Making slow and deliberate movements, the two made their way over the hill toward the “military crest” of the mountain next to them. Staying three quarters of the way up the mountain allowed them to avoid enemy movements while maintaining a good tactical advantage and concealment. An hour and a half later, they were in position, hiding in the wooded area that opened to a clearing as they waited on their ride home.

“So how does it feel?” Bynes whispered.

“How does what feel?” Marcus asked impatiently. “It’s fucking cold.” A native of South Florida, Marcus hated cold weather. He was looking forward to the day he could retire on his houseboat in the Florida Keys and throw away all of his winter clothes in favor of flip flops and shorts.

“No, I mean how does it feel to be done?” Bynes pressed.

“We’re not done until we’re home, now shut the fuck up,” Marcus grunted.

*****

It was just after 8PM when Marcus finally made it to his truck in the deployment parking area. As Marcus made the final turn onto the base housing road in his 1994 Ford Bronco, he breathed a sigh of relief. After three days of going from base to base in Europe on his way back to Quantico, he was finally home.

It was Valentine’s Day, three days before he had originally been scheduled to return. His Captain had given him a three-day pass in honor of his upcoming retirement and distinguished service. He was hoping to show up and surprise his wife, spending the weekend getting reacquainted after a long time apart.

Marcus had married Rhonda Myers just a year before his assignment to Quantico. She had been a hairdresser at a local salon near Yuma MCAS. They met at a bar outside of Yuma, Arizona and were married six months later. They had no children, but on his flight home from war-torn Bosnia, he had been thinking about kids. He had always told her he was too old, but now that he was leaving the Corps and settling down, he was starting to reconsider. Besides, she was still in her early twenties. She wasn’t too old, regardless of how he felt about himself.

Marcus noticed an extra car on the street as he pulled into his duplex driveway next to Rhonda’s Chevy Cavalier. He guessed it must’ve been his neighbors. He figured he’d have to have a talk with them about parking on his side of the lot, but for now, he was just looking forward to seeing Rhonda. He laughed at the “Clinton/Gore ‘96” sticker on the back windshield. It was ironic to Marcus that a person on a military base was supporting the same two politicians that had been doing their best to gut the military.

“Democrats,” he chuckled to himself as he shook his head.

He started to pull out his keys but then decided to try the door. Despite his warnings that it was unsafe, Rhonda always left the door unlocked, even when she was alone. He twisted the doorknob and pushed. The deadbolt was locked. Maybe she finally listened, he thought. Marcus fished out his house keys and unlocked the door. He tossed his sea bag near the front door and looked around. The house was quiet.