amusing to discover most of the dining options at Camp Lejeune consist of fast food. I settle for something they claim is barbecue and survey my situation. There are no empty tables. Quite a few families crowd around tables, moms and dads barking orders and cleaning up spills. It’s a jarring sight after being at bootcamp. I’d come to think of my choice to enlist as a way to cut off the world. It had felt that way surrounded by a bunch of isolated recruits. Now I’m reminded that life—and the world—continues, even for a Marine. I finally spot two of the guys I saw in orientation this morning sitting at a table in the corner. I don’t recognize either of them from Parris Island, so I assume they came from San Diego.
I walk over and set down my tray. I’ve learned that etiquette doesn’t extend to necessity in the armed forces. If I need to sit to eat, I just sit down. Though it feels a lot more comfortable to do it with two men rather than a family with three kids fighting over chicken nuggets.
My appearance doesn’t phase either of them. The blond continues devouring chicken fingers, but the black guy shoots me a warm smile.
“Jack Archer.” He sticks out his hand, and I shake it firmly.
“Sterling Ford. I saw you two at orientation. You’re here for assessment.” It’s a statement of fact, but one that opens the door to conversation. Whether they want to chat or not, I don’t really care. But I’m not going to just sit here and pretend I’m alone.
“Yeah, we came from San Diego. Were you at Parris Island?” Jack asks.
I nod. “Just finished up last week.”
“Why’d you sign up for more hell?”
I’ve been told that assessment is going to make bootcamp look like a tropical vacation. I guess I’m not the only one who’s been warned.
“My instructor saw potential.” I shrug and take a bite of my barbecue sandwich. It makes me miss Tennessee. Never thought I’d feel that way.
“Luca DeAngelo.” The blond finally pauses long enough to introduce himself. His friend doesn’t shake my hand. Instead, he bumps Jack’s shoulder, his dark eyes lighting up like they’re in on a joke. “Potential, huh? So, you’ve got a death wish?”
“I wouldn’t say a death wish. I just don’t really have much keeping me here.” Is it possible to have disinterest in death? Honestly, I could go either way. Live. Die. It hardly matters to me. It doesn’t matter to anyone else.
Jack’s eyes narrow as if he’s reading my thoughts. “Yeah, he’s got a death wish. So, what’s her name?”
“Her?” I repeat, digging into my fries and pretending I don’t understand.
“Yep,” Luca says. “There’s definitely a her. Look I could give you some lecture about how it’s not worth getting blown up over some pussy, but, honestly, there’s no real reason to get blown up.”
“Patriotism?” I offer.
Luca snorts. “Nah. That’s not it. It’s definitely running away from something—like your girl. That’s how we all wind up here.”
“What are you running from?” I lean forward.
“Who’s the girl?” he counters.
“There’s no girl.” Not anymore.
“Not running from anything,” Luca says, settling back in the plastic chair with a smug grin.
“Oh good, you’re as stubborn as he is,” Jack interjects. “I don’t think it matters what we’re running from, it matters where we’re headed.”
“I hear it’s going to be hell,” Luca says.
“I’ve got nowhere else to go. Might as well go to hell.”
“That makes two of us,” Jack agrees. “Just another bastard on his way home.”
“Home?” Luca repeats. “Is your dad the devil?”
“Mine is,” I say soberly. “You?”
“Wouldn’t know,” Luca admits.
“I think I’d like my dad more if he was the devil,” Jack says.
“I guess all of hell’s bastards are heading home then,” I say.
Luca laughs and extends his hand finally. I take it. “It’s a regular fucking family reunion.”
“Nothi in infernum,” Adair reads with a laugh. “Hell’s bastards. I thought I needed to refresh my Latin the first time I saw it.”
“Your Latin seems good to me,” I say. “We got them done before everything went down—when we were in London.”
She inhales sharply like she’s been punched in the gut. A memory of her the night of the gala flashes to mind. London had come up then, but what happened there? I wait, hoping she’ll finally start talking. I don’t know how long I wait before I finally whisper, “You aren’t going to scare me, Lucky.”
She remains quiet, and I look down to find her sleeping