Storied By Josh

This piece has adult content in it. It’s a long piece comparative to what I usually post, by almost triple. It’s firmly a novelette. It will take time to read. I resisted the temptation to split it into two pieces. The piece only really works as one. It’s a prequel to the story I wrote some time ago called “When the Rains Come.” The evolution in craft is notable. It’s a genre I don’t usually touch, so I’m trying muscles I don’t use. Even so, I think it’s decent and I’m quite proud of it.

Firebright

The Humvee is coming apart. I fucking hate these tin cans. She throttles the accelerator. She checks her rear view mirrors. Toyotas spit up gravel behind her. The flashes in her mirror turn into bullet holes in her windshield. She turns to the man sitting next to her, her HVI. His breathing is ragged. Dark crimson stains his pants, runs to the floorboards, soaking spent shells. High Value Individual. But soon enough he won’t be anything.

The rattatat that was going off behind her seat stopped a while ago. She doesn’t look. The stickiness of her boots against the pedals tells her.

“Overlord Actual this is Alpha 2 driver, Firebright. The initiative is lost. My team is KIA. I need extraction now.” It’s flat.
“Copy Alpha 2, Overlord reads all. QRF is ten mikes out.” Flatter.

It’s not soon enough. “You hold on.” He doesn’t answer. Fucking. She spots a grove of trees as the vehicle shudders its last. The Humvee grumbles it coasts closer.

She brakes hard as she meets the trees. “Get out.” He doesn’t reply. His lips are blue. Goddamnit. She grabs her weapon, spins out of her seat and lays down shots. Pings and cracks bounce around her. A hiss flies through her hair. A burn in her gut. She gets to the other side of the vehicle. Grabs him. cuts the seat belt. Pulls him out. Drags him. His arms limply pull through the weeds. Just some ways, almost to the trees. She grunts and feels fire as her flesh tears. Come on.

“Overlord, HVI is down, I say again HVI is down. I need extraction.” They can still save him. Firebright gulps for air. Three mags. She flips the mag out. The Toyotas are stopped at the Humvee. The men climb out of their vehicles to claim their prize. They’re fanning out. She finds a mound of dirt. She stops dragging him. Pulls her gun up. The trees do a decent enough job of defilade for now. She hits one. The pain in her gut is growing. It’ll only hurt more soon. She puts her rounds toward the closest. Then another. She feels a fire poker in her arm.
“Overlord I am hit.” She says. Two mags.

A man rushes her. She can see his eyes. They’re bright with victory. She closes them for him. He falls ten yards out. Where are they all coming from? Defilade is failing. She’s spinning. Stay awake. He’s done. She knows he’s done. Last mag. It goes like fireworks. Four men rushing her fall. The hollow ting of the action springing open causes her heart to drop. Firebright discards the assault rifle, pulls out her side arm.

Something in her gives. She drops the gun. A cold shiver. Fading. Wraps herself onto him. He can be saved. He will be saved. She digs her feet into the dirt. Grabs handfuls of it as she physically covers him. A dullness fills her. It’s rhythmic I’m not…I’m not ready. The rhythm is louder. There it is. She hears a 30 cal. She looks up. She hears nothing but ringing. Boots hit the ground near her. Then swearing in not Russian but close. She sees a blue and yellow patch. The Ukrainian.

He’s all fire. Fury. Sweat. The men fanning from the Toyotas fall like dominoes. Each leaves a piece of their body on this land. “Firebright.” She looks over her shoulder.

Ryan

The helicopter is loud over the headphones. Ryan looks out toward the horizon. Firebright is out there somewhere. Near the smoke he sees rising. He’s not fond of rescuing NOCs, wannabe 007 by any other name, on suicide missions.

The pilot holds up two fingers. He sees the pilot’s signal. “Two minutes.” he says to everyone. To no one. The hills of this land group together and fall away. He spots dots of vehicles around a grove of trees. He points. “Uke!” he calls to the Ukrainian over the headphones “Spin up!” The Ukrainian nods and actions his SAW.
“It’s gonna be messy.”
“Yup”
“I’m very happy.”

The rounds start pinging off the helo’s thick skeleton. 7.62. I hate those. The helo slows to a hover not twenty meters from her. The Ukrainian is the first out of the door. Then two more slide down. Ryan provides cover fire, not that Uke needs it. The helo spins up its guns. “If you’re gonna go, you better go.” The pilot says.
“Ryan.” He hears on his earpiece. “You better get down here.” No fucking names on ops.

Just as he grabs the rope he sees her below, wrapped around the HVI like a monkey. Fucking NOC. She’s probably dead too. He hits the ground softly and pulls his AR up. Fires and fires. It’s messy. Uke does what he does. Kills Russians. That’s not my job. He kneels beside her. He tries to pull her off. She tightens up. She’s bleeding from her gut. Goddamnit. He pulls again. She tightens. He puts his head close to her. “Let him go!” She tightens.

He reaches to grab her, rounds hit him in his Kevlar like sledge hammers. Ryan falls on his ass, brings his gun up. That’s a rib broken. He sprays, two down. Not twenty yards out. He switches to a kneeling position and looks down. Sees her. Mud, silt. Stains her face. Dry blood matting around her hair. She’s the most beautiful thing. He brushes blood crusted hair away from her cheek. “Firebright.” She shakily lifts her head to him. “You have to let him go.” Softly.

She releases just a little, reaches over and blindly grabs her pistol He doesn’t wait. He grabs her and throws her over his shoulder. She screams in pain.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Don’t stop shooting you idiot!” He yells back. She weakly lifts her side arm. One more down just like that. Helo’s still hovering. He sets her down gingerly. Grabs the rope. Hooks her up to FRIES. Pulls his weapon up and puts shots down range. A piece of dirt spits next to him. Hit something damnit. Hooks himself up. She’s fading God she’s heavy. His side protests as he shifts her. She groans. Keeps her side arm up. It bounces in her hand as she barely holds onto it. “Uke, time to go!” Uke stomps a Russian’s head until it’s ground and turns toward him. The muzzle flashes are silenced.
“Chomu?” He grins.

—

She doesn’t pass out. Not on the ride back. Not when they’re putting her back together. Not when he falls asleep next to her. She screams bloody murder. Curses everyone’s family. Curses her country, her military, her god. But she never passes out. The Atco trailer where they’re saving her is his world for a little. He eats and sleeps there. He doesn’t know why. She finally sleeps. He watches her. Uke brings him food.
“I don’t want to rush you, but we have a job to do.” Uke says.
He nods. “I’m doing it.”
Uke shakes his head and shoves his burly shoulders through the door. A uniformed doctor enters.
“How’s she?”
“Tough.”
“I know.”
“She’s gonna make it. I’m not saying that as a doctor. I’m saying it as someone watching the tide. It’s gonna happen. Ryan, no one loses a third of their blood volume and stays awake.”
“She does.”
“She’s gonna be fucking peachy.” The doctor writes something on her chart after he checks her out.
“Get me some wipes, eh?” Ryan says.
“They’re in the drawer by the bed.”
“Good, get out.” The doctor does.

