She suddenly wrapped her arms around him, and they clung to each other.
“Promise me,” she begged.
“I promise,” he said.
As he held her, Benny looked into that promise. It was a simple enough thing to say in the heat of heartbreak and tears. But he knew as he said it that this was going to mean more to him than anything else. Something shifted inside his head and his heart, like a switch being thrown on some machinery that had been carefully built but never turned on. He wasn’t sure, then or ever, what powered that machinery. Maybe love, maybe hate, maybe a moral outrage so hot that it caused gears to turn and motors to combust.
There are such moments in a life. Solitary seconds on which the reality of what life means pivots and turns from a dead end toward a road of untrodden grass that stretches on forever. It was a moment in which the words he said aloud and the whispers of his inner voice spoke in perfect harmony. And Benny knew thereafter that he would never hear that inner voice as a thing separate from himself. It was as if he had caught up to the idealized version of himself that had always walked a pace or two ahead.
I promise, was what he said.
I will, was what he meant.
59
THEY ENTERED THE HANGAR, WHICH was vast but mostly empty. Two big, black helicopters squatted on the concrete pad. Unlike the ones in the first hangar, these hadn’t been stripped of parts. They looked fierce and sinister and ready to growl their way into the air. Benny had read about helicopters and thought they might be Black Hawks, though this one had stubby wings as well as rotors, and he was pretty sure that some of the stuff mounted on those wings were chain guns and missiles. Part of him thought that they were pretty cool; but the other aspect of him—the facet of his personality that had just shifted into the forefront of his mind—viewed them merely as a tool. Potentially useful, but in no way designed for anything but destruction. Even if that destruction was necessary.
He thought about the phrase “necessary evil” and believed he understood it better at that moment than ever before. It was like the sword he carried. And that sparked a memory of something Tom once told him, an old samurai maxim that describes the apparent contradiction of those who prepare for war but do not crave it.
“We train ten thousand hours to prepare for a single moment we pray never happens.”
Benny nodded to himself.
Most of the hangar was in shadows. One corner was well lit, though, and it was occupied by a big metal folding table. A woman in a military uniform sat at the table, and she rose as Joe led them over.
“Kids, meet Colonel Reid,” said Joe. “She’s the base commander here at Sanctuary.”
Colonel Reid was a stern, unattractive woman roughly the size and density of a packing crate. She had iron-gray hair cut short, a lipless slash of a mouth that was compressed into a line of stern disapproval, and eyes that had all the warmth of frozen blueberries.
Despite his immediate reaction to her, Benny wanted to get this started on the right foot. He smiled and extended his hand.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am. My name’s—”
“I know who you are, Mr. Imura,” she said, cutting
him off sharply. She eyed the four of them with the disapproval of a disgruntled diner looking at side dishes she hadn’t ordered. “I know who all of you are.”
Joe sighed.
Benny’s hand hung for a moment in the air.
“Okay, taking it back,” he said, lowering his arm.
Reid eyed Joe. “What’s your new mission status? Child-care professional?”
Joe sliced off a wafer of a smile. “They earned their spot.”
Reid shook her head. “It’s on you, then. I don’t have troops to waste minding them.”
“We didn’t ask to be minded,” said Benny.
“Right,” said Nix, “I heard that four of your guys were in the infirmary.”
Reid’s icy expression dropped to absolute zero. “You have a smart mouth, girl.”
“And you have a—”
“Okay, enough!” roared Benny. “Everyone cut the crap.”