Rogan

by Bex Dane

  "Happy New Year to you too, Cyan."

  "Did you make any resolutions?"

  I'd read all about Christmas and New Year's and decided to embrace all the traditions I didn't even know I'd been missing out on. "I did. I want to be on time to class and never miss a day. But this snow might put a damper on that." The flurries came down thicker and clouded my view of Roxy's.

  "There's a nor'easter rolling in tonight."

  "I know. I'm just picking up some lunch, and I'll head straight home after class." From what I could see from the parking lot, the line at Roxy's would take me at least ten minutes.

  "If you get stuck in the snow, call me or Dallas. Promise?"

  "I will and thank you again for spending Christmas with me." My first Christmas. "I loved volunteering at the children's shelter."

  "Those kids break my heart. I wanted to take them all home."

  "I know. Me too." More like it made me want to run home to Milo.

  "Dallas took the World's Best Boss coffee mug you gave him to Siege today."

  "He did?" I laughed. "I had no idea what to get him."

  "No. That's the ideal gift for him."

  "Listen, I gotta go in and get my food before the snow gets too thick, but… Did you ask him?"

  Cyan sighed before she answered quietly. "I did. He said he doesn't know."

  Why did I continue to interrogate her when the answer was always the same? Dallas and Brock had no idea if Rogan was alive somewhere with Takoda, Diesel, and Blaze. Even if anyone knew, they weren't going to tell me.

  "Do you think he's alive?" I asked Cyan.

  "I hope so, sweetie. Rogan's become like family to us. All we can do is have faith and wait."

  "I'm starting to lose heart. He said not to wait for him."

  "And the only sign you've had from him was the song?"

  "Yes." Six weeks after he left, Rogan added a song to the "Beyond Taylor Swift" playlist. "In Case You Didn't Know" sustained me through the rough nights when I wondered if what had happened between us was real or not. The lyrics told me it was. He'd felt it too. He just had to leave for reasons I may never understand.

  "Someone else moved into Rogan's apartment," I said.

  "Really? Who?"

  "Some huge commando who looks like them."

  "Hmm. Is he hot?"

  "Cyan! Yes. I mean, he's attractive in a silent but might kill you while you're sleeping kind of way."

  "Well, go over there and borrow a cup of sugar. Make him some cornbread."

  "Maybe. I'll think about it." I couldn't imagine myself doing something like that. "I need to get going."

  "Okay. Talk to you soon."

  ***

  "Number sixty-nine!"

  My Roxy's receipt said seventy-two. Three more orders till mine came up. I ignored my protesting stomach and glanced out the window of the restaurant. A cute guy in a black peacoat and a baseball cap walked by on the sidewalk. He glanced at me, his eyes widened, and he pretended like a large hook yanked his neck back as his body kept walking. He stumbled to a stop and stared at me with a goofy grin.

  "Number seventy!"

  I hid my laugh and kept my eyes on the food trays passing by.

  The second time I checked the window, the guy walked by again—this time walking back the way he came, his head lowering as he descended imaginary stairs. At the edge of the window, he jumped down and fell below the window frame into a non-existent pit.

  "Seventy-one!"

  The lucky Roxy's customer holding ticket seventy-one picked up a delicious smelling tray of cheeseburgers and fries. I inched closer to the counter, ready to pounce on my order as it came up next.

  "Do you believe in love at first sight, or do you need me to walk by again?"

  The man from outside stood behind me, tufts of snow falling to the restaurant floor as he whipped his cap off his head. He stared at me with boyish blue eyes and mussed hair, looking eager to take me outside for a snowball fight.

  "Seventy-two!"

  "Uh, my number’s up." I dashed away and grabbed my order, choosing a route to a table as far from him as possible. I kept my head down and eyes on my food.

  "Are you my appendix? Because I don't know anything about you, but this feeling in my gut is telling me that I should take you out."

  He stood at my table with a tray. His lopsided smile made him hard to dislike. "Can I join you? There's no other tables available."

  My gaze flitted to the three empty tables next to us. He plopped down across from me and shook salt on his fries.

