Free Whole Pieces by Ronie Kendig Page A

you, I need you to tell them that the only thing you saw on that hill was your sheep.”
    â€œDelaram—her name is Delaram.”
    Hawk gave a quick smile. “Remember you told me your cousin was killed?”
    Sad and a bit scared at why Hawk would mention that, Abda nodded.
    â€œWell, I had a very bad sort of dream where you went back and told your parents of me and my team—”
    â€œOh no. I wouldn’t!”
    â€œIn my dream, you did. And your parents told some very bad people, who hunted my team down and used a grenade to kill us.”
    Abda put his hand on Hawk’s shoulder. “Friends do not kill friends. Right?”
    Sadness played on Hawk’s face. “Right. Just remember, if you tell your moor and plaar that the other soldiers and I are up there, I will have to watch all my other friends, the same ones who gave you gifts—” he tapped the treasure box—“die. The man you call the Sand Spider will order men to kill us.”
    A little taller and a little angry, Abda stood straight. “I will not tell him. I promise, Hawk.”
    â€œPlease.” Hawk’s grip was tight, and it hurt, but he noticed and let go. “I don’t want to die, Abda. And I don’t want my friends to die.”
    â€œI will not say anything, Haytham. You are my friend, and I do not want to see any more friends die.” He sighed. “It makes my heart sad.”
    â€œThank you, friend.”
    â€œWill I see you again?”
    Hand on Abda’s head, Hawk smiled. “It would be nice—when there is no more war.” He rumpled his hair. “If you are tempted to tell anyone of us, play the message I recorded. Remember, we are friends. You and me. America and Afghanistan.”

11
    Power had shifted. No longer did it rest in his hands, namely in the form of Constant’s watch. Watching through the scope of his M4 as the kid scrambled back to his home left Hawk with a profound sense of affirmation. Which left him confused. Shouldn’t he feel like a failure? His plan hadn’t worked. The fact that the boy scrabbled toward the safety of his home right now was proof positive.
    But peace existed now where none had before. Only anger. So much that it had consumed him. All too well, he recalled yelling at Ash . . . seeing the pain as his words gouged through her heart. He’d just wanted her to move on. Hated that all she was—her sweetness, her beauty, her stubbornness, even—reminded him of what would’ve been had the team not died, had he not lost his hand . . . and his soul.
    â€œYou should marry her and have children. A son, like me!”
    A son . . . now that would’ve been something. But it was too late.
    Hold up. His thoughts sped around the time travel thing. When the seven hours were up, would he land back in that hospital? Would he relive the next thirty years?
    Irony at its best, since he’d hoped to skip those years with all their pain and heartache. But what had Thomas said? A gift of time? Yeah . . . that was just it. He stuffed his hand in his pocket and wrapped his fingers around Ashley’s picture.
    Darkness overpowered his ability to see Abda once he slipped between two buildings, descending deeper into the village. Hawk lost sight of his small frame with just a yard or two separating the boy from his family.
    C’mon, he mentally nudged Abda as he traced the reticle over the shadows and buildings. He’d have to get back to the team, to cover. God, keep Abda safe—and his mouth closed. It felt like a selfish prayer, but then . . . weren’t a lot of prayers? All Hawk knew was that he wanted his team to survive this daunting night. He scurried back to the team and dropped into the hole.
    Yes, power had shifted—straight out of his hands and into those of a seven-year-old boy. Could he convince Stratham to move out? Relocate? A lot had gone wrong. Maybe he