He cleans her face. Her arms. Gently rubs the blood away from the sides of her bandaged wound. Her skin is soft. Warm. It flexes when he gets close to the wound. She stirs.
“Finally slept.” He says without looking up. She sees the pile of dirty wipes on the floor.
“Yuck.”
“Yup.”
“Shampoo my hair when you have time.” He chortles and glances up at her.
“I don’t shampoo people’s hair, Firebright.”
Her eyes are closed but she allows a small grin “That’s not my name.”
“What is your name?” He asks as he throws a wipe onto the pile.
Her small grin grows.

—

Firebright is already sitting outside of the office when Ryan arrives. Her formal grey suit is jarring for a second.
“You ready to go in?” Ryan motions toward the door.
“How rough will it be?”
“A little a lot. First After Action Review?”
“I don’t get many of them in my day job.”
“A firing squad.” He opens the door and pushes her in.

The room is lit bright and lifeless. Cushioned chairs encircle on oval table. In those chairs are a half dozen people. Flag pins on suits. They’d suck the joy out of a circus. A man wearing a slim suit points to a chair.
Ryan sits at the table. Firebright sits against the wall. The man in the suit glances at her and frowns. He’s intimidated. Ryan eyes him. “Please, secretary, read the summation of the operation for the group, the man in the suit says.

An older secretary instructs everyone to open the packets in front of them. They oblige.
“Due to on going operations involving HUMINT that not all present have the clearance to review, Operator Firebright will be referred to by their call sign. All dates and locations have been redacted.” She reads.

“Operation Steady Hand was conceived by Station Chief Hardy, currently on suspension, as an extraction of high value individual, a HUMINT diplomatic personnel, recruited by Firebright. Due to personnel shortages, and past training in Special Activities Division, Firebright was tasked with safe transport of HVI to the airport. Firebright relayed possibility of being followed from her safe house. OVERLORD signaled she was in the all clear. She made an unscheduled stop after a personal mobile phone call. Three other men, all Agency Assets entered the vehicle, against Agency Protocol 23.7a.

Half a mile from the airport, assets reported live fire and began evasion. The team of assets were KIA one kilometer from Extraction point Bravo. At some point the HVI was mortally wounded by shrapnel from a 7.62 round. The ambush put considerable strain on QRF in the area. Operator Firebright was remanded back into Agency care, with life threatening wounds. The HVI died on scene and the body was retrieved 72 hours after initial contact. The operation is classified as a failure.”

The suit clears his throat. “I think the question in the room is why a NOC is in a firefight.” He looks toward Firebright. She says nothing, matches his gaze.
“I think the report here makes it fairly clear.” Ryan replies.
“I don’t think so. I also want to know why a NOC is violating protocol. Indeed due to her actions, she very well may have lead the combatants to her.”
“With all due respect, sir” Ryan replies, “That protocol violation probably saved her life.”
“I disagree strongly with that assertion. What the facts bear out, is that Firebright, an unknown NOC, was recruited for an op that she had no business in. That she in fact, is responsible for the loss of highly valuable HUMINT, and three new stars on the wall.” Firebright doesn’t react. ” Her team.” Firebright flinches. Ryan sees.
A woman doesn’t even look toward Firebright. “Willful violation of operation norms.” The group nods. The man steals a glance at Firebright. Victory lights his eyes.
“This is the operator in question?” Firebright stands up. Ryan shoots her a look, sit fucking back down. She slowly settles back.
“Yes sir….” Ryan answers
I’m going to make this very clear. The operator acted unprofessionally, rashly and negligently toward this Agency. Her life, glamorous as it was, is over. She’s useless to us now. Every spy from Vladivostok to Reykjavik knows who Firebright is. She’s fucking burned.”

Ryan stands up defiantly. “Hey that’s not at all fair. This op stunk from the top down, not vice versa.”
“Officer, think very carefully about your next words.”
Ryan weighs his scales. Then. “This whole kangaroo court is a disgusting attempt to provide a patsy for the incompetence of the management sitting at this table. You make me sick. You’re sitting in these goddamned chairs burning the very person you’re gonna need in the next three years. You’re a fucking coward.” A dropped pin would be a trumpet in the room.

The man in the suit looks at the group. Then his watch. “I don’t have time for this. Ryan, Alaska is great this time of year. Take that with you.” He points lazily toward Firebright. “This AAR is over.”

The group gets up and shuffles out past Firebright. The door closes behind them, Ryan sits back in his chair. It is comfortable.
“Ryan what did you do?” Firebright finally asks.
“We better pack some parkas.” He says with a sly smile.
“Goddamnit. I thought I left for good. That’s my home town.”
“Good you can help me settle.”
“It’s a ruin.”
“I didn’t like my career trajectory anyway. Fuck ’em. You coming?”
“In a minute.”
Firebright stands as he leaves. She looks at her hands. Flexes them. Cleans out a bit of silt from a finger nail. She exhales. What a shit show.

Ruins

Sometimes she thinks back to that conversation when she sips on her morning coffee, like now. The catalyst for bringing her back home. She thinks ten years later the only thing that keeps her from the chopping block is Ryan. Her bulwark. Or maybe they’ve forgotten about her. She lets the cat in as it scratches at the door. Ryan calls. He’s gonna be late again. He was able to get her to his office. It’s a front: a nonprofit that specializes in providing clean water for eastern Europe. In reality they pore over satellite photos, human intel, and spy ware infected computers, trying to out fox the Kremlin. They caught them off guard once. She’s gained a few more pounds, lost a little muscle. Her scars don’t bother her anymore.

Sometimes Ryan shivers in the night. Sweats. He stops when she touches him. She rubs his shoulders. Feels his skin against her fingers as she runs them against his back. PTSD follows everyone. But she’s not sure that’s it.

—

One day in the spring Ryan is trying to cook dinner again. Firebright sits on the balcony when she hears a knock. Ryan cries out and she slides the door open a little more quickly than she means to. Mountainous shoulders fill her front doorway. She beams as his eyes finds her.
“Uke what in the hell are you doing here.” Uke laughs.
“Ryan cooking?”
“Trying to.” Ryan replies. “Eat dinner with us.”

Uke helps set the table after Firebright wipes the dust off. The scent of tomatoes from the spaghetti fill the room as Ryan brings it in. They sit down to eat. It’s quiet for a moment. No one wants to make the first move. Ryan shows a small grin.
“I’m here to train some airborne guys on the base. It’s a tight schedule.” Uke offers.
“No time to play?” Ryan asks.
“Just tonight. Things look like they’re going well for you.”
“I don’t know about that. If Ryan runs on the treadmill any harder it’s going to fly through the wall.”
Uke guffaws. “This place reminds me of home.” Uke takes a resistant bite. “Ryan this is…digestible.”
“Thank you. And to your point, it’s falling apart. The city I mean.”
“Yours is from a different war I think.”
“Oh?”
“Lying politicians, not bullets.”
“Here, here.” Firebright says.
“It hasn’t gotten any better since you came back?” Uke asks Firebright.
“Before I left it was bad. It’s getting worse. Like a cancer.”
“It makes me wish for the battlefield again. They don’t let me go out anymore. Say I’m too old. Now I train young men to bleed for our country.”
“Well you are balding.” Ryan says.
“Ohkay Staypuft.” Uke shoots back. His eyes widen. “By the way, my wife is expecting again. I’ve been wanting to tell you. It’s a boy.”
“Oh you old dog.” Ryan says.
“That’s great news.” Firebright says. “What will you name him?”
“I haven’t decided.” Uke’s eyes twinkle.

