Read Online The Dying of the Light (Book 1): End by Jason Kristopher - Free Book Online

chow time in the mess hall, and I was impressed by the quality of the food, as well as the relatively quiet atmosphere. It was not at all what I had expected; hardly surprising, given that most of what I knew of the Army was from movies and television. Undoubtedly, this new military life was going to take some getting used to. As I left the line, I looked for a place to sit, and as I moved through the tables, one of the soldiers from the briefing called out, motioning for me to take a seat at her table with a few others from the team. “Welcome to 1 st Team,” said the brunette at one end of the table. “Well, half of it, anyway.” I hesitated for a moment, and then joined them. I knew they wanted to ask me questions, but I left it to them to decide who was going to go first.
     
    “Sergeant Eaton, Charlie Company, 3 rd Rangers,” the woman said, by way of introduction. “That is you on the video, isn’t it, sir?”
     
    I nodded. “Yes, that’s me, and you don’t need to call me sir, sergeant. I’m not military.”
     
    She looked surprised. “You’re not? Well, that answers my second question.”
     
    “No, go ahead. What were you going to ask?”
     
    “I was just wondering where you had trained, sir, or at least what branch you served in.”
     
    “No training. Just hunting and target shooting with friends, and not very much of that.”
     
    “Then why go back out, sir? Why volunteer for this?”
     
    I put down the fork I’d been holding in mid-air, my food undisturbed, and thought for a moment. A part of me wanted to say, “ Because the bastards took my fiancée and her son ,” but I wasn’t ready to talk about that. “This is something I know about… that I seem to be good at… that I can do to save lives. I can’t turn my back on that any more than any of the rest of you can.” I saw more than one person at the table turn thoughtful.
     
    I sighed. “Besides, what else was I going to do? Sit on a farm somewhere, never talking to anyone? You can’t exactly chat with Joe down the street about this stuff. The Army gave me a choice: live in a gilded cage, or do something about it. To me, that wasn’t a choice at all.
     
    “And don’t call me sir,” I said to break the tension. Eaton smiled and appeared to want to ask another question, but was interrupted.
     
    “Alright, you’ve had your turn, Eaton,” said another soldier at her end of the table, a well-built though graying man with an easy smile and blue-grey eyes. I had noticed him at the briefing earlier, sitting near Colonel Maxwell. “Commander Anderson, SEAL Team Four, Mr. Blake. This may seem like a harsh question, sir, but how many did you have to put down?”
     
    I looked at the commander and sighed, putting down my fork again. This wasn’t going to be easy. He caught my eye as I looked around at the others, and gave me a slight nod. He knows what this is like , I thought. He wants to get it out of the way so we can move past it. I had the feeling that Anderson and I were going to get along well.
     
    “Well, sir, I would say I don’t have an exact number for you, but you all know that would be a lie.” There was general agreement from around the table, as I had expected.
     
    “I remember the face of every one of the twenty-seven walkers I killed during those two days in Hell,” I said, pausing for a moment. “Even the children.”
     
    A soft whistle drew my attention to the other end of the table, where the redhead I had noticed earlier sat. She coughed as heads turned her way, most of them grinning at her. I noticed BARNES stenciled on her uniform. Now I had a name to work with, at least.
     
    “Children?” she asked.
     
    I found it hard to look at her — at any of them — as I answered. “Yes, children. There weren’t many, just three. Three was enough, though.”
     
    Though the mood was somber for a while, it didn’t last. SpecOps operators know as much about psychology as any soldier, and they turned