Chapter 5 Flesh-freed Sins

After a few days, the Glaucus Infiltrators returned to Niah, Dart and Petar exchanging promises to see each other again. As they hefted their heavy bags and climbed into the trucks, Petar, Damien, and Schertling waved goodbye. More comrades who - well, they would be lucky if they saw them again. It was a dangerous assignment out there in the wild of the gray zone. “I have a lot of respect for people like them,” Schertling spoke up, as the trucks turned the corner of the road out of sight. Damien and Petar looked at him. “You have to be smart, and you have to be courageous, to take on an assignment like that.” He looked at his squadmates. “Let’s try to make them proud, no?” Damien and Petar nodded. The next few days, instead of Corporal Djemai and Bob goading them into it, they were active in designing their own training activities, and even tried to get some of the other squads in on it as well. They were going to show - to themselves as much anyone else - that the Zamaii Border Patrol wasn’t just the toilet of the Agurts National Army, that they were a top unit in their own right, scions of the pioneering militia which had held off Estancia and Omanga in its time. Bob scratched his beard and smiled in bemusement as he watched them train: “Look at them go! They may not be the best designed activities I’ve ever seen, but they’re certainly putting in a shift, those boys.” They had set up some obstacles - big barricades - and were attempting to maneuver over them as quickly as possible and then get in position to make a shot against targets set up near the far end of the yard. There was a lot of scrambling and tripping over, but they were giving it their best, getting up again and again and giving it another go.

Corporal Djemai watched somewhat impassively. “I’ll give them a week until they’re back to their old ways.” 

In fact it was less than a week. Patriotic enthusiasm and competitive youthfulness can only sustain the desire for arduous training drills for so long, and in their case, it wasn’t very long. But Corporal Djemai and Bob seemed happy enough with their physical fitness, and so they took to doing other things during the hours when they weren’t sitting in a truck scanning the hills out on patrol. Damien spoke to some of the farmers and purchased some seeds: he started to cultivate a small patch of vegetables in an empty lot near the barracks. Petar, on the other hand, could be found in one of two places: either at Harper’s gossiping with the waitresses or with Damien in his lot gossiping about the waitresses. Together with Schertling, the two men found a deal on a table and a couple of chairs and they set up a small little place to sit and chat while Damien managed his garden. Schertling himself, with permission from the army, took up a side-job at a local school as a teacher. When Petar asked him why he did it, he shrugged. “I always wanted to be a teacher growing up. I hope I can still be one when we finish here. Might as well start getting some experience now.” When not in class, he would sit at the table in the lot and work on lesson plans, or do some grading, while Damien tended plants and Petar droned on. Occasionally Bob would show up - he took a special interest in Damien’s work; he wanted to know the name of all the vegetables and flowers. He even asked about potentially growing some coffee, but Damien had quickly surmised that it would be impossible. He still felt a little strange around the old man - he had never quite worked up the nerve to talk to him about Emma. And he had been avoiding her at the bar, too - which was awkward. But gardening soothed his fraying nerves- he loved growing green things, even when it was a challenge, and he had to admit he was being put to the test by Zamaii’s dusty soil. It was really hard to get anything to take root: he had started to ask around about manure to bed his next batch of seedlings. Finally, Corporal Djemai would come for them like clockwork every Tuesday and Thursday, and they would run the grueling gamut of exercise drills once again. But she wasn’t as hard on them as she had been during that first month. She even teased them every now and again: “My grandmama could run faster than you boys, and she would be carrying two children as well! Come on - speed up now!” 

Life went on like this for...perhaps a little over a month, perhaps even a little longer than that. It was hard to keep track of time when it was the same thing, week after week. Then, one day, Petar came to Damien’s lot with a puzzled expression on his face. He sat down on one of the chairs and rested his head on his arm while he watched Damien inspect the rustatoes he had been growing. “How are they?” 

“Could be better. What’s up?” 

“What do you mean what’s up?”

“You never ask about my vegetables unless something is up. So what’s up?” 

Petar shifted his body and pursed his lips, making a crib for his head with his arms on the table. “Honestly, probably nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like ‘probably nothing.’ It looks to me more like ‘probably something’.” 

Petar laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t be worried.” 

“Just tell me already!” 

“Alright alright! Geez...you know Barbara?” 

