Scorpion

Four Years Ago

“Make me a promise,” I whisper loud enough that TJ—Tito Jimenez—can hear without giving away our position.

The desert heat chars my skin, and the sand beneath my stomach threatens to turn the both of us into steak. What I wouldn’t give for an ice bath right now. And a decent meal. And a good bed.

The cement building stares back at me, taunting me with its empty windows. The nonexistent heat signature is like a gut punch to all the hours we’ve already spent scoping this place.

“Don’t worry. If you get stung by a scorpion again, I’ll name my sixthborn after you.” He chuckles from beside me.

Not this again.

I pull the finger at him without compromising my position and hold on the sniper rifle. “Someone would need to be willing to sleep with you first before agreeing to spawn your offspring.”

“I’ll have you know that the ladies find me extremely charming.” Fake offense drips from his tone.

“Your mom doesn’t count.”

“But my abuela does.”

I huff out a laugh. “As soon as we get back to base, take a fucking shower. If they can’t hear us, they’ll sure as shit smell you.”

“It’s called pheromones.”

Having a spotter is all fun and games until you’re in the desert heat doing surveillance. Out of everything this job puts us through, this type of work is the worst. My main distraction comes down to my need to wash my stench off me.

An hour of this is fun.

Three is relaxing.

Six gets boring.

Eight is taxing.

Twelve? I’d be willing to kill TJ just to get out of here.

Shaking my head, I scope the parameter again. Like always, there’s not a soul in sight at the abandoned compound. A warlord is allegedly residing here. Whoever gave us the info can eat shit if they intentionally fed us wrong intel.

Our instructions are to call it in if he’s spotted, then hold position until backup arrives so we can bring him in dead or alive. But there’s been absolutely zero fucking movement in five hours. The only live thing we’ve seen is a dog.

TJ and I think the intel is all shit. Until proven otherwise, the twelve hours we’ve been here will continue to stretch to sixteen until someone grants us the mercy of taking our place.

The winds are picking up, and the last thing I want is to be caught out in the desert with our dwindling supplies. And if there’s a sandstorm? I’ll personally escort us both to the gates of hell to get out of this shithole.

I radio in to the second location his wife allegedly lives at. “Anything?”

“A kid just showed up,” Marks mutters. “No signs otherwise.”

I grit my teeth just as the captain’s voice rumbles through the headset. “Give it two more hours.”

TJ sighs. “I need to take a leak.”

Lovely.

Shuffling ensues beside me, and I glare at him when his ghillie suit slaps me in the face. He returns shortly after, and after an hour of silence, he says, “Want to play I-Spy?”

Whatever. What the fuck. Why not?

Our captain would be mortified if he knew what we’re doing for the proceeding hour. After years of playing this game during stakeouts, we’ve gotten really good at mind fucking each other with the answer.

I spy with my little eye, something beginning with S.

Sand?

No. Stratosphere.

Can it be seen? No. Is it cause for ample bickering to pass the time? Yes.

I’ve had other spotters in the past, and TJ is the only one I’ve ever clicked with. Now we couldn’t get rid of each other even if we tried.

“Meet at the pickup point at twenty-hundred hours,” the captain finally says three hours later.

I glance at my watch. Thank god. It isn’t so hot anymore, but the showers are calling my name.

“Copy that,” TJ answers for me.

I wrap the towel around my body and squeeze out the excess water from my long hair, then get dressed into my clean uniform in case the captain decides he wants our asses back out there.

TJ walks out of the bathroom at the exact same time. A grin slashes across his face when he sees me, and he lifts up his arm to take a deep whiff of his armpits. “Smells like roses.” He sighs dreamily.

I gag. “Disgusting.”

“Nice and washed just for you, roomie.”

My lips curl into a scowl as we both walk to the designated room I have the misfortune of sharing with him—as if spending fifteen hours with him wasn’t enough time for us to bond. I love him, but I wouldn’t mind some space every once in a while.