They swap war stories well into the night. Three bottles of wine are consumed. Uke stays a little longer than he should. Hugs them both with wide arms when he leaves. Tells them he’ll be back in a year to teach more American boys how to fight wars. Then his taxi is gone.

Firebright goes to bed a little drunk. Ryan stays at the balcony, his years flowing out before him like a film.

Uke

Her and his time is spent walking down town in Anchorage, near the park strip. It’s an oasis among the broken buildings. There’s a market there on the weekends. Much of the rest of the town is ruined. Anchorage long ago gave up on the rest of the city. The cops moved their headquarters downtown. The rich only live here now, they abandoned hillside, the ones who stayed anyway.

The shadow of it follows her, The ghosts of her past fly by her window as she drives it all, the run down homes, the hollowed out box stores. She feeds the increasing homeless at the food kitchen sometimes. Occasionally makes it to her Krav Maga. It’s juvenile and the instructor is often misguided.Sometimes she visits her mother, her friend’s parents. The kids she grew up with are gone, moved or addicted to things. One boy she used to know drifts in and out of his mother’s house. You have to let him go. She wakes thinking she’s dead. But it’s just night and the sirens comfort her.

—

She’s sitting at her desk scrolling through satellite pictures of a half burned out church when he calls her. His voice is unnaturally calm. He tells her they need to talk.
“Where?”
“Park strip.” She feels a tingle in her spine.

He’s already waiting for her when she crosses the street. He’s alone in a field of dandelions, they stick to his suit trousers until the breeze pulls them away.
“What’s going on?” She says and he pulls her in for a kiss but stops.
“Uke is dead.”
Her gut falls stories and the round scar begins to itch. “When?”
“Two days ago. Took out half a platoon. They blew him to pieces in a school.”
“Shit, Ryan.”
His eyes are a little red but he shakes his head. “He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.” She looks at him, waiting for the other foot to fall and she knows exactly what the foot will sound like. She doesn’t wait.
“I’m going too.”
“I know.”
She kisses him then in the field. They stay for a moment.
“I should probably know what we’re doing.”
“He’s got a wife and two kids behind the eastern front. They’re being hunted. The Russians don’t know where yet.”
“Clock racing.”
“It’s my preference.”
“Used to be.”
He shoots her a look. “That’s the danger.”
“Let’s get to work.”

Ukraine

The whirring of the jet engines causes his ears to ring long after they’ve landed. It wasn’t ever that noisy before. She follows him out of the plane, steps funny on the tarmac. “Ryan.” They turn.
“Vlad, you old bull dog.”
“Welcome to Kyiv.” They walk into an airplane hanger. Two dozen or so Mercs mill around, meet and greet each other. Ryan and Firebright are ignored. A few throw a football across the sprawling building. Voices echo against the metal walls. A table is set up in the middle of the hanger. Second hand flak jackets litter it. Used Kalashnikovs and knee pads. Kevlar and camelpaks. “Take what you need.”
“Good, we didn’t bring shit.” Ryan picks up a very well used AK-74. “You don’t have anything newer?”
“Not for free.”
“I don’t need free.”
Vlad smiles a big Ukrainian smile. “Come with me.”

They exit the building. “Guys in there are giddy.”
“War is a happy place for the warrior.”
She takes stock in Vlad. He’s five foot ten or so, tall for a Ukrainian. He limps. A little too chipper, even for a mercenary. “You’re making money on this.”
“Got to follow the hustle.”
She stays quiet. Vlad feels it. “You think America is losing money on this? Pah!” He looks at Ryan and Ryan shrugs. “If the US was losing money, they wouldn’t be here.”
“Fair enough.” Ryan gives her a knowing grin.

Vlad stops at a shipping container. It has three locks. He makes a show of opening each one. “Kyiv Airport’s Fort Knox.” He says joyfully. Then he opens the doors, they swing with a long cry. Boxes of ammunition. Bundles of weapons. Standard American weapon systems, a few grenade launchers. Kevlar vests still in their bags.
“Shit. How much is this going to cost me?”
“Cheap.”
“Bullshit.”
“We’ll burn that bridge later.” Vlad then pulls Ryan close. Ryan smells his breath. “You’re going over the line, no?”
Ryan nods carefully.
“We’ve…” Vlad holds up a hand to her.
“You’re doing something I would do if it wasn’t for the artillery shells stuck in my leg. You take these on credit.”
“That’s an expensive charity.” Ryan says.
“I don’t expect I’ll see a return.”
“Maybe not.” She says. He looks at her. Really looks. He nods in approval.
“When you’re done come find me. No one is going to steal this junk. It doesn’t shoot the right bullets.”

Ryan turns to Firebright and she sighs. “This is looking great.”
Ryan grunts in reply. He starts pulling boxes off the shelves. He finds a standard issue Ukrainian weapon. Checks the action. Dry fires. It clicks responsively. “This one is mine.”
“I’ll take the Malyuk.”
“Going native. Remember we never want to shoot these.”
“I want something that if I have to shoot, I can find ammo for.”
“Sound logic.” He pulls a duffel bag off the shelf. He drops in extra Kevlar plates. “I don’t think the old vest will fit me anymore.”
“Too much zhyrna yiza.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the golden arches.”
“Do we want NVG?”
“More weight, what’s wrong left your cat eyes at home?”
“I hope she’s getting fed enough.” He puts his hand on her shoulder. She relaxes some.
“You think we’re too far over the hill to come back?”
“I mean I tripped on the tarmac.”
“I saw.” Ryan giggles.
“Laugh it up, asshole.”
“I’m serious.”
“I think it’s gonna be tough. Maybe messy.”
Ryan winks at her. “Vlad left the keys to a Land Rover. It’s old but sturdy. We’ll take it as far as the checkpoints allow.”
“How far to the AO?”
“Six kilometers. A heartbeat. The village fell four days before Uke got zeroed.”
“Do you think?” She stops.
“Go ahead.”
“Do you think he was trying to make it home?”
“I know he was.” Ryan shifts in his boots. He nods to himself. To her.
“How long do we have?”
“Until they find the family? 48 hours tops.
“Clock Racing.”

—

The dirt spins under the tires as she weaves through Ukrainian traffic. “Somebody ought to tell these psychos there’s a war on.”
“Keep an eye on the sky.” Ryan says as he shifts through his GPS.
“I can’t without crashing.” A car cuts her off. “Layno!” It’s coming back quickly.
Ryan looks up puts his hand on the dash to steady himself. “Once we’re over the line we’re gonna make a pit stop.”
“Where at?”
“The school.” She brakes for a babushka crossing the road, looks at him briefly.
“We’ve got a job to do.”
“I know, I’m doing it.”

The first checkpoint is merely a requisitioned bus stop. The soldier distractedly puts his hand out and their aged passports, courtesy Vlad, don’t bat an eye. The road becomes worse. Then worse still. Signs in English Russian and Ukrainian warn of drones, mines and sniper fire. “You are entering a War Zone, Turn Back Now.” She keeps an eye to the sky. No birds. No wildlife. Where do the animals go?

