Chương 139: Chapter 138 - Shortfalls

"A dedicated healer," said Roxy.

"I do what I can with my secondary class, but half the time I end up burning those Malleable Mender charges to keep myself going in melee combat. I could see if anyone at the clinic is interested, but most primary class healers don't go on otherworld assignments except for special exceptions." Cole wrote it down.

"Maybe we can pick someone up with a secondary healing class to help cover down. Hard Tone also suggested we find someone with resistance to psychic influence. That djinn on Babel almost did us in. Would have, if Nona hadn't sensed it."

"One of my potential paths makes my shards resonate in response to deific abilities," said Nona.

"What Hard Tone called psychic threats are probably deific abilities that exploit soul-to-soul connections in the Lewis Field. There's a very thin veil between mind and self. My father called it the Will and the Wile. That's why the djinn sounded like our own thoughts." Cole rubbed his chin.

"Then another deific class wouldn't be a bad idea. That, a possible healer, and someone to bolster the vanguard."

"I can ask around," said Alexa.

"Going to be a few Kickers looking for new teams with, well, with what happened to Deadlight." Bricker had said as much. Cole took a deep breath, trying not to picture the lasers sweeping across his fellow Kicker. He cleared his throat and his mind.

"Another Curahee push is coming up soon, too. Morganstern said proctors will have priority on offering tryouts team positions. I intend to scout out potential teammates there. They'll have to play catchup on enhancement level, but the rate we get into trouble, I doubt that'll take much time." Cole capped his pen and took a look at the board now scrawled with his chicken-scratch hand-writing.

"Alright. We've got our fifteen, fifty, and hundred meter targets. Now, from here on out, everyone on this team has the next four weeks completely off. I've already cleared it. Well, more like Bricker demanded it." With one special exception. He avoided looking at Nona. She still had one or two secrets to keep.

"Use it. Recharge, see family. Go somewhere. We'll figure out where the fuck we go from here after that."

"Hell, yeah," said Howie.

"Road trip time! Going to visit some friends that just rotated back. Then I've got a wilderness survival school." Besson nodded, pushing up out of his chair.

"Gonna disconnect a bit, go camping." Alexa looked at them.

"You guys do that stuff for fun? After all the filth and unshowered nastiness of a mission, that's how you unwind?" Besson shrugged. Nona looked at Alexa.

"What will you do?"

"Back home for Comicon. Except instead of a shitty motel split three ways, this time I've got a five-star hotel and a VIP pass."

"What's Comicon? Some sort of festival?"

"Kind of. It's more like…" Alexa hesitated for a minute.

"You know what? You should just come. You might actually feel right at home there." Cole snorted shook his head and let himself out of the conference room. Roxy was right behind him.

"What about you? Back to Georgia to see your grandfather?" she asked, hands clasped behind her back.

"Yep, starting the drive first thing tomorrow morning," said Cole.

"Want to come with? Plan to do some night hiking and star-gazing while I'm down there. I know some great trails where you can see the entire sky. No lights for miles." They climbed up out of the basement back to the main level, where Roxy subtly nudged him toward the kitchen.

"Tempting. But I don't know if we're at a 'meet the family' level, yet." She scrunched up her nose.

"Not mine, at least. My dad is super Greek." Cole pulled a pair of bottles from the fridge and handed one to Roxy along with a bottle opener.

"I don't know what that means," he said.

"It means that he's going to ask you a lot of very direct questions that neither of us are prepared for you to answer," she said.

"But I do want to see you after you're done. Spend at least a little of this time off doing something together that doesn't leave my hair smelling like gunpowder and bug guts."

"Same," said Cole. He took the bottle opener back and liberated his own drink.

"We've been going a mile a minute ever since Curahee, it feels like. Part of that's my fault. I don't like sitting still. Never have." Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Roxy nodded and started trying to suppress a smile.

"So you're headed out pretty early?"

"Yes, ma'am." The smile stretched into a grin.

"I guess that means you don't want me keeping you up too late, huh?" Cole huffed.

"I suppose it doesn't have to be that early." * Cole still managed it early enough to pull onto the drive of his grandfather's house by late afternoon. With the dappled sunlight, the Georgia bugs chirping in his ears, and the sound of gravel under his tires he felt like he was home for the first time since before his Syria deployment. Virginia was only south- lite, and no substitute for the real thing. He'd take the Georgia canopy every day of the week, even with the cranked-up humidity.

