“Look, he’s got solar panels on the roof now.”
“Hawk likes to live off the grid,” Tailor said. “He’s got his own water supply, his own food supply, and his own electricity. You could ride out the end of the world here.”
I chuckled. “That’s probably his plan.” As we approached the house’s large front porch, the door opened. Hawk stepped out into the afternoon air, squinting slightly in the light. He looked the same as ever, tall and fit, with rough features and hard eyes. His hair and goatee had more gray in them than they used to, but overall he was doing pretty well for a guy in his fifties. Hawk was wearing a tan button-down shirt, faded blue jeans, and cowboy boots. As usual, his Smith & Wesson Model 29 revolver was in its custom-made holster on his right hip.
Tailor and I both began to grin as we climbed the short steps. Hawk greeted us with a smile and roughly shook both of our hands. As always, his handshake nearly crushed mine.
“Goddamn, boys, it’s good to see you,” he said, his voice raspy and harsh. “How the hell are ya?”
“Doing just fine, sir,” Tailor said.
“How ’bout you, kid?” Hawk asked me.
“Things are looking up.”
“C’mon in, boys. Let’s sit down before we start unloading your truck.” Hawk opened the door and led us into his house. We followed him into the kitchen, where he had us sit down before opening the fridge. He still walked with a slight limp.
“You boys want a beer?”
“Uh, no thanks.” I hate beer.
“We’re driving,” Tailor said. “Got any Dr. Pepper?”
Hawk turned around, closing the refrigerator door. He had in his left hand one large can of beer, and in his right hand two cans of Dr. Pepper. “I bought a case after Val called me,” he answered, sitting down. “So, boys, why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Tailor, I haven’t heard from you in a year. Val here hasn’t e-mailed me in a couple of months. Then all of a sudden I get a call, asking me if I can store his stuff. So what’s going on?”
“We’re not supposed to talk about it,” Tailor said. “It’s a job. We’re going to be gone for a long time, probably over a year.”
“A job with who?” Hawk asked, sipping his beer.
“We’re . . . not really sure,” I said. Hawk set his beer down and raised his eyebrows. “I mean, I think it’s the government. It’s all very hush-hush.”
“How’s the pay?” Hawk asked.
“Insane,” Tailor responded.
“We’re not supposed to talk about it,” I said, echoing Tailor’s words.
“Don’t give me that bullshit, boy,” Hawk said. “You know I ain’t gonna go calling the newspaper or anything.”
“Does Quagmire even have a newspaper?” Tailor asked.
“Sure as hell does. The Quagmire Sentinel. Yesterday’s front-page headline was about the truckload of chickens that overturned on the highway outside of town. There were chickens everywhere. Now, do you have any idea where they’re sending you?”
“All they’d tell us was that it was someplace where the US doesn’t have any ongoing operations,” Tailor said. “So I’m guessing somewhere in the Middle East, probably.”
“Or somewhere in Africa,” I suggested.
“Christ, I hope not,” Tailor said. “I don’t want to go back to Africa.”
“Me, either,” I said. “But that’s the thing, Hawk. They won’t tell us anything. They just had us sign a three-year contract.”
“Kid, are you telling me you signed a contract when you had no idea who you’re working for or where you’re going? Why would you do that?”
“Twenty-five large every month,” I said. “They’ve already dropped a twenty-K signing bonus into my checking account.”
“Damn,” Hawk said. “That’s good money. Hell, I haven’t made that kind of money since Decker and I retook that diamond mine from the rebels. We got paid in cut stones. I still have some of ’em in the safe downstairs. Anyway . . . boys, are you sure about this?”
“No, I’m not,” I said honestly. “But . . . Hawk, I tried living the regular life. I had a normal job and everything.”
“You hated it, didn’t you?” Hawk asked, studying me.
I hesitated briefly. “Yeah. I hated it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. After Mexico . . . Christ, Hawk, most of my friends are dead now. How could I want to go back to that life? What’s wrong with me?”
“Goddamn it, Val, we’ve been over this,” Tailor said angrily.
Hawk interrupted him. “Hold on, Tailor. Val, we all go through this eventually. You get over it, and you go on to the next job. You miss that life because it’s all you’ve done. You miss the money, the excitement, the shooting. It’s normal. Anyway, you’re good at it. I’ve never seen anyone run a six-gun like you. The first time I handed you a .357 you shot like you’d been born with it in your hand. Why do you think I talked Decker into hiring you? I saw what you did in Afghanistan. You cleaned out that Hajji nest like a pro, and practically by yourself.”
“I got kicked out of the Air Force for that,” I said.
“Forget ’em,” Hawk responded. “The bureaucrats that run the military these days don’t know talent when they see it.”
“I know. Honestly? I don’t feel bad about wanting to go back. I feel bad that I don’t feel bad about wanting to go back.”
“No point in trying to be something you’re not, Val,” Tailor said. “That’s why I called you for this. I figured you wanted to go back as much as I did.”
“Tailor’s right,” Hawk stated, a hard gleam in his eye. “You’re a natural-born killer, boy, and you always will be. You’re guaranteed to be miserable until you accept that.”
“It’s a good thing Tailor called,” I said. “I was about to accept Ling’s offer and join Exodus.”
“I knew it!” Tailor exclaimed. “Hawk, will you talk some sense into him?”
“Kid, Exodus is bad news. Now, I know they helped you get out of there after things went to shit in Mexico, but that’s probably only because you saved that Oriental girl’s life. They’re dangerous.”
“So were we,” I said.
“But we were professionals,” Hawk replied. “They’re true believers. That’s a different kind of dangerous. Better to stay away from it.”
“I don’t have the best feeling about this gig, either,” I said.
“You don’t have to go.”
“I already signed the contract.”
“So? If you need to disappear, we can make that happen. It’ll be a huge pain in my ass, but it’s doable. I’ve done it before for other folks.”
“No. I don’t want to go on the run.”
“The money’s too good to walk away from,” Tailor said.
“No kidding,” I concurred, cracking a smile. “I’ll be living large when I get back.”
“Well, let’s get to unloading your stuff, then,” Hawk said, setting his empty beer can on the table.
As darkness fell, Tailor, Hawk, and I sat on the front porch, watching one of the most beautiful desert sunsets I’d ever seen. Hawk leaned back in his chair, sipping a beer. Tailor and I sat next to him, studying the shades of red and purple that filled the sky as the sun slowly sank beneath the mountains. Real moments of peace are hard to come by in life, and no one wanted to ruin it by talking.
The sun slowly disappeared, and the stars were increasingly visible overhead. It was cold out, and our breath smoldered in the chilly air. Hawk looked over at Tailor and me. “Now you listen, boys,” he said, taking another sip of his beer. “A long time ago, I was on a job that paid too good to be true, too. More than twenty years ago now, I think. It was before we went legit and founded Vanguard. It was just Switchblade back then.”