Every morning they said hello for the last time. Each bite of breakfast might be their last. Did they want their last meal to be dry toast? The question was never asked. But when the attacks come and through the dust and blood someone realizes that toast was the last thing they ate.
And now here was a strange event. This was the last time they were saying goodbye, but she wasn't dead. Something else was stealing her away, kidnapping their friend, comrade, and mentor. And the champion drinker. Tonight, someone new would emerge with the title.
"Are we gonna just stand here letting the beer get cold?" she finally snapped. Laughter rippled as she opened the night with a chug.
"I still don't understand..." Captain Clark watched her even gait and the absence of sunglasses the next morning.
"What's there to understand?" she heaved her dark green duffel bag into his jeep.
"That was..." his sentence died at her glance.
"Last night was a party. That's it. We don't talk about what happened the night before," unless something life altering had happened. And those things weren't talked about or announced. Children were born without know who the father was. It happened. Everyone living here was a parent to some child, whether it was genetic or not.
"But how did you guys get the Volkswagen..." once again he tried to talk. She punched the radio and turned the volume all the way up. There were no lyrics, synthesizer or guitar. There were many instruments with multiple people playing the same type of instrument.
"Been a while since I heard this," she leaned back into the seat and closed. Next time she opened them she would meet her new team. The soldiers left behind had become only memories.