Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Me? I’m fine.” Playing dumb, I made a show out of opening a bottle of water and taking a sip. “Hot, but I’m staying hydrated.”
“Were you such a crappy liar in the Rangers too?” Tilting his head, Caleb gave me a hard stare.
“Nope. Apparently, it’s a you-thing.” I wasn’t above using the truth to get one of Caleb’s musical laughs. “And it’s nothing. I’ve come to hate fireworks. That’s all. Stupid fuckers.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Caleb’s eyes took on an earnest cast. “Lots of former service people have trouble with the Fourth. Is there anything that could help you?”
Fucking you through the nearest mattress. Hard. I thought it but didn’t say it. Instead, I hardened my voice to discourage more helpful offers. “Doubt it.”
I might be retired now, but old habits of never talking about the toll combat took died hard. I’d learned early on that the army didn’t look kindly on anything that had even a whiff of PTSD, so I kept my jumpiness around loud sounds, hatred of sticky messes, and occasional nightmares to myself. In fact, I’d shared more with Caleb than with some I’d served a decade or more with.
Taking a breath, I tried to summon a better reply, but before I could, Caleb’s radio crackled to life.
“We’ve got reports of a lost kid near the food court. A four-year-old male named Kai, short brown hair, in a flag T-shirt and denim shorts. All hands on deck.”
Leaving Sean in charge of the booth, the rest of us sped through the festival, looking for the kid. There were dozens of flag T-shirts in every direction, making searching harder. A perimeter sweep of the food court and nearby restrooms didn’t yield the kid, so we spread out.
“Better check this direction.” Caleb gestured at the paved path that skirted along the bank of the Columbia River. Even in July, the river beckoned ominously, cold and swift. The banks were steep and rocky, overgrown with trees and shrubs, but that didn’t discourage determined folks, particularly in this sort of heat. Small boats and rafts dotted the water while some brave souls waded along a shallow stretch. “But I’m praying he didn’t make it this far.”
“Me too.” I followed Caleb down the path, calling for the kid as Caleb spoke into the radio in low tones.
“We’re prepping a boat and dive crew just in case,” he reported, tone grim and eyes a stark reminder that I wasn’t the only one who had seen some shit. In my eagerness to not show weakness, perhaps I’d missed some other commonalities. Soldiers weren’t the only ones who saw combat.
“Kai? Kai?” We yelled for the kid fruitlessly. In my pocket, my phone buzzed, but I ignored it. No time for whatever the call was, but then Caleb slapped his pocket as if it were also buzzing.
“Yours too?” The back of my neck prickled. Caleb reached for his phone, but before he could, someone called his name.
“Caleb! Caleb!” Scotty called from the edge of the river near a rocky section with many large stones and logs poking out of the rushing water. “There’s a little kid in the water on a rock. We’re trying to get to him.”
Heart banging against my ribs, I scrambled down to the teens. All this situation needed was for one of them to get swept away. By the time we reached the edge of the water, the four boys had formed a human chain to reach the little kid. Each teen was up to their knees in the swiftly moving river. I had no clue how little Kai had made it out to the large, flat rock, but there he was, wet and crying and blessedly alive. My breath whooshed out all at once.
Caleb barked an update into his radio right as John scooped the kid under his free arm, and working together, the teens reeled John and Kai into the shore.
“Got him.” John grinned victoriously as he handed Kai over to Caleb. The next few minutes were chaotic, with the kid’s parents, EMTs, and other first responders arriving on the scene. I collected towels for the teens and brought one over to John.
“We did good, right?” John asked, still grinning as he bounced from foot to foot, the sort of post-mission adrenaline I knew too well.
“You did good.” I nodded sharply. “You took a big risk in not waiting for more help, but working together like that was a good call.”
“So good you could not tell my dad?”
“You really think he won’t get word of this?” I gestured at the first responders, all of whom knew Eric. Of course John wouldn’t want to worry his dad, who had lost so much already, but that cow was likely already out of the barn. “Sorry, but he likely already knows.”
“Gah.” John groaned dramatically. “I’m gonna be wrapped in bubble wrap till I’m twenty.”