I smile. “I know.”
There’s a knock at the door, and a vaguely familiar guy stands there in a tight black T-shirt and tactical pants.
Travis West has shaved since I saw him last, but his chin is still stubbly, and again, I lose track of time and wonder how many days it’s been since he introduced himself. His light brown hair is cut military short, and he has this hardness about him like a CO, but at the same time, it’s a different kind of authority vibe he gives off. And his face is still nice.
“Hey, boss,” Iris says. “I’m pretty sure he’s lucid today. He’s stopped thanking me for saving his ass and is insulting me instead. That’s a good sign.”
Travis joins Iris next to my bed, staring over me. “You’re looking better.”
“Better than death, you mean? Good to know.”
“Do you remember who I am?”
“Travis West,” I croak.
“You can call me Trav. Do you know who I work for?”
I shake my head and then wince. Why am I in so much pain? Do they not have morphine in this place?
“My team was responsible for pulling you out of there,” Trav says.
My ordeal comes back to me in flash images that are distorted and out of order, but I get an overwhelming sense of dread all the same. The ambush, the pain, the thought of never coming home …
“What can you tell me about the op?” Trav asks.
“Classified.”
Both he and Iris laugh.
“That’s cute.” Trav leans in. “What happened out there?”
“I can’t—”
“Trav probably has higher security clearance than the president,” Iris says. “I assure you, you can.”
“No, I mean, I can’t. I can’t remember it. Well, most of it.” I close my eyes and try to think back. “All I know is we were ambushed. Like they were waiting for us.”
I’m not sure he believes me, which is fair enough. I’m giving him jack shit, but even if I knew more, I wouldn’t tell him until I saw proof he’s allowed to know any of this stuff.
“I need to contact GenNex and get debriefed and moved to a military hospital, and—”
“You don’t need to worry about any of that for the moment. We’re trying to piece together the series of events that landed you here and find the whereabouts of one of your team members,” Trav says.
“There were other survivors?”
Trav and Iris share a glance.
Then Trav’s eyes meet mine, and his hardened features soften. “Chances are probably slim. It’s been weeks—”
“Weeks?”
“You were in an induced coma so you could heal, and they’ve been bringing you out slowly. They told me your memory would be fuzzy for a while, but apparently, it will come back. Maybe. Uh, probably.”
“Great. Can’t wait.” As far as I’m concerned, I’m fine with never remembering. What I do remember is bad enough.
“We found four of you in that room,” Iris says. “Our intel told us there were five on your mission.”
I lick my lips. “I remember Webb being next to me. Parsons too? Maybe?”
“Tanner Parsons is the one who’s MIA.”
That makes no sense. Parsons was always beside me. Wasn’t he? “Are you sure?”
“Intelligence shows that an hour after we left, the whole village was bombed and burned to the ground,” Trav says. “But my men took everyone’s tags. Gillard, Webb, and Courter died next to you, but Parsons was nowhere to be found.”
My brain hurts from trying to remember. “We had a lookout. I know we did. But … I’m blanking on who was where and when.”
“What can you tell me about Parsons?”
Where do I start? Tanner was the one I was closest to in our squad. We were like brothers. And now … my chest tightens at memories of us messing around and having fun.
He’s gone. Just like the others.
Trav continues when I don’t answer him. “If there’s a chance Parsons is still alive out there somewhere, we should try to find him. At least give his family some closure. But you’re the only one who can tell us what happened. You’re our only chance of being able to pinpoint his possible location. Even if it’s only remains.”
I think we both know the chances of Tanner still being alive weeks later is next to impossible. The fact I’m still here is a miracle in itself.
“How … how did I survive?” I ask.
“You’re one lucky son of a bitch, that’s all I can say. Everything missed every main artery and organ.”
“The chances of that …”
“One in a million,” Iris says. “Easy. You even get shot the correct way. Is there anything you do wrong?”
I know he’s trying to lighten the mood, but the amount of pain radiating inside me feels anything but right.
Trav clasps my hand. “It’s going to be a long and hard road, but you’re going to make a full recovery. Eventually.”
Another guy in the same clothes as Trav and Iris steps through the door. Shaved head on the sides, mini-Mohawk … definitely not a regulation haircut. “Boss, there’s a situation back at headquarters. We need to go.”