The Lucky One

"I'm ready to go home," Victor said. "I've done my part."

"You're not going to reup next year?"

He took a long drag from his cigarette. "My mother wants me home, and my brother has offered me a job. In roofing. Do you think I can build roofs?"

"Yeah, I think you can. You'll be a great roofer."

"My girl, Maria, is waiting for me. I've known her since I was fourteen."

"I know. You've told me about her."

"I'm going to marry her."

"You told me that, too."

"I want you to come to the wedding."

In the glow of Victor's cigarette, he saw the ghost of a smile. "I wouldn't miss it."

Victor took a long drag and they stood in silence, considering a future that seemed impossibly distant. "What about you?" Victor said, his words coming out with a puff" of smoke. "You going to reup?"

Thibault shook his head. "No. I'm done."

"What are you going to do when you get out?"

"I don't know. Do nothing for a while, maybe go fishing in Mi

Victor sighed. "That sounds nice."

"You want to come?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll call you when I plan the trip," Thibault promised.

He could hear the smile in Victor's voice. "I'll be there." Victor cleared his throat. "Do you want to know something?"

"Only if you want to tell me."

"Do you remember the firefight? The one where Jackson and the others died when the Humvee blew up?" Thibault picked up a small pebble and tossed it into the dark-ness. "Yeah."

"You saved my life.

"No, I didn't. I just hauled you back." 'Thibault, I followed you. When you jumped from the Humvee. I was going to stay, but when I saw you go, I knew I had no choice."

"What are you talking ab-?"

"The picture," Victor interrupted. "I know you carry it with you. I followed your luck and it saved me."

At first, Thibault didn't understand, but when he finally figured out what Victor was saying, he shook his head in disbelief. "It's just a picture, Victor."

"It's luck," Victor insisted, bringing his face close to Thibault's. "And you're the lucky one. And when you are finished with your tour, I think you should go find this woman in the picture. Your story with her is not finished."

"No-"

"It saved me."

"It didn't save the others. Too many others."

Everyone knew that the First, Fifth had suffered more casualties in Iraq than any other regiment in the Marine Corps.

"Because it protects you. And when I jumped from the Humvee, I believed it would save me, too, in the same way you believe it will always save you."

"No, I don't," Thibault began.

"Then why, my friend, do you still carry it with you?"

It was Friday, his third day working at the ke

He was walking a mastiff on a shady trail, out of sight of the office but still on the property. The dog was enormous, at least the size of a Great Dane, and had a tendency to lick Thibault's hand every ten seconds. Friendly.

He'd already mastered the simple routines of the job: feeding and exercising the dogs, cleaning the cages, scheduling appointments. Not hard. He was fairly certain that Nana was considering allowing him to help train the dogs as well. The day before, she'd asked him to watch her work with one of the dogs, and it reminded him of his work with Zeus: clear, short, simple commands, visual cues, firm guidance with the leash, and plenty of praise. When she finished, she told him to walk beside her as she brought the dog back to the ke

"Do you think you could handle something like that?" she asked.

"Yes."

She peeked over her shoulder at Zeus, who was trailing behind them. "Is it the same way you trained Zeus?"

"Pretty much."

When Nana had interviewed him, Thibault had made two requests. First, he asked that he be allowed to bring Zeus to work with him. Thibault had explained that after spending nearly all their time together, Zeus wouldn't react well to long daily separations. Thankfully, Nana had understood. "I worked with shepherds for a long time, so I know what you're talking about," she'd said. "As long as he doesn't become a bother, it's fine with me."

Zeus wasn't a bother. Thibault learned early on not to bring Zeus into the ke

Thibault's second request to Nana was that he be allowed to start work on Wednesday so he'd have time to get settled. She'd agreed to that as well. On Sunday, on the way home after leaving the ke

Ironically, the remaining two choices were on opposite ends of town. The first house he found was in an older subdivision just off the downtown area and within sight of the South River. Good condition. Nice neighborhood. But not for him. Houses were sandwiched too close together. The second house, though, would work out fine. It was located at the end of a dirt road about two miles from work, on a rural lot that bordered the national forest. Conveniently, he could cut through the forest to get to the ke

Thibault called the number on the sigh, and a couple of hours later, he heard the owner drive up. They made the requisite small talk, and it turned out the guy had spent twenty years in the army, the last seven at Fort Bragg. The place had belonged to his father, he'd explained, who'd passed away two months earlier. That was good, Thibault knew; homes were like cars in that if they weren't used regularly, they began to decay at an accelerating rate. It meant this one was probably still okay. The deposit and rent seemed a bit high to him, but Thibault needed a place quickly. He paid two months' rent and the deposit in advance. The expression on the guy's face told him that the last thing he'd expected was to receive that much cash.

Thibault slept at the house Monday night, spreading his sleeping bag on top of the mattress; on Tuesday, he trekked into town to order a new mattress from a place that agreed to deliver it that evening, then picked up supplies as well. When he returned, his backpack was filled with sheets and towels and cleaning supplies. It took another two trips to town to stock the refrigerator and get some plates, glasses, and utensils, along with a fifty-pound bag of food for Zeus. By the end of the day, he wished for the first time since he'd left Colorado that he had a car. But he was settled in, and that was enough. He was ready to go to work.