“Yeah I know Barbara. Works at Harper’s. You’re pretty close with her, right?”

“Yeah she’s great. Well, she hasn’t shown up for work recently.” 

“Huh. Is that a problem? Maybe she quit or something.” 

Petar got up and started pacing around the lot. “That’s just the thing. She didn’t tell anyone about leaving. It’s been three days now and no one’s seen her. And last night was Friday, and you know they need all hands on deck on Friday’s.” 

“No kidding. What do the other girls think?” 

“Most of them think she’s probably just skipped town quietly. It happens, you know. Maybe an old lover or a debtor showed up, they say. But I think...I think she would have said something to me if she had been worried about something. Everything seemed fine.” 

“Hmmm.”

Petar wrung his hands nervously. “Emma’s asked us to go check on her.” 

Damien twitched. “I see. What do you think?”

“Uh...you know Emma. She doesn’t worry easily. So I think we should probably listen to her.” 

“Right then,” Damien stood up and shook the dirt off of his hands. “I’m sure it’s nothing but even so...just to be safe.” 

Petar nodded. “Right. Just to be safe.” 

They didn’t find Schertling in the barracks - when they asked, apparently he had been seen getting lunch with Bob and the corporal in the town center. “Those guys do lunch together?” Petar wondered to Damien. “Why didn’t they invite us?” 

Damien shrugged. “Schertling is a little older than us.” 

“What, so now we’re the children all of a sudden?” He wagged his finger. “Another mystery for us to get to the bottom of!” Damien chuckled. They left the barracks, walked over to the town square and found the restaurant, which had a banner with the words “Fried Chicken” above the entrance, along with a scrawl of a cartoon chicken. Corporal Djemai, Bob, and Schertling were sitting at a small table with a pile of fried chicken in front of them. They waved. Bob smiled at them, his beard dripping with juices. “Hey guys! Care to join us?” 

Petar needed no second invitation. He already had a piece of fried chicken halfway to his mouth, which he promptly chomped down on, before letting out a squeak of surprise. “Woah! That’s spicy!” he said around a full mouthful. 

Djemai laughed. “Not nearly as hot as my mother would make it, but much too hot for a Soncetan like you, it would seem.” 

Schertling dabbed some sweat off his forehead with a napkin. “I agree with Petar. My mama certainly would not make food this hot, nor could she eat it.” 

Bob grinned. “Zamaii spice, boys - it comes up sharp and hangs around to get to know you.” He held out a piece for Damien. “Want to try?” 

Damien sat down and took the proffered piece. It did appear to have a light coating of some sort of red dust. He took a bite. And phew! Certainly it was spicy. But he enjoyed the piquant flavor. “It’s hot, but it’s good.” 

Djemai slapped him on the back. “That’s my boy, Damien! Now eat another five and tell me how you feel. Embrace the spice!” 

They ate and chatted about something and nothing. It was nice to sit down and enjoy each other’s company. But as they finished the food, Damien and Petar looked at each other. “Guys we...well Damien and I have something we need to talk about.” 

The others paused. Bob set down his cup of water. “What seems to be the problem, son?” 

Petar explained, Damien jumping in at times to provide clarification. As they finished relaying their story, Bob sat back in his chair with a grim expression on his face. Djemai was a stone wall. Schertling spoke first. “Well, I’m willing to help - but how can we help, exactly? We’re just patrolmen.” 

“Just patrolmen!” Bob scoffed. “The Zamaii Border Patrol comes from the Zamaii Militia which is the real first line of Agurts’ defense, no matter what those Baluard bigwigs like to boast. No, if they’re asking for help, I think we can do this.” 

Djemai pursed her lips in thought. “It’ll have to be just us. The sergeant isn’t going to be interested. It’s a private matter, ultimately.” 

Petar, Damien, and Schertling looked at her in surprise. The corporal would be joining them? She had done her best to keep her distance, so far. Still, there was no doubting her abilities. 

Bob nodded. “We’ll do it ourselves. But we’ll need a plan. Do you know where she lives? That would probably be the first place to start.”

Petar shook his head. “I think...somewhere out in the eastern suburbs maybe? To be honest, we never really talked about it.” 

“The eastern suburbs is a big place. So let’s start by getting something more concrete.” 

Djemai considered a moment. “You boys say she works at Harper’s. So Harper may knows where she lives, or one of her girlfriends.” 

