Jacob swallowed hard and squirmed in the top rack, sitting up against the wall. He didn’t respond. He just sat with his back to the cedar planks, listening to the moans outside and wondering if they were close. If they would be safe if they tried to enter the cabin again.
“We hurt them today, Jacob. We hurt 'em bad and they know it,” James said, getting up from the bed. “That’s what you hear; that’s how they mourn over a healthy ass-kicking.” James moved across the room and stopped to feed more wood into the stove. As he adjusted the flue, the flames grew, filling the one-room cabin with an eerie yellow light. Duke got up and edged close to the stove, stretching before moving in a circle. Then, stopping by the door, he sniffed the air entering from outside; his ears perked, then relaxed. Finally, the yellow dog moved and lay by the warmth of the fire.
James slid a chair away from the wall. He lifted his uniform from a hook and pulled on his pants and jacket. He lifted his rifle, looking it over before removing the night vision goggles from his pack.
“What are you doing?” Jacob asked. “You aren’t thinking of going out there?”
James yanked on his heavy boots, pulled the speed laces tight, and then put on a pair of green leather shooting gloves. “I’m going hunting; finishing what we started today.”
“Alone?”
“No, Duke is coming. He still has scores to settle too,” James said, standing up. He placed the NVGs onto the top of his head. Reaching down, he retrieved his tactical vest and pulled it on over his shoulders. He looked down, checking the straps and ammo pouches on the front before slipping the Ruger MK III back into its holster.
“James, I think you should stay. You don’t have to do this; there's nothing out there that can change what happened today,” Jacob protested, already knowing it wouldn’t do any good.
The bearded man smiled before turning and walking to the door. “Don’t worry about me; I’ll be back when the sun comes up.” James unlatched the door and slowly opened it, letting the cold air enter the room. He took a step and stood in the doorway. “Can you feel it, Jacob? Oh, I do, and I’m going to go get me some. We’re going to take what’s ours, ain’t we, Duke?” The dog leapt to his feet and joined the man’s side. Without speaking another word, James dropped into the night, closing the door behind him.
Jacob was wide-awake now. He regretted not doing more to stop him, or even leaving with him. He sat against the cedar boards, listening to the howls outside, the evil screams. He thought he heard a distant bark, and then a gunshot split the night air. He strained, listening for a sign that James was okay. He debated waking Rogers to go out after him. Moments later, another shot, followed by another, the last being even more distant than the first.
Jacob shifted and dropped down from the top bunk, moving to a chair by the stove, knowing he wouldn’t sleep anymore; not this day. He retrieved his pack and took several aspirin from his hygiene kit, trying to cover the headache from the bad whiskey. He opened a case of water sitting in the corner, removed a bottle, and guzzled down the entire thing before opening another and setting it on a table beside him.
A creaking at the stairs took his attention. He looked up, seeing Rogers enter the room. The big man was carrying a cast-iron skillet filled with fried potatoes. He looked down at the empty rack, then at Jacob sitting alone by the stove. Rogers shook his head as he stepped across the room.
“James went out, did he?” he said, not really asking, no look of surprise on his face. He set the skillet atop the wood stove and set a pair of plates on the table. He served up a large portion before handing it off to Jacob.
“I don’t know what he’s doing out there; he wasn’t being reasonable. I should have gone with him.”
Rogers sat heavily in an empty seat and looked at the wood-covered window. “How long has he been out there?”
“Not long,” Jacob said, pushing potatoes across his plate with a fork.
Another gunshot cracked in the distance. “This is the way he deals with his despair. It’s his own twisted version of therapy,” Rogers whispered. “Back at the camp, I’ve seen him do this in the towers. He’ll go up there for hours. I made the mistake of going with him once. He won’t talk about it. He just perches himself up there, getting even. He thinks he can fix everything by getting even. He’ll come back; he always does.”
They sat quietly listening to the echoes of the gunshots and the howls of the Deltas. Jacob finished the potatoes, forcing every bite. He had no appetite but knew he needed the calories. Rogers offered him more, but he pushed the plate away. “How long have you known him?” Jacob asked.
“Not long, but like all things, time is relative. You go out on a mission with a guy, after a week you feel like you’ve know him your whole life. James is different but he’s good people.”
Sun broke the horizon and light cut through the bottom of the door. Eve exited the stairwell and joined them in the cabin above. She was wearing a heavy parka and gloves, a black watch cap pulled tight over her long hair. She carried a small assault pack in her hand. Looking at the empty rack and men sitting alone, she moved to the wall and set her pack and rifle beside the exit. There was a noise outside and heavy steps on the wood porch. When the door creaked opened, Duke rounded the corner, wagging his tail, with James following him.
The bearded man passed inside, stomping
