Silence fell over the gathering as Peter stood by the grave, Skull and Marco at his side.
“Two days ago, we lost a sister. She was taken from us too early, by the people we call the Commandos.” Peter’s strong voice carried through the dark, clear in the stillness of the night. “She lost her whole family when she was only a child, but it didn’t break her. She wanted to be one of us, to be a fighter, and her resolve and faith in our cause awed me every time I witnessed it. And while she didn’t possess great strength or experience, her dedication and willpower made her one of us the moment she stepped inside headquarters. She believed in doing the right thing, protecting the weak and helping those in need, no matter the cost.
“We have to say goodbye to Elena tonight because we’ve allowed the Commando problem to fester. We’ve underestimated the enemy. It will not happen again.”
A low murmur rippled through the crowd as Peter reached out his hand to Skull, who gave him a large black bow and a single long arrow. Peter looked at Dave and beckoned him closer.
“Want to do the honors?” Peter asked him quietly as he fitted the arrow to the bow.
Marco patted his shoulder, handing him a lighter.
Dave peered at the unusual arrow again and nodded nervously as understanding washed over him. He took the lighter and looked over the crowd before him.
Peter raised his voice once more. “Tonight we mourn—tomorrow we retaliate.”
Dave brought the lighter up to the arrowhead, shivers running down his spine. The strange material sizzled, burning brighter and brighter from the inside, until it burst into a blinding red flame.
Peter leaned back as he drew the bow and let the arrow fly into the sky in one smooth motion. It shot up in a perfect arc, a lone, flickering amber, and time seemed to stretch out as Dave watched it rise and fall, until it burned out in the air. For a minute, his mind went absolutely quiet, not a shred of the last two days’ turmoil lingering in his head. He felt it then, a piece of him shattering, leaving behind a gaping hole. Even as the coffin disappeared in the grave, a stubborn part of him refused to believe what was happening.
The next half-hour was a blur of people, words of sympathy, and pats on the back. Dave watched them disappear into the sky with a strange kind of detachment, feeling emptier with every minute as the wind carried away the last shreds of who he used to be, leaving him a hollowed-out shell.
He realized that everyone was gone, with only his friends and Peter lingering at the gravesite with him. They all stared at him as he snapped out of his thoughts, no one daring to break the silence.
“You go. I’ll stay for a while,” he said, voice hoarse from the cold.
Chad stepped closer to him. “Dave, you shouldn’t—”
“I’m okay, I promise. I can drive home myself.”
He could see it in his friend’s eyes, the quiet protest, the unwillingness to go. Chad glanced at Peter and nodded, giving Dave a quick hug.
Wrapping his arm around the obviously reluctant Pain, Chad nudged her to the path, where Peter and the others had already disappeared.
Dave turned to stare at the grave again. He didn’t know why he wanted to stay, but going home and returning to his life seemed impossible at the moment. He stood unmoving in the dark, surrounded only by silence and the gleam of moonlight on snow, and thought about his every day with Elena. He preserved every memory, every sound and look and smile, making sure he remembered exactly what she was like.
Doc’s and Pain’s words all mixed in his head as he tried to work out a plan for the new version of himself that had to go on. It was like swimming in a dark pool tangled in weed, and what seemed like an hour later, he gave up. No point in trying to figure it all out now.
He shook off the cold and turned to look around, only to halt, breath catching in his throat. Someone stood a few yards away, leaning against a pole, the figure outlined by the pale stone of the crypt behind him. The man moved, and Dave breathed out, relaxing. He would’ve recognized Chad’s silhouette anywhere.
“Don’t act so surprised,” Chad said, coming up to him. “You really thought I’d leave you here? Let’s go home.”
He draped an arm over Dave’s shoulders and led him back to the gate. Neither of them spoke a word as they rode in Chad’s pickup, letting the rumble of the engine fill the space between them. To Dave, it seemed like another eternity passed before they somehow turned up at his door.
“You gonna sleep?” Chad asked, pressing his back up against the wall.
Dave shrugged, turning the knob. “I don’t think so. Are there other options?”
“Well…” Chad scratched his head, and Dave could see how hard he was trying not to look sleepy. The clock by the waiting room door showed three AM. “There’s talking. And drinking,” Chad said, returning Dave’s shrug.
“You—”
The waiting room doors swung open, spitting Peter out. Spotting them, he quickly hid whatever he was holding in his left hand behind his body. He looked at Dave, but didn’t say anything, probably skipping another “Are you okay?”
Instead, he turned to Chad. “Game on, Ninety-Seven.”
Chapter 15
“Forrester!” Pain bellowed through the door. “You got five seconds to come out before I bust down the damn door!”
Chad stared at her with big eyes. “The hell you doing? Go, I’ll deal with him.”
“What?” She threw up her hands. “He’s gotta come out eventually.”
“Go.” He waved her away, leaning close to the
