shedding its form over my hard ridges.
No, that was too much. I tried to let go, but now it was Rosa hanging on. My hand slipped on her back and landed on something hard.
I realized with a rush what it was. Her card.
I didn’t know what sort of clearance nurses were given. This wasn’t a secure facility, so a lot was possible.
I didn’t want to hurt Rosa, but she shouldn’t miss this much. I had to take this chance. I had to protect my people.
I pinched the clip up off her pants.
We separated. I cupped the card discreetly in my palm as I withdrew.
Rosa practically glowed at me. Her eyes were dimmed as if lost in a dream. I loved the look. I fucking hated that it was on me.
“Alright,” I said.
She edged out of the way and released me.
I wandered the halls, feeling the traces of her heat fade from me. In their absence was a chill, a deep lack of her.
I could have had her. Instead, I had this piece of plastic that might not even get me anywhere.
It was for the cause. It was justified.
And, she…well, she took me far away from the cause. Her pressed up against me would be the opposite.
Briefly, I wondered if it wouldn’t just be worth it.
It didn’t matter. I would only end up hurting her. There was nothing that could last between us. And I did not ever want to be the cause for more sorrow on that sweet face. Let her find a man like her who could treat her how she deserved.
Who treated her the way I wanted to.
Some minutes later, I found a locked door labeled Surgical Storage. The badge opened it.
The room was no bigger than a bathroom, full of a few metal racks and cabinets with items in plastic bags. It seemed like the right spot. I worked quickly and found my name in a folder.
Against all odds, a plastic bag with a few shards of bullet lay inside.
I pocketed it and exited quickly. There were no cameras that I could see. I guessed that most items found in surgery would have little criminal implication.
I headed out into a bright Atlanta morning. The sun was just starting to boil the air. The breezes that blew past felt as good as if they blew through the old forests my father used to take me to camp in.
Took us to camp in - me and my brother both.
Thinking about that past made me feel like a lone tree in a clearing. Exhaustion settled back down over me.
There was no way I was riding my bike like this. The engine’s growl might just rattle the stitches free. I would probably topple onto the road within a block.
I hailed a taxi and told him the way to camp and we head off from downtown. I stretched out in the back, letting the day shift off me. The driver played music that would have been at home in Kabul: ululating voices and choked flutes. My thoughts went with the melody.
I had done well by every measure the army used in my time there. A safe operation was a point of pride. The threats were real, and so were the successes. I had run up the ranks quickly and was given men to lead. They liked my directness and my commitment to their safety.
I reminded myself from time to time that it was for the cause. It was to get back to Atlanta. But it turned out that I had plenty of motivation to do well aside from that.
Not like here. Now I was back, and nothing I was doing seemed to be moving us anywhere. We weren’t even treading water, just splashing around - attracting predators.
There was so much to do, so much fighting left and already I was exhausted trying to just keep us afloat.
I’d clung to my father’s words my whole life, but he was nothing more than a preacher: a marketer and a voice for the movement. And nothing he’d said since returning had soothed my mind about this road we were on.
The Storm’s Soldiers had become more a street gang than even a militia. If I wanted something solid to grasp onto I would have to create it myself. To remind my father what we were even about.
Only I wasn’t even sure anymore. My father had been my compass. I couldn’t find north on my