He was unsurprised to see another vehicle outside the house next to his grandfather's old Nissan truck. Cole pulled around and backed up in the shade off to the side. His truck must have made enough noise to be heard inside, because the screen door squeaked on its hinges and his grandfather appeared. Patrice Colton still stood tall and stern even into his retirement, with the thatch and beard of white hair being the only indication of his age. Alongside him was a middle-aged woman who stepped down from the porch.

"Why, is that little Amos Colton, I see?" Cole stepped out of the truck and grinned, recognizing one of the many neighborhood ladies who made sure his grandfather never lacked for company.

"Hi Ms. Garret." She took a performative step back and put a hand to her chest.

"Heaven help! Not so little anymore! Welcome home, hon," Cole walked over and accepted a hug.

"Didn't mean to crash your visit," he said. Ms. Garret waved him off.

"Oh, I was just leavin'. I'm sure you boys got plenty to catch up on. But y'all stay safe, you hear? And I expect to see you Sunday morning, young man." She paused and looked him up and down.

"And since you've got all those muscles, now, you can stop by and help me move some soil out to my garden."

"I can, huh?" asked Cole. His grandfather spoke up.

"He'll be there tomorrow mornin', Maude."

"I will, huh?" asked Cole, raising his voice loud enough to carry to the porch.

"If you know what's good for you," his grandfather grinned. Ms. Garret gave him another quick squeeze and waved to them both. Once she was out of sight down the drive, Cole turned back to his grandfather and headed up the front stairs where the old man wrapped him in a fiercely tight hug that smelled vaguely of cigarette smoke and cheap coffee.

"Ahh, welcome home, son." He pulled back, and his grandfather squeezed his upper arms and his shoulders, nodding.

"Staying fighting fit, Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir,""Uh huh, sure. Still got all your fingers, all your toes, all your teeth?" Cole offered his widest smile. His grandfather laughed and patted the side of his face.

"Clearly they ain't workin' you hard enough, then. Well, if we ain't havin' a smoke or lightin' the grill, no sense standing out in this heat." He turned and led the way back inside, speaking over his shoulder as he went.

"You smokin', son?"

"Nope."

"Don't you lie to me, now, Amos."

"Never touch the stuff," said Cole.

"Uh huh. You better not be. Filthy habit. Don't want you takin' after me." Cole ducked into the house and kicked off his boots before following his grandfather.

"Wouldn't dream of it." The house smelled much the same as his grandfather, and the old, wood-paneled walls were almost as gnarled—but immaculately clean. The verticals had the familiar family portraits and effects of three generations of Airborne soldiers. Unit patches, service photos, and the folded flag of his grandfather's retirement next to a display case of the medals he'd earned. A slightly smaller case hung next to it, only half-filled with his son in law's accolades.

Cole's father's career had been cut short before he could fill the case. But one binding between grandfather and grandson was the pride they both took in their family. Cole stopped at one of the photos as his grandfather headed into the kitchen. The photo was of Cole with his parents and brother out on the water in North Carolina. Even at that age, Cole and Ryan hadn't looked much alike. Ryan had been broader and thicker. Certainly would have been power-lifting through high-school or doing football.

It had been so long since Cole had seen him, was there really a possibility he was alive? Would they even recognize each other?

"You want coffee or tea?" his grandfather called from the kitchen.

"Sweet tea," called Colton.

"Real funny, son. Ms. Garret brought us a pot pie, so you can take the dish back tomorrow morning." Ice clinked in the other room, and his grandfather emerged with two glasses filled with amber liquid. He handed one off to Cole and then joined him at the photo. He took a deep breath and rubbed his beard.

"I was just thinkin' about them the other day," said the elder Colton.

"Just before you called, in fact. I was thinking about that Virginia trip we took to the river after your dad got back from the desert." Cole took a sip of the ice-cold tea.

"I barely remember that," said Cole.

"Well, you was what, four? Five?" His grandfather laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I taught Ryan how to fish on that trip. You stood next to 'im the whole time, watching and swinging a stick back and forth like you was casting, too." Cole's grandfather wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and Cole didn't miss that his fingers trembled. It was hard, not telling him. Harder than any other secret Cole had kept in his life.

They stood in silence for a moment before Patrice Colton moved over to a well-loved recliner and eased himself down into it with all the fanfare of the over-fifty act of simply sitting down. He let out a deep breath as though being on his feet had been a Herculean effort and glanced down at the half-full pack of cigarettes and ashtray beside him before he pulled out a drawer and slid the pack inside. Cole took the end of the couch closest to the recliner and pulled over a coaster.

And for the first time in months, truly felt safe enough to relax.