Kilo-29 (Damned of the 2/19th, Book 15)

Part 56

Winter-1993
Epilogue

Heather was standing on the tarmac, in front of the car, holding the baby on her hip with one hand. Her belly was swollen, only a month, two at the most, until the new baby was born. In her other hand she held a half-rack of Budweiser, smiling radiantly as she watched me crutch my way down the steps that had been rolled up to the plane.

Kincaid was behind me, on crutches of his own. A septic infection had sunk into the muscles of his leg and he'd required surgery to keep him from losing his leg. His face was scarred, although the nearly twenty staples they'd put in his face and had been removed. His fingernails hadn't grown back, and the doctors said they weren't going to, he'd lost them running his flamethrower without gloves in an enclosed area, the backblast of heat burning his hands.

Donaldson was pulling up the rear, the staples and stitches gone from his face. He'd ended up in an oxygen tent for two weeks, pneumonia and a collapsed lung putting him in ICU with Kincaid and me.

We'd been separated from the Major's men, and we hadn't seen the Major since.

"DA DA!" the baby crowed, reaching out toward me. Heather's smile got wider, and she limped toward us, her broken and just healed hips giving her a bow-legged gait as she moved up to us, swinging the beer with her.

When I got to the bottom she set down the beer, and grabbed me in a hug, squeezing me tight enough my ribs creaked. Seven months of pregnancy hadn't gotten rid of three years of pumping iron.

"Fifty, thank God." she whispered. "I heard about the vehicle wreck. Why didn't you call?"

"I couldn't. OPSEC." I told her. "They didn't finish with the debriefing till yesterday."

"Goddamn it." She wasn't cursing me, just the part of our life that cut her out of the loop of what was going on. She pulled back slightly, looking at Kincaid and Donaldson, who were standing at the ramp. "Your new crew?"

I nodded. "Specialist Kincaid, Sergeant Ant, Corporal Donaldson, Cheif Warrant Officer Two Cromwell." I introduced them, waving at each man in turn and finishing with Heather.

"Heather, boys, just Heather to my husband's crew." She smiled. The baby held her arms out, and I took her with my left arm, my right one still bound up in an immobilizer. She crowed with delight, reaching into my shirt and digging with her little hand. "Tin! Tin!"

"You were right, Sergeant." Kincaid said, crutching up next to me right as the baby pulled Martin's head free of my shirt through the collar. "She knew right where he was."

"Isses! Tin isses!" she lisped, and gave Martin a big kiss that was mostly slobber.

"John, Nancy and Catherine got here last night." Heather said. "John's barbequing, Nancy's probably rubbing one out, and Catherine and her husband are playing with their kids."

I turned and grinned at Kincaid. "Watch out for Nancy, man, you're what she likes."

Kincaid smiled back.

Donaldson socked him in the shoulder, and he winced.

"Hey, look what we have, little one." Kincaid said. The baby's head came up, smiling, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"His name's Shads." Kincaid said, holding up the sock monkey he'd stuffed in his shirt.

"Ads! Ads isses!" the baby crowed. Kincaid smiled and held out the doll for the baby to give a big slobbery kiss to. She laughed with delight and grabbed at the sock monkey, and Kincaid laughed for the first time since we'd been let out of isolation.

"Look, look what I've got." Donaldson said. The baby looked over, and crowed with delight at the sock monkey in Donaldson's hand.

"His name's Natchez." Donaldson told her. She held out one hand, her other arm clutching the two sock monkeys close to her.

"Achey isses!" She cried out. Donaldson let her grab that sock monkey too and kiss it. He watched her hug all three, and a tear moved down his cheek.

The three of us watched the happy baby, passing her back and forth, each of us holding her as she laughed and giggled and kissed the three sock monkeys. Heather stood silently as we each held her, laughed with her, and passed her to the next man after a moment.

She didn't say anything about the tears.

She understood post mission euphoria.

"Let's go, boys." Heather said after I'd handed the baby to her, turning around and leading the way to the truck. She looked over her shoulder. "Welcome home."

I glanced at Donaldson and Kincaid, and they smiled at me. Donaldson's looked shy, and Kincaid looked hopeful, but like he expected it all to come apart any second and turn into a dream.

We got in the car, the baby between Kincaid and Donaldson. I tried to get into the driver's seat, but Heather had stared at my knee for a long moment, silently drawing attention to the metal brace I'd worn since they'd operated on it once we'd gotten to the hospital. I'd smiled, kissed the top of her head and moved around to the passenger side.

Heather started the car and the radio came on. The baby started singing along, not even close to being in tune, but with the exuberance only a small child can have. We were quiet till we got off post, and stopped at a stoplight, when Heather glanced into the rearview mirror.

"Boys." Her tone was sharp. Both men looked up, and she smiled. "You're part of my husband's crew, secrets stay secret." Her eyes were hard, cold. "Even from me." Donaldson swallowed. "You can talk among yourselves when the lights go out, but secrets are secrets."

"Yes, Chief Warrant Officer." Both men said at once.

"Let's go have BBQ." She smiled.

* * * * *

It was a dark Texas night. Kincaid, Bomber, and Donaldson stood with me at the fence. We were all pleasantly buzzed, leaning against the barbed wire and staring across the star-lit field.

"Was he a good guy?" Bomber asked.

"He saved me, John. I can't say anything more." I told him.

"He did more than that." Kincaid growled. His voice was like that now. The searing heat and the blood infection had done a job on his vocal cords.

"He was Shads, and we owe him." Donaldson added.

Bomber was silent for a long moment. I could feel the anger pouring off of him from our explanation of what had happened to so many of our friends.

"I'll get with some guys I know, we'll put together a crew next month." Bomber stated.

"I want in." Kincaid growled. He had hickies on his neck.

"Me too." Donaldson added.

"You wouldn't be out here if you weren't in." Bomber said, his Texas accent thick. "We'll need to do this right."

"But we'll handle it." I told Brett and Sam.

"We'll put Smalls on this, her contacts in MI will get us the info we want. We'll have to include her. She'll want in, she's been suspicious of what happened to Julia last summer. We'll meet up on my farm, and put together a new crew with whoever Fifty and I can recruit from people we trust." Bomber said. "This will have to be seriously off the books."

"Then it's settled." I added quietly, popping off the top of the beers and handing them off one at a time till we all had one.

"To the mission." Bomber said.

"To Shads." Donaldson said, lifting his beer.

"And revenge." Kincaid added.

"For honor." I finished.

The bottles clinked as we tapped them together and drank deeply.

And five men were sentenced to die.

We finished our beers and went inside.

Nancy was waiting for Kincaid.

A friend of Bomber's he'd gone to high school was waiting for Donaldson. Donaldson was nervous about the rest of us knowing how he felt about Bomber's friend, but a crew had no secrets from one another, so that there was nothing that could be used against someone.

Besides, it didn't matter. Donaldson was still Donaldson, still the man who'd been with in the dark and cold with us.

Taggart and her husband were in their trailer.

Bomber and his wife would be keeping each other company.

Heather would be waiting for me, our newest child sleeping in her belly, and the baby who was all tuckered out in her arms.

It was life, and it was good.