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Chapter Sixty-Five
“Well, this is what we look like on the move when we’re trying not to use any gas,” Kermit explained to the camera. With his pack on his back, he was marching alongside a slow-moving truck. “Now I know it may look like we’re using gas, but the fact is that we’ve gone from horsepower…”
He fell back so that the camera could see the line of Marines pushing the truck.
“…To man-power.” He made a face at the camera. “We would just use a different kind of horsepower, but we don’t have much of a cavalry these days.”
“And the fact that Frog isn’t helping push any vehicle has nothing to do with a lack of physical strength,” Larsen said as he pushed, winking at the camera.
Kermit scrunched his face. “I’m only eighteen inches tall!” he said defensively. “I can’t reach,” he confessed to the camera, and he cleared his throat. “Y’see, most of the oil refineries around here are now under terrorist control. That way they can pretty much immobilize us without shooting themselves in the foot, so to speak. So we’ll only be getting gas if it’s sent to us from back home—“ He scrunched his face. “And frankly, we don’t rely on getting much of anything from back home.”
“Sad day, when we can’t depend on our own country,” Geraldson grunted, casting a dark glance towards the camera.
“I can’t actually tell you what we’re doing or where we’re going,” Kermit explained to the camera. “This is going to air before we get there, and revealing that sort of information could put us in a lot of danger.”
“Could also put that guy in danger,” Larsen said, looking past the camera. The other men looked up, and Holt turned and re-focused the camera until it showed a single man approaching from a small village with a large container in each hand.
Two trucks ahead, Major D. gave the order for them to stop and immediately called for Larsen. The two of them went to meet the approaching man.
“Larsen is our translator,” Kermit quietly explained. “He’s fluent in Arabic, among… who knows how many other languages. We never really know what we’ll run into around here, especially since we move around so much.”
They watched from a distance as the men hailed each other and began to talk.
“The people around here used to be a lot more willing to come and greet us and help us… so I’m told,” Kermit went on. “But it’s gotten more and more dangerous for them now—and for their families and towns. Their kids.” He cleared his throat and nodded faintly. “A few people still do. Some—out of bravery, and some—out of desperation. They really need help out here, but—it’s safer for everyone if no one knows… who helps us. That’s—why we’re staying back here.”
The man handed Larsen both of the large containers and bid him and Major D. farewell before he hurried away.
Larsen was grinning as he carried the containers to the truck they’d been pushing. “He gave us some gas,” he explained as he set the containers in the back of the truck.
“Oh, great! We’ve got more weight to push,” Emerson said cheerfully.
They chuckled and groaned as Major D. gave the order and they started pushing the truck again.
“All of these vehicles have fuel in them,” Kermit explained to the camera as he gestured to the rest of their caravan. “The goal is not to use it unless we encounter an incline, or just—need to get away quickly.”
“Frog, quit yappin’ and showin’ off that you don’t have to push,” Larsen muttered.
Kermit scrunched his face and shook his head. “Alright, Holt. Turn off the camera and give ‘em a hand.”
Dear Mit,
It looks like we’re back in the cycle of taking turns writing you a letter each week so you don’t end up with more letters than you can carry. I hope we go back to going in alphabetical order, because deciding who would write this first letter was a nightmare. I thought Mom or Dad should write it, but they both insisted it should be one of us siblings, and it was all downhill from there. You know how we are. Too bad there’s too many of us to just draw straws. It was about to get ugly when dinner was served. How does Mom always do that? I can’t figure out if she times the meals right or we time the fights right. Anyway, I guess I won.
Jimmy’s back to calling the Muppets every night to talk to Robin. I’m not sure how he got out of the habit. Actually, one of us usually calls during the day now, too, probably more often than we do when you’re actually there. We don’t like having you so far out of reach, Mit. It makes it harder to make sure you know we’re here for you. You do know that, right? Well, the Muppets do, anyway. That’s something. And we’re here for them, too.
It sounds like Robin’s been sleeping with someone every night since you’ve left. I was glad to hear that. The same thing is happening here, too. All of the kids want to sleep within arm’s reach of an adult. You know how we both started sleeping away from everyone else in high school to get a little peace and quiet? That wouldn’t work now. My rock is completely crowded every night with kids who couldn’t get close enough to their parents. I keep worrying they’ll fall off in the middle of the night, but so far no one has.
