The Rain: The End by Marietta Standlee (good summer reads TXT) 📕

I refuse to look. I have so many scars; one or two more hardly matter.

"Peachy," I answer Colin's question. "How's your arm?"

Somebody, presumably Drew, has cut off part of Colin's sleeve. Blood still dribbles down his skin, and there is an angry hole below his biceps. He lifts his arm to inspect the wound.

"I think it's a through and through," he observes.

I grin sardonically, "Through and through. Hurts, but you'll live." I throw his earlier words back at him.

He laughs and gives me the finger while Drew high five's me.

"Alright, not pretty, but all done. Next!" Frank looks up.

Colin looks down at my calf and visibly pales. "Ah hell no, I'll take my chances with the hole in my arm."

This time I can't resist but to look at my leg. It's not pretty but doesn't warrant Colin's reaction. I turn to him, and he grins his crooked smile at me in a Gotcha way.

It's my turn to give him the finger and grin as we change positions, while Frank plunges a hypodermic needle into Colin's arm.

"Did we lift off?" I ask Colin and Drew.

Colin nods, with pain written all over his face as Frank cleans his wound. Sissy, I think with a smile. At least Frank numbed him before he started cleaning the wound, unlike me. The doctor is learning.

"I'll go check on the crew. Drew, help me." I announce.

Drew puts his arm around me and helps me limp out the door. By the entryway I pause for a second and give Colin a warm smile before leaving him to Frank's administrations.

He smiles back and waves me off. "I'll be okay; go check on our people."

I lean hard on Drew for support, as I limp out into the corridor. My leg is still numb from the local, and I keep it bent at an angle behind me, as I hop-walk.

Ten people are lined against the wall, all showing signs of minor injuries. That's why Colin was pulled ahead of them, he probably wanted to check on me too, but he would have never been the first to be stitched up if his wound hadn't been the most severe. As it is, he's probably cursing right now, thinking his soldiers should have been treated first.

"Thanks for getting Colin." I acknowledge Drew, who smirks lopsidedly because of his scar.

"Wasn't easy." He admits.

"I bet. "I respond with a knowing grin.

As I check on the men and women by the wall, I notice most have scrapes, but one soldier is cradling his arm, and I wonder if it's broken. If it is, I have serious doubts Frank will be able to set it. I suppress a shudder and hope for the best.

I receive smiles from everybody we pass, and they make room to let Drew and me walk by since limping together takes up a lot of space.

"We had no casualties from our crew." Drew informs me happily.

"That is awesome." I smile and feel something lift, that I hadn't realized was weighing on me. This is really good news. "Have you heard about the others?"

"Nothing official, but from what I've been told, they had minimal casualties. Except…" His expression darkens, and my heart drops.

"What is it?" I grasp his arm.

"We lost about forty-seven spaceships, which makes ninety-four pilots." His voice is low.

For a second I'm startled before I realize Drew isn't privy to our back-up plan like so many others. This is another one of those need-to-know orders, that I hate. I want to tell Drew that we are—what is the word for stealing a spaceship? Ship-napping? But unfortunately, I can't, not outright anyway.

I stop for a minute, make sure our eyes are locked. "Don't worry about that, okay." I try to convey a message with my eyes to him, and it takes him a minute to understand before he grins and nods.

"Need to know," I whisper.

"Got it." His smile is tentative, but it's back on his face.

We find most of our battalion in the main room serving as a mess-hall and break room. Everybody is spread out on several chairs. It's quiet in here, most soldiers wear a forlorn expression on their faces; some just stare off into space, only a few talk quietly to each other.

The aftershock of a battle. Most in here are young like me, not many are older than Colin, kids recruited into the militia or some that were former military, but none with any or much prior battle experience.

I know that look. I know what they are feeling; it's exactly how I felt when we finally left California behind. Spent and numb. Colin isn't here, but I know what he would want me to do. I clear my throat loudly and yell, "We did it, guys!"

I force all my enthusiasm into my voice, men and women lift their head towards me.

"We won!" I declare. "We finally had a chance for some payback, and we did it. I don't know about you guys, but I avenged my father, my mother, my sister. Not completely, not as openly as I might have wished, but we got some payback. We kicked some alien ass! So, wipe those gloomy expressions off your faces and celebrate!"

I throw my fist in the air. "Payback!"

Grins spread out across their faces, and as one, they yell back at me, "Payback!"

I pump my fist again. "Again." I demand.

"Payback!" They chorus.

I make my rounds and high-five and fist-bump our soldiers. Their eyes are still tired looking for the most part, but at least some have smiles on their faces as realization kicks in that we won our first battle. As covert as it might have been, we killed some aliens, and it feels good.

The door opens, and Colin steps in. Loud shouts of compliments and greetings break out. Colin smiles surprised, his eyes search for me, and when he finds mine, we beam at each other. These are our troops.

"We won a major first step!" Colin yells.

"HOOAH!" comes the loud reply, and now I can see the grins spreading to