Schertling stood up. “Then to Harper’s we go.” 

They arrived at Harper’s just a few minutes later - it was just around the corner from the square. During the day, Harper’s did some small trade as a restaurant, but it was far less packed than in the evenings. Many of the waitresses lounged around with little to do, while behind the bar, the proprietor - Harper himself - washed glasses while whistling an aimless tune. The radio was playing some of Amifa Turmaine’s latest music: she was a rising star in the clubs of the capital for her smooth and silky voice, deep and soulful. She crooned to the mostly empty room now: “But I wonder, darling/Will I ever see you again?” Her voice went lower, and lower, until it disappeared in a husky whisper, and silence filled the room. Bob waved in greeting. “Hi Harper!” 

Harper looked up from cleaning and squinted. He was a balding older man with stubble around his cheek and a drooping mustache. It was well-known he didn’t have the best eyesight, but refused to get glasses out of some vain concern for his appearance. “Is that Bob I see over there?” 

“Sure is. How ya doin’?” 

Having confirmed the identity of his interlocutor, he went back to cleaning his glasses unconcernedly. “Oh well enough I guess. What can I do for you?” 

Bob and the others approached the bar. Bob leaned in and started to speak with Harper in low tones.. Meanwhile, one of the waitresses came over to Petar. She had pale skin and dark brown hair. “Well hey there Pete! What’s up?”

“Hey Marge! Nothing much really. Say, has Barbara come back yet?” 

Marge pouted and tilted her head. “I don’t think so. But I heard she sent a letter here or something.” 

“Oh really? What did it say?” 

“It was a goodbye note. I guess she really did skip town.” 

“Is that so…” 

“Where is this letter? I haven’t heard of it.” Emma spoke as she approached the group. For a minute, Damien locked eyes with her. There was something there he couldn’t quite figure out. Was it anger? 

Marge frowned. “I don’t know actually. I thought someone told me but maybe I was wrong,” she shrugged and walked away. Emma watched her as she walked. Then she turned to the group. Now the concern on her face was plain to see . She looked at Damien as she spoke. “Sarah and I were supposed to have lunch, but she never showed up. I might be jumping ahead, but what with Barbara missing too - I’m worried.” 

Schertling muttered, “Shit, what is going on here?” 

Bob came back from his conversation with Harper. He seemed calm enough. “Alright guys,” he said loudly. “Nothing to worry about, let’s go home.” 

The others started to protest, but Djemai hissed at them. “Consider that an order. Let’s go!” 

They left the bar. After a few minutes they were walking back to the barracks. Petar was in a foul mood. “What was that all about? There’s clearly something going on-” 

Bob barked suddenly, “Shut up!” 

Petar stopped talking at once. The old man was furious. He took a deep breath. “Just wait until we’re back, ok?” 

Petar nodded. They picked up their pace.

Back in their room, joined by Bob and the corporal, Bob crossed his arms. “Harper says it isn’t the first time someone from around the street has gone missing. Never one of his girls, he said, but this has been going on - maybe for months.” 

Djemai banged a fist against one of the bunkbed’s frames. “Right under our noses!” 

Bob grimaced. “Yes, right under our noses as it were. Now, the eastern part of the city is mainly refugees and immigrants who want to get full Agurtan citizenship, but don’t have the money. It’s a poor part of town, and poorly looked after. We don’t go there as much.” 

Damien asked, “But why not?” 

Djemai spat, “Politics.” 

Bob shook his head. “It’s complicated. But it isn’t far from the truth. Protecting refugees simply isn’t a priority, and we don’t have enough manpower as it is.” 

Schertling spoke up, “So something is happening over there. Do we have any idea what it might be?” 

“We do not. But we should be prepared for anything. Put on your armor underneath your clothes, and carry a pistol.”

Damien gritted his teeth. This was turning out to be far more than he had expected out of a quiet day in the city. “You think there’s going to be trouble?” he asked. The question hung in the air as Bob considered. 

“I think there could be. And I think it’s best to be prepared, in case there is. So gear up. It’s a bit of a walk to get over there, and I want to get there before it gets dark. Let’s try and clean this out today, whatever it is.” 

“Well why not roll up with our rifles then? Why hide it?”

