(Rose's PoV)

Our online video chat was now meeting on a weekly basis. I didn't dare ask, but I had hoped it would continue into the start of the school year. It was nice feeling like I had friends.

A new face appeared among the ones on the screen. She was a tall, skinny girl with caramel colored hair behind a teal headband. She spent most of her time looking down. "Umm...hi," she mumbled. "I'm Joy van Bella. Alisha told me about this group. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Alisha laughed. "It's okay, Joy. Everybody here is super nice."

"Yeah," Trixie beamed. "We're always excited to make new friends."

"She's just a little shaken up cuz her asshole ex-boyfriend cheated on her," Alisha explained.

We all took turns shit talking a guy we had never even met. After a while, Joy managed to muster out a smile. "Thanks for the support," she told us. "It's nice to have more people than just Daniel to talk to."

"Ooh! What's Daniel like?" Trixie interjected.

Joy tripped over her words at first. "Well...he's definitely a germaphobe, but he's sweet and sensitive and intelligent and kind-"

Trixie's clapping cut her off. "You two sound like you'd be perfect together."

Joy blushed a little bit. "I mean..."

"Trixie, you always get way too involved in other people's business," Trixie's friend, Heather chided.

Trixie didn't seem to be bothered at all by this statement and just kept smiling at Joy.

The conversation slowly turned from individual boys to war in general. It gave our chats a somber tone, but it was sort of the reason the chats got started in the first place. A place to vent. I rarely made any actual contributions to the conversation, but I enjoyed having people to listen to.

We talked for about an hour and a half and then Emmy had to leave for swim practice and Heather wanted to study, so we all decided to get off.

I made my way to the kitchen and when I tried to throw the cap of my water bottle away, I saw something that I hadn't seen in over a year: Will's handwriting.

I dug my fingers into the trashcan to pull the envelope out. I brushed away the leftover microwave burrito bits covering parts of it, revealing my name in the center. The letter had already been opened, but I took the sheet out.

It really was him. So many emotions swept over me. I could only process a few words at a time. Back. Prison Camp. Keep in touch.

Will was alive.

My momentary relief was replaced by anger, as I found myself storming upstairs to my mother's room, letter still in hand.

"You bitch!" I screamed, trying not to cough amongst all the smoke.

My mother looked up, unamused. "What is it now?"

My voice was shaking as I held up the letter. "Will's alive and you didn't even bother to tell me."

She took a swig of vodka. "I didn't think you'd care to know."

I remained silent.

"After all," she continued. "Why should you care if he's alive or not? If I remember correctly, that boy tried to kill you."

"He didn't mean to," I retorted. "He's not intentionally cruel like you."

An empty bottle flew past me. Luckily my mom didn't have the best aim. "I don't wanna hear another word from you, you ungrateful little-"

"Why didn't you tell me?" I shot back.

My mom actually stood up to confront me. "Say one more thing and you'll be sleeping on the streets."

As much as I wanted out of here, I bit my tongue. I needed to survive. I retreated back to my room, curling up on my bed with my letter still in my hands, knowing I wanted to reply, but not knowing what to say.

(Will's PoV)

It had been over a month since the rescue. It was really cramped for the first week or so, with all of our platoon sharing the common room with the ex-prisoners. It was also confusing trying to figure out which group I was supposed to be in at first, but after Sgt. Blake and Lt. Jason finally got in contact with the Department of Defense, they sent a plane to take all of them home–well, all of them except for me. It was decided that since I was reunited with my platoon, that it would be best for me to stay.

I was finally getting used to eating on a normal schedule again. I had lost a significant amount of weight over the past several months. We didn't have a scale, so I wasn't sure how much, but I could tell I looked smaller. Even if MRE's sucked, they were loaded with calories, so I was hoping to gain some of it back.

"Will," Holly called from the back of the room. I walked over to her and she gave something that looked vaguely like a smile. She held out an envelope. "Here's a first."

I took it in my hands and examined the penmanship.

Rose Atteleigh.

She actually wrote back. I was starting to lose hope that she would. Maybe she didn't hate me after all.

I went back to my bed to read it. After climbing to the top bunk, I ripped open the envelope.