We all watched your show last week, even the kids. We’re ready to herd them away from the TV if we have to, but this one wasn’t too bad. Will you be taking the camera into battle and stuff? I’m not sure if Amy would be able to take that. There’s a reason she’s in charge of kid-herding.
You’ve probably heard about this oil crisis, right? We’ve had explosions at twenty different oil refineries, and now gas is 10 bucks a gallon and still rising. There’s all sorts of debate about whether we should keep all the gas here and try to live the way we’re used to living, or send it all to the troops and revert to horse and buggy on the home front. You know which side I’m on. It’s about time I got over this fear of horses.
Stay safe, Mit. We’re all rooting for you.
Love,
Maggie (and the rest of the swamp, too)
P.S. Since I know you’ll ask, no, no one has tried to kiss me since the last time we talked, and no, I haven’t been on any dates. To be honest, we’re too busy trying to explain this to the kids to care much about romance, or at least I am.
P.P.S. Besides, there’s enough eye candy on your show to keep me plenty happy. Is Larsen taken? I know Geraldson’s single, but he’s like a brother to you, which makes him like a brother to me, and that would just be weird.
P.P.P.S. You know I’m joking, right?
The American public had three choices.
One, they could insist on pulling out of World War III and keep all of their gasoline to themselves in attempt to continue living their normal lives until they found a better way to make their engines run.
Two, they could insist on keeping all the gasoline to themselves without pulling out of the war, forcing the military to find new—or perhaps, old—ways of fighting.
Three, they could give up the way their entire economy and transportation systems worked so that the military could do what they did best.
Very few people were very keen on that third choice. Protestors filled the streets and media with angry shouts and picket lines. “We need to get OUT of this mess and take care of OURSELVES before we go mess around in other COUNTRIES,” one man screamed at a camera in a clip that played all over the internet. “AMERICA FOR AMERICA!”
The government had to listen, had to at least acknowledge the people. There was less than a year before the next election.
Groups of veterans and the families of service men and women organized rallies of their own, demanding that troops be able to fight the way they knew how to fight. The loudest ones insisted that denying their soldiers gasoline would mean sentencing them to death.
Heated debates dissolved into shouting matches as the two sides argued on countless political shows whether it was better to sentence their sons and daughters to death, or to send their sons and daughters to slaughter young children.
It wasn’t that simple. Couldn’t they see that it wasn’t that simple? Kermit had insisted that it wasn’t that simple, and so the Muppets knew where they stood on the debate.
And that was why the Electric Mayhem found themselves standing in the front yard of the Muppet Boarding House with their arms folded across their chests, staring at their beloved bus and trying to take it all in.
They had just put their own bus on cinderblocks.
They had made their position clear. From now on, the Muppets would walk or ride bicycles anywhere they went. They would only buy locally grown food, or grow their own. They would not order anything that needed to be shipped. They would avoid using gasoline, directly or indirectly, at all costs.
And the Electric Mayhem bus wouldn’t be going anywhere at any point in the foreseeable future.
“Shoulda bought a hybrid,” Zoot said.
“…Man… They didn’t have hybrids back then,” Floyd said.
“…Oh yeah.”
They left it at that and stared at their immobilized bus. They didn’t need to say it, but they knew that even if the bus had been a hybrid, it would have needed some gasoline, and they would have put it on cinderblocks.
Anything to support their frog.
Pfc. John Holt was awake before he needed to be. Or at least, he didn’t think he needed to be awake yet, since Kermit was still asleep. Morning light was just starting to creep into the tent the two of them shared.
They weren’t at their destination yet. They’d sent in the second episode last night. What time was it now? The episode was probably airing now, at least in the Eastern Time Zone.
Holt ran his fingers through his hair. The reason they hadn’t been able to tell the public what they were doing was that they were on the way to an oil refinery that was under terrorist control. They were traveling with their entire division to meet another division and take control of the refinery.
Today they went into battle.
He shifted onto his side. Until today, Kermit had always woken up first, so his silent curiosity about how the famous frog looked with his eyes closed hadn’t been answered yet. The light was still pretty dim, so he wasn’t expecting answers any time soon.
His mind wandered a little for just a moment before he heard Kermit catch his breath and let out a faint groan. The frog was now flat on his back and stiff as a board, staring up at the tent.
Was he awake? Holt propped his head in his hand. “Sir?”
