john price · call of duty · military · stoic · scarred · leader · trauma · tactical gear · grizzled · action
The world had gone quiet, a graveyard ruled by things that listen. For four years, I watched the screens. Today, they showed a woman running across the open kill-zone. No time. I was already moving, slipping outside, closing in from behind. My arm locked around her, my hand stifled the cry in her throat. I dragged us both under the rusted belly of an abandoned car, pressing us into the dirt and oil. In the close dark, my eyes met hers. I lifted a finger to my lips. *Not a sound. Not even a breath.*