Will–

I must say this is a surprise. I honestly have no idea when you sent your letter, so I apologize if this response is late. Mom tried to throw away your letter because–well, because she's awful and who knows why she does anything.

But it is relieving to hear that you're safe. It must have been horrible in that prison camp, I hope you're holding up okay.

And yes, I think we can work past our childhood, I wouldn't mind keeping in touch with you. If I'm being totally honest, It's been pretty lonely without you here.

But things are terrible as always. Mom's still an alcoholic. Dad's always working. What's new? I guess the fact that I got a job. I'm a waitress at Olive Garden–nothing special, but I'm hoping to save up enough to afford an apartment by the time I graduate.

At this point, I feel like I'm rambling. I have no idea if I'm doing this right. I've never written a letter before, so I don't know how to end one, so I'll try this: Happy Birthday! I know this will probably arrive either early or late since I have no clue how long it takes for mail to get to China, but it's August. It's close enough.

Anyways, write back soon. I'll try to make sure I'm the one who gets the mail from now on.

–Rose

She wrote back. I couldn't believe it. I made a point to reply right away.

(Landon's PoV)

Several gunshots went off outside. I was startled awake by several figures running in. We were all in a daze when we got up.

Sgt. Blake and Lt. Jason came in.

"Did you see anything?" Sgt. Blake demanded.

"I think some people got in," Christopher responded, reaching for his gun.

Sgt. Blake's face grew concerned, "The weapons stockpile." He immediately ran off. I wasn't sure if he expected us to follow him, but I felt my heart stop.

Holly.

I headed to her room. A few of the guys tried to hold me back.

I heard voices coming from outside Holly's room. I looked inside to find three Chinese soldiers backing her against the wall.

"Well, what do we have here?" the tallest one took another step closer to her.

My mind flashed back to Holly informing me: They'll only speak English when they're mocking or threatening you.

Holly attempted to remain strong, but they literally had her cornered.

One of the other two placed the muzzle of his gun against her temple. "Should we kill her now?"

The tallest one gently pushed the weapon down, causing more fear to flash in Holly's eyes.

He stepped directly in front of her. "I think we should have a little fun first." He started to unbutton her dress.

I felt something tug on my arm before I could go in.

"Landon, we have to be careful," Justin chided.

I looked at Holly. Helplessly, I pleaded, "but they could hurt her."

"We need to make sure there's not more," he explained, but I couldn't stop watching the scene play out.

Holly struggled to break her arms free from the third one. Desperate, she stomped on the foot of the tallest one.

His face grew red and he grabbed her. Holly let out an involuntary scream. He slapped her, then pushed her to the floor. "Now listen here you little slut–"

But before he could finish, a bullet hit him, knocking him to the ground.

It was mine.

I shot at the other two, killing them instantly.

The tallest one whimpered in pain, He tried to grasp my ankle. I aimed my gun toward his head.

"Please...please," he stammered. "Don't kill me. I'll get out of here. I'll never come back...please." He looked pathetic.

"You shouldn't have touched her." I pulled the trigger.

Holly's eyes widened. I reached out my hand to help her up.

"Thanks," she said softly. She wasn't the type to be all 'my hero', but I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

(Justin's PoV)

"Who knew Landon had it in him," Clayton muttered.

Before I could respond, I heard footsteps coming down the hallway. I turned with my weapon ready to aim, but it was only Sgt. Blake.

"No one was near the weapon stockpile," he reported. "Are you certain people came in?"

"Yeah, we're pretty certain," Clayton said, pointing toward the infirmary.

"They look like guerrillas," Holly observed. "Based on the fact that they're not wearing uniforms. But either way, Landon killed them."

Landon was nearly frozen, despite the almost admiration in her voice.

"How did they get in?" Sgt. Blake demanded.

"We could check with Isaac," I suggested. "He was the one on guard duty.

When we opened the door, we found Isaac laying on the ground, blood dripping out of his head. His mouth hung open slightly and his eyes were wide, but he didn't move.

"Headshot," Sgt. Blake stated.

He didn't even have a chance.

It was weird. When Aaron and Seth died, their remains were too far out of our reach. Now we had four dead bodies among us.

