in the bush again. We were planning on it last night, but someone forgot his asthma inhaler in the truck.”
Gray heard his cue and interjected. “Someone forgot to mention they were gonna start their own sandstorm with the ATV.”
Darius and Hank laughed merrily in that “Oh, kids” kind of way.
Hilarious.
Something shifted in Gray’s brain after breakfast. He felt himself shutting down emotionally, and it was unlike anything he’d done before. Things had been different on the yacht—and even on the island. He wasn’t defeated or lost. He wasn’t weak. He’d trained for weeks under Darius’s guidance, getting a taste of both his support and tough love.
With Darius’s help, Gray had opened his eyes further too. He saw consequences and possibilities in every action, and he’d become a bit more analytical.
Before heading out, they stopped at the restrooms to relieve themselves and refill their water bottles. Gray sensed Darius observing him, so he just laid it out there. He said what was happening, how his processing changed, how he filtered out a bunch of things that didn’t matter to the task they were facing.
It didn’t take a genius to know that Darius could relate. On the way over to the ATV, he draped an arm around Gray’s shoulders and kissed the side of his head. Innocent enough.
“One of the reasons we PMCs don’t settle down with a wife and kids in the same capacity. It ain’t easy flipping between mental states like a light switch.”
Gray nodded and stopped at the ATV. He’d heard similar things about men and women in the armed forces. The military was more structured; it was a lifestyle where they tried to involve the whole family. Bases existed all over the world, with options to bring spouses and children. Nevertheless, soldiers still had to flip that switch every now and then, particularly after a deployment.
“You wanna talk about it?” Darius tilted his head.
“No.” Gray was done talking. He was done thinking too. He wanted to get shit done. “Let’s go give Jackie his freedom back.”
“All right, then.”
Instead of going through the desert like yesterday, Darius drove out on the main road and followed the signs for the exit nearest Twentynine Palms.
It would be a pretty short ride. The highway that went through the town was the same that went right outside Warren’s house. And unless there was traffic—at which point Darius would just pass the house and come back when it was clear—they’d be there in fifteen or twenty minutes.
Gray went through a mental checklist, not for the first time. It worked as meditation. No backpack today, though Darius had packed the gear they needed in the compartment under the seat, including their water and gas. But other than that, Gray had everything he needed stashed on his person. Two knives, one multitool, duct tape, phone, first aid, rope…
He blew out a breath as they exited the park and hit the highway.
It was gonna be a warm day and, with the weekend starting, most likely many visitors showing up in Joshua Tree later. For now, however, the road was empty.
In ten minutes, Gray only counted four vehicles.
The mountain range from yesterday came into view, and they drove alongside it, not counting the stretch of rattlesnake land between them.
After a while, Darius gave Gray’s knee a squeeze and pointed ahead of them.
They could see the house, and there were no cars ahead of them. Gray glanced over his shoulder. No vehicles behind them either. Then he faced forward again and got ready. Closer, closer, closer. This was gonna be fast.
Once they were almost there, they could spot Buck in the backyard. He was sitting on the porch drinking beer, and that was the last thing they saw before the house blocked the view.
Game time.
Gray was off the ATV before the engine was turned off. He darted for the driveway and stopped when he reached the corner before the backyard. Then he stayed low and soundless and started counting. Darius was gonna knock on the front door in fifteen seconds.
Unstrapping the knife on his belt, Gray listened carefully and went through his memories of what he’d just seen. Buck on the porch, in a chair, on the right side of the doors, which meant he’d stand up and go left. Eleven, ten, nine. Gray should be able to peek without being spotted. Seven, six, five. He ducked down farther and licked his lips, inching around the corner just enough to see him. Mere feet away, without a care in