The second checkpoint goes well too, if not a little longer. “After this check point,” The guard says in dialect, “If you plan on returning it may be difficult to get back through. Are you sure you want to leave?”
“Yes.” Ryan replies without hesitating.
“You will be in contested territory. God go with you.”
As they pull slowly away Firebright steers around a crater. Left over artillery scar. “Do you see those soldiers?”
“Their uniforms fit funny.”
“Too big.” She affirms.
“This fucking shit.” He says and looks angrily out his window.

Wreckage

The ride is smooth for a mile, but slow. Burned out vehicles clog the road way, sometimes there is no roadway. Crow picked skeletons in some places. All in Russian uniforms. The 4×4 handles the shoulders of the road well. The shocks get a work out as they cross over broken metal things. “Next right.” Ryan indicates. She turns the wheel.
“How far?”
“Ten, fifteen minutes.”
She looks at the sky again. “Sun’s dying.”

The failing light paints an explosion of purples oranges and reds. Silhouettes of cars cast the human wreckage against it. They see the darkness of the school. He puts his hand on her arm as they approach.
“Quietly.” She turns off the car. He rolls down the manual window and they sit for a moment. Deafening quiet. He pulls the interior light out of its socket. She opens her door with less than a whisper. They take their weapons from the back seat.
“No contact.” he mouths. She nods.

The school is blown in two, three, a million pieces sometimes. They weave through the tall, wild grass. The building haunts against the growing darkness. He falls in step behind her. She steps around glass. It’s like riding a bike.

The grass is trampled where over a dozen men tried to take the building. The doors are broken on their hinges, dangling like sentenced men. They step through them. Spent shells litter the floor everywhere. Dark dried spots on the floor. Death wounds. She counts eight. Ten. Made the cock suckers feel it.

They clear each doorway til they get to the end of the broken hall. She slips on a pile of brass. They pulled back here. Tried to take him. Five more spots where bodies fell. They collected their dead. Her hand traces dozens of bullet holes in the walls, pulls a dated paper. On it a crudely, carefully drawn woman waters plants near a house. The crayoned paper bares a dark brown stain across it. School’s been out at least a year. The paper drifts back to the floor. A doorway is haloed by bullet holes, shrapnel. The wall is half caved in. The Alamo.

“They used a tank.” Ryan’s voice in the dark makes her jump. It’s filled. Ryan safeties his weapon and slings it across his back. He kneels in a black mark of the crater. “This is him.” She looks around the room. In the darkness she sees what was organic along the walls. Pieces of pages of home work thrown asunder. Something lies against a destroyed school desk.

She focuses. A piece of fabric covered in dust against a wall. She moves away from him. Leans over. Yellow and Blue. She tears off the patch and turns back.
“He had good position here. They couldn’t break the doorway He..uh. He…” He loses his voice.

Firebright walks back to Ryan. She gets down on a knee. Puts her hand on his neck. “The round came through the window, I think…”
She wraps him in her arms. He sobs silently. They stay.

—

It’s still dark when she starts the car. Ryan pulls himself together enough to make it back. They drive in silence for a while. The headlights stay off. She keeps the engine in check.
“Drones.” Ryan says, points to a dark something in the distance. Firebright immediately skids the vehicle off the road. “Passed a culvert, 30 meters.”
Firebright rolls out of the car and shoulders her weapon. She doesn’t know what the fuck she’ll use it for.

They crouch and she follows Ryan. She looks behind her. She can’t see shit. “Tighten up.” Ryan says. She quickens her pace. He gets into the culvert first. A tiny trickle of a stream runs through it. “I’m going far side.” She nods. He crawls down the culvert to the other side of the road. “Stay well away from the edge.”

She gets in feet first and pulls herself in a good meter. She prones her weapon, eyes to the sights. She’s breathing heavier than she’d like. She counts in her head. Her shaking slows.

Then they hear it. a high pitched, quiet buzzing. It sounds like four, maybe five. A flock of death. Her hands tighten, her pulse beats in her ear. I don’t remember this. The buzzes give away their grid search. Did they see the engine warmth?

The whizzing grows in volume. Shit Her throat closes. Is Ryan back far enough? Her heart is a drum. The cold bolts and steel ribs rush into her stomach. Her clothes stick to her, sweat runs down her neck. flexes and unflexes her feet. She feels the dampness of the water soaking her Kevlar.

She fixes her eyes on the opening. The noise is so quiet, but it’s all she can hear. Where is it going? She holds her breath. The sound fades into the quiet again. The stream trickles.

“I almost want to sleep here.” Ryan says finally. They pull themselves out of the culvert.
“I don’t know how the fuck to fight those.”
“No one does. They even make Uke obsolete.”
“Uke made Uke obsolete.” Ryan sets his jaw and turns to climb the embankment. Firebright looks toward the horizon. A passing fly causes her to hold her breath.

Scarred

The road breaks into pieces. The fog thickens. Ryan holds up his hand and points to a bombed shoulder. “How much gas is left?”
“Three quarters.”
He points to a fading cut in the field. “There’s a trench system here, Lets use it to get out of the field. Village is our AO. We move in when the fog settles.” The trench isn’t really a trench. It’s a two foot hand dug slog through trash. Will this be the next fields of France? The earth sticks to her boots as she trudges.

They keep themselves out of the muck as much as they can. The lowered stance makes her back ache. He’s taking it well. She curses Ryan in her mind. They pass a body half buried by a slough-off. His outstretched fingers have been chewed to the bone. Maybe a month here. His uniform is Ukrainian. Explosions go off in the distance. “Five miles out.” Ryan says without looking. The treeline grows until the trench disappears. They stack and swing out. He fans right, she left. Guns up they get to the tree line in a hustle. She’s breathing hard again. She looks over at Ryan, his shoulders heave too. He holds up 4 fingers and motions forward. She takes point. Four hundred yards.

—

They smell smoke before they get within eyesight of the village. The fog is thick now. An orange glow of multiple campfires flutter like candles in clouded glass. The ruined church is the first building visible. It’s dome shattered in half. Faded figures drift. Firebright stops just at the edge. They aren’t noticed yet. “We should conceal our weapons here.” She says, pointing to a ruined stump.
“I don’t like that.”
“This is what I do.”
Ryan resentfully stuffs his weapon under the trunk of the tree, covers it with branches. “What’s our move then?”
“We’re FSB, no weapons. I talk, you’re shit to me. I will treat you like that. We are here to take the children to the rehabilitation center in Moscow. We are annoyed at having to talk to soldiers and round up these last two.”
“I like you when you’re mean.” She gives him a look. “Do I talk?”
“No, you never talk unless I talk directly to you.”
“Yes ma’am.”

The Village

Firebright is transformed. Her heavy breathing stops and she stands up straight, takes a moment to inspect her and Ryan’s clothes. They look the part of soldiers anyway. The black rip-stop pants and vests look expensive. Their boots are dirty. A little mud, but it shouldn’t raise any eyebrows here. Ryan looks at her expectantly. She nods. They walk. Her shoulders stiffen, her chin juts out. She marches quickly, angrily. The church tower looms against the fog. They find the road. He follows beside her, trying to look disheartened.

