Last Mission by Anne Wheeler

Author:Anne Wheeler [Wheeler, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781951910082
Published: 2020-03-20T22:00:00+00:00

It wasn’t an easy walk to the ridge Jean had mentioned, and worse, it was in the opposite direction Michel had originally been headed. Still, it was good to have company on his hike, even if said company was over a dozen years younger and more talkative than he had any right to be. Maybe the years of silent work in the woods had finally gotten to Jean, for he scarcely let Michel get a word in as they walked through the pines. From how he couldn’t believe Michel despised space as much as he claimed, to the fact he’d always thought he’d be an artist when he grew up instead of a sniper, to how he missed sex more than fresh coffee, no topic appeared to be off limits.

Michel was on the verge of telling him to shut up more than once, but when he brought himself up short and considered his situation, Jean’s loneliness was understandable. Not everyone was cut out for a job that required waiting around for days in what could be total silence, and it was too bad that Jean had been skilled in all the other necessary aspects. That talent had, ultimately, been his downfall—for even a young man had known that leaving Esint in her time of need wasn’t an option, no matter how he much he might want to. So he let him ramble on, spilling his complaints to the wind.

Finally, as the last of the snow melted, Jean closed his mouth, stopped, and sniffed the air, one foot propped up on a fallen log. Michel would have laughed, but everyone had their own way of tracking. Perhaps Jeans could truly smell the Sult like he’d always claimed.

“Two and a half klicks almost due east.” Jean’s voice was quiet now as he slid his carbine over his shoulder and consulted his wrist computer. Detached. Professional. “Zero-nine-five and—correction. 2300 meters. Looks like there’s a creek and a stand of palustris pines between here and there. Thick. Well-covered. Shouldn’t be a problem, even for you.” The jab was given scarcely a hint of a smile.

Michel knew that area, knew the stand of endangered pine trees that had weathered blizzards and thunderstorms and invasive worms and, finally, the Sult invasion. It was the same ridge he’d spent weeks crawling over when the Sult had first arrived; he could practically traverse it with his eyes closed.

“You up for it?” Jean asked. He leaned against the nearest tree and cradled his carbine, looking Michel up and down.

Maybe he wasn’t hiding everything as well as he’d thought—he certainly wasn’t up for anything right now except possibly another nap. His bones ached in a way that had nothing to do with their hike and everything to do with the way his body was steadily failing him. But Jean hadn’t said anything about the small bruises that peppered his exposed skin, so that was something.

“Let’s check it out,” Michel said with a sigh.

It was as non-committal an agreement as he could make it, but Jean’s eyes lit up.

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