Shadow Mountain Base, Alaska
The chopper flight up to base felt grim, riddled with tension. Most of which came from Rawlings. The dude hadn’t been the same since the ASBMs had struck the Harbinger in a burst of flames and smoke. The southerner had gone through a fundamental shift after that, going quiet and still. Rawls hadn’t said a word on the flight back to base. Just sat there, shrunken somehow, staring at the vibrating wall across from him. The change in his behavior hadn’t made an impression on Aiden at the time. Nobody had spoken on the trip home. Silence had pressed down on all of them.
The weight of all those innocent souls was smothering.
But the shift in Rawlings was more apparent now. His haggard face was hard to miss. His haunted eyes. No quips. No southern charm. No rounded vowels. Just silence and stillness.
By the time the ASBMs had launched, everyone on the Chinook had agreed the strike needed to happen...everyone except for Rawlings. His voice had been the only dissent.
Aiden hoped his old buddy shook off the ghosts haunting him. Guilt could consume a man, slice the flesh right off the bone, turn even the smartest mind inside out. Until up was down and inside was out, and the only way to escape the pain was through a bullet.
He didn’t want Rawls to lose himself inside that spiral. If, or when, it was necessary, they’d stage an intervention of beer and barbeque and lance the sorrow from this last mission. That would help them all move on.
The grim silence continued after they landed. He, Mac, Zane, and Cos headed for a six-seater utility vehicle. Rawls, without a word split off from the group and headed for the elevator. Aiden was about to call after him when Zane grabbed his shoulder.
“Let him go,” Zane said. “He’s not ready to accept what happened. Chasing him won’t help.”
Mac scoffed. “We did the world a fucking service. He should accept that.”
Zane shrugged and climbed behind the wheel. Aiden called Wolf as Zane headed down the ramps to the bottom level.
“Where you at?” Aiden demanded as soon as his brother’s voice came over the line. He might as well deliver Benioko’s—aka, Aiden’s subconscious’s—message now.
“In the isolation chamber,” came the flat reply.
Aiden’s fingers tightened around the phone. “There a problem?”
“No.” Wolf paused, as though considering whether to say more. “Cap wants to try something.”
“Try what?” But his fingers loosened.
“A means of communication.”
Aiden didn’t ask who Capland was trying to communicate with. If they were in the isolation chamber, the answer was obvious. “On my way.”
He arrived in the chamber to find two huge led screens, identical to the ones in the war room, hanging from the ceiling. The first screen held the finger and hand positions for the alphabet of American Sign Language. The second screen was blank.
“You plan to teach them ASL?” Aiden asked.
“Figured it wouldn’t hurt to try,” Cap said from his chair next to the wall. He had his ever-present laptop balanced on his knees. “They can’t talk. Can’t touch the glass thanks to Faith’s shield. But nothing’s stopping them from moving their hands and fingers.” He looked up. As his glasses slid down his nose, the gold frames glinted beneath the light. “Not that they’re moving their hands. Maybe you can encourage that.” He pushed his glasses back up and glanced at the window. After a moment, he pointed his thumb toward the glass. “That one’s moved since you arrived. Shuffled closer to your side of the window.”
He knew Capland was talking about Squirrel before he followed the direction of Cap’s thumb. Sure enough, Squirrel stood there, a couple of feet to the left of the others, his empty eyes locked on Aiden’s face.
“It moved away from the others,” Wolf observed. “As you came around the corner.”
Capland looked up. “Does it respond yourjavaaneeoften?”
“Often enough,” Aiden said absently, something about Wolf’s comment scratching at his mind. He finally zeroed in on whatwas bothering him. “You said he moved before I turned the corner?” How had it known who was coming?
How had Squirrel identified Aiden? Not his eyes for sure. Even if his vision worked, he wouldn’t have seen Aiden around the corner. His ears? But his ears wouldn’t have distinguished Aiden from other visitors.
“Yes.” Wolf offered a single nod as confirmation. “It knew you were there.”
How the hell had Squirrel known that?
“Aiden, since they appear to respond to you, you should be the one to talk them. Do you know ASL?” Capland asked with a slow, measuring scan from Aiden to the window.
“Not they,” Aiden corrected. “Just Squirrel.”
