March

Issue 30

Three days ago, I received an urgent message from Colonel Craig Wyender—though it seems like ages now. Back then, I was weak, without purpose. Alone.

Now with the night air in my face, hurtling down the desert highway toward a starry pool of light, I feel like a new man. Finally, I have an assignment, an order, a reason to live. Someone’s survival is at stake.

Six men are dead because of Irene. But it’ll be weeks before anyone knows they’re missing. That’s one good thing about classified missions. By the time they find those guys, Irene and I will be long gone.

There’s a tart, brittle smell in the air—desert sage and wildflowers. Part of me remembers that smell, vaguely. Like the past.