***
The Mississippi air was thick with bugs and heat. Red maples and dogwood trees stuck into the air, bare of their colorful leaves. The cruiser’s tires crunched over sticks, dead grass, and mud. Brooke had followed the signs for the small motel, which lay just up ahead.
The motel was nestled in the depths of a drying swamp. A single light illuminated the front window next to the door. The shutters around the windows sagged. Chips of paint revealed the rotting wood underneath. Brooke brought the nose of the cruiser to a wooden log, which acted as a perimeter for a makeshift parking lot. The cruiser was the only car there.
“Wait here,” Brooke said.
She unbuckled her seat belt and headed inside. The door squeaked, and an old, wrinkly woman sat behind a small counter. A tiny fan blew her thin white strands of hair backward, and an old sitcom rerun played on a twelve-inch black-and-white television. Brooke had to hit the small bell on the counter to get the old woman’s attention.
“I was hoping to get a room?” Brooke asked.
The old woman led Brooke, Eric, John, and Emily around back, each of them carrying their packs. The old woman didn’t say anything when they passed the bullet-riddled cruiser on their way around. Brooke wasn’t sure if that was because the she just couldn’t see it or if she was too eager to get back to her show.
The room she gave them was small, damp, dirty, and hot. But all of that fell to the wayside at the sight of the two double beds against the walls.
“Awesome,” John said.
The sun set, and after a quick dinner of MREs, John and Emily passed out. Eric agreed to take the floor and give Brooke the remaining bed, but neither of them could fall asleep as quickly as the kids. They whispered to one another, trying not to wake either John or Emily.
“You know, I’ve always hated MREs,” Eric said. “But for some reason today they were incredibly delicious.”
“I’m just glad I was able to get Emily to wolf some down. She’s always been a picky eater.”
Brooke kept adjusting herself on the bed, looking for the cool part of the sheets. The heat was different here than in San Diego. It felt heavier, more humid. She had never sweated so much in her entire life.
“I can’t believe this heat,” Brooke said.
“Must be all of that sexual tension,” Eric said.
Brooke had to cover her mouth to stop the burst of laughter that erupted.
“It wasn’t that funny,” Eric said, sheepishly. “Besides. I don’t think Jason would approve.”
It was the first time Brooke had heard Eric mention her late husband. She knew the two of them had served together. She knew that Jason had saved his life, but she never understood how the two of them got along. They were polar opposites.
“Why didn’t you guys stay in touch?” Brooke asked.
“He had you guys, and I had my military career. There wasn’t much else I wanted to do besides fly. The tours in the Middle East were just a pit stop.”
“How did you know you wanted to be a pilot?”
“Top Gun.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“What? It was a great movie.”
“It’s got to be more than just that.”
Eric hesitated. He drummed his fingers on his chest. “Actually, it was my dad. He was a pilot. Commercial. Not military. He would take me up when I was little. When we were up that high, I didn’t feel so small. Everything else looked tiny except me for once. He smoked like a chimney, though. Lung cancer got him while I was in high school, and the flights stopped. I couldn’t think of anything else but getting back in a plane. A recruiter came to my school one day, and that was that. I enlisted the day after my high school graduation.”
“I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Thanks.
“Do you regret it?”
“Joining? No.”
“I never asked Jason why he joined.”
Brooke felt a stab of guilt over that. Of all the things she had learned about her husband, she’d never asked about what was probably the biggest decision of his life. She knew that he’d loved his job, that he found purpose and meaning in it.
One night after he came back from his second tour, he broke down while they were lying together in bed. She wasn’t sure if she should pry, but he ended up telling her about a house raid they had gone on. The father pulled a gun on them, and Jason had to take him down. It was his first kill.
His superiors told him not to dwell on it. He was on a mission with an objective, nothing else. If someone decided to try and stop that mission, it was his duty to eliminate the threat.
Eliminate the threat. Her mind went back to Phoenix and the two Mexicans she had gunned down. They were threatening her children. She eliminated them.
“It’s not something you can prepare for,” Brooke said.
“What isn’t?”
“Killing someone.”
Eric propped himself up on his elbow. Brooke wasn’t looking at him. She kept staring at the ceiling, her arms folded on her stomach and her hair spread out on the pillow underneath her head.
“What happened?” Eric asked.
“It doesn’t matter now. It’s over.”
Exhaustion started setting in. Brooke could fee her eyelids sagging. Her body felt heavy, and her mind was foggy. She rolled to her side and closed her eyes.
“Good night,” Brooke said.
“Night,” Eric replied.