“We don’t want to cause a commotion. There’s a lot of tension between the residents of the eastern suburbs and the authorities - and we are the authorities. So we go in, quietly and respectfully, but ready for anything. Are we all clear?” 

They nodded in agreement. Bob and Djemai left to get their gear. Damien, Schertling, and Petar looked at each other. Petar asked, “Barbara...Sarah...they’re alright, aren’t they? Nothing’s happened to them?” Neither Damien nor Schertling responded. They put on their armor and strapped on their sidearms as quickly as they could.

By the time they had walked over to the eastern suburbs, it was around 3 or 4 in the afternoon. The sun was hanging hazily in the sky. People strolled the streets here and there, but seemed disposed to keep to themselves. They got a few weird looks as they arrived, but were quickly ignored: no one wanted any trouble. Bob was holding a scrap of paper with an address for a small apartment building. “3rd Floor...Hope Boulevard. Should be just around here.” They reached the place without any trouble, and went up to the landing on the third floor. The stairwell was open to the air - they watched the sun as Bob knocked on the door. No answer. “Hello! Barbara? Anyone home?” Still no answer. Djemai moved forward and pounded on the door as loudly as she could, and yelled, “IS ANYONE IN THERE?” For a moment - nothing. And then, they could hear the sound of someone moving around. Petar let out a sigh of relief. “Oh thank-” 

The door opened on a man, half dressed in a brown coat that had seen better days, no shirt, and a tattered pair of underwear. He appeared to have just woken up. His eyes were red-rimmed and half-closed. “What can I -” he let out a huge yawn - “do for you?” 

Djemai sneered. “Who are you?” 

“Hey I should be asking you that! Who are you?” 

Bob stepped in, speaking smoothly: “Hi. Does Barbara live here?”

“Nope. I live here.” 

“I see...well, perhaps you could point us in the right direction. We were told Barbara lived here.” 

“Well, she doesn’t. So, I’ll see you later.” He started to close the door, but Djemai put her foot firmly in the way. She seized the man’s coat and pulled him off his feet. He let out a yelp of shock. “Hey, what the hell are you doing? Get off me!” 

Djemai shook him like a bag of leaves until he stopped talking. “You - I know your kind. You’re a squatter! When did you figure out his house was empty? Huh?! Answer me!” 

She shook him again. “Hey - I - ok, ok, just stop!” He spluttered. Djemai put him down, but kept her foot in the door. “No sudden movements, boy.” 

Petar stepped in behind her, flanked by Damien and Schertling. “Where - is - Barbara?” The young soldier bit off each word angrily. Damien had never seen his friend so furious before. The man gestured hopelessly. “Look I - I don’t know anything! I just...I got nowhere to live, and last couple days, this place has been empty.” 

“A couple of days?” 

“Yeah I...well, I don’t know, the lights weren’t on for all that time, and when I tried the door, it was unlocked. No one was here.” 

Petar sighed. “Damn it all! A deadend.” 

Bob patted Petar on the shoulders. “Don’t give up just yet.” He turned to the man gravely. “Now look son, for now, you can stay here, but we want to have a look around. Got it?” 

The man nodded up and down something fierce. “Yes sir! That - that sounds great sir! I’ll just wait here.” 

Djemai motioned to Damien and Schertling. “Watch him. If he tries anything funny, bring him down.” The two men took up position on either side of the shocked squatter. Petar, Bob, and Djemai headed inside. While they rummaged around inside, the man chuckled nervously and fished around in his pockets, eventually taking out a pipe. “Can I offer you guys a smoke?

Damien and Schertling remained silent. 

“Can I smoke?”

More silence.

“Hmm...I’ll just wait until they’re done then,” the squatter pouted, then went quiet himself.

After about half an hour, Petar emerged with Bob and Djemai. They were holding a small piece of paper. Bob motioned to them: “Let’s go.” 

They went. The squatter rushed back into Barbara’s apartment and slammed the door behind him. They heard him immediately bolting it shut. Djemai gave the door a scornful look. 

Outside the apartment building, Bob showed the slip of paper to Damien and Petar. It read: Rejoice! For you have been chosen to join our Commune in Holy Repast. Come and be Free. It had an address on it for somewhere in the neighborhood. “What is this?” asked Damien. Petar looked at him and shrugged. “I don’t know for sure...but I thought I saw Marge handing out these one day.” 

