A Soldier Finds His Way (25 page)

Greco was quick with a foot that blocked and bounced it open again. A crooked one-cheek smile cropped up on Greco’s face. He gave Edward’s attire a glance and snickered. “Are you in the habit of answering the door in your boxers?”

Greco swaggered in and knocked against Edward’s shoulder as he passed by. He made for the couch and eased himself onto it with a satisfied ah, then threw his feet up on the coffee table. There’d be no getting rid of him now. The boss wasn’t going anywhere until he felt like it.

Edward closed the door, stood on the opposite side of the coffee table and scowled at the man.

“You look horrible.” Greco clasped his hands behind his head, getting even more comfortable.

“Thanks. Let me guess. Hank called you, right?”

“Your powers of deduction astound me. Yes, he called yesterday morning. Said you told them the unit was called up. Then, as a grand finale, you got in your truck and left Audra crying in the pouring rain. You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Greco shrugged. “Have it your way. I came here as a courtesy to Hank to make sure you got here in one piece. Something I wouldn’t have had to do if you’d answer your phone once in a while. Weather radar painted an ugly picture between here and New York along the I-ninety-five corridor yesterday.”

Edward nodded. “Took me seventeen hours to make a trip that normally takes twelve. Soon as I got through one patch of bad weather, the next one started. I dragged in here after midnight, peeled off my clothes and fell on the couch like a dead man.” The trail of clothing scattered from the door to the sofa attested to his hasty entrance.

Greco looked at his watch. “Ten o’clock. When was the last time you had something to eat?”

A growl came from Edward’s stomach. When had he eaten last? Yesterday he’d stopped for gas, used the restroom and drove on. No wonder he was lightheaded. “The last time I ate was Monday night about seven when I went to dinner with Audra.” He coughed to cover the warble in his voice.

Greco snorted. “You can hardly say her name, can you?” He dropped his feet off the table and leaned forward on the couch. Audra’s photo shined up from Edward’s phone on the coffee table. He picked it up. “She’s a beautiful girl.”

No one could deny that. The problem wasn’t her looks. The problem was she was already spoken for and strictly off limits according to her father.

Greco looked up at him. “Why don’t you throw on some clothes and we’ll go get something to eat. I’m a little hungry myself.”

Best offer ever. He went to the bedroom to get dressed.

A phone rang in the living room as he slipped a shirt over his head.

Greco answered with his usual, “Greco.” No hello.

Edward didn’t pay attention to the indistinct mumblings. Instead, he went into the bathroom.

The mirror on the medicine cabinet reflected a disheveled man, hair askew with dark whiskers, and slightly bloodshot eyes. “Nice. You look like someone who lives in a cardboard box under an overpass.”

Shave cream and disposable razors sat on the shelf and he gave a moment’s consideration to shaving, but cast the idea aside. Brushing his teeth and combing his hair would be good enough until he got something in him to stop the gnawing in his gut. A little deodorant, and he turned and went back to the living room.

Greco met him with a sly grin. “Edward, I’m going to make an honest man out of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve got a mission. Afghanistan. We’ll leave tomorrow morning at 0500 hours. I’ll tell you what I know over breakfast.”

* * * *

Bags packed and ready to go, Edward kicked back in the living room chair. Tomorrow he’d start the long journey to the other side of the world. A change in scenery might do him some good. Get his mind off Audra. It probably wasn’t possible, but he’d have to try.

He pulled out his phone, checked yesterday’s messages, and listened to Audra’s first.

“Hi. I don’t know what to say. I don’t understand what happened.” She spoke with an unsteady voice as if she was crying. “I thought that we…Would you call me? Please, Edward?”

Maybe he should just delete all her communications and forget about her for good. But, the way she whispered his name made him want to hear more.

He moved to her next message.

“You’re probably too busy driving to answer your phone. We checked the weather channel, and it looks bad. Edward, be careful. Call, or at least text me when you get home, to let me know you got there safely. Please?”

Hank’s first voicemail had a different, but predictable flavor. “You know exactly why I’m calling. That’s right. I just called Greco. All I want to know is why? You couldn’t have hurt that girl worse if you’d taken your sidearm and shot her. Bonehead.”

