Piranha

“Here, oh, yes, here she is,” said the woman, pulling the card from her file. “Brea

A name that her stubborn mother insisted on, thought Dog. He answered that it was Irish.

“Hmmm. She has a visitor,” added the volunteer after giving him directions and a color-coded map.

Probably Zen, thought Dog. But it was Da

“Hey, you,” he told Brea

“Hi, Daddy,” She started to push up.

“It’s okay, baby,” he told her, putting his hand on her shoulder gently. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. She pulled her arms around him; he could feel her tears on his cheek.

His tears too, maybe.

“I’m damn glad you made it,” he told her.

“Me too.” She looked toward Da

“And you!” Dog turned and gave his captain a hug. “Thanks. Thanks.”

Da

“Where’s Jeff?” asked Brea

“I thought Zen was here already,” said Dog.

“I haven’t seen him since I woke up,” said Brea

“Probably ducked out for di

“He flew the B-5,” said Da

“So where is he?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

Dog looked at Da

“TV was on when I came in,” said Da

Brea

“CNN was saying India and China have agreed to a cease-fire,” said Da

“Piranha has to remain secret,” said Dog. “And the Navy did do a lot.”

“Didn’t say they didn’t,” said Da

“I saw Chris die,” said Brea

Dog looked at her, unable to think of anything to say. “And Kevin. Did they find him?” she asked, referring to Fentress.

“We have to assume he’s dead, Bree.” Dog felt the words sticking to his throat, but he pushed them out, feeling it was his duty to tell her, not to sugarcoat anything, not to leave any doubt. “In that storm, with the rain and the wind, it probably took him under right away.”

“We made it,” she said.

Thank God, he thought, though all he could do was put his hand on hers.

Da

“Thanks.”

“Colonel, if I could just have a brief word? If you don’t mind, Bree.”

“Just give him back when you’re done,” she said.

Dog followed Da

“Thanks, Da

“Colonel, there’s just no good way to say this,” started Da

“What?”

“It’s a lot of things.”

“Da

“I’m not quitting because of that.” His voice wasn’t entirely convincing.

“I know it was—is—difficult,” said Dog. “For all of us, but you especially.”

Da

“What kind of opportunity?”

“An election. Some people in New York want me to run for Congress. They think I can get the nomination. My wife’s pretty involved.”

“Congress? Really? Jesus—great,” said Dog sincerely. “Great. That is great.”

“You think so?”

“You’d be a hell of a Congressman—if you can deal with the bullshit.”

Da

“What’s your timetable?” asked Dog.

“I’m not sure yet. I-I just decided this. Couple of months, I guess. The election isn’t until next year, but I’d need time to get around and meet people, raise money.”