Until the World Stops - L.A. Witt Page 0,78

turned around, backtracked, and made the turn, which was a solid mile and a half up the road from the blue house. Christ. Where was my brain today?

As if I didn’t know. I was beyond worried about my mom and I was losing it over Tristan. Should I even arm up today? I’d asked myself that every work day since the day those two bombs had landed on me. After all, my head was not in the game, and we were supposed to speak up if we weren’t in a state of mind to be carrying a gun.

Except that would raise questions about my mental health, might get me yanked from a supervisor position, and might unofficially hurt my chances of ever getting promoted (as if I had any) once Chief let it slip to the chief’s mess.

Somehow, I managed to get back to the base, and after I’d parked, I went through the motions of putting on my uniform and arming up. I still wondered a few times if I should arm up while my head wasn’t in the game. It wasn’t like I was ever getting promoted anyway.

I did arm up, though, same as always, and with my gun on my hip and a Pepsi in my hand that would hopefully pull me out of this haze, I started up the hallway.

And fuck me, but I’d barely come out of the armory before Chief intercepted me. Over his cup of coffee, he casually said, “Have you heard the latest? They’re inflating the death rate on this stupid thing by saying everyone died of COVID even when—”

“Chief.” I put up my hand. “With all due respect, I really, really don’t have it in me to hear all the conspiracy theories today.”

“That’s because you’ve been falling for all the media’s fear-mongering about—”

“Chief.” I glared at him. “Please? Because I mean it. I’m—”

“Hey, man.” He showed his palms. “It’s tough for everyone, and the lies are just—”

“My mom has COVID,” I snapped.

He froze. So did MA2 and one of the DOD contractors. In silence, they all stared at me, wide-eyed and utterly still.

I swallowed, and to hell with insubordination—I let the anger into my voice because then the other emotions wouldn’t come out. “I’ve been getting daily updates on her. Not from the news. Not from this or that politician. From my dad and her doctors.” Damn. So much for keeping out the emotions. “Yes, you’re damn right I’m scared of this thing because it scares the hell out of me to call home and hear that my mom is too sick to talk to me. Not just because she’s coughing too much, but because her fever is so high and she’s so damned sick that she doesn’t even know where she is.” Narrowing my eyes, I added, “So with all due respect, give it a rest.”

Then I threw my soda can into the recycling bin with a lot more force than necessary and stormed out. It would’ve felt damn good to slam a door, but of course, none of the doors in this building or the guard shack could be slammed. And maybe that was just as well. My coworkers didn’t need to be jumping out of their skin and walking on eggshells just because Chief had gotten under my skin.

Maybe ten, fifteen minutes later, MA2 Colby came into the guard shack where I’d settled in to fume and fuck off on my phone. As the door closed behind her, she studied me uncertainly. “Hey. You okay?”

I nodded, putting my phone aside. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“You sure?”

I met her gaze, and the concern in her eyes melted right through my attempt at a tough exterior. With a sigh, I sat back as much as my police belt allowed. “No. Man, I’m…” I rubbed my eyes, then let my hand drop to my lap as I looked at her again. “I’m a mess, and it’s not just because my mom is sick.”

“I can see that.” She took the chair across from mine. “What’s up?”

“Tristan.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised. You’ve been out of it for a while. So what happened?”

“It’s a long story.” I kneaded the back of my neck and sighed. “But the punchline is that I don’t have it in me to deal with Chief’s bullshit today.”

“Ugh. I get it.” She rolled her eyes. “Kind of ironic that Chief got your man booted out over a Facebook post, and he’s spreading all…that.”

I cocked my head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Tristan posted