Роберт Уилсон - Days Since... - Thomas - Day 758

Throughout the night, many of the Soldiers came and went from his side in between bouts of sleep and work. Every word of sympathy was met with silence, reducing these brief exchanges to consoling pats upon Thomas’s shoulder. The ones that chose to give him his space stood nearby, quiet, frowning with their heads drooped into their chests. Each man would deal with it in their own way.

There would be no rays of sunshine to thaw their hearts. In this chilled silence, Thomas gathered his thoughts, appreciating James for what he was and what he wasn’t. He couldn’t help but consider that it might be best to keep his heart frozen. It was the thawing out that hurt—that coming to terms with the loss. I should’ve never let him go through with this. His head wasn’t in it from the start. I knew this was a damned mistake.

An engine groaned, and one of the Butcher’s trucks crept into the center of camp—Riley and Krenshaw stepped out. They dropped the tailgate and slid two bodies onto the pavement. The two of them smiled while looking over the bodies strewn about. “Pretty sure that’s the lot of them,” Riley said while dusting his hands off.

“Just waiting on the women now.”

Thomas took his eyes back to James. Death should be easy by now, right? You’d think that, but I guess it depends on who deserves it. He looked to the dead lying about—brought here in haste and thrown down without care. They deserved it. More will deserve it. He wiped from the corners of his mouth then scratched his chin. It’ll get easier… He knelt down. “You shouldn’t have been here,” he spoke under his breath while crossing James’s arms over his chest. He did his best to hide the wound and blood absorbed into his clothing. James appeared at peace—his eyes closed, his body still.

“You doing okay?” Riley approached, dragging the full length of one of the surviving tents behind him.

“Yeah, definitely,” Thomas lied.

“I’ll take care of it.” Riley bedded down the nearby grass by spreading out the tent.

“Not by yourself.” Thomas grabbed the other end and evened it out. “You ready?”

“Are you?” Riley’s eyes showed concern, but Thomas ignored him.

Thomas grasped underneath James’s armpits, being mindful not to shake his arms from his chest. Riley took hold of the legs, and they moved him onto the flattened tent. They curled the edges, creating a handle similar to that of a stretcher and carried his body to the pickup truck.

“I’ll ride in here with him once we leave,” Thomas said. Riley nodded as they placed him onto the bed of the truck. Thomas clutched James’s hands and squeezed, his mind replaying the scene, the carelessness. How could I let this happen? Damn…

“Nothing we could have done would have changed this.”

Thomas smiled weakly.

“I mean it. There—” Riley turned around, noticing that Thomas’s attention went beyond him.

Blaine strolled toward the truck, grinning, chatting to a few of the Soldiers that were gathered by a campfire as he passed by them. He motioned for Riley to step away, wiping the grin from his face as they approached one another. “Allow me some time to speak with him,” Blaine spoke softly from a distance, but Thomas still heard. He sat down on the tailgate, working over his knuckles. A long, deliberate breath escaped him before he spoke. “Come and sit with me.”

“No thanks.”

“You did what you could,” Blaine offered

Thomas looked to the sky then banged his fist against the truck. “Damn it! This wasn’t supposed to happen.” He pressed the palms of his hands into his forehead and groaned. “I…” His chin dropped, and he rested his forehead against the wall of the truck’s bed. “After all the shit leading up to this, for him to go— for him to go like this. It’s crazy. I just…” An exasperated breath and he lifted his head. “I just can’t believe it.”

“It’s not yo—”

“Everything was perfect, you know?” Thomas interrupted him forcefully.

Blaine stood from the tailgate and walked over to the side of the truck opposite Thomas. “Everything on paper always is.”

Thomas disregarded this tactless remark, choosing instead to pull the tent further over James’s body—a last attempt at protecting him from the world. “You get wrapped up in these damn ideas.”

“What do you mean?” Blaine helped to cover James.

“I saved him two days ago?”

Blaine paused for a moment and looked to Thomas.

“He almost got us killed then. You should have seen him run.” A stifled chuckle and an uneasy smile faded from his face. “Only got a graze. He really was a…” His mind went adrift as he stared into the folds of the tent. He really was a good soldier despite himself.

Blaine stopped fidgeting with the tent and rested his hands along the bed of the truck. “I think…” Thomas snapped his head toward Blaine, glaring at him in anticipation of another insensitive remark. “I don’t—” He swallowed the lump that had lodged in his throat. “I don’t think it’s productive to assign blame. Certainly, not on yourself. Not in the slightest. That’s all I’m offering. It won’t do any good.”

“His death is on me no matter what you or anyone says. I let his carelessness— his lack of attention run too long. I should have reeled it in.” Thomas turned his back to Blaine. “He really was a good man. Even through all the bullshit…”

“It wasn’t your place to stop him.”

“It was though.” Thomas snapped back. “We served together in Syria. He was the same damn guy there too!” His voice rose to a shout, catching the attention of the Soldiers gathered around the fire. “I know his limits, and he got carried away. He’s so damn cocky all the time. I should have scaled him back. I owed him that.” Thomas’s voice broke slightly. He cleared his throat. “It was him that got me home from six thousand miles away. He had to make the hard choice then. It was my turn, and I…” Thomas rubbed across the coarse hairs on his chin. “I couldn’t even get him four miles.”

“Here they come,” One of the Soldiers shouted, pointing to the now, fully-clothed women and children cresting the last hill of the southern service road. Thomas shot his attention toward them. Their laughter and boisterous conversations carried—their smiles oblivious to the sacrifices made to secure their newly-found freedom.

Deep down Thomas understood their elation was appropriate. He wanted it that way—set out days ago to make it that way. But in this moment, their joy scraped at his bones. The life of a decent man had been lost, and they would never truly know the extent of it. The cause was always bigger than the individual in battle.

Thomas had seen it first-hand. He knew the men that were lost in Syria, he would never forget, but to most, the deceased were the mere brush strokes in a mural. It didn’t matter to them which of the good guys made it home, only that the good guys won.

“How much more needs to be done?” Thomas asked.

“Not much.” Blaine now stood next to Thomas. “We’ll cremate the deceased. The trucks are being loaded as we speak.”

“And the women?”

“Processing will begin once we arrive at L.P.H. Fortress. Initial interviews revealed that many of them have valuable skillsets. Thomas…” Blaine paused. “This really is a big win for us.”

“And what about the kid?”

“He’s still being held at the library, but we won’t be leaving him behind. We may get some use out of him yet. Bright kid, he just needs some… convincing.” Blaine rummaged through his jacket pocket and took two envelopes from it. “I have your assignment.” He studied the envelopes for a moment then handed one of them to Thomas.