The fog gives way to the village, a two intersecting dirt streets lined by broken buildings, save one. Soldiers mill around it. She beelines toward it. The soldiers pay little mind as they smoke cigarettes, some warm their hands by the fire and look over their shoulders. A boy too young to shave winks at her. She doesn’t acknowledge his existence. A group of men hang around the stairs laughing and cajoling one another. She stops.

Takes a breath

“Dvigaysya, soldat.”
He looks for stripes on her uniform. Begins a sneer. She grabs him by the vest. “Ty chto, blyad’, glukhoy? Are you fucking deaf?” He flinches suddenly and she shoves him out of the way. “Any of you fuckers make me talk again and you’ll be buried here and now.” They get out of the way. She opens the door.

A bored officer with blonde hair looks up from a half busted desk. The veneer is stripped from the top. “Zdravstvuyte, how can I help you?”

“I’m Regina Vyana with FSB. I’ve got orders to retrieve a mother and two children for rehabilitation from this village.”
The officer looks past her at Ryan.
“Do you have some sort of ID?”
“Only the absolute confidence that if you hinder me getting on a train back to Moscow, I will personally send you straight to Siberia.” She stops and lets her shoulders fall. “I’m sorry. It’s been an unpleasant month. I’ve been rounding up these demon spawn all year. A drone attacked my column and all my papers are all over the road with my partner’s face, arms, dick.”
The officer chortles. “These days a trip to Siberia sounds pleasant.”
“I’m trying to be patient,” she shoots back.
The officer holds up a hand. “I get it. I’ve got Dimitri across the street hunting drones on a computer screen right now.”
She rolls her eyes. “Is he any good?”
The officer shrugs. “He’s a, what’s the word, gamer. Useless at drills. But he can pilot a drone like a robot.”
“Perfect.” Fuck.
“I know of the woman and children you seek. I got a call from some commander looking for them. I asked if he wanted me to apprehend them and bring them in. He said no, just make sure they don’t leave.”
“That’s them. What are their names?”
“Anya, the little girl, Misha the mother and…Ryan, the boy. Stupid name.”
“American.”
“They are obsessed with the Nazis of the West.”
“Cleanse it from them.”
“With pleasure. They’re living in a white bungalow just north of the village. You can’t miss it. Two stories. Newly made widow, the wails. ugh. These people never stop complaining.”
“We’ll shut their mouths.” She steps back and he salutes her. She spins on her heel and Ryan follows behind. The soldiers around the steps disperse as they walk down them. They walk across the street. She sees a newly fashioned satellite and an antenna attached to a rundown store. She leans in to Ryan.

“I need that fucking drone operator dead.” Ryan nods.


They walk together down the rutted gravel road. She stops at the edge of the building and turns toward him.
“This has to be quiet.”

No promises. “Like a graveyard.” He turns away from her and looks at the building. There must be a back door, maybe a fire escape. It’s certainly not Vlad’s Fort Knox. It’ll be easy enough to get in.
Ryan starts toward it.

Regina grabs him by the arm roughly and spins him. “Not yet. Tonight.” Ryan stops. “Right now we must find the kids. It’s almost time to leave.” She turns on her heel again and he mopes behind her. The road continues along riddled and damaged trees. Trash litters the brush around. An occasional civilian sees them coming and crosses the street. The fog chills her through and maybe something else. Almost there.

The house is alone at the end of a driveway. A rusty bike props against a tree. A forgotten swing blows in the wind. They cross over the grass, checking the sides of the house as they approach. She reaches up and knocks forcefully on the door. No one answers. “Misha?” She orders. She knocks again. “Misha?” She inquires. She tries the door. It opens. The home is dark. “Anya? Misha?” She hears the click of a shotgun. Ryan pulls her behind him instinctively.
“Mishu, ne treba! My zh druzi Orest. Misha, don’t! We are friends of Uke.” He says it forcefully. A woman appears from a darkened corner. The barrel pierces the room.
“Orest doesn’t have any friends of your look.”
“We visited him at the school last night.”
Her face falls. “What did he say?” Firebright pulls out a Blue and Yellow patch.
“That he loves you and he wants you to find safety.”

Misha lowers the gun. Her hand reaches for the patch. It trembles. She takes it, looks at it. And begins to cry. A little girl and a little boy run from behind a door to their mother. The girl turns toward Firebright. She points a bony, gorgeous finger at her.
“Why have you come here and who are you?”

Firebright gently brushes around Ryan. She falls on one knee. The little girl has beautiful brown hair. Her blue eyes pierce with anger, passion. Her cheeks are smudged and her clothes are worn but lovingly patched at the elbows.
“How old are you little one?”
“I’m 9 years old this winter. Who. Are. You?”
Firebright reaches her hand out. Anya takes it.

“My name is Sophia.”

Sophia

Ryan jerks defensively as he hears her say it. No fucking names… Sophia and Anya stay there eye to eye. The little boy looks torn between Sophia and fierce Anya. Ryan gently walks to him. “My name is Ryan.”
“Tse tezh moye im’ya.”
“I know. You’re a very strong boy.” The boy smiles a full set of teeth. “Will you shake my hand?” The little boy accepts his invitation.

The mother firms herself. “Then we must go.”
Sophia breaks away. “Yes. We haven’t much time.” She looks at Ryan. “Now. We meet near the church.”
“At the tree?”
“At the tree.” And he is gone.

Firebright turns toward Misha. “What I’m about to tell you is very important and you must listen completely. There are men coming here to take you and your children away. Ryan and I have a way out, but much of it is on foot. Bring clothes that will keep you warm tonight. No blankets No food except quick snacks. Bring what ever money you have right now. Leave everything else. They are coming very soon.”

Misha looks at her. “What happens if we stay?”
“Your children will be taken to be slaves. They will take you and may kill you. You know this.”
“Will we die if we come with you?”
“Maybe.”
Anya interrupts. “We have to go, mamma. The man scares me.”
Sophia looks at Anya. “What man?”
Misha interjects, “he came here a day ago. He asked if we need anything. He had four others with him.”
“He said we’d go on a trip!” Little Ryan says helpfully.
“Oh?”
“And he said there would be chocolates.”
Sophia brushes little Ryan’s hair with her hand. He’s so soft. “That man is not to be trusted.”
Misha decides. “We will be only a moment.”
“Ten minutes. Then we have to go.”

Dimitri

Ryan closes the door silently as he leaves. I don’t like it. He crosses the street. The fog is thicker and as the darkness begins to wane he sees only one or two soldiers in the street. Breakfast time. A soldier waves at him and he smiles back, as best he can. The soldier turns the opposite way down the street and Ryan ducks behind the ruined store. Sure enough, just at ground level, a broken window into darkness sits, exposed. He glances at the fire escape. It’s pure metal and noise. No way. He moves toward the window.

He pulls panes of broken glass out of the sill, sets them down gently. He bodily pulls himself into the window. It’s not as quiet as he’d like. A broken room with dust covered furniture sprawls before him as his eyes adjust. He moves past an old counter with an analog cash register.

