“Here, come here,” Thomas whispered into the night as he retreated into a more favorable position. The three men hunkered down together, observing as the flashlight finally came to a pause. “It looks like just the one ahead of us.”
“Move on him?” James asked.
“I’ll handle it,” Riley said.
“Wait.” Thomas placed a hand on each of their backs. “Until he shows his intention—”
“But we don’t have all night.”
James is right, but it’s possible he’s out here on patrol. “Just hold tight for now.”
The flashlight held steady for what seemed to be an eternity. What the hell’s this guy doing? A trickling sound of liquid spattering against the ground and a low whistling of “Dixie” gave Thomas his answer.
James sighed a breath of relief. “Alright. Let’s g—”
“I’m heading out,” Riley interrupted him. “It’ll be better if I go at it alone—less likely to grab hold of each other during the scuffle.”
“That’s bullshit. I’m going with you,” James hissed back.
“No, me and you hold here.” Thomas could feel James glaring at him. He knew how badly James felt the need to prove himself. Thomas squeezed the shoulder—just a slight reminder of him being shot earlier. “I need you to follow the plan.”
“Yeah…” James shifted from him. “I got ya.”
“Get back here once it’s done, Riley. We can’t afford to get separated before this thing gets kicked off.”
“Got it.”
Riley stood, and gradually his large silhouette faded into the darkness surrounding them. The Soldier moved adeptly, proficient in his approach of murderous intent. The Butcher has no idea what’s coming. Payback for all this bullshit. Overcome with an unfamiliar warmth of revenge, Thomas focused on the light, waiting for the last breath to escape this man. Silence. Stillness. Waiting for the flashlight to hit the ground. Only a matter of time. This mother—
“He’s got to be close,” James said. “Right? I mean that dude’s not even paying attention to shit.”
“We’re holding here unless something happ—”
A muffled groan, the light fell to the ground, and a few thumps followed. James shuffled forward, trying to push past Thomas’s hand pressed firmly against his chest, but couldn’t. “Hold, damn it. He’s got this.”
“What if he’s in trouble?”
A crack of skull on wood, and a body dropped to the dirt.
“He’s not.”
Immediately, the light was scooped from the ground and abruptly shut off. The two of them remained kneeling side by side in anticipation of Riley’s return. Good. No trouble and barely any noise. “Shouldn’t be long, and we’ll be back on our way.”
“Do we know it’s him?”
Thomas lifted his rifle to view him through the scope, but there was no such luck—the tree guarded the man from this angle. “I can’t tell. Just give it a second.”
A little over a minute passed and there was no indication, whether good or bad, of what occurred. No shots, he reminded himself as he let the rifle go from his shoulder, dropping its weight against the sling while he simultaneously unsheathed his knife. “I’ll go check it out.” Thomas ignored the frustrated puff of air that James expelled, and he crept forward, holding the knife in a reverse grip in front of him.
He rounded a few trees, discovering that every angle available to him proved poorer than the last. It would take a more direct approach, positioning him much closer than he would have cared to be. His steps lightened, the weight kept on the balls of his feet as he pushed forward, finally sidling up to the scene, crouching behind the base of an elm tree maybe ten yards away.
In the darkness, he could barely make out the body lying face down in the dirt or the dark figure kneeling next to him. It was the sound of frantic hands rummaging through pockets that pulled the complete picture together for him. Still can’t tell who. Thomas scrabbled at the ground, picked the first hard object he found, and tossed it in the man’s general direction. The shadow took pause from his search, giving it a second or two to see if the noise had been deliberate. He must have decided it had been, because he rose from his position and whispered, “Hawk.”
“Dove,” Thomas responded. He let out a calming breath and joined him once he knew the coast was clear. “No trouble I see.”
“Not at all.”
“Roll him over, and let’s see which asshole this is.” Thomas took hold of the arm and began to pull at it.
“Hey!” A stern voice called out from the woods. Thomas and Riley snapped their rifles level and spun toward the camp, backing steadily toward cover.
“Where’s he?” Riley whispered—their shoulders touched as they peered out from either side of a large tree.
The night vision placed the man near the tents on the north side of the camp. “A good ways out. He’s got his rifle hanging from the sling.”
“What are you doing? Crappin’?” The guard raised his voice. “Turn your damned flashlight on, so we’s can see ya out there, or I’m comin’ to check on ya.”
Riley dove toward the body, and Thomas followed—the two of them scrambled for the light. “Where the hell is it?” Riley muttered, clearly struggling to find it among the twigs and debris of the forest floor.
“It’s got to—”
“Here.” Riley switched it on and waved the flashlight’s beam toward the guard as if his arm had turned to rubber.
“Alright! Alright! Just hurry it up already.” The guard seemed satisfied enough, and Thomas watched him stagger off into a nearby tent.
“We have about ten minutes,” Thomas said. “Bring that light over here just a bit. Let’s check this guy out real fast, but be careful not to shine us.” Thomas took hold of the shoulder and rolled the body toward him. The light cast a slight glimmer upon the face, revealing what immediately made his heart sink. A lump swelled within his throat. Scotty… Lost within the vacant stare of his eyes, the scar across his cheek, he tried to clear the obstruction but couldn’t. He never stood a chance with this crew.
Around Scotty’s neck, dirt caked the blood leaking from a well-placed laceration—the throat sliced from ear to ear. Riley took to the young man’s pockets again, completely unfazed by any of this. An iron man. A man without emotion. I don’t want to be like that. Thomas grabbed hold of Riley’s wrists. “Shut off the damn light.”
“What?” Riley asked. “Cause he’s a kid?”
“No, it’s just—” The night hid Thomas’s true feelings as he took his hand across Scotty’s eyes. This poor kid. I can’t… Thomas stopped himself. These weren’t the thoughts of a Soldier. Death would become part of his everyday life. Hell, it already had. Get over it! This isn’t you anymore. You can’t care for everything and everyone. He let one last silent breath escape from his lips. Never again will you feel like this. Moral killing is your duty now. “Don’t worry about it,” he snapped. “You find anything on him?”
“Just the flashlight.”
“Sure he didn’t have a weapon?” Thomas stood from Scotty’s side and swept his foot over the immediate area. “He had an AK earlier.”
“He didn’t have one, not even a pistol on him.” Riley patted along his body once more just to be sure. “Yep, nothing.”
“James… James…” Thomas hissed into the woods behind them. “James… get up here.”