PART 11
Holt said nothing.
Ava lifted her rifle case.
“I requested transfer after a mission where a commander congratulated me before the bodies were cold.”
Her voice stayed low.
“I don’t shoot because I like being good at it.”
She looked toward the ravine.
“I shoot because sometimes there is no one else between the living and the dead.”
That answer stayed with Holt for the rest of his life.
When Ava and Holt returned to Outpost Haven, the entire yard was waiting.
No one had ordered them to stand there.
They just had.
Dust blew across the motor pool.
Helicopters thumped in the distance.
Medics rushed wounded men toward treatment.
Ava stepped down from the vehicle with mud on her knees and exhaustion on her face.
The same soldiers who had laughed that morning now stood silent.
Sergeant Rudd came out of the medical tent with a bandage around his head.
He should not have been walking.
He did anyway.
Fourteen Rangers watched him cross the yard.
He stopped in front of Ava.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Rudd saluted.
“Widow Bell,” he said. “Bravo Three is alive because of you.”
One by one, the surviving Rangers saluted too.
Holt stood behind her, eyes red, scope case still hanging from his shoulder.
Ava returned the salute.
Her hand was steady.
But her eyes were not.
Then Private Noah Grant, the youngest of the squad, stepped forward with his wounded arm in a sling.
May you like
His voice cracked.
“I was one of the ones making jokes.”