Edward scrolled to the next message from Hank that came later in the morning. Softer, full of concern, this message came from the heart of a brother who loved him.

“Hey, I’m at my house. I’d hoped by some chance you doubled back and came here. But, I see that’s not the case. What happened, Eddie? Come on, man, you have to talk to someone sometime. I’m always here for you. You know that, don’t you?” A long pause followed. “I love you, little brother. Don’t ever forget it.”

Edward smiled. Born October 31, Hank was exactly three months older than him. Maybe it was the three months or the extra four inches of height, but Hank was the indisputable big brother. The anchor.

The phone rang. Dexter. He picked up. “What?”

“Hey, LT. Greco told us your leave was cut short ’cuz of the mission. Bummer.” Dexter sounded too happy to be sober. “The guys, that is Stanley, Zook, Peanut, and me, are going down to Shiner’s for a while. You know, the little dive on the side street behind the—”

“I know where it is. Thanks for asking. But I’d rather not.”

“You know what, LT? You’re the best of the best.” Something popped then hissed. A beer can, no doubt.
Glug, glug, glug, ah.
“Yep, I was just telling Zook about the time when me, you, and Hank—”

Edward hung up. He had no interest in listening to a drunken dissertation of past events. Besides, Dex wouldn’t even remember he called when he sobered up. He was probably still talking right now, not realizing Edward wasn’t listening.

The good news was Greco covered for him so he wouldn’t have to answer a bunch of questions as to why he was back earlier than expected. The mission’s timing couldn’t have been better.

* * * *

At a quarter to five in the morning Edward found the team assembled at the designated meeting place, the parking lot by the storage facility. Duffel bags and rucksacks lay in a pile near the curb. Edward added to it.

Greco looked up from his clipboard and gave Edward a nod.

Sanchez and Alvarez sat together with their backs against the metal building, caps pulled over their eyes getting a few more minutes of shut-eye.

The party boys, Dex, Zook, Stanley, and Peanut had pasty, unwell looks about them and stood under the streetlight in the fog looking like something out of a cheap horror movie.

Jackson and Marcus arrived and threw their gear on the pile.

Jackson tapped Edward’s arm and pointed at the hung-over men who shuffled about with obvious effort. “What’s with the zombies?”

“They—”

Peanut’s midsection jerked as if an invisible man was performing the Heimlich maneuver on him. Marcus grabbed Peanut’s shoulders from behind and gave him a push toward the side of the building. Just in time.

“All I know is, he’s not sitting anywhere near me on the bus.”

Jackson laughed. “Ditto for me.”

A diesel engine growled in the near distance. A bus materialized through the mist and stopped in front of the men. Sanchez and Alvarez sprang to their feet and helped Jackson and Marcus load the gear. A few minutes later the last man boarded, the bifold door hissed closed behind him, and the bus lurched forward.

Edward sat a few rows from the front of the bus.

Across the aisle, by the window, Marcus sat, head bowed. A Bible rested on his lap and his right hand lay atop the book. His lips moved, though he didn’t make a sound.

Edward studied the man through the alternating light and dim of the streetlights they passed. How long had Marcus been with the team? Two years, more or less? Never anxious, never a word said in anger, Marcus was as steady tempered as they come. Not a wimp by any means, either. He’d underestimated the medic’s fighting abilities when he first came to the unit. Paired together for hand-to-hand practice, Marcus surprised him with a few lumps and scratches before he was able to take him down. The recollection made him smile.

Marcus looked over, his face lit up, and he moved to the seat next to Edward. “I was just praying for the team and for the families and friends we’re leaving behind.”

What could he say? The guy had the right to pray all he wanted. Of course, it would have been nice if he hadn’t misinterpreted Edward’s smile as an invitation to join him. Good thing this was going to be a short bus ride. He didn’t break eye contact quickly enough.

“Do you ever think about spiritual things?” Marcus asked.

Not exactly the kind of conversation he had in mind first thing in the morning. But, it probably wouldn’t kill him to indulge the guy for a few minutes. “Sometimes.”

Marcus smiled. “I’d be interested to hear your thoughts on the subject.”