He’ll be high up. Ryan checks the stairs. I’ve no weapon. He tests steps for creaks before he makes his way up them. The second floor hallway hasn’t been touched in weeks. Foot prints in the dust turn up the stairs again. He finds a closet dowel. It’s firm but brittle. Something. He puts it back down

The stairs don’t utter a squeak as he steps past the last one. Another hallway. Light. A cracked door. He gingerly steps into the hallway.

A groan mutters under his foot. He pins himself against the wall. A face wearing glasses peers into the hallway. “Privet?”

It’s too dark, he can’t see me. Ryan wills himself to be a shadow. The head ducks back into the room. Ryan waits a beat. He pulls himself from the wall.

The door is still open a crack. He gets to it. He slowly opens it. It noisily moves inward. Ryan rushes in. He finds his target during his sprint. Smashes into the boy as he turns around. The boy’s glasses go flying. The boy starts to scream as he falls. Ryan spins him over on the ground and brings his hand down hard, smashing Dimitri’s throat.

The boy’s shriek turns to a gargle he tries to swat at Ryan. Ryan beats him in the face. “Prekrati eto!” The boy forcefully whispers. His vocal cords are gone. Ryan hits him again. The boy’s mouth explodes in blood. A tooth sticks in Ryan’s hand. He wraps the boy’s throat up. The boy brings his hands up. Pulling Pulling Pulling. Ryan tightens. The boy squirms. Kicks his legs. Thrashes. Ryan tightens. He realizes he’s repeating

“He named him Ryan. He named him Ryan.”

The boy’s hands weaken. His thrashing grows weaker. Ryan tightens. The boy jerks, straightens then his hands fall, twitching in the dimly lit room. Ryan keeps hold of the collapsed throat. He releases. Dimitri moans his death. Ryan’s sweat drips down onto the boy. “He named him Ryan.” He settles back on to his haunches.
This.
His head bursts then pulls then bursts. He feels his heart thudding, trying desperately to rip itself free. His hands twitch. He brings them to his face. Pushes on his eyes. Never again.

He sits for a moment. Frozen over the boy who’s not bleeding anymore. He pulls the tooth out of his hand and drops it to the floor. He picks up the glasses. Puts it on the boy’s face. They fit wrong. “I’m sorry.”

Ryan stands up and goes to the sink. He finds a jug of water. He pours it over the computer equipment in the room. He rips the cords from the machines. He grabs a lamp and smashes the monitors. Noisy. But he almost doesn’t notice. The ringing in his ears drowns everything out.

How many mothers have I made childless. Ryan drops the lamp and stares into the dark.

Misha

Sophia shifts on her foot impatiently. The room is homely, yet small. Pictures line a mantle piece that hasn’t burned wood in some time. A singular one catches her eye. Orest, Misha and the two kids on a beach. Maybe Crimea…maybe not. This isn’t more than six months old. She pulls the frame down. “Misha it’s time.” She pulls the picture out of the frame and folds it. She puts it in her pocket. “Misha!” She calls again.

Little Ryan is the first down the steps. “Momma says I can’t take my book.”
“Not this time Little King.”
“What will I read?” Misha follows behind with Anya trailing and carrying her and Little Ryan’s backpacks.
“We will get you more books.”
“But this is my book.”
“Ryan.” Sophia hesitates as she says it. “Ryan, I will find your book and make sure you get to it.”
“But it won’t be this book?”
“No. But there are many like it.”
Anya interjects “Ryan take your stupid backpack.”
Firebright intercepts it and tests its weight. “This is too heavy.” She sets it down.
“But my things are in there.” Ryan says. Firebright looks at him. Oh boy.
“We have to be fast Ryan, you know fast?” Misha says.
“Momma I’m already the fastest boy in the first grade.”
“Then you know the back pack will only make you slow.”
Anya holding hers up proudly. “What about mine?”
“No.” Misha says.
“But momma! I’m only taking what I need. Socks, underwear and my toothbrush…”
“Go get your coats, the warm ones.” Mish furrows her brow in finality.
“Mooom!”
“Go, and don’t make me repeat myself.” She looks at Sophia and rolls her eyes. The kids go to the closet. Misha walks to the counter and looks out the kitchen window to the yard.

“My mother gave us this house when we were married. She lived with us until she died. I hated this place. Orest would come home with these stories and scars. I resented him and my mother. I was jealous. I cursed this tiny life I live.” She turns back to Sophia, tears staining her eyes. “Now all I want is to see her in the rocking chair in corner.” Sophie watches her bury her head in her hands. She doesn’t reply.

Sophia goes outside to wait for them. “As quickly as you can.” She says as she leaves through the back door. They gather a few moments later.
“Children it is very important that you are quiet the whole way. Do you understand?” Misha tells them. They nod in unison. “You are two very strong children and we’ve been through much, and we will be through more, but this time I need you to be strong. Like your papa.” They are quiet. Little Ryan is complacent. Sophia sees Anya is conspiratorial. She knows we’re in danger. “Which way?” Misha asks.
“Through the woods to south of town, to near the church. We only cross the road. We never walk it. This will be difficult.”
“We’ll manage.” Misha looks at the home one last time. Then they leave.

—

Ryan sneaks down the stairs the same way he came up. Nothing out of order. He escapes through the window. As he breaks the brush line he thinks he faintly hears someone calling for Dimitri. That was quick. He arrives at the church with time to spare.

He sits with his thoughts for too long. He pulls the branches off the weapons. Checks them. Six mags for her. Six mags for me. Three mags each for the sidearms. The actions move clean. The barrels are fine. The sights seem to be in line. Only one way to know for sure. He hears underbrush crunching. He slowly crouches and brings his weapon up.

Firebright is out first. She sees him just as he sees her. She smiles wearily. He doesn’t return it, and her smile turns into puzzlement. She gets to him and he shakes his head. “It was messy.” he says.
She rubs his back briefly. “We’ll talk again later.”
“Never again.”
“I know.”
“I mean it.” He stops. He pulls her in and kisses her forehead. She closes her eyes.
“Never again.” She repeats back.
Misha zips the kids coats. “We don’t have time for this.” Ryan pulls away.
“Yes, we need to go, ready?” He says. Misha nods.
They walk deeper into the fog as the sun rises.

The kid’s rubber boots do a remarkable job in the mud and dirt. Little Ryan occasionally stumbles. Ryan slings his weapon and tries to pick him up. “Let me down!” The boy is indignant. Ryan obliges.
Anya points at Ryan. “He hates being carried.” Misha falls into the mud. Firebright handily picks her back up.
“You okay?”
Misha blushes. “Yes, we’re just not much of hikers anymore.”
“Naw, you’re just underfed. We’ll be fine.” Ryan unslings his weapon and moves to point position. Sophia drops back into the rear. The visibility almost cuts to zero. “You could chop it with a machete.” Ryan says to no one. It goes quiet for a time.

Little squishes of steps in mud cut the silence. They reach the edge of the trench. Ryan turns. “This is the quiet part.” He holds his finger up to his mouth and steps carefully in. He helps the others down. “We go slow. Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast. There might be mines in the field, do not step out of the trench.”

