Page 50 of Point of Contact

“Good ol’ Riles.”

Silence fell, and when Trevor glanced over at him, he was taken aback to see tears in his eyes.

“Jess?”

“What a waste,” Jesse choked out. “What a goddamn waste.” He breathed in deeply a few times to regain control before sitting up straight. “I’m sorry. You of all people shouldn’t have to comfort me.”

Trevor scoffed a little, giving a watery sniff of his own. “Nonsense,” he said firmly. “Of course you’ll grieve for him, especially in a place associated with happy memories. I don’t expect you to be superman.”

“I miss him.” Jesse’s voice was almost inaudible. “We were teammates, brothers in arms, but I was looking forward to getting home and just being his friend.”

“You and me both.”

Jesse looked over at him, his eyes red. “What do you mean?”

“I was his dad,” Trevor said simply. “And he was finally at the point where he didn’t need me anymore, not like he did when he was little. I was looking forward to enjoying his friendship as adults.” His voice roughened. “The worst part is, he died and I don’t feel like I knew him at all, anything about the man he became. It tears me up inside, Jesse.”

“He was brave and smart—”

Trevor gave an impatient gesture. “That stuff, yeah. What I mean is, he went to war for nine months. He can’t have been the Riley I thought I knew anymore.” Trevor stood up and started to pace. “It sounds so stupid and unimportant, but apparently he started smoking over there. Jesse, he always hated it so much, was so against it. What changed him, and why?”

If Trevor hadn’t been looking right at Jesse, he would’ve missed seeing the expression that flitted across his face, just as quickly gone again. Trevor froze. “You know? Tell me.”

Jesse gave a vehement shake of his head, and Trevor knelt in front of him. “If you know anything, tell me, please,” he begged. “Help me understand my son.”

Jesse was pale again, beads of sweat springing up on his upper lip. In some distant part of his mind, Trevor knew he should feel guilty for causing him so much distress—Riley’s gone. It doesn’t matter anymore why he started smoking—but the gnawing desire for answers overrode that little voice in his head. “Please, Jesse!”

Jesse stood so abruptly he almost knocked Trevor on his ass, and he walked to the edge of the overlook and gazed out over the city, his hands in his pockets. For a moment Trevor didn’t think he’d speak, and then Jesse said, “There were these Afghan villagers, an old man and his teenage grandson. A few times a week they came up to the outpost to do some odd jobs for a couple bucks, the scut work we didn’t want or have time to do, you know?”

Trevor went over to stand next to him, listening.

“The kid really liked Gatorade, so the guys would slip him a bottle here and there. Maybe a candy bar if anybody had some. He was kind of like a—I don’t know, a mascot.” Jesse gave a mirthless chuckle. “Riley thought it’d be funny to teach him a couple of English curse words, and in return the kid taught him some Pashto. God, they used to laugh listening to each other trying to speak their language.”

Jesse fell silent, and Trevor just waited him out, his anxiety bleeding over onto Trevor and making his heart pound. At last Jesse whispered, “One day they left the outpost to head back to their village right at dinnertime, like they always did. I remember watching them walk off down the road, the kid swigging some Gatorade, and he was calling back ‘Fuck you’ over and over because Riley told him that meant goodbye.”

Jesse swallowed hard, and when he spoke again, his voice was raw. “A few minutes later we heard them—heard them screaming. Like these terrified, animal screams. We were all screaming, too, wanting to rush down there, but the lieutenant wouldn’t let us, said he wasn’t sending us into a trap. We had to wait till it got dark ’cause it was safer, and as soon as we could, a squad of us went down the trail and saw—Jesus.”

He broke off, his hands clenching into fists. “We found them by the side of the road, throats cut, like slashed so deep they were almost decapitated. Fuck, I’ve never seen so much gore, Trevor. Riley puked, and a couple other guys did, too.”

“Oh my God. Was it the Taliban?”

“Yeah, making a statement to the villagers about what happens to people working for the infidel.” Jesse sucked in a deep breath. “The sight of it, and the smell, was—it was horrific, indescribable, fucked all of us up. When Riley was done puking, somebody offered him a cigarette, and he took it.” He shrugged, his lips tight. “When he was finished with that one, he puked some more and had another. That’s it. That’s why.”

Despite the horror, the awfulness of the story, something loosened inside Trevor, something that had been wound tightly around his heart. He put his hand on Jesse’s arm, pulling it back again when he flinched.

“Well, thank you for telling me,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry to make you relive it, but just knowing, having an answer for something that I couldn’t explain, well—”

“If it helps you, that’s all that matters. It’s not like I don’t see it over and over in my dreams anyway.”

Jesse picked up his day pack from the ground and slung it back over his shoulders. “Let’s go. We’ll walk a couple more miles, and then eat at this spot where we can see the chapel. It’s a kick-ass view.”

Jesse set another brisk pace, but it wasn’t as punishing as it was before, just enough to keep Trevor focused on his breathing and the physical pain of exertion. By the time they stopped to eat, he was feeling calmer, his mind more clear. Trevor devoured his sandwich and apple, washing it all down with tepid water and gazing in awe at the vista below. The distinctive spires of the Air Force Academy Chapel jutted toward the sky, the weak sunlight winking off the stained glass windows.

As they ate, Trevor watched Jesse out of the corner of his eye, glad to see he appeared more at ease, less anxious about their surroundings. He still swiveled his head periodically to check the area, his face hard and set, his eyes blank as he assessed the threat level. In those moments Trevor could see traces of the soldier he’d been, and he shivered a little at the capacity for violence he could sense lurking right underneath Jesse’s seemingly calm surface...a man trained to fight, to be lethal.

Would Riley have that same look on his face if he was the one sitting next to him right now?

“Did Riley kill anyone over there?” he blurted, and Jesse jumped in surprise, his eyes wide.