  "Man, I love Roxy's. Don't you?" He sipped his shake. "I was going to impress you with a smooth pickup line, but I'll just lavish you with my awkwardness, okay?"

  "Okay."

  His eyes watched my lips smile. He pulled off his coat and his cranberry dress shirt pulled taut against his wide shoulders. He offered me his hand over the table. "Lance Croft. I really enjoyed our first date. Can I take you out again tomorrow, insert name here?"

  I took his hand. "What?"

  "If we're going out again, I'll need your name. You know, for the police reports afterward."

  Hmm. Should I give this guy my name? He lost points in the suave department, but he earned extra credit for humor and effort.

  "Tessa. Tessa Harlow."

  "The pleasure is mine, Tessa Tessa Harlow."

  I finished my food and collected my trash. "I have to get to class."

  "Oh, where do you go to school?"

  "UMass."

  "I'm an adjunct prof at UMass. Art appreciation."

  "Wow. What a coincidence."

  "Are you from Boston?"

  "No. I came out here to go to school. I'm from North Carolina."

  "Great barbeque in North Carolina."

  "Mmm-hmm." The truth was I hadn't done my research yet like I should've.

  "Say, how'd you like to go to the Palace Theatre with me tomorrow? I'm reviewing the new production of Miss Saigon for the Boston Times."

  "Tomorrow? A Broadway show?"

  "Well, Boston's version of Broadway. I'll warn you. Miss Saigon is heavy. Have you seen it? Hamilton would make a much better first impression, but that's not till next week."

  "No. I haven't seen it. And I can handle heavy." I wanted heavy. I wanted to feel things deeply, good or bad.

  "Give me your phone."

  I unlocked my phone and handed it to him. "Don't forget. Lance Croft." He tapped in his contact info.

  "I won't forget."

  He handed my phone back to me. "Text me your address." He waved his fingers over the phone.

  "Like now?"

  "Yes," he said slowly. "To make sure you don't forget me. And it'll make it a lot easier to pick you up for our date if I know where you live."

  Could I trust him? There's no way he could know anything about me or Rogan. His puppy dog friendly routine didn't ring any internal warning bells, so I went with it.

  I texted him my address, and he flashed me a white, satisfied grin. "I'll be there at five tomorrow. We'll have dinner first."

  "Okay, bye." I grabbed my backpack and scurried out the door. Wow, my first first date, first Broadway show, first dinner out on the town, and all this with a handsome, funny teacher.

  ***

  I zipped up the side zipper on my midnight blue long-sleeved dress. My hair still covered my scars even though I'd cut it to mid-back, but I didn't want to have to explain them to Lance on our first date.

  He arrived at five o'clock, looking sharp in a gray suit. He helped me into his Range Rover and drove me to the Miss Saigon Restaurant to set the mood for the show. We ate yummy Vietnamese food and made small talk about Boston and UMass.

  An employee handed me a playbill as we walked into the awe-inspiring lobby of the Palace Theatre. I clutched the glossy paper and gawked up at the grand arched ceilings with my mouth open.

  "Can you hear the souls of Jimmy Durante, Mae West, Bob Hope—all the performers who've played here?"

  I closed m
y eyes and envisioned the workers of the past raising the marble walls, carefully attaching the opulent gold leaf accents that climbed up to heaven like majestic offerings to God.

  "No wonder they call it a palace."

  Lance directed us to seats in the third row, center aisle.

  "How'd you get these seats?"

  "I've been reviewing for the Times for years."

  We sat down, and the bows of the violins bobbed into view as the orchestra below us tuned their instruments. The lights went out, the opulent velvet curtains opened, and the music swept me away. I soared on a wave of notes through Vietnam and a war that was over before I was born.

  The passion and the tragedy playing out on the stage blindsided me and I sobbed. I cried for the poor girl in the show. I cried for Chris, her American GI husband, and I cried for Rogan. The music said it all. Rogan had died. He wasn't coming back. Senseless war had claimed his life like it had taken so many others.

  At the intermission Lance handed me a tissue. "I'm sorry if it's too morose for you. We can leave now, if you like."

  "No, no. Let's stay. Just tell me, does it have a happy ending?"