They pick their way through the trench, carefully. Misha quietly pulls out a snack bar and gives it to Little Ryan. He chews on it. “I can hear a mosquito.” He says as he chews. Sophia smiles at him. Then.

She stops dead in her tracks.

Buzzing.

“Ryan run!” Ryan looks behind him and then up into the air.
He grabs Little Ryan and begins sprinting. “Faster Misha!” He yells over his shoulder. Misha runs then falls then runs some more. Anya is right on her heels. Sophia brings the gun up, looks behind and tries to sight the drone. The fog is too thick. It’s gonna see us. She turns and catches up to the group.
“We’ve got to get to the culvert!” Sophia yells. We’ll never make it.
“Are you sure it’s not Ukrainian?” Misha asks as she stumbles again.
“You don’t hear those.” Ryan says. He turns and pulls her up, pushes him ahead of her. “Come on momma, we gotta go.” Misha grabs Anya’s hand and pulls her along. Firebright is easily keeping up. We’re going too slow.

Sweat stains Misha’s back as she tries desperately to keep pace. Anya begins to cry as she runs.
“Don’t stop Anya!” Then Misha stops. She turns. She looks at Sophia. She knows. Misha turns to Anya and forces a piece of fabric into her hand.

Misha pulls her self out of the trench.
“What are you doing?” Ryan yells. Little Ryan starts kicking to be let down. Ryan holds him tighter.
“You keep running Anya!” Misha calls. Then she sprints, flies along the trench. She gives Sophia a parting look as she runs by.
“Ryan keep going!” Firebright pushes him and he spins. Little Ryan watches over his shoulder. Anya runs as fast as she can. Misha disappears into the white. The buzzing grows. It’s still coming.

Anya stops and turns. Sophia sprints past Ryan to Anya. “Come on girl.”
“We have to wait for momma.”

—

Misha runs as far as she can. Her lungs can’t pull enough of the air. She runs harder, Just a little more. I’ll run to Spain. The buzzing flies past her ear Here I am. She sprints and falls into the dirt. She pulls herself up. Come on. Misha throws a handful of mud at it. She runs faster. The buzzing grows louder. She zigzags across the ground. Her ankle lands funny and fire flies through it into her mind. She falls. Tries to get up. The piercing shoots through her body. She cries out. The ground is cold. She puts her hand on it. The dirt stains her fingers. She feels the earth.

The buzzing grows louder. She slowly pulls herself to one foot. A dark object flies toward her. Her breath heaves against her chest. She lifts her head. Orest. She smiles.

—

“Anya, come on” Sophia says, but Anya will not budge. In the distant white a clouded orange flare pops. The buzzing stops. Everything is wrong.

Anya screams and pulls herself out of the trench.
“Anya, no!” Ryan turns to give chase.
“Ryan stay!” Firebright commands as she climbs out. “Land Rover!” And she sprints.

She follows the tiny foot falls until they’re muffled. Sophia stops. The enveloping fog hides the world. She runs one way. Then the other. This ground will explode. She loses all sign of Anya for an eternity.

Sophia stops running. Pulls her weapon up. “Anya.” She calls. Where the fuck are you baby? The field of dead grass doesn’t answer. Then little footprints. She follows them, sees a figure as she walks: Anya fallen on her knees. She stares into the sky. Sophia carefully picks her way to her. “Anya honey we have to go.”

“I can’t find my momma.” Firebright slings her weapon and scoops Anya up. Her face nestles into Sophia’s neck. Anya’s violence is released in sobs that shudder against Sophia’s heart.

“I’m so sorry baby. I’m so sorry.”

The Fog Lifts

Sophia carries Anya down the trench. They carefully make their way forward. They pass the carcass of the soldier. Anya looks the other way. So does Sophia. Her arms burn as they get close to the road. She hears voices. Russian. The familiar sound of solid violence against skin.

She puts Anya down. “Anya I need you to stay in this trench. No matter what you hear. If I don’t come back soon, you must wait until night then walk down that dirt road. Don’t stop until you see men wearing that patch.” She points the Blue and Yellow patch Anya has in her fist.
“Don’t leave me.” Anya whispers looking at the ground.
Sophia grabs her head in her hands and kisses the top of her head. “I will protect you.”

Then she turns. She unslings her weapon. Safety off.

The Man With Chocolates

Ryan stands for a while with the boy. “We’re gonna go get the car, okay bud?” He says. He trudges through the trench, his ears begging to hear footsteps behind him. They don’t. The boy is light and his tears soak Ryan’s collar. This fucking shit. The mud is manageable even with the weight. He’s glad to bear it.

—

They get to the road and Ryan squats down. No Firebright, no Anya. “We’re gonna cross.” He says to Ryan.
“YA tak ne dumayu.”

Ryan spins and tries to pull up his weapon. A baton smacks against his shoulder. He stumbles. Two sets of hands grab him and pull him onto the street. They throw him down. A man stomps on his arm as he tries to get up.
“I think you fucked up.” Little Ryan begins to run away. Another set of arms grabs him. He kicks and screams. The hand reaches up and slaps Little Ryan across the face. It turns bright red with the sting.
“Don’t you fucking touch him!” Ryan says trying to get up. The baton smacks across his chest. He falls back. A pistol points into his face. He smells the gun oil.

“Where is the woman?”
Ryan settles. “I’ve had many.”
The man laughs. He smacks Ryan with the baton again. “Where is the woman?”
“Stop hitting me. I thought you handed out chocolate.”
The man guffaws and hits him again. “I want you to know that you made a mistake bringing a spy here.”
“She’s not a spy.” Ryan manages.
“What?” The man hits him again. It’s starting to hurt.
“She’s not a spy.”
“Oh?”
“Not only. That’s the reason.”
“What reason?” The man kicks Ryan. He feels the Kevlar begin to break. Hurry.

—

The officer turns to the 4 men. “Look out in the fog. She’s hunting us.” A squeeze in his throat. The men kneel and pull up their weapons in a staggered formation. They scan. A quiet pop somewhere. a flash of light. A soldier’s head is split. He falls over, jerking. “Ryan lay down and close your eyes,” a voice calls out in Ukrainian.

“Who saw that?” He squeals. His soldiers don’t reply.

He points into the fog and shoots a round. A reply whispers past grazing his neck. He grabs it and dives to the ground. “Kill her!” he squeaks. She’s fucking somewhere! A three round burst hits a soldier across the chest. The man crumples and breathes raggedly. Darkness grows around the body. “Where is she!” He screams sideways at Ryan. Ryan lays back.

The man backs up a little. A snap. Another soldier grabs his stomach screams and drops his weapon. He doesn’t wait to see the ending. He turns and runs runs runs. Pops. He hears the last soldier’s death moans. That Nazi Bitch. Wait till I bring more. He hears a fizz. He screams too. Starts to zig-zag. His tall boots slap against the ground. The tree line is close. I’m going to kill you from the bushes.

A snap of his femur causes him to stumble. He falls. Wetness fills his boot immediately. Not mortal, yet. He drags his bad leg. Gets the rhythm. starts to gain ground. A pop and he feels his stomach go. As he falls he sees a metal plate. His final scream is cut short.

