We lost Jack
We lost Jack.
The words haven't sunk in yet, though Daniel repeats them every two minutes.
A mantra of sorts to keep himself centered through the thick of battle. A wrong turn somewhere in the bowels of the mountain, and Daniel and I are alone.
The lines were drawn early, the base overtaken. Words spoken that could not be taken back. Weapons drawn. Foothold situation.
We lost Jack.
I look to my right, Daniel's face white with apprehension, teeth gritted. He would die for me, I know it. As he knows I will die for him, should the need arise. I hear footsteps, press us both against a wall as the offending leader's right hand man stalks by, searching for the enemy. Searching for Daniel and I. Daniel glances to me for leadership, I motion him to stay put. He obeys, as I know he will. He is a good man, a good soldier. Without him, I would not be able to face my opponent in combat.
We lost Jack.
Now the words are reverberating in my mind, bouncing off my skull as if made of rubber. I am almost saddened by the turn of events that have transpired. Where once was friendly ground, now is war zone. Where once I joked and laughed with teammates, now is silence and emptiness. Without Jack….
Without Jack, there is no life in Cheyenne Mountain.
We lost Jack.
I wave Daniel on preparing to follow on his six, unknowingly sending him into danger. The shot hits him, dead center of the chest, he grimaces with pain. Then, my opponent steps around the corner, his bodyguard coming up to flank me. I have fallen into their trap. He squeezes off a round, I gasp as pain blossoms across my leg. If this was a real battle, I'd be helpless.
"Come on, Carter." He taunts me. "Say it."
I blow out a breath of air, turn to face the silent guard behind me who cocks an eyebrow and gives me an inscrutable smile. "Caaaarter," Jack sing-songs, motioning with his paintball gun still aimed at me.
Fine.
"We lost, Jack." I sigh heavily to convey my displeasure at, once again, his win.
I can still play dirty, however, something my husband knows only too well. This win was easy. Far too easy. He knows that even better.
My phone rings as I'm halfway home, I smile, pull it out of my jacket and lift it to my ear. "Carteeer!" he bellows in my ear. I can't help giggling at his rage. I will never understand how he can't seem to remember that changing the lock on our door is nothing to me, I'm done in under five minutes.
You'd think he would have caught on by now.