Alex didn’t have to think before responding. “Permission granted, soldier.”

Tank lifted what was left of Mike. From once being a man who looked like he weighed in at 200 pounds, Mike now looked a quarter of that. The worms dropped freely from his sleeves and ankles where the suit wasn’t fully closed. Tank walked with the body to the corner of the beach and knelt beside him. He looked to be talking to his brother one last time. He stood, crossed himself and removed his own propane cylinder from his backpack and proceeded to spray Mike all over. Tank depressed the ignition stud and Mike’s body flared yellow as the highly flammable propellant burst into life. As the suit burnt and peeled away there was an insane thrashing all over his body as the parasitic worms reacted to the destruction of their home and last meal.

Tank rejoined the group but his head, like his spirits, was down. Alex walked over to him and grabbed his shoulders. “Tank, he made us all proud. He was one of the best we ever had, I’m going to miss him; we all will.”

Tank gripped Alex’s forearms in both his hands. His lips were clamped together and his eyes shut tightly. Tank and Mike had been inseparable their whole lives. They had looked out for each other and shared everything, from pushbikes to being in the same football team and on to military training. They had regularly topped their classes in strategy and combat and they were both delighted to be selected for second-level training to become Green Berets. Then, after distinguishing themselves on complex missions they were further assigned to fifth-level training to become US Navy SEALs. In just another two years they had been invited to join the HAWCs and had attended tenth-level training under Major Jack Hammerson. Tank wrenched his arms away from Alex and brought his hands up to the side of his head as through he was about to scream only to bring them down hard on Alex.

Alex caught and held the bigger man’s wrists easily. Though Tank outweighed Alex by fifty pounds, Alex was far stronger. Alex knew the big man was not wrestling with him, but with the pain of his loss. Tank’s face was contorted in a suffering that only a person who has just lost someone very close to them could understand. When Alex felt the pressure let up he released Tank’s arms and allowed him to walk off down the beach to gather his thoughts. Alex would let him mourn for a little while, but would not let him withdraw into himself. Everyone was needed now, especially his remaining HAWCs.

Alex saw Aimee approaching him along the beach. When she reached him she stood silently for minutes, just watching Tank’s massive form moving off into the dark. At last she spoke. “It’s all going bad, isn’t it?”