  "I don't want to ruin the ending."

  "Does it have a happy ending? I need to know."

  He shook his head. "You're going to cry through the second half too. We can leave."

  "No. I won't leave. I'm not afraid to face this."

  After the show, Lance stopped us on the sidewalk outside the theatre. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. Rogan's arms would never be my sanctuary again. His rugged scent would never hit my nose. Lance smelled polished and clean.

  "Why'd you cry so hard? I mean I know it's sad, but..."

  "It reminds me of a soldier I knew."

  "Can you tell me about him?"

  "I think he's dead."

  "You do? But you don't know?"

  "I haven't heard from him in six months. Someone else is living in his apartment. And the music... I'm sure he's dead now."

  "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. This was a bad idea."

  I stood up straight and pulled my shoulders back. "No. I'm fine. I made such a fool of myself."

  "You didn't."

  He drove me home and walked me to my door. "I enjoyed your company, even if you cried. You feel things deeply. A sign of compassion."

  He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. His hands rested on my hips.

  I closed my eyes and concentrated on his lips on my skin, his hands on my waist. No hot air balloon ride, but a calm and safe blanket surrounded me.

  "Full stop honesty here, Tessa. I'm into you. I wanna see where this could go. Let me take you out again tomorrow night. Something less depressing. I'll take you to dinner on the tallest building in Boston. Lift you up high. No more sadness."

  Should I? He was offering me a healthy, normal date. No electrical storms or explosions, but maybe that was the best way to avoid pain. Maybe slow and steady, a relationship based on respect, was the way to go. An attractive guy with a respectable job and a nice car was letting me know he liked me.

  "Okay. Thank you. See you tomorrow, Lance."

  "Seven o'clock."

  "Okay."

  Chapter 16

  Rogan

  Kabul Province, Afghanistan

  "Intel from the son checks out," I said to my team as we scrutinized the topo maps and aerial photos displayed on the tables and computers at base camp.

  "What finally broke him? The water or the knives?" Blaze asked.

  "Takoda."

  He gave Takoda a pat. "Good girl."

  "Either way, Timoron is dead, and the location he supplied is credible," I responded.

  Blaze smirked and looked down. "Still wish I could've been there to see her scare the shit out of him."

  "It's not a show. Now, back to the location. Jericho's in the cave. One hundred percent."

  I held up the image of a tall man entering a cave in the Afghan Spin Ghar mountain range. "That's him."

  "Let's go then."

  Fucking Blaze, always so eager to run to his death.

  "No. Review the plan again. If we blow in unprepared, we'll be wasting the six months we spent trying to find him.” The point of my pen marked the base of the cliff. "Takoda clears the base and takes point all the way up." My pen followed the twisted path to the cave at the peak housing Jericho. "We climb to three hundred meters and flank 'em here and here." I pointed to the west and east approaches to the main cave. "Me, Falcon, Diesel, and Blaze take the west entrance. Oz and Ruger guard the east side, catch any escapees. Warning shot to draw them out. I'll engage them as they exit. Falcon kicks them over the edge before they can blow themselves up. If Jericho doesn't surface, Takoda and I go in through the passage and engage him in there."

  "You and Takoda alone?" Falcon asked.

  "The goal is to draw Jericho out. If he doesn't show his face, Takoda and I go in. The ricochet inside the cave makes it too high risk for all of us to enter."

  "You think we're pussies? We all go in," Blaze responded.

  "If he blows himself up and we all go in, we all die. Takoda and I will clear the cave."

  "We all go in or no one goes, Boggs. To hell with the self-sacrifice shit," Falcon said.

  The loyalty of these men never ceased to amaze me. We would either succeed together in glory or die together in failure. "Alright. Takoda goes in first and immobilizes him. We traverse the crevice." The picture in my hand showed the narrow west entrance to the cave. "Based on surveillance, we'll encounter at most five combatants. My guess is no hostages in the cave, no women. If there are hostages, I'll assess it and make the call."

  They all nodded.

