THIS IS BOOK TWO! PLEASE READ SILENCE FIRST AS THERE ARE SPOILERS IN THE SYNOPSIS
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updated regularly
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Nearly a year later and [now] Sergeant Major Abigail Laurens has managed to do the seemingly impossible. But most importantly, she has managed to...
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Abby and Callaghan had positioned themselves in a concealed corner at the back of the warehouse. It was quite cold, only about 50 degrees out and the warehouse was dark and sheltered. But they were bundled in the corner, the brick walls partially acting as a natural defense from any drafts blowing in.
They had their earpieces in and had discreetly hidden mic's in a small device that fitted tightly into their sleeves, but they were turned off; waiting to be activated at the orders of the Major or Captain.
"You want anything to eat, Serg?" Callaghan asked from beside her. They had no idea what time it was, it had taken them a little longer to get there than anticipated because Callaghan had made Abby take a wrong turn.
"I didn't make you do anything! You're the one driving!" He had, quite literally, screeched defensively.
"You're the one reading the map for fucks sake!" She wasn't angry, if anything, she was weirdly relieved. She wasn't too keen on spending the night in a warehouse as she waited for a terrorist.
"It's confusing!"
"You're a private in the British Army, Callaghan! Map and coordinate reading is part of your basic training!"
"Doesn't mean I was any good at it though does it?"
They had laughed at their 'disagreement' and, eventually, they finally found their way back onto the right road.
Abby looked at the bags of dried fruit that honestly looked like something an astronaut would take into space.
"No thanks Callaghan." She eyed it up distastefully.
"Yeah that's the right call. Shit's disgusting."
They sat in silence for a little while longer. There was nothing for them to do but wait.
"So why'd you do two tours back-to-back?" Callaghan asked as hunger had finally got the better of him and he had decided to risk the potential food poisoning.
She shrugged, picking at the skin around her finger nails. She wanted to tell him the truth, she wanted to talk to someone objectively about it but she knew she couldn't. She had been hauling around this guilt - this painful, gnawing guilt, for 361 days, and it was beginning to scrape away at the last layer of self-compassion that she had left.
She recalled the information from the file on her new life that Luke had given her all those months ago. "Would you believe me if I said that I liked the first one so much that I chose to stay?"
