Page 44 of Digit's Deflection
“I’m on my way.” Tossing out the last of my cold coffee, I grab my bag and keys and head out to collect Liora.
She and Sam are standing out in the parking lot, and I could kiss her for not making me come into the club. Sam, on the other hand, I’d rather not have to deal with in this raw state. But it seems I don’t have much of a choice in the matter.
And bless him, the man is astute. One look at my face and he can see exactly where my head’s at.
“Liora told me about John. I’m so sorry, my friend.”
“Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it.” His words are like acid burning into my brain. I hate that there’s a need for them. Shifting my attention, I ask, “Ready to go, princess?”
“Yeah,” Liora replies quietly.
Holding out a hand, I shake Sam’s. “I’ll see you around, my friend.”
The trip to Liora’s apartment is made in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. Mine scrambling to figure out how to tell my sister Mav’s gone. There’s no easy way to break it to her, but there are gentler ways. I just need to find the right one. Then again,isthere a “right one”?
I feel Li’s hand wrap around mine where it rests on my thigh and am immensely grateful for her silent support.
I opt to wait in the car while Liora goes to pack her bag. In nearly no time at all, she’s back and we head for base. With just a little less than an hour before takeoff, they’re busy loading the plane by the time we get there.
The lone coffin standing on the tarmac is like a punch to the gut, knowing who lies within, and suddenly a need to run nearly overwhelms me. For the first time in my life, I balk at facing a difficult situation head on. In fact, I can feel my muscles bunch in preparation to run.
But then Liora wraps her arms around my waist, snuggling in close against my heart, offering me comfort and strength.
“I know this has to be hard for you. I just want you to know I’m here. No matter what you need. You tell me what I can do to help, and I’ll be all over it. Anything. Okay? You’re not in this alone. I’m here for you.”
How is this woman so in tune with me after only just coming back into my life? Whatever witchcraft it is, I’m thankful for it. And her. Resting my head atop hers, I hold on tight. As we stand like that, I see six sailors approach Mav, snapping a smart salute to honor a fallen hero.
My arms tighten involuntarily around Liora, and I cannot hold back tears. Blinking hard, I will them not to fall. Through the haze, I watch as they slowly, carefully, load Maverick into the plane for his final journey home.
22
LIORA
The flight was probably one of the worst I’ve ever endured.
It certainly wasn’t the comfiest one – I don’t think military planes are built for comfort. But it’s more the reason for it in the first place. The body of the plane is one open space – no rows of seats, no hold for cargo or goods. So it was easy to see the solitary wooden box that housed John.
It’s been a lot of years since I was home, since I last saw people who once were a big part of my everyday life. But I have fond memories of John. And Sheri. At one time, she was like the sister I never had. As the saying goes, my sister from another mister.
Older than me, she was my inspiration, my guiding light, and an unconditional source of love. We hung out when I could get away from home, and Sheri always made me feel welcomed – part of the family and her circle.
John, sweet John. He was the perfect foil for Sheri. While she was the vibrant, bright splash of color the world needed, John was the quiet, more reserved voice of reason. He was the calm, practical counterbalance to Sheri’s impulsiveness.
They were perfect for each other. As if God had created one specifically for the other.
Everyone knew they’d bethatcouple. The one that would get married out of high school, have kids and live a long, fulfilling life together. And they were. Until they weren’t. Until the moment that brought us here – strapped into a seat on a bumpy plane ride, watching over the shell of what used to be an amazing human being.
It’s been a lot of years since I saw or spoke to either Sheri or John, but a spurt of hot anger flows like lava through me at the thought of a life lost for no good fucking reason. At the hands of some psycho who, apparently, reveled in the misery he caused others.
I don’t know much about the man, other than what I’ve seen in the media – where they’ve nicknamed him William the Wicked – and conversations I’ve been privy to when I was invited to hang out with the other ladies while the guys were gone, but that’s the one thing that stands out, clear as day. William Artmatrout, the third no less, was a raving lunatic with zero conscience.
I know it’s cold comfort to John’s loved ones to know that his killer is dead, yet I can’t help but be grateful that’s the case and is now unable to inflict any more harm, of any kind, on the world at large. From the little Treven’s told me about things when I asked, I’ve learned that William Armatrout – the psycho in question – had no one.
So, the fact that he has no family to release his body to means he’ll be buried in a non-descript grave, with zero fanfare. And it’s a fitting end for a man who apparently craved recognition.
Sadly, the press will have a field day with the story. He’ll get his moment in the sun – I can just see the headlines now. And I hate that he will. He doesn’t deserve to. But what’s worse is that John will be a momentary blip on the news radar as the hero who saved the life of a captured fellow Naval officer.
By the time the plane lands, my body feels thoroughly abused. I have no idea how military personnel survive flights on these torture devices, as I’m told they’re used to transport them to their destinations on missions.
