Page 44

THIRTY-SIX

GAGE

The sun beats down on us as we move stealthily through the narrow streets of the Afghan village.

The last leg of my tour is almost here, and I can taste the anticipation of going home to Ale, Zoe, and our unborn child.

But for now, duty calls, and we’re deep in enemy territory, scouting for any signs of insurgent activity.

Our unit, a tight-knit group of Marines, moves with precision and silence.

I’m the team leader, the Gunnery Sergeant, and the responsibility of my brothers’ lives weighs heavily on my shoulders.

We’re on a mission to gather intel, nothing more, but in this part of the world, even the simplest missions can turn deadly in an instant.

We round a corner, and the world explodes into chaos. Gunfire erupts from every direction, and I hear the distinctive crack of AK-47s and the heavier thud of RPGs. “Ambush!” someone shouts, but it’s already clear. We’re pinned down, caught in a crossfire between multiple insurgent positions.

“Take cover!” I bark, diving into a nearby building. The others follow, finding what little cover they can. The firefight is intense, bullets ricocheting off the walls and kicking up dust from the floor. I return fire, my M4 carving a path of destruction through the enemy ranks.

To my left, I see Morales, laying down suppressing fire. His face is a mask of concentration, his movements fluid and practiced. We’ve been through hell and back together, and I know I can count on him to have my six.

Suddenly, I hear a grunt of pain and turn to see Jackson’s eyes flash with pain as he goes down. He’s hit and blood blooms across his uniform.

“Ryder!” McCormick drops to his side, pressing his hands against the wound to staunch the flow of blood.

Morales and I exchange a glance, and without a word, we spring into action.

We drag Jackson to a safer spot, his body limp and unresponsive.

I can see the fear in McCormick’s eyes as he follows, staying by Ryder’s side.

I want to tell him it’s going to be okay, but the words catch in my throat.

We’re in the middle of a fucking war zone, and Ryder’s bleeding out.

“We need to keep moving!” I shout over the sound of gunfire. Morales nods, and together, we press forward, clearing the room of insurgents. The battle rages on, but we fight with a renewed ferocity, driven by the need to protect our fallen brother and finish the mission.

The gunfire finally subsides, and I take stock of the situation.

The insurgents are dead or retreating, and the building is secure—for now.

I turn to check on Ryder, and my heart sinks.

Ethan is cradling him in his arms, his face pale and stricken.

I don’t need to be a doctor to know that Ryder isn’t gonna make it.

I drop to my knees beside them, placing a hand on Ryder’s shoulder. “Hang in there, Ryder,” I say, silently begging for him to make a miraculous recovery. “We’ve got you.” But even as I say the words, I know they’re a lie. His breaths are shallow and ragged, and his eyes are already glazing over.

Morales joins us, his face grim. He presses his fingers to Ryder’s neck, searching for a pulse, but it’s no use. Ryder Jackson, my friend and a damned good Marine, is gone.

McCormick looks up at me, his eyes filled with unshed tears. “Gage,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. I feel a profound sense of responsibility, of guilt. As the team leader, I should have seen this coming. I should have done more to protect him.

This is my fucking fault.

Another brother was dead on my watch.

The rest of the unit gathers around, their faces somber as they realize what has happened.

We form a tight knot of camaraderie and grief, our brothers-in-arms providing comfort in the face of this terrible loss.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what needs to be done.

“We need to secure the area and call for extraction,” I say, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

The others nod, snapping into action. They fan out, clearing the remaining rooms and setting up a perimeter. Morales stays by my side, his presence a constant source of strength.

We wait for the extraction team to get to us, and all I can think about is Ale and the life we’re building together.

I wonder if the burden of this loss will ruin everything, if she knows that a part of me will be forever changed by this day.

I want to be there for her, to hold her and our children and to forget the horrors of war, if only for a little while.

But for now, I’m here, in the heart of Afghanistan, surrounded by the aftermath of a brutal firefight. My friend is dead, and I am left to pick up the pieces, to lead my unit through this tragedy and ensure that Jackson’s sacrifice is not in vain.

The extraction team arrives, their helicopters kicking up a storm of dust and debris.

We load Ryder’s body onto the bird, his body lying there draped in a few ponchos, a stark reminder of the price we pay for freedom.

As we take off, I look out over the village, a mix of anger and sadness churning in my gut.

This is the reality of war, the harsh truth that we face every day.

And yet, we press on, driven by duty, honor, and the unbreakable bonds of brotherhood.

Back at the base, the mood is somber. Ryder’s death casts a long shadow over the entire unit, a reminder of the dangers we face and the sacrifices we make.

I find myself drawn to the chapel, a small, quiet space where I can be alone with my thoughts.

I grew up religious, but once I was out of the house and had seen what war can do to people, most of it over some convoluted beliefs that their higher power is the way, I stopped going.

But right now I need something to keep me grounded.

I sit in the back, my elbows on my knees, my head in my hands. The burden of responsibility presses down on me, threatening to crush me under its force. I was the team leader. I was supposed to keep them safe. And now Ryder is gone, his life cut short by the cruel hand of war.

My fault.

It’s my fault for not being a better leader.

For not catching on to what was going on around us.

A soft footstep behind me announces Victor’s presence. He takes a seat beside me, his silence a comforting balm to my raging emotions. We sit there for a long time, two warriors united in grief, finding solace in each other’s company.

“You did everything you could, Gage,” Victor says finally, his voice low and grave. “Jackson knew the risks. He was a Marine, through and through. ”

I nod, but the words do little to ease the pain in my chest. “I just keep thinking about Ale and the kids,” I confess. “About how much I want to be there for them, to protect them from all this darkness. And yet, here I am, mired in it, drowning in it.”

Victor places a hand on my shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

“You’re a good man, Gage. A good leader.

Ryder’s death is a tragedy, but it’s not your fault.

You did everything in your power to keep him safe.

Sometimes, that’s not enough. But you can’t let this guilt consume you.

You have a family waiting for you at home, and they need you to come back whole. ”

His words resonate deep within me, stirring something fundamental in my soul.

He’s right. I can’t let this guilt define me.

I can’t let it eat away at the man I am and the father I want to be.

I have to honor Ryder’s memory, to make his sacrifice mean something, and to move forward with my life.

He wouldn’t want me torturing myself mentally for the rest of my life because of his death.

I take a deep breath, letting the weight of everything settle.

“You’re right,” I say, my voice steady and resolved.

“I can’t change what happened, but I can make sure that Ryder’s death wasn’t in vain.

I’ll honor his memory by being the best damned father and husband I can be.

Because he didn’t get the chance to be one. We can all do that for him.”

We leave the chapel feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

The pain of Jackson’s loss will always be with me, a scar on my heart, just like McMahon, but it’s a reminder of the love and camaraderie that binds us all together.

I am a Marine, a husband, and a father, and I will face whatever challenges come my way with courage, honor, and an unbreakable spirit.

On the day of the unit’s departure, the base is a flurry of activity.

Helicopters roar overhead, and the air is thick with the scent of fuel and dust. I say my goodbyes to the men that are staying behind for a longer deployment, clapping them on the back and offering words of encouragement.

They are my brothers, my family, and leaving them is bittersweet.

I climb into the helicopter; the rotors kick up a storm as we take to the skies.

Below us, the base shrinks into the distance, a testament to the life I’ve led and the sacrifices I’ve made.

We fly towards the airfield and I allow myself a moment of reflection.

The journey home is long, but I am eager to see Ale, to hold her and our children, and to start the next chapter of our lives together.

The heaviness of Ryder’s loss will always be with me, but it’s a reminder of the love and strength that defines us as Marines and as a family.