Bob had gone very, very pale. He took out his gun. “I don’t like the sound of this. Come on. We’re running over.” The sun was going down. The golden light touched on Djemai’s dark skin as she spoke. “Is it that serious?” 

Bob nodded, once, sharply. “It is. Come on!” 

The old man took off at a trot towards the edge of town. Djemai, Petar, Damien, and Schertling ran after him, pulling out their pistols as they ran. Between panting for breath, Damien wondered: What was going on?

They reached the address. They were standing in front of a large warehouse building with windows set very high beneath a tall roof. Many of the window panes were shattered, suggesting that the place was abandoned. As they approached, they slowed down to catch their breath - all except for Bob, who practically sprinted to the door and threw it wide open. “FREEZE!” He screamed. 

Damien and the others quickly moved up behind him and looked inside, pistols at the ready. Damien never - not for the rest of his life - forgot what he saw there. It was a large, one-room building. All of the machinery had been moved out. In its place there was a path, set off by bleached human bones, leading to an altar, a large wooden plank set steadily on a heavy block of metal. On top of the altar, right at that moment, was a sleeping - or dead - human. It was Sarah. She was naked. Her mouth was slack, and she seemed to be drooling slightly. Surrounding her were three figures in black robes. They had their hoods turned down. Their faces were smeared with blood and gore. One of them was Marge: she was holding a large knife and seemed to be prepared to slam it down into Sarah’s belly. Around the altar, at points around the room, were tables. Some tables had people eating from metal dishes and bowls. Others had bodies lying on them, in various states of disfigure and dismemberment; headless corpses and the dessicated torsos of men and women lay chaotically next to piles of severed arms and legs. Besides each of these tables was a cookpot, and a robed figure whose head was covered by a grisly pointed mask, and holding large knives. The smell hit them like a wave - the smell of boiled flesh. Besides the three at the altar, there must have been around 20 or so other people. 

As they stood there, Petar suddenly retched his lunch onto the ground. “God have mercy,” Djemai whispered. Marge’s grin across the room was manic and insane. She held up her arms as if to say “don’t shoot me”, and looked at them with ecstasy on her pale features: “Welcome, to the Feast of Labinnah! Come - come! There is enough for everyone.” 

Food for all; the flesh feeds the room intoned in a ritualistic chant. Next to him, Bob was quivering in rage. But he controlled his voice as he spoke: “Put. The Knife. Down.” 

Marge looked at the knife in her hand as if she had forgotten it, then beamed at Bob. “My pleasure,” she said, before suddenly slamming the knife down into Sarah’s exposed stomach-

She never got that far. Bob was fast on the trigger - Damien hadn’t even processed what was happening before Marge was stumbling backwards with the force of the shot. She felt the place on her upper shoulder where she had been shot. Her hand came away wet with blood. She looked at Bob. Then she licked her hand, and smeared it on her face. “GET THEM!” She screamed, and the room rose as one.

“FIRE AT WILL!” Bob shouted. They started shooting. Wildly. Damien didn’t even know what was happening. He was so angry. The great mass of them made it hard to miss. Body fell down on top of another body, and then the group was panicking, reversing direction, or collapsing on the fallen and - Damien couldn’t believe it - trying to eat the dead - and turning around and people were going here and there and it was chaos-

“EVERYONE ON THE GROUND!” Bob fired his gun in the air several times. Everyone dropped. They were breathing heavily. It was over in seconds, but the charge of that room full of people at them - that had been terrifying. He was shaking from the adrenaline and terror and fury. Yes! That was what this was. A nightmare. But wait! Sarah! Damien suddenly rushed across the room to the table. Sarah - she was still alive. He started to choke up at the sight of her, of what had happened to her. Petar was next to him in a flash. “It looks like she’s been drugged or something!” 

“Hah!” A spluttering cough-shout came from the other side of the table. Petar and Damien looked. Behind the table, Marge lay on the ground, dragging herself to the wall at the back of the room. “She’ll never wake up, with how much we put into her! But we don’t want to waste her, do we? All that beautiful, delicious flesh - waste not, want not! No we wouldn’t want to be hungry, would we now?” She was chuckling to herself, and crying. “Not hungry, no no. Don’t want the hunger to come back, it hurts, ohhhhh how it hurts. Besides, she looks like she will be veeerrrry sweet! Just like her friend Barbara - oh she was really tasty, I couldn’t help going back for more-” A shot rang out. Damien looked and saw Petar holding his gun out and breathing heavily. He had fired his shot right into her skull. She lay there dead. Bob came up next to them and looked at Sarah. “Let’s get her to hospital. Now.” 