The Eyes. The Eyes were struck with fear…
Holt frowned, unsure whether or not Kermit was awake. There wasn’t much light, but the frog didn’t look like he had a few minutes ago.
The Eyes crystallized with a basic, dreaded understanding…
Holt pushed himself up. “Frog?” Even with the dim light and the sleeping bag, he could see that Kermit was definitely twitching, if not shaking. Something was wrong. Something was definitely—Well, maybe he was just having a nightmare or something.
No. Some instinct was telling him that something was wrong. He tried to shove the sleepiness out of his head and figure out what to do, but as soon as he was out of his sleeping bag, it stopped. Kermit took a deep breath, sighed it out, and rubbed his eyes.
Holt sat down on his sleeping bag and rubbed his own eyes. What the heck had just happened?
Kermit sat up and glanced at him. “Morning, Holt.”
“…Morning, sir,” Holt mumbled.
It was the same greeting as every morning, but it sounded different today. Kermit looked at him as carefully as he could, but the light was so dim that everything was just shades of gray. Somehow, it was still enough. “Is something wro—“ And then it hit him. “…You’re awake before me,” he said quietly.
Holt rubbed his arm. Somehow, he couldn’t stop staring at the frog. “Just a few minutes, sir.”
“…Then you saw me wake up.”
Holt nodded. “You were shaking,” he said. “I was… Does that—happen a lot?”
“Every morning.” Kermit looked at his hands. “I didn’t know I was shaking…”
“Sir, what is it?” Holt whispered. “I was—I mean—I was about to go for help.”
Kermit slowly shook his head. “It’s not something anyone can help, Holt,” he said gently, and suddenly Holt felt like he was watching the frog from Sesame Street again—the frog who could soothe and comfort anything with a song. “That’s how I wake up every day, ever since—well, before I left after my first tour of duty.” He was looking straight at Holt now. “It’s the price I pay for what I did here.”
Holt wrapped his arms around his knees. “Every day,” he said, rolling it over in his mind. He shoved his fingers into his hair and scratched at his scalp.
“It’s not easy, what we’re doing here, John,” Kermit said softly. “You haven’t been in battle yet, but—well, today I guess, you’ll see. Everyone pays some sort of price.”
Holt gripped at his hair, frowning as he stared up at the tent. “…Guess that means me too.”
Kermit smiled faintly. “You won’t be pulling any triggers,” he said quietly. He shifted, half in and half out of his sleeping bag. “Do you have any kids? Nieces, nephews?”
Holt shook his head, dropping his hand from his hair. “Not married or anything.”
“No girl back home?”
“No sir.” Then he smirked. “Real close with my big sister, but that’s not what you mean.”
“Not exactly,” Kermit smiled. “Are you close with any kids back home?”
Holt shook his head. “See some in Mom’s bakery once in a while. That’s about it.”
Kermit nodded. “That’ll make today easier for you.”
Holt’s head snapped up, his face ashen. “…We’ll be fighting kids today?”
Kermit nodded gravely. “Most likely.”
Holt closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“We have to,” Kermit said softly. “And someday, when you have kids of your own, nieces or nephews, or—whenever a baby comes into your life somehow, and you watch that baby grow up… it will be that much more of a miracle. You’ll see.”
Holt nodded slowly. “…I’m lucky, aren’t I? That I’m seeing… these kids before—the kids back home?”
Kermit nodded. “Very lucky.”
“…What about you, sir?”
The frog smiled faintly. “Not so lucky, I’m afraid,” he said softly.
“But will you be okay?” Holt asked. “I—If you wake up like this every morning, sir…”
“In time…” Kermit sighed. “I don’t know if—this is always how it will be for me. It’s part of why I came back. It has—it’s better, since I got back.”
Holt frowned. “That’s better?” he whispered. “It used to be worse?”
Kermit smiled. “Even if it never goes away, Holt, I’ll be alright,” he said. “Back home, I can lean on more people than I can count. And here, too—you’ll see tonight. Not when we’re fighting—well, then too, of course, but—after we get back, you’ll see. You’re part of the unit too, now.”
Kermit pushed himself out of his sleeping bag and moved to sit beside Holt and put a hand on his shoulder.
“None of us let each other fall.”
