"You going, Riley?" Carson asks.
"Fuck yeah. Supermodels? Petr promised to hook me up with anyone I want."
"I want to go, too," Carson says. "Mainly so I can send pics of me with celebrities home to my mom."
"How's she doing?" I ask. Carson's mom has been in the hospital for a year with stage four cancer.
"Still won't die," he jokes. He smiles, affection crossing his face. "Too stubborn."
I return my gaze to the ceiling. The guys are quiet for a few minutes before Riley speaks again.
"I found something the other day when we went back to the village where the Khavs got hurt. Some shitbag in the bazaar was trying to sell it."
My good humor flees. For all of two seconds, I was able to think of something other than that night. I hear him dig around his ruck.
Sitting up, I wait to see what it is.
He tugs free a set of dog tags, each of which has black rubber around its edges to keep them from jingling.
"Mikael's," he supplies and hands them over.
Surprised, I take them. "How the fuck did these make it?" I read the name to confirm. They're dirty, and the rust color indicates dried blood is what clogs a few imprinted letters.
"I thought you might want them."
"We should send them to Petr," I reply, studying the tags.
"Or take them back at Christmas," Carson adds. "Might be a nice gesture."
How would Katya react to having them back? I'm not sure at all. Would it infuriate her or would she appreciate it?
I read Mikael's name over and over on the tags, touched more deeply than I should be by holding them. That something so small can mean so much …
"Great work, Riley," I say.
He nods, smiling. "Mikael's still with us."
"Hey, sir," the Ranger calls from his corner, where he's messing with the comms equipment. "Captain Jacobson says we need to move. Someone picked up on our position. She's saying to head back along our planned route, and she'll send someone to pick us up."
"Roger." I rise instantly. The guys don't need to be told it's time to move - quickly. I pull on Mikael's dog tags and tuck them with mine beneath my shirt.
We pack up and are leaving the covert base within ten minutes, headed stealthily along the route of egress we planned. Alert and wary, we walk the five clicks towards the rendezvous point, where the security detachment she sent is waiting as promised.
An hour later, we're back at the FOB. It's a small compound in the middle of nowhere, heavily fortified, but it's got real beds and decent food.