“Okay,” he said. “I wonder if God truly exists. And,” he picked up the Bible from Marcus’s lap and fanned the pages with his thumb, “I wonder if this was written with inspiration from the Almighty, or if all sixty-six books are a conglomeration of dreams, suppositions, or outright lies.” He handed the book back to Marcus.

“I’m surprised you know how many books are in the Bible.”

“Why does that surprise you? I may not believe, but I’m far from being ignorant about the contents of that book. Go ahead, quiz me.”

Beaming with a smile, Marcus began. “Tell me, where would I find the scripture that tells us all have sinned and come short of the glory of God?”

“Romans 3:23. Next.”

“What about the one that says the wages of sin is death, but the—”

“Romans 6:23. Do you want me to recite the rest of the Roman Road for you, or are you willing to take my word that I know it?”

Marcus chuckled. “I believe you.”

“Good.” Edward folded his arms across his chest, leaned his head back and looked out the window. “Glad we got that settled.”

“Edward?”

He rolled his head on the seatback and looked at Marcus.

“I have a favorite scripture. One that brings me great comfort. Mind if I quote it?”

“Go ahead if it’ll make you feel better.”

“It goes like this. ‘And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.’”

Edward twisted his head and looked out the window again. The quickening of his pulse was unexpected as was the quick breath of air he sucked in. He could only hope the dim lighting was enough to conceal his reaction from Marcus.

The sun’s first rays lit the horizon. Was there, in reality, a God who could wipe these things away? The pain, the sorrow, the overwhelming emptiness. Could he ever be free of these things?

“LT, are you okay?”

No, not really.
“Yeah.”

* * * *

Edward kicked back and closed his eyes as the transport vehicle bumped along the dusty road into base camp. Nearly forty-eight hours had passed since boarding the initial flight out of Fayetteville. Delays in Kuwait had added considerably to the journey.

A tall barbed wire fence surrounded the compound, and rolls of razor wire lay coiled outside its base. Soldiers, heavily armed and protected with Kevlar body armor guarded the gate. The driver spoke to one of the guards and displayed paperwork. They were granted entry, and the gate closed behind them.

They stopped outside a metal building that had Command Center stenciled on the door. The men grabbed their gear and waited while Greco went inside. Minutes later he reappeared with a sergeant.

“I’m Sergeant Browning. If you’ll follow me, gentlemen, I’ll show you to your quarters.”

Edward walked alongside Greco while Browning pointed out things of interest. “Mess hall, medical, motor pool, and, over there, latrines. Those who are stationed here are housed in the cans.” Browning gestured toward a cluster of metal storage containers that had been converted into living quarters for the troops.

They came to a group of five tents and stopped.

“Sorry, guys, but this was the best we could do for you under such short notice.” Browning told them when chow would be served, said good-bye, and left.

Dexter pulled open the flap on the nearest tent. “Not bad. Cots. Beats the hammocks in Nicaragua.” He went inside. Peanut followed.

Alvarez and Sanchez paired up.

Zook and Stanley disappeared into another tent.

Edward bent to tie his bootlace. When he stood up, he was alone with Marcus.

“Guess it’s you and me, LT.” Marcus smiled.

“Where did Jackson and Greco go?”

“Yonder,” Marcus said with his Southern drawl. “In that tent back there.”

Lips clamped, Edward grunted, then marched into the remaining tent and slung his duffel onto the cot on the right. He shrugged off his ruck and dropped it onto the dirt floor.

“Here we are, home sweet home,” Marcus said, smiling as usual.

How could he be so happy all the time? How annoying.

Edward smirked. “Praise the Lord.”

From nearby tents laughter filled the air.

Greco and Jackson shouted, “Hallelujah!”

The letter leaned against the lamp on her desk, addressed, stamped, and ready to go. Or was it? Audra opened and read it once again.

Dear Edward
… All she wanted was to know why he left and why he did so with such palpable hostility toward her. Was that too much to ask?

Her day planner lay open before her. Last Sunday, Edward walked out of her dreams and back into her life. Monday, her spirit soared with happiness she hoped would last forever. Then came black Tuesday, the day that triggered the deep depression from which she couldn’t seem to emerge.