“Well, this is what we look like on the move when we’re trying not to use any gas,” Kermit explained to the camera. With his pack on his back, he was marching alongside a slow-moving truck. “Now I know it may look like we’re using gas, but the fact is that we’ve gone from horsepower…”
He fell back so that the camera could see the line of Marines pushing the truck.
“…To man-power.” He made a face at the camera. “We would just use a different kind of horsepower, but we don’t have much of a cavalry these days.”
“And the fact that Frog isn’t helping push any vehicle has nothing to do with a lack of physical strength,” Larsen said as he pushed, winking at the camera.
Kermit scrunched his face. “I’m only eighteen inches tall!” he said defensively. “I can’t reach,” he confessed to the camera, and he cleared his throat. “Y’see, most of the oil refineries around here are now under terrorist control. That way they can pretty much immobilize us without shooting themselves in the foot, so to speak. So we’ll only be getting gas if it’s sent to us from back home—“ He scrunched his face. “And frankly, we don’t rely on getting much of anything from back home.”
“Sad day, when we can’t depend on our own country,” Geraldson grunted, casting a dark glance towards the camera.
“I can’t actually tell you what we’re doing or where we’re going,” Kermit explained to the camera. “This is going to air before we get there, and revealing that sort of information could put us in a lot of danger.”
“Could also put that guy in danger,” Larsen said, looking past the camera. The other men looked up, and Holt turned and re-focused the camera until it showed a single man approaching from a small village with a large container in each hand.
Two trucks ahead, Major D. gave the order for them to stop and immediately called for Larsen. The two of them went to meet the approaching man.
“Larsen is our translator,” Kermit quietly explained. “He’s fluent in Arabic, among… who knows how many other languages. We never really know what we’ll run into around here, especially since we move around so much.”
They watched from a distance as the men hailed each other and began to talk.
“The people around here used to be a lot more willing to come and greet us and help us… so I’m told,” Kermit went on. “But it’s gotten more and more dangerous for them now—and for their families and towns. Their kids.” He cleared his throat and nodded faintly. “A few people still do. Some—out of bravery, and some—out of desperation. They really need help out here, but—it’s safer for everyone if no one knows… who helps us. That’s—why we’re staying back here.”
The man handed Larsen both of the large containers and bid him and Major D. farewell before he hurried away.
Larsen was grinning as he carried the containers to the truck they’d been pushing. “He gave us some gas,” he explained as he set the containers in the back of the truck.
“Oh, great! We’ve got more weight to push,” Emerson said cheerfully.
They chuckled and groaned as Major D. gave the order and they started pushing the truck again.
“All of these vehicles have fuel in them,” Kermit explained to the camera as he gestured to the rest of their caravan. “The goal is not to use it unless we encounter an incline, or just—need to get away quickly.”
“Frog, quit yappin’ and showin’ off that you don’t have to push,” Larsen muttered.
Kermit scrunched his face and shook his head. “Alright, Holt. Turn off the camera and give ‘em a hand.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dear Mit,
It looks like we’re back in the cycle of taking turns writing you a letter each week so you don’t end up with more letters than you can carry. I hope we go back to going in alphabetical order, because deciding who would write this first letter was a nightmare. I thought Mom or Dad should write it, but they both insisted it should be one of us siblings, and it was all downhill from there. You know how we are. Too bad there’s too many of us to just draw straws. It was about to get ugly when dinner was served. How does Mom always do that? I can’t figure out if she times the meals right or we time the fights right. Anyway, I guess I won.
Jimmy’s back to calling the Muppets every night to talk to Robin. I’m not sure how he got out of the habit. Actually, one of us usually calls during the day now, too, probably more often than we do when you’re actually there. We don’t like having you so far out of reach, Mit. It makes it harder to make sure you know we’re here for you. You do know that, right? Well, the Muppets do, anyway. That’s something. And we’re here for them, too.
It sounds like Robin’s been sleeping with someone every night since you’ve left. I was glad to hear that. The same thing is happening here, too. All of the kids want to sleep within arm’s reach of an adult. You know how we both started sleeping away from everyone else in high school to get a little peace and quiet? That wouldn’t work now. My rock is completely crowded every night with kids who couldn’t get close enough to their parents. I keep worrying they’ll fall off in the middle of the night, but so far no one has.
We all watched your show last week, even the kids. We’re ready to herd them away from the TV if we have to, but this one wasn’t too bad. Will you be taking the camera into battle and stuff? I’m not sure if Amy would be able to take that. There’s a reason she’s in charge of kid-herding.
