DALLAS
The desert was somehow warmer this time around, or maybe it was because I’d prepared myself for it. The night sky was crystal clear. Looking up from our position on the ridge, it was like being trapped under a bowl of a million stars.
“You remember what we told you?” said Maddox. It was more an order than a question.
“Yes.”
“You are to hang back, no matter what. Stay completely out of the line of fire.”
“I know.”
“You don’t engage unless it’s bad.” His voice went ominously low. “Really bad. As in the rest of us are already—”
“Stop, already. I get it.”
He stared at me hard, the wind blowing his blond hair over one stubbled cheek. I wanted to kiss that cheek. I wanted to feel it warm against my lips, while it was still safe, still mine…
“Alright,” said Maddox. “With that in mind, come with me.”
He walked back to the truck, and I solemnly followed. It was just the two of us on the ridge. The lump was still in my throat from saying goodbye to the others.
Dallas… don’t.
It was hard not to think that way, not to imagine what could happen. But if I was going to be of any use at all, I had to put it out of my mind.
Maddox pulled a flat black case from the back of the vehicle. He unlocked it with two sharp clicks, and swung it open.
“You know what this is?”
I stared down at the weapon. Like a ghost from the past, it stared back at me.
“It’s a SCAR.”
He nodded slowly, looking impressed. “That’s right. It’s a SCAR-H, Mark 17 battle rifle. Ever shoot one?”
Now it was my turn to nod. “Yes, a bunch of times. I used to shoot Connor’s.”
“This is Connor’s.”
The skin all along my arms prickled with goosebumps. For a split-second I tried to convince myself it was the wind. It wasn’t.
“I… I didn’t realize…”
Maddox lifted the weapon with practiced ease and put it into my arms. For some reason it felt warm. The grip fit perfectly into my palm, like it was made for my hand.
“Your brother saved my life with that rifle,” said Maddox gravely. “Kane’s and Austin’s too.”
Connor’s rifle…
I stared down at the weapon with all new eyes. I was holding a piece of my brother. An extension of his life, an artifact that had outlived his body but not his legend.
“There were others too,” Maddox went on. “Names you would’ve know. Brothers of ours that Connor was willing to sacrifice himself for, and—”
BRZZZ!
A crackle of static burst from the radio at Maddox’s hip. He plucked it from his belt, just as Austin’s voice came through.
“HEADLIGHTS. THREE KLICKS OUT.”