  "After we hit the target, collect proof of death, Blaze lights up the cave, we rappel down to the base where a helo picks us up." I pointed to a flat spot on the topo map. "Brings us back here." The men stood to pack. "Steady and slow. If the plan gets fucked, adjust on the fly. Got total confidence in this team. I'd lay down my life for any one of you and I know you'd do the same. We haven't lost one yet and this won't be the time that takes down Alpha Squadron. This'll be the mission that finally takes down Jericho. Let's go kick some ass."

  ***

  As we began the climb up the mountainside, Takoda signaled with her tail she'd detected explosives and we went wide around the spot. The walls became steep, and Falcon helped me strap Takoda to my back. My gear scratched the face as we scaled the rocky cliff. We reached the cave entrance, removed our night vision, and took our positions as the first light of dawn touched the north face of the cliff.

  "Firing," I said into my headset.

  My warning shot into the cave pinged off the wall twice.

  We waited for a reaction. After about a minute, one of Jericho's men emerged carrying a rifle. His eyes darted around, and his hand reached for a ripcord to a vest.

  Fuck, I knew they'd all be wearing vests.

  I shot him in the forehead. Before he fell, Falcon jumped and side-kicked him in the chest, pushing him over the edge of the cliff.

  "Cover!" Falcon called.

  We ducked as his vest detonated and rocked the side of the cliff.

  Another militant scrambled out of the entrance to the cave. Idiot.

  I planted one in his chest and Falcon kicked him over the edge. Boom! Another explosion blasted the cliff when he hit the ground.

  We took cover on the perimeter again and waited for Jericho to exit.

  After two minutes, Ruger called on the comms. "Two exited the cave on the east side. We got 'em."

  "Were they wearing vests?" I asked.

  "No. We're safe."

  "Good. Watch for Jericho."

  "Affirmative."

  We waited five more minutes for Jericho to exit. "Come out, Mustafa!" I called in Pashto.

  No response. The coward was going to make us come in after him.

  I released Takoda and pointed two fingers toward the narrow entrance of the cave. "Get 'em."

&
nbsp; She ran in without hesitation. That damn dog was so fucking brave. Growls and screams from inside let us know she had him and was engaging her killer bite.

  Adrenaline made my skin itch as we turned sideways to traverse the entrance. I could not fail now. I had to get to my target. We reached the other side and the cave opened up. I saw him. Jericho. Unarmed. Screaming and struggling on the ground as a vicious Belgian Malinois mauled his arm.

  "Out." She growled and thrashed on his arm. I knew how she felt, but she had to release him. "Takoda, out. Heel!"

  She finally let Jericho go. He grunted and reached for his weapon that had fallen to the ground about two feet away from him.

  I took aim at his head. "Firing." The guys dropped to the floor.

  Jericho picked up a rifle and pointed his barrel at Takoda.

  No way, motherfucker.

  I engaged him in the head before he could get a shot off. The pink mist I'd yearned for painted the walls, but the goddamn live bullet exited his head and zinged around the cave. Jericho dropped and I rushed him. I inspected his nose, what was left of his forehead, and his eyes.

  Yes!

  "Got him! Jericho, EKIA." I called the words I'd repeated in my mind a million times in the last four years. Fucking enemy killed in action.

  I carved off his left forefinger with my utility knife and slid it into a plastic bag. The proof of death I'd hungered for where it belonged—locked in the compartment of my vest.

  We exited the cave and waited for Blaze to rig the cave to blow. A quick inspection of my team and everyone looked in one piece. Blood dripped from Takoda's left ear, but it was just torn skin. Falcon loaded Takoda onto my back. My hand pressed to the pocket of my vest and felt the finger. Yep, still there.

  Blaze ran out of the cave. "Sixty seconds. Move out."

  The rocks and debris from the explosion rained by our faces as we rappelled down the cliff. We ran to the waiting helo and lifted off.

  Mission completed.

  ***

  My victory sun finally dropped below the horizon over our base in Kabul. I pulled up the clone of Tess's phone to check for new selfies. She'd cut her hair and lightened it in the last six months. She'd gotten her teeth straightened. I kinda missed the quirky imperfection on her otherwise flawless body.

  I closed my eyes and flipped through the Tessa slideshow in my head again.