Beacon 23: Part Four: Company (Kindle Single) Read Online Free PDF

men run out of the trenches in the wrong direction. If she hasn’t seen action, it sounds like I’m judging her. If she has, I’m stirring up memories best left settled in the bottom of her soul.
    “I was on Yata for the push,” she tells me, her voice quiet. “A Company. Second platoon.”
    No way , I think to myself. No fucking way.
    “We were pinned down for three weeks. They were bombing us to oblivion. Then this squad with a death wish pushes into the hive, threatens to blow it all to smithereens, and—” She glances over at me, gives me a long, cold look. “I’m sure you know the rest.”
    Of course I do. Everyone does. But all I can think is: Not her. Even though I know this is no great coincidence. All of A and B companies were there for the push. For the five weeks I was Earthside, after I got out of the VA, I had people coming up and shaking my hand, thanking me, saying I saved them. And when the tears came to their eyes, I’d nod and tell them it wasn’t necessary. Just doing my job. Lie through my teeth. Tell them the same damn story. Over and over until you almost believe it.
    “I wouldn’t take you for a soldier,” I whisper, my voice cracking a little. “You seem too . . . good for that.”
    “Yeah,” Claire says. “Aren’t we all.”
    •••
    “You didn’t bring libations, but thanks for the lubrication,” she tells me, smiling, as I board the lifeboat. “I’m sure the grease’ll come in handy as I get this bucket up and running.”
    “No problem,” I say.
    It feels like the close of a date. Like she’s walking me to my car. A whiff of distant and forgotten normalcy drifts by. It’s like that pocket of warm water that comes out of nowhere when you’re swimming in a lake, or that ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, or that smile from that woman behind the counter at the DMV. The unexpected and bright. The startling joy.
    “Hey—” she says, as I turn to go.
    I turn back. Is she going to kiss me? We’re both soldiers, and sex was something that soldiers engaged in as casually as they tore into MREs. Just a thing. I don’t want it to ever be a thing like that again.
    “Do you need anything?” she asks. Her brow is knitted together. Lines of worry across her face.
    “Like what?”
    “Well, I’ve got a few days here—” she jabs her thumb back at her beacon. “—then I’m back to Houston for a bit for a debrief. If there’s anything you need over on 23 . . .”
    I laugh. “My can needs more than Houston’s got,” I say. “Besides, their engineers were up here a few months ago. Just made the place worse. Had the grav panels oscillate on me—”
    “Shit. Really?”
    “Oh, yeah. So don’t let them send any help my way. I’m good.”
    “Okay.”
    There’s something else. Something she wants to ask. Something she’s too kind to say.
    “Okay,” she says again.
    And I know that look. That worry. I know what she’s wondering. What she wants to say.
    If you ever need anyone to talk to . . .
    Like talking ever fixed anything. Like words have that power. I touch the rock around my neck, knowing I’ve got plenty who’ll listen, but none who understand.
    “I’ll see ya,” I say, turning my back before I make a mess of things.
    “Yeah,” Claire says, like she knows better.
    It’s only after the door hisses shut that I pick up on what she said. Back to Houston in a few days. That’s all. Just that pocket of warmth in a freezing lake. Just a glancing ray of sunshine. A star that winks once, twice, then turns away. Death without the dying.
     
     
     

• 7 •
     
    By the end of my first tour of duty, I was already an asshole. I told myself I’d never get like that. I remember when I joined my first company, after losing my wings and being put in the trenches, how I’d introduce myself to someone with too many days of service, and they wouldn’t take my hand, wouldn’t give me a name, would simply tell me to “Fuck off.”
    I called them the assholes.