Firebright

She pulls herself from a prone position down the road after she sees the fire flare out. Her legs protest as she moves on the dead bodies. The fog gives way to Ryan and the boy. She runs toward Ryan. Her hand shakes as she slings her weapon. She flexes and unflexes her hands.
“Are you okay?”
“Check the boy.” Ryan says as he painfully sits up. She turns. Little Ryan sits on the ground with his knees drawn up. He’s covering his ears and squeezing his eyes tight.” His face is covered in blood.

“Honey, are you hit?” She asks frantically. She sweeps her hands down his body, pulling on his clothing. “Where’d they get you?” He doesn’t open his eyes. She checks his head. He’s fine. He’s okay. She wipes the blood off his face with her sleeve. “Did it get into your eyes?” Little Ryan shakes his head. “You keep your eyes closed.” She looks back at Ryan. “Are you mobile?”
“Yes.” He stands and checks his bruises. “Wouldn’t be for much longer.”
“Take the boy up the road. Get to the Land Rover. I’m going to get Anya.” Ryan scoops up the boy again and begins limping toward the vehicle.

Sophia gets to the trench. Anya is rocking back and forth in the mud. Sophia climbs down.
“Are you a ghost?”
“No baby, I’m right here.” Anya stands up and hugs Sophia. Sophia lifts her. “I want you to keep your eyes closed til I say, okay?”
“Yes momma.”
“Honey?”
“Yah?”
“I’m not your momma.” Anya tightens her grip.

—

They catch up to Ryan a hundred yards toward the car. They move off the road. They pass their culvert. “Where were you earlier?” Ryan shuffles past it. “Piece of shit.” They see the car. Ryan sighs with relief.
“We’re not there yet.” Sophia begins to say. Then they hear car engines.
“Had to say it!” Ryan says as he doubles his pace.
“Fuck me.” Sophia says. Sorry kids. The car sits alone on the shoulder. It’s intact.
“Cover!” Ryan says as he collapses to the ground. Sophia follows suit and pulls her weapon up.
“Hold your breath.” She whispers to Anya. They lie still. Three old soviet cargo trucks zoom past the Land Rover. Firebright steals a glance. Young bloodied boys lean out of the backs, smoking cigarettes. They disappear into the fog.
“Medical column.” Ryan says.
“Hurry up.”

He gets into the car and just as he’s about to start it they hear braking. Then a reverse.
“Goddamnit!” He yells and starts the car. He puts Ryan in the back seat. Firebright follows suit. He shifts the car into the reverse. She climbs in as they’re moving. “Keep your heads down little ones!” He yells.
“Deep breaths,  Ryan.”
“Right.” He turns the car around.

Sophia looks behind. She swaps mags in her weapon, tosses the used one on the floor. The trucks flash muzzle fire. She leans out of the window and shoots back. I hate this part. The road bounces her around, her shots are wild. “Keep it steady!”
“No fucking way!”
“They’re gaining!”
“Keep fucking shooting!” The trucks grow in size. She finally hits a passenger. The truck swerves but it keeps coming. The action locks open.

“Four mags left!” She reloads without breaking sight. Fires again. She hits a tire. The truck swerves again but it still gains.

“Drones!” Ryan yells.
Shit. She turns. Drones in the sky fly toward them. Dozens. Tiny little toys. Ryan accelerates. Futile.

Time slows. She holds her breath, reaches over and grabs his hand. Ryan looks at her. “I love you.”
He wipes his eyes and stares down the road. The drones fly past them. One of the trucks behind explode in vengeance. Ryan breaks into a laugh “Fuck yah! Eat shit you…”
“Ryan!”
“Sorry kids.” She lets herself breathe. They pull away. She turns and rests against the seat.

“Drones are coming back” Ryan says in the silence. Firebright turns. She rolls her window back down. “Don’t shoot.”
Firebright looks again. They’re escorting us.

A Platoon of men wait for them as they pull up to the checkpoint. A tactical sits in the middle of the road, it’s LMG pointed right at them. Over a speaker: “Driver and passengers throw out your weapons.” They oblige. “Driver and passenger, get out of the vehicle slowly. Lay on the ground with your hands on your head. Interlock your fingers”
They get out. “Americans with children!” Sophia calls out in dialect as she puts her hands on her head.

“Shcho?”
“We are American friendlies with two children!” She yells again.
“Driver and passenger, lay on the ground.” They do. A squad of men move toward them with their weapons drawn. A soldier opens the door. “Two kids here.” Sophia looks at Ryan. He lifts his head and smiles widely at her.

Home

The medical tent is busy. Men walk in and out. Sometimes holding each other, sometimes not. The four of them sit on a bed in a corner. Little Ryan sleeps in Ryan’s arms. Anya sits next to Sophia, while Sophia braids her hair.

“Sophia.” Ryan looks at her.
“Yes, dear?”
“No more after this.”
“No I don’t think so.”
“But if it has to happen.”
“I won’t ask you.”
Ryan interrupts her. “If it has to happen again, I’ll do it. A million times I’ll do it, for you.”
She traces the outline of his body with her eyes.

He falls asleep soon after.

—

A portly woman in uniform walks through the door. Sophia kicks Ryan awake.
“Good afternoon.” The woman says in English. It sounds unnatural.
“Hello.”
“I have taken the liberty of booking you flights back home. You do know that being here is a serious violation of our laws, so if you do come back, we’ll be keeping an eye on you.” Her eyes sparkle. “But you will be allowed back.”

Sophia nods. “What about the children?”
“They are going to see their uncle, You said Vladimir was his name?”
“Yes.” Ryan replies.
“Okay, we’ve contacted them. He should be arriving shortly. You’ve done this family a great service.” She squeezes Sophia’s arm.

“Our country thanks you. Is there anything else we can do?”
“The boy is missing his favorite book. When he wakes, ask him which one it is. Please get him it.”
“Of course.”
“It is important.”
“I understand, I will ensure it happens.”
“Can we get some food?” Anya asks.
“Yes,” The portly woman answers. “Our mess hall is open to you at any time.”
“Let’s go.” Sophia says. She gets off the bed. Anya’s hand finds hers. “Do you want anything?”
“We’ll be out shortly.” Ryan says.

They find digestible grub in the mess hall and make their way to a metal picnic table outside. Anya slowly chews her food while Sophia downs gallons of water. Trucks drive by and Anya watches them as she eats. They’re quiet. Anya reaches out and touches Sophia’s thigh.
“What is it honey?”
“Will I be alone?”
“You’ll have Little Ryan.”
“But not you?”
“I’ll always protect you.” Sophia fishes a folded picture out of her pocket. She flips it over and writes on it. “If you ever need anything. Anything at all. You call this phone number just as it’s written. “I’ll be here in 24 hours.”
Anya takes the picture. “It’s momma and papa.”
“And you.”
“Thank you.” She hugs Sophia and Sophia feels a deepness in her. They sit for a while as Sophia holds her.

“Will it ever be safe for me to go find momma?”
Sophia sighs and pulls Anya’s head up.
“I don’t know baby.”
“Spodivayusya, shcho tse stanetʹsya.”

Sophia kisses her on the forehead. “I want it to be too.”

Anya nestles her face into Sophia’s neck.

They stay.