Yes. I'll help Jordyn.

“Yes.”

“Thanks,” Jordyn says. “I owe you one. I mean it. I’m sure our paths will cross again, either in Spring when we’re all hauling booty out of Montana or Summer when we’re getting ready to spiral somewhere else.”

“You’re done with this, though, aren’t you?”

“Done with what?”

“Being at TC1, uh, Tiger Cub, or smuggler. Whatever.”

Jordyn sighs, leaning into her palm. “I don’t know. Smuggling is all that I know. I could probably pick up one of my hobbies and make a career out of it. Settle in Utah or find a way into Florida to get away from all this. It’s a big step away from everything I know.”

“I get that.”

“What about you? How much longer are you going to be a criminal?”

You snort, thinking of a reply. Your mind conjures something up in a couple of seconds, and your mouth begins bobbing. “Tell you what. If our paths cross next year, maybe I’ll hitch up with your crew and bounce out with you.”

“Really?” Jordyn says, sounding surprised.

Not really. You had a lot on your plate right now, and there were loose strings all over the place. You lie, however, covering your tracks so no one could somehow stumble over or overhear what you are talking about. “No, I plan on contracting until I’m not able to do it anymore.”

“Workhorse,” Jordyn says with her brows knitted. “I knew a couple of guys like that. The thing is, it’s like, well, they lost something. Their humanity, a leg, an arm, all the above– it sucks, and if you’re not careful, you’ll lose something. I sound like a broken record by now, I’m sure, but you’re a really cool guy, Warren. Don’t turn into something you’re not supposed to be, OK?”

You return to idly poking your food. Your eyes drift down, and you move your mouth. “I’ll be sure to pin that to a list of mental recollections.”

“You do that now,” Jordyn laughs under her breath and pushes away from the table, and regards the room. “OK. Well. I’m going to go before any awkward silence builds. Get some sleep, and I’ll find you in the morning.”

“Have a good night, Jordyn.”

“Thank you! You as well.”

You are walking around the tunnel network for the rest of the night to keep yourself active since there aren’t many options to keep yourself busy. The hours tick slowly, but the night does fall on top of you, and you gladly accept the rest that comes with it.

The sounds come at night echo in the cave. Snores, shuffling, and the rocky ceiling as pebblings drop. You lay on your side, listening to everything around you. It’s oddly relaxing, allowing you to filter through your thoughts. Since going to the letter, the events have been crazy, and, surprisingly, you haven’t been put in more dire situations since joining the ARS.

You roll to your back, let all the air in your lungs through your mouth, and take a deep intake through your nose. You can feel the sleep starting to hit your system, so you close your eyes and pull the blankets covering you closer…

…

…

…Something wakes you up, but it isn’t a rude interruption or loud noise. It’s a natural reaction once obtaining enough rest. Your eyes open to a vast, well-furnished room decored with exquisite paintings of beautiful landscapes. You’re in a king-sized bed with red quilts and silk pillows. On either side are end tables, topped with lamps and windup clocks. The room is lit by natural light. However, sunlight bleeds in through expansive windows. You squint slightly as you look from the bed. You can easily see the clear blue sky.

You let your arms out from the blankets and find the temperature to be perfect to lounge in. However, as you slowly push your limbs out, you discover you’re half-naked, but that doesn’t discourage you from finally walking around.

In the room, there are two doors, one of them a solid wooden one, while the other is made of glass that directly leads to an overlook of where you are. The patio is made of white stone. A chessboard and some lounge chairs with red pillows and white folded blankets. You stroll over to the chairs, discovering porn magazines full of skimpily dressed bleach blondes and gorgeous red-heads with G-strings and porcelain skin.

You scratch yourself and place down the magazine while walking over to the railing. From this point of view, the overlook allows you to see a fantastic backyard, with straight lines and dark green hedges with white flowers dotting the edges.

The lawn has people on it, but it’s a wide range of people in uniforms of military descent. Tall, tan men in pickle fatigues stand around, smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey near a sapphire-water pool. Ranks and insignia are stitched on their uniforms. Their hair is slick back and clean-looking. Three men in black jackboots and field gray uniforms are in the yard, pushing mowers and weed-whacking the edges. Then you start seeing more men. You lean into the railing and watch the backyard filter in and out with different men, sometimes in uniform, sometimes not.

Then, without reason, your cock starts to throb with life. You aren’t comfortable with this newfound emotion, but as soon as you feel slender fingers wrap around your shoulder, you realize why it’s happening.

“Welcome to my home,” Alicen says while she hands you a glass of Old Forester bourbon.

“Who are all the soldiers down there?” You take the drink and bring it to your lips.

“They’re not all soldiers, but during times of war, there are always whores. I find a lot of good boys with naughty minds to please, “Alicen coos. “It’s easy to find unfaithful husbands and lonely sons when they are far from home, away from their wives and families.”

You regard the last man pushing the mower out of the backyard. “But who are they?”

“Americans, Englishmen, Germans, Japanese– just men I slutted for when our paths crossed,” Alicen replies. “I followed them like how I’m following you now, and when they died, I offered them a place here at my mansion in the afterlife.”

When the yard is cleared, you clear your throat. You were about to put your glass down, but you found it to be full again, full of Old Forester bourbon. “Why the soldiers, though?”

She giggles. “Men die so fast in conflict. It was easy to replace the fun toys with others.”

Finally, you bring your gaze to look at Alicen; she looks like…