thirty-seven

Zach Morrow pulled his F-150 pickup truck onto the side of Route 115 by Gibson’s Hill, looking down once again upon the town of Turner. Thought about his first eighteen years there, and recalled the last few days, where he was welcomed back, where he seemed to fit in, to belong.

Thought some about spending a lot more time here over the next decade or two, finding the idea unexpectedly filling him with sweet anticipation. Running businesses. Finding a place to live. Challenges all. But would it be as hard as swimming for a mile or two at night, or being shot at, or running ops that would never ever appear in the history books?

A car approached, pulled in behind him. It was a white GM sedan, one of the numerous rental hordes that could be picked up at any airport across the country. He looked on in surprise as the driver stepped out.

It was Tanya Gibbs.

She offered a hesitant smile. He smiled right back at her. She looked different. Her hair was trimmed, and she had on a short black leather jacket, black skirt above the knees, and she looked pretty good. She didn’t look like a teenage girl who had stolen her father’s car for Take Your Daughter to Work Day. She looked like a young professional woman.

“Miss Gibbs,” he said.

“Please, Chief,” she said. “I’m no longer working for Homeland Security. So it’s Tanya.”

Zach nodded. “So call me Zach. How in the world did you find me?”

She smiled again, wider and more sincere, and strolled over to the front of his truck. She had good legs. Damn, she had fine legs. Tanya went to the left fender, squatted down, her fine butt outlined in the tight skirt, and reached up to the wheel well. In a moment or two, she came out with a thin metal box, with an antenna trailing.

Zach laughed. “Two tracers instead of one. Very thorough.”

Tanya turned and tossed it into a nearby ditch. “Not thorough enough.”

She moved to him and he said, “So now I know why you found me. But why? Considering what I did to you … I’m surprised.”

A stray breeze brought a scent of lilac to him. “Last time we chatted, I told you that big cities weren’t going to be healthy places over the next few years. Haven’t changed my mind. So here I am. I was hoping you could show me what small-town life is all about. If you’re interested. Considering all that went on before, if you’re not, I understand.”

Zach looked at her eyes, saw something missing. There was no desperate drive there, no fear of overlooking something important. What was there was a hunger, a desire for something quiet, peaceful, out of the way. Something he was looking for as well.

He didn’t hesitate.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m interested.”

She put her hands in her leather coat, nodded, like she couldn’t find the right words. Zach came to her, put his hands on her shoulders, looked at her expectant eyes, kissed her forehead. “I think I’d enjoy it as well.”

“Me, too,” Tanya said, leaning into him. The two of them stood like that for a few sweet seconds, then she said, “They won, didn’t they. You were seeking something, I was seeking something, but in the end, the all-powerful, the all-reaching they … victory belonged to them. Not us.”

He found he enjoyed her being next to him. “Depends how you define victory, I guess. Right now, I don’t care.”

“Me either.”

He kissed her forehead again, she squeezed his rough hand, and they went back to their own vehicles.

Zach shifted his old truck back into drive and headed down into Turner, followed by a small white car that was offering something special. Once again, he passed that metal sign announcing he was on the Montgomery Morrow Memorial Highway.

He paid the sign no heed.

He was finally going home.