You’ve probably heard about this oil crisis, right? We’ve had explosions at twenty different oil refineries, and now gas is 10 bucks a gallon and still rising. There’s all sorts of debate about whether we should keep all the gas here and try to live the way we’re used to living, or send it all to the troops and revert to horse and buggy on the home front. You know which side I’m on. It’s about time I got over this fear of horses.
Stay safe, Mit. We’re all rooting for you.
Love,
Maggie (and the rest of the swamp, too)
P.S. Since I know you’ll ask, no, no one has tried to kiss me since the last time we talked, and no, I haven’t been on any dates. To be honest, we’re too busy trying to explain this to the kids to care much about romance, or at least I am.
P.P.S. Besides, there’s enough eye candy on your show to keep me plenty happy. Is Larsen taken? I know Geraldson’s single, but he’s like a brother to you, which makes him like a brother to me, and that would just be weird.
P.P.P.S. You know I’m joking, right?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The American public had three choices.
One, they could insist on pulling out of World War III and keep all of their gasoline to themselves in attempt to continue living their normal lives until they found a better way to make their engines run.
Two, they could insist on keeping all the gasoline to themselves without pulling out of the war, forcing the military to find new—or perhaps, old—ways of fighting.
Three, they could give up the way their entire economy and transportation systems worked so that the military could do what they did best.
Very few people were very keen on that third choice. Protestors filled the streets and media with angry shouts and picket lines. “We need to get OUT of this mess and take care of OURSELVES before we go mess around in other COUNTRIES,” one man screamed at a camera in a clip that played all over the internet. “AMERICA FOR AMERICA!”
The government had to listen, had to at least acknowledge the people. There was less than a year before the next election.
Groups of veterans and the families of service men and women organized rallies of their own, demanding that troops be able to fight the way they knew how to fight. The loudest ones insisted that denying their soldiers gasoline would mean sentencing them to death.
Heated debates dissolved into shouting matches as the two sides argued on countless political shows whether it was better to sentence their sons and daughters to death, or to send their sons and daughters to slaughter young children.
It wasn’t that simple. Couldn’t they see that it wasn’t that simple? Kermit had insisted that it wasn’t that simple, and so the Muppets knew where they stood on the debate.
And that was why the Electric Mayhem found themselves standing in the front yard of the Muppet Boarding House with their arms folded across their chests, staring at their beloved bus and trying to take it all in.
They had just put their own bus on cinderblocks.
They had made their position clear. From now on, the Muppets would walk or ride bicycles anywhere they went. They would only buy locally grown food, or grow their own. They would not order anything that needed to be shipped. They would avoid using gasoline, directly or indirectly, at all costs.
And the Electric Mayhem bus wouldn’t be going anywhere at any point in the foreseeable future.
“Shoulda bought a hybrid,” Zoot said.
“…Man… They didn’t have hybrids back then,” Floyd said.
“…Oh yeah.”
They left it at that and stared at their immobilized bus. They didn’t need to say it, but they knew that even if the bus had been a hybrid, it would have needed some gasoline, and they would have put it on cinderblocks.
Anything to support their frog.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Pfc. John Holt was awake before he needed to be. Or at least, he didn’t think he needed to be awake yet, since Kermit was still asleep. Morning light was just starting to creep into the tent the two of them shared.
They weren’t at their destination yet. They’d sent in the second episode last night. What time was it now? The episode was probably airing now, at least in the Eastern Time Zone.
Holt ran his fingers through his hair. The reason they hadn’t been able to tell the public what they were doing was that they were on the way to an oil refinery that was under terrorist control. They were traveling with their entire division to meet another division and take control of the refinery.
Today they went into battle.
He shifted onto his side. Until today, Kermit had always woken up first, so his silent curiosity about how the famous frog looked with his eyes closed hadn’t been answered yet. The light was still pretty dim, so he wasn’t expecting answers any time soon.
His mind wandered a little for just a moment before he heard Kermit catch his breath and let out a faint groan. The frog was now flat on his back and stiff as a board, staring up at the tent.
Was he awake? Holt propped his head in his hand. “Sir?”
The Eyes. The Eyes were struck with fear…
Holt frowned, unsure whether or not Kermit was awake. There wasn’t much light, but the frog didn’t look like he had a few minutes ago.
