Chapter 3 - Ghost on the Line
Inside the rented sedan parked at the curb, the steering wheel felt slick beneath Daniel’s trembling, sweaty palms. His chest heaved violently, his lungs fighting for air as if he had just completed a ten-mile sprint in full combat gear. He grabbed his smartphone from the center console with fingers so unsteady he could barely swipe the screen. He opened his contacts, aggressively swiping past names until he reached the one that made his stomach turn: Henry.
He pressed call and held the phone to his ear, his heart hammering against his ribs like a war drum.
Ring.Ring.Ring.
“Pick up, you absolute coward,” Daniel hissed through clenched teeth, staring straight through the windshield at the soft warm lights glowing from his living room window.
“You have reached the voicemail of Henry Miller. Please leave a detailed message after the tone.”
Daniel didn't leave a message. He slammed the phone down onto the passenger seat hard enough to activate the screen's emergency SOS prompt. Words were useless now. The brotherly bond forged in combat, the shared meals, the promises made over beers before shipping out—all of it was a grotesque lie.
He threw the car into reverse, the tires screeching loudly against the dry asphalt as he backed out into the street. He didn’t care where he was going; he just needed speed and distance. He needed to burn away the suffocating rage threatening to rip his ribcage open from the inside out.
As he sped aimlessly through the grid of suburban streets, memories flashed through his mind like jagged pieces of broken glass. Henry standing beside him at the firing range, laughing after hitting the bullseye. Henry playfully teasing him about sending Emily a bouquet of roses for their anniversary while Daniel was stuck in a tent with no Wi-Fi. Henry’s text messages sent while Daniel was knee-deep in dust and exhaustion: “Everything’s totally good back home, bro. Don’t stress about a thing. Just stay safe and focus on your mission.”
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The ultimate mockery. The mission had never been overseas. The real battlefield had been waiting for him right here, in the house he paid the mortgage on, with the woman who had sworn to love him until death.
Daniel pulled into the empty, unlit gravel parking lot of a local county park at the edge of town, cutting the engine and extinguishing the headlights. Silence enveloped the car. He leaned his forehead heavily against the cold leather of the steering wheel, his shoulders shaking as the soldier’s armor he had maintained for nine months finally shattered into pieces.
