. One-by-one, the guys each take a turn, silently showing their solidarity.
The last one to step forward is Merlin. He looks almost as broken as I feel, but not a word is spoken between us. He simply gives me a hug, just as everyone else has done. Stepping back, he clears his throat, a sheen of tears coating his eyes.
“Safe travels, Nicols. Take good care of my sailor.”
I nod. “The best. I promise.”
Tired, grimy, and heartbroken, I find myself outside my complex with no recollection of how I got there. Letting myself into my condo, I hurry to my bedroom, dropping my bag on the bed so I can get out of my uniform.
I’m desperate for a shower to wash the dirt of the mission from my body. I drop my shirt on the floor and, as I bend over to untie my shoelaces, I spot a large bloodstain on the material, dark against the camo.
For a moment I honestly feel like I’m going to be sick. Not because I’m squeamish at the sight of blood, but because of where the blood came from and what it means. Lowering myself to the mattress, I breathe in through the nausea, forcing it down.
It’s the wave of emotion that follows closely on its heels that undoes my steely control and has harsh sobs breaking free. The kind that robs you of breath and makes you feel like your chest is going to crack wide open, spilling your heart out on the floor.
