Free The Dying of the Light (Book 1): End by Jason Kristopher Page A

standard formation, drilled into us after months of training. Covered in sweat, we were prepared to listen to our commander.
     
    “Part of my responsibility here is to see to it that you are all in tip-top shape at all times, and that includes mentally. Blake here,” he said, pointing to me, “has just shown us that hardly any of us are thinking outside of the box on this one, especially us stick-in-the-mud military types. Obviously, we’re all too close to this, and we need a break. You’ve all been working at this non-stop for nearly three months.”
     
    “So, we’re going to bust you out of your routine and shake you up a bit. As of 2000 hours this evening, you have all been granted a 48-hour pass.” Surprise registered on all our faces, but even more so when Maxwell smiled. “You’ve earned it. Report back to your barracks no later than 2000 hours two days from now, and we’ll continue your training. Until then,” and he broke into the biggest grin we’d seen from him yet, “consider yourselves ordered to have fun and not think at all about walkers. Dismissed!”
     
    There was a ragged cheer of sorts from the exhausted soldiers — and one civilian — and we fell out to our barracks. As we were leaving, I spotted Doctor Adamsdóttir entering from the side of the room. She and Maxwell were close in conversation, and if I hadn’t seen it myself, I never would’ve believed it.
     
    Ol’ George was nervous.
     
    Him? And the doc? No way, I thought. Never in a million years…
     
    I lost my train of thought as Eaton yanked me out of the door, pestering me with questions about the local sightseeing opportunities. Lost in our own conversation, I quickly forgot about our leader and the doctor.
     
     
    Most of our team spent our first day off in months seeing the sights in Denver or Colorado Springs, or visiting friends and relatives. Alpha squad had little of the latter nearby; I had none, as my parents were long dead, and everyone else I had known had died in Fall Creek. So when Eaton and Barnes suggested that we have a nice dinner out the next night, the rest of us readily agreed.
     
    Reynolds, Gaines, Martinez and I had been seated by a young hostess at one of the better steak restaurants in Denver. I had never been able to afford to eat here, but now that we were on the Army’s dime, it seemed the logical choice.
     
    Who knows when we’ll get another chance?
     
    We were all in evening wear, having had more than enough of uniforms for the moment and taking the rare opportunity to dress however we wanted. Barnes and Eaton had taken that idea to heart and had informed the other four of us in no uncertain terms that what we — meaning, of course, they — really needed was a night out on the town in style.
     
    And damn if they didn’t succeed , I thought as the girls entered the restaurant.
     
    On the low side of medium height, Rachel Eaton had long brown hair that was often pulled back into a ponytail, and her brown eyes could pierce like augurs right through those unprepared for the intelligence behind them. She entered rooms like she owned them, and though she didn’t monopolize conversations, she made damned sure that you knew she was there. No back seats or sidelines for this one.
     
    She had really pulled out all the stops tonight, in a black and white patterned strapless dress that set off her toned arms and prominent collarbones. Her dark hair was pulled half up in a clip, revealing sterling silver and teal earrings that matched her tasteful belt and open-toed heels. A black clutch purse completed the ensemble, and it was a toss-up as to whether she or the captain drew more stares. Kimberly , I admonished myself. Her name is Kim. Not Barnes and not captain. Kim.
     
    Kim was stunning in a spaghetti-strapped deep green cocktail dress that perfectly matched her eyes. The dress fell to just above her knees, clinging to her slim legs as she moved. Long silver earrings accentuated her graceful