It’s one of the smaller bases in this country, and our team is only meant to be here for a couple days. Because I’m the only woman in a ten-mile radius, they don’t have the place to spare to let me bunk by myself, so they shoved me in with TJ and a sleep-talker.

My dog tags sway as we walk through the building to the rooms. Most of the soldiers have gone to bed already, so we sneak into our room without waking anyone. I slowly open the door and glance inside, but there’s no one in our temporary stay. The third person we’re rooming with must still be on a mission.

Unlucky for some.

We shuffle forward to switch on the lamp against the back wall.

“I’m fucked. If you start snoring, I’m covering your face with a pillow,” TJ grumbles as he plops down onto the cot.

“Ditto.” I copy what he does, except more eloquently.

I untie my boots and place them right next to my cot before lying down on the uncomfortable material. Reaching inside my pocket, I grab the picture I always keep on me. A lot of people here have wives and children waiting for them back home. Or parents eagerly waiting for their return.

The matted picture feels brittle in my grasp, but everything I want to see is still there. I think the photo was taken when I was seventeen and while my parents were out on a work trip. Gaya, Amy, Mathijs, and I snuck away to go paintballing. All of our hair is a complete mess, standing on all odds and ends. Out of the four of us, I have the least amount of paint on me, but there’s a splatter of green going up the side of Mathijs’s face, and a big red blob right in the center of Gaya’s chest.

Mathijs has his arm wrapped around me, pointing the gun in the general direction of the camera, while Gaya is holding Amy bridal-style. Each one of us is smiling ear to ear like we have the whole world in front of us, and nothing could ever get us down. We’re grinning like fools, even though the other team annihilated us.

It’s what I imagined a happy family might look like. Whenever I come back from deployment, there’s always a feeling like something’s missing. Even though I live in my sister’s spare room, it never feels like home. But out here? Sleeping in a random cot in the middle of fucking nowhere? With the chance of getting attacked while I’m asleep? This feels more like home to me.

We’re all fish out of water here. All fighting for survival while having each other’s backs. It gives us a sick sense of belonging and companionship. Like we’re equals with the same goals.

“You gonna call the lover boy once you’re back?”

I whip my head toward TJ and hold back a sneer. I don’t like when people bring up Mathijs. I’ve thought of contacting him a million times. Check up on him beyond just looking on the internet. He isn’t the type of person who carries hatred in his heart, but I don’t think I could bring myself to look him in the eyes after practically vanishing off the face of the planet. But, God, do I miss him.

“Are you going to call Kendall back?”

TJ winces. “She told me she wanted to get married.”

I snort. “God forbid a girl wants that.”

“It was our third time seeing each other.”

“And the third year you’ve been messaging each other. Get a grip.” I roll my eyes and grin his way.

Since I enlisted, there hasn’t been a day where I regretted my decision to leave home. That’s a lie—there were a great many instances where I wished I was in the comfort of my own bed instead of practically killing myself during training drills.

If I stayed home, what would I be doing with my life? Catering to some man my parents chose? Pop out babies left, right, and center just to have something to fill my days? Maybe if I continued with my initial plan, I’d be a broke journalist getting shot at for entirely different reasons.

Out here, I can prove myself. Make a difference in a way I’d never have been able to back home. With every life that I couldn’t save, there’s one that I did. One person who can go home to wish their children goodnight one more time, or eat dinner with their family.

That type of reunion isn’t waiting for me once I get back to America. But out here, faced with the prospect of debt, nothing becomes more priceless than embracing life.

I’m not out here for a noble purpose, but something far more selfish. My mother might not be proud of the person I’ve become. It doesn’t matter what insults she throws my way, I know the impact I’ve made. I’m not here to defend my country, I’m here to protect people. What’s my mother ever done but traumatized them instead?

I made my own family without her, and I’ll do whatever I can to keep them safe.