Page 2 of Freeing Lark

Inside wasn’t detached. Inside lived faces. Names. Eyes that never closed. He’d spent nearly two decades chasing monsters across continents. Afghanistan. Iraq. Somalia. The Philippines. Places most Americans couldn’t find on a map. He’d stacked bodies higher than he’d ever admit aloud. He’d pulled triggers in darkness. Made plans that led to deaths. Called in airstrikes. Directed missiles. Watched buildings disappear.

Some deserved it. Some lived in the gray areas that only existed after midnight through a thermal optic. He’d learned early that unwavering certainty was a luxury.

Bullet waited. “So... karma?”

Hoot exhaled. “I don't know.” That earned everyone’s attention. “I’ve seen evil men live long enough to become grandfathers.” He set the part he’d just cleaned onto a rag. “And I’ve seen innocent kids die before they learned multiplication.”

Voodoo nodded once. “No argument there.”

“So if karma exists...” Hoot continued, “...she works on a timeline I don’t understand.”

Dell grunted. “Fair.”

Bullet wasn’t finished. “But what about us?”

The room became still again. “What about us?” he repeated. “We’ve killed people.” No one answered. Bullet swallowed. “I know they were bad guys… mostly. I know it was war… sorta. But…” He looked around the room. “…doesn’t that catch up eventually?”

The question hung there longer than anyone liked. Dell broke it with a scoff. “No.”

Bullet looked at him. “No?”

“No.” Dell began folding the map. “We’re not executioners.”

“We literally execute people.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t.”

Dell leaned forward. “We’re weapons.” Hoot looked up for the first time since the conversation began. “When command points us somewhere...” Dell mimed squeezing a trigger. “...we do our job.”

“You don’t ever think about it afterward?”

“No.”

“You ever lose sleep?”

“No.”

Voodoo laughed. “He’s either lying or a psychopath.”

“I’m not lying.”

Ma zipped his medical bag. “I’ve patched up enough civilians to know life’s unfair. Doesn’t mean there’s some cosmic accountant balancing spreadsheets.”

Atlas nodded. “I believe consequences exist.”

“Meaning?”

“If you’re cruel, eventually people stop trusting you. If you’re selfish, people leave. If you’re reckless, eventually you get someone killed.” He shrugged. “That’s not karma. That’s math.”

Atlas liked that answer. “So you’re saying stupidity compounds with interest.”

“Exactly.”

The room chuckled again. Hoot listened without joining in. His thoughts had drifted elsewhere. To a mud-walled compound outside Kandahar. To a man who’d reached for something beneath a blanket. To Hoot firing before he confirmed what it was.

It had been an AK. He knew that now.