the car full of people he had destroyed. It was the first time he could remember doing so clearly since the incident itself.
He’d killed them all. That was on him and always would be. That poor little girl. Jason hadn’t wanted her to suffer. He’d have to live with that. He remembered the days and weeks leading up to it. He’d found himself dwelling in the past more than the present then. Thinking about stupid shit like being a kid back at home in the snow. Thinking about stuff he shouldn’t be thinking about, stuff it did no good to think about…like Rudy, like Aspen. He wished he could see Espada and Tucker again, see the Gift. He wanted to tell Mook that he was right to be eye-balling him all that time. He wanted to tell his sergeant he was in a better place now, mentally.
What about this place, physically? The verdict was still out on that.
Did he want to see Susanne? What could he say to her? I’m sorry I ruined your life. You didn’t know you were marrying a loser. You didn’t know the father of your children was a zero. It’d be good to see their kids, to know they were doing okay. He imagined he was a huge disappointment to them too. They’d been too young to understand mortgage payments and foreclosure notices, threatening emails from the bank. They were kids. It was simple to them. Daddy was supposed to be around, to love them and do shit with them. And when he’d lost his job he’d forgotten what it meant to be a father, a man. He’d brooded and sulked and withdrawn, ignoring them, ignoring Susanne. That was unforgiveable.
If they’d known what he’d done to that little girl and her family in the car…
After awhile Jason fell asleep, and when he did, he had no disturbing dreams.
He opened his eyes sometime later, the lights in the barracks muted. He lay there considering the ceiling, wondering what had woken him. Feint snores punctuated the silence. Maybe the ventilation system had cycled off. Jason rolled over on his mattress and looked out across the aisle.
There was nothing to see. Shadows among the gloom.
He missed Rudy. The kid shouldn’t have died like that. Fucking nineteen years old.
The shadows were moving. Something was making its way down the aisle.
Someone .
It came quickly and quietly, bent towards the ground. As the figure neared, Jason saw it was Snork. The chubby bastard moved in his bare feet, padding silently across the floor. Light glinted off something in his hand. At the exact moment Jason’s sleep-addled mind registered it was a steak knife from the mess hall, Snork launched himself onto the sleeping Israeli woman—
Onto what should have been the sleeping woman.
Snork flailed at the blanket and the pillows stuffed under it, propped so as to lend the illusion of someone nested there. He grunted in frustration and anger as a shadow rose behind him. Before Jason fully understood what was happening, the shadow was on Snork, the Israeli wrapping one wiry arm around her would-be assailant’s neck from behind, her other hand grasping the back of Snork’s neck, pressing it forward into her forearm. Snork, taken unawares—
this was no special operator , Jason’s mind registered
–dropped the knife—
definitely not
—and started to struggle, but the Israeli’s choke hold was solid. As Jason watched, she got a leg around Snork’s thigh, the two of them collapsing onto the disheveled bed, the Israeli on top, her grip never relenting, Snork choking.
Jason wondered if she would kill him.
Another figure came down the aisle, faster than Snork, not concerned about any noise it made. Jason could see it was one of the gasping men’s buddies, the young guy who’d made the play on the Israeli with Snork earlier. He wondered how the Israeli would deal with two of them, but the situation never got that far.
Bronson’s crazy-eyed man stepped from between two bunks, one hand clapping over Snork’s friend’s mouth, bringing him up short. Crazy-eyes’ other hand
He’d killed them all. That was on him and always would be. That poor little girl. Jason hadn’t wanted her to suffer. He’d have to live with that. He remembered the days and weeks leading up to it. He’d found himself dwelling in the past more than the present then. Thinking about stupid shit like being a kid back at home in the snow. Thinking about stuff he shouldn’t be thinking about, stuff it did no good to think about…like Rudy, like Aspen. He wished he could see Espada and Tucker again, see the Gift. He wanted to tell Mook that he was right to be eye-balling him all that time. He wanted to tell his sergeant he was in a better place now, mentally.
What about this place, physically? The verdict was still out on that.
Did he want to see Susanne? What could he say to her? I’m sorry I ruined your life. You didn’t know you were marrying a loser. You didn’t know the father of your children was a zero. It’d be good to see their kids, to know they were doing okay. He imagined he was a huge disappointment to them too. They’d been too young to understand mortgage payments and foreclosure notices, threatening emails from the bank. They were kids. It was simple to them. Daddy was supposed to be around, to love them and do shit with them. And when he’d lost his job he’d forgotten what it meant to be a father, a man. He’d brooded and sulked and withdrawn, ignoring them, ignoring Susanne. That was unforgiveable.
If they’d known what he’d done to that little girl and her family in the car…
After awhile Jason fell asleep, and when he did, he had no disturbing dreams.
He opened his eyes sometime later, the lights in the barracks muted. He lay there considering the ceiling, wondering what had woken him. Feint snores punctuated the silence. Maybe the ventilation system had cycled off. Jason rolled over on his mattress and looked out across the aisle.
There was nothing to see. Shadows among the gloom.
He missed Rudy. The kid shouldn’t have died like that. Fucking nineteen years old.
The shadows were moving. Something was making its way down the aisle.
Someone .
It came quickly and quietly, bent towards the ground. As the figure neared, Jason saw it was Snork. The chubby bastard moved in his bare feet, padding silently across the floor. Light glinted off something in his hand. At the exact moment Jason’s sleep-addled mind registered it was a steak knife from the mess hall, Snork launched himself onto the sleeping Israeli woman—
Onto what should have been the sleeping woman.
Snork flailed at the blanket and the pillows stuffed under it, propped so as to lend the illusion of someone nested there. He grunted in frustration and anger as a shadow rose behind him. Before Jason fully understood what was happening, the shadow was on Snork, the Israeli wrapping one wiry arm around her would-be assailant’s neck from behind, her other hand grasping the back of Snork’s neck, pressing it forward into her forearm. Snork, taken unawares—
this was no special operator , Jason’s mind registered
–dropped the knife—
definitely not
—and started to struggle, but the Israeli’s choke hold was solid. As Jason watched, she got a leg around Snork’s thigh, the two of them collapsing onto the disheveled bed, the Israeli on top, her grip never relenting, Snork choking.
Jason wondered if she would kill him.
Another figure came down the aisle, faster than Snork, not concerned about any noise it made. Jason could see it was one of the gasping men’s buddies, the young guy who’d made the play on the Israeli with Snork earlier. He wondered how the Israeli would deal with two of them, but the situation never got that far.
Bronson’s crazy-eyed man stepped from between two bunks, one hand clapping over Snork’s friend’s mouth, bringing him up short. Crazy-eyes’ other hand
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