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A .308 bullet ripped across the quiet of the afternoon in the Mojave Desert. One after the other, the bodies of helpless geckos stopped in their tracks and fell lifeless to the ground.
“Saw that? Five in total. Even you have to admit I’m getting—”
Another bullet cut her sentence and hit right between the eyes of the last surviving gecko that peeked over.
“You missed one.”
Six’s face turned into a scowl.
“Show off,” she muttered under her breath, recalling all the times he had stolen her headshots before she barely had a chance to aim.
He let out a soft chuckle, his lips curving with quiet pride.
“You’re getting better at it, but you should work on your perception,” he said. “Then you could give it a shot—First Recon, I mean.”
Something warm slipped through her chest and into her cheeks before she could stop it. She quickly diverted her gaze and focused on the scenery before them. Under the golden light of the setting sun, the red rocks and dust almost made you forget the death and suffering rooted in the soil.
She closed her eyes and let out a contented sigh, trying to record every shadow in a memory that couldn’t be trusted. Were sights like these what made her a courier in the first place?
No—it was no use letting herself spin into these thoughts. Nothing will bring back what was stolen, but most importantly, she didn’t need it. There was a whole expanse of life for her to build a sense of duty and belonging, and with him by her side, yes, she was getting better at it.
She let her eyes fall slowly to her side, where an ever-so-silent Boone was absorbed in the weight of his own thoughts.
Seeing him like that, she wanted to give him some of the quiet inside her head, so he could break free of the pain and regret he carried, at least for one night.
“Tell me about her,” she whispered, opening a door. He hesitated before stepping in.
“I met her one night while I was on The Strip on leave. She said I looked lost. She talked a lot. Suited me fine. I never know what to say. And listening to her, it could—it could make you forget.”
The soft tone of his voice, the glistening in his eyes—it wasn’t pain that anchored him to this moment, it was love. It was a man holding onto the most precious thing he ever had, refusing to let it go, even if it cost him his life.
The woman for the future. The man from the past.
He kept talking with a dreamy smile on his face, as if his words were casting a vision right in front of him. It was a rare kind of beauty, the kind she had only imagined before, but this version was cursed with the realisation of all the things that would never be.
For the first time since they met, she wanted nothing but for him to shut up.
“Manny…” It was too much. The sting, the collapse, the resignation of knowing not even death could come between him and Carla. She shut her eyes tightly, pushing down the disgust of seeing herself mirrored in him.
“He tried to hide it, but I could see he was relieved she was gone.”
Boone, the always perceptive, the eye ahead, the spotter—he couldn’t see what she was going through, nor the solitary tear that ran down her face.
Silence stretched as the sun disappeared over the horizon, and night cast everything in shadow.
“Thank you,” he muttered.
He looked so calm and at ease with himself, reflecting the warmth of a better time.
The distant howling of a creature brought them back to camp. Six used the distraction to swiftly wipe the tears before they could betray her further.
“I’ll take the first watch.”
He nodded once, getting up from his spot on the ground.
She thought she felt him stop before fully disappearing into the tent.