The Eyes crystallized with a basic, dreaded understanding…
Holt pushed himself up. “Frog?” Even with the dim light and the sleeping bag, he could see that Kermit was definitely twitching, if not shaking. Something was wrong. Something was definitely—Well, maybe he was just having a nightmare or something.
No. Some instinct was telling him that something was wrong. He tried to shove the sleepiness out of his head and figure out what to do, but as soon as he was out of his sleeping bag, it stopped. Kermit took a deep breath, sighed it out, and rubbed his eyes.
Holt sat down on his sleeping bag and rubbed his own eyes. What the heck had just happened?
Kermit sat up and glanced at him. “Morning, Holt.”
“…Morning, sir,” Holt mumbled.
It was the same greeting as every morning, but it sounded different today. Kermit looked at him as carefully as he could, but the light was so dim that everything was just shades of gray. Somehow, it was still enough. “Is something wro—“ And then it hit him. “…You’re awake before me,” he said quietly.
Holt rubbed his arm. Somehow, he couldn’t stop staring at the frog. “Just a few minutes, sir.”
“…Then you saw me wake up.”
Holt nodded. “You were shaking,” he said. “I was… Does that—happen a lot?”
“Every morning.” Kermit looked at his hands. “I didn’t know I was shaking…”
“Sir, what is it?” Holt whispered. “I was—I mean—I was about to go for help.”
Kermit slowly shook his head. “It’s not something anyone can help, Holt,” he said gently, and suddenly Holt felt like he was watching the frog from Sesame Street again—the frog who could soothe and comfort anything with a song. “That’s how I wake up every day, ever since—well, before I left after my first tour of duty.” He was looking straight at Holt now. “It’s the price I pay for what I did here.”
Holt wrapped his arms around his knees. “Every day,” he said, rolling it over in his mind. He shoved his fingers into his hair and scratched at his scalp.
“It’s not easy, what we’re doing here, John,” Kermit said softly. “You haven’t been in battle yet, but—well, today I guess, you’ll see. Everyone pays some sort of price.”
Holt gripped at his hair, frowning as he stared up at the tent. “…Guess that means me too.”
Kermit smiled faintly. “You won’t be pulling any triggers,” he said quietly. He shifted, half in and half out of his sleeping bag. “Do you have any kids? Nieces, nephews?”
Holt shook his head, dropping his hand from his hair. “Not married or anything.”
“No girl back home?”
“No sir.” Then he smirked. “Real close with my big sister, but that’s not what you mean.”
“Not exactly,” Kermit smiled. “Are you close with any kids back home?”
Holt shook his head. “See some in Mom’s bakery once in a while. That’s about it.”
Kermit nodded. “That’ll make today easier for you.”
Holt’s head snapped up, his face ashen. “…We’ll be fighting kids today?”
Kermit nodded gravely. “Most likely.”
Holt closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“We have to,” Kermit said softly. “And someday, when you have kids of your own, nieces or nephews, or—whenever a baby comes into your life somehow, and you watch that baby grow up… it will be that much more of a miracle. You’ll see.”
Holt nodded slowly. “…I’m lucky, aren’t I? That I’m seeing… these kids before—the kids back home?”
Kermit nodded. “Very lucky.”
“…What about you, sir?”
The frog smiled faintly. “Not so lucky, I’m afraid,” he said softly.
“But will you be okay?” Holt asked. “I—If you wake up like this every morning, sir…”
“In time…” Kermit sighed. “I don’t know if—this is always how it will be for me. It’s part of why I came back. It has—it’s better, since I got back.”
Holt frowned. “That’s better?” he whispered. “It used to be worse?”
Kermit smiled. “Even if it never goes away, Holt, I’ll be alright,” he said. “Back home, I can lean on more people than I can count. And here, too—you’ll see tonight. Not when we’re fighting—well, then too, of course, but—after we get back, you’ll see. You’re part of the unit too, now.”
Kermit pushed himself out of his sleeping bag and moved to sit beside Holt and put a hand on his shoulder.
“None of us let each other fall.”
What a brilliant line and a fantastic chapter. Kermit's conversation with Holt was just awesome--AWESOME and I'm shuddering just thinking about what the next chapter might hold. I guess I should be used to that, considering it's one of your stories, dear halfington... but I'm still shuddering. Bring it on!
Because a vision that was creeping.