“What about the rest of them?” Schertling asked. He and Djemai had shepherded the remaining cultists - there were only around seven to ten of them now - into a corner of the room, and had their guns drawn at them. 

In answer, Bob radioed the barracks. “Excuse me...yes this is Bob from Squad #38 of the Zamaii Border Patrol. Yes. Can you put me onto Sergeant Han. Yes it is an emergency. We’ve found a group of Labinnah Cultists. Yes that’s right. Ok. Over and out. See you soon.” 

They spent that evening dealing with the fallout of their discovery. Sergeant Han came in with the full force of the ZBP and commanded them to perform a sweep of the whole neighborhood. Meanwhile, Bob and the rest of them were given leave to see Sarah to hospital. As they left, Damien could hear Han complaining to Djemai: “I told the captain multiple times we needed to devote more resources to this neighborhood. It’s going to take days to find out if there are any other cultists…” They accompanied Sarah to the local hospital. When they got there they were surprised to find - Emma. Damien looked at her in confusion. How did she find out? She batted his question away. “The whole town’s heard of what happened by now. I heard that someone was being taken to hospital, I just didn’t know who. Is it Barbara? Sarah? Are they ok?”

“It’s Sarah,” Petar said in a monotone voice, devoid of emotion. Tears ran down his cheeks. “Barbara was eaten.” 

Emma covered her mouth in shock. “No…” 

They went into the hospital and the doctors took a look at Sarah. “We’re going to need to do some blood work. Please wait here,” the lead doctor said to them. They sat there in the waiting room. Damien felt...empty. What the fuck had happened that night? None of this seemed like it could be real. Was this what life was like outside Agurts? Fucking religious cannibalism? Emma put a hand on his shoulder supportively. He looked at her and met her eyes. Her lips were a tight thin line of apprehension. “Hang in there.” 

“Yeah.” Next to them, Petar had his head in his hands and was unmoving.

After about an hour of tense waiting, the doctors came out again. “Well…” the lead doctor began. “It’s not good, but hopefully she’ll pull through. We’ve administered some antidotes and done our best to flush what was in her body out of it. I’m a little concerned there may be some damage to her brain, but we won’t really know for sure until she wakes up. She needs rest for now though. You can come see her tomorrow.” 

Petar spoke calmly, but firmly. “I’m not leaving her alone. I’ll sleep here if I have to.” 

“Now, see here young man-”

Petar interrupted him with a gaze that would have given a blightwolf second thoughts about crossing him. “I’m not leaving.” 

The doctor sighed. “Well, as long as you don’t cause any trouble...but you and only you! We can’t be putting up everyone.” 

“Take care of her, Petar,” Emma said as she slipped her hand into the crook of Damien’s arm and gently pulled him out. Petar nodded absently. His thoughts seemed to be elsewhere.

They left the hospital and walked outside. The chilly air of evening did him some good; it was refreshing. He looked down and realized he was still holding hands with Emma. Cool. He kept his eyes in front of him. “You doing ok?” Emma asked. 

“Rough day.” 

“That’s an understatement.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes. “It’s not…the world we live in is pretty tough,” Damien said. Emma nodded. “It is. Those people...those cultists. It’s about as low as you can sink. But that doesn’t mean it’s all bad, you know? After all, there’re people here who rushed to save Sarah and Barbara.” 

“It’s...hard to see the silver lining after day’s like today.” 

“I hear you.”

More silence. “But at least it’s nice to talk with you...and to hold your hand.” Damien couldn’t believe what he was saying, even as he said it. 

He could feel her squeeze his hand in response. “It is. You’re a nice guy, Damien. And a brave soldier.” 

“Thanks.” He felt over the moon. 

They walked like that until they got back to the center of town. Emma dropped his hand and pulled away. “I live around here,” she said. She stood there for a minute awkwardly. Then she came up and gave him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, Damien. Hang in there.” She waved goodbye.

Damien waved. He felt the place where she kissed him. Then he went back to the barracks so he could finally go to sleep.