Sean suggested that we bury Isaac, but I informed him that it was military protocol to send bodies back to their families, if possible. Not to mention that Isaac's family was super rich, so they'd likely pay the cost of transport to ensure his body was transferred properly.

Sgt. Blake and Lt. Jason dragged the bodies of the guerrillas to one side of the building to make a shallow grave. We couldn't risk starting a fire in case there were more nearby.

There was an eerie sort of feeling surrounding us. The thought that four lives had ended in our vicinity in just a matter of minutes.

I did the math. There were twenty-six of us in the platoon when we got here and now there were twenty-three. In fraction form, that was over 1/9 of our guys. Somehow the loss felt bigger than its numerical value.

I feared that as time went on, our losses wouldn't follow a linear pattern, but rather an exponential one.

(Holly's PoV)

The boys were still in shock about Isaac's death. Landon seemed to be in a daze as he wrote Isaac's condolence letter, as evidenced by the fact that he was only using his index fingers to type.

I, however, stormed right into Sgt. Blake's office.

He gritted his teeth upon seeing me, but I didn't let him have the first word.

"I need a weapon," I stated with no intent of beating around the bush.

He sighed irritably. "We've been over this before. I've already told you, 'no'."

"I mean it," I interjected. "That was a close call. I need something to defend myself with."

Sgt. Blake scoffed. "What good would that do? From what I heard from the boys, those guerrillas had you cornered."

"Because, I didn't have a weapon!"

He slammed his fist on the table. "How many times do I have to tell you no! Face it, Holly, you're weak. Any weapon would be wasted in your hands."

His voice increased in volume with each word. There was no getting through to him, not when he made up his mind a while ago.

I exited his office, accepting another defeat. I walked down the hallway to the infirmary to find Landon still at the typewriter.

"Sgt. Blake is being so unreasonable," I groaned. "He can't get it through his thick, sexist skull that even though I'm a girl, I still need to be able to protect myself."

There was no response.

"Landon."

He remained still.

I waved my hand in front of his face and repeated his name.

He blinked several times and shook his head a little, as if coming out of a trance. "What?" he asked.

I didn't feel like explaining again. "Never mind, just keep writing."

I was lucky Landon came in when he did, but I feared becoming dependent on him for safety. I wanted to be able to fight my own battles, but that's difficult when your opponents have guns and grenades and you have next to nothing.

(Gavin's PoV)

I held Trixie's letter in my hands and I couldn't stop smiling.

"Hey, Landon," I called through my idiotic grin. "She wrote back."

Landon, however, did not respond. He just kept giving the same blank stare as we walked down the hallway.

"Thinking about Holly?" I prompted, ready to tease.

Still, he didn't even flinch.

I shrugged and decided to go beyond Trixie's name and address into the actual contents of her letter.

Dear Gavin.

I thought senior year was supposed to be fun, but in reality, it sucks. Our school stopped having free periods this year, which they changed to "study hall". I can't even be on my phone during it!

And I have to take a math class this year, and you know how much I hate math. I thought I was done, but noooooo. My parents decided "let's torture Trixie by making her take pre-calc." If only you were here to help me. You were always so much better at math. (Obviously, it would be better if you were here for other reasons too).

Academically it's horrible, but socially, it's somehow worse. Homecoming is coming up and I haven't been asked yet. I mean, I know I should be happy that I got nominated for queen this year, but I'm the only person on the homecoming court without a date. At this point I may as well be the only person in school without a date. Even Heather has one.

Sorry for all my negativity and making this all about me. I know you've got it bad too. I just feel like I don't know enough about the army and the war to even know what to ask. But I'd still really love to know what's going on with you. I can't wait to hear back from you.

Love,

Trixie

I blinked several times to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. She actually signed it with "love". Did that mean she had feelings for me?

I tapped several times on Landon's shoulder. "Dude, check this out."

He shook his head to bring himself back to his senses. "What?"

I shoved the letter in his face. "Look! She signed, 'love, Trixie.' Love! And she doesn't have a homecoming date, which means she's single. I might have a chance when we get back."

"Oh yeah, cool," he said absent-mindedly, before slipping back into his trance-like state.

There was definitely something wrong with him, but my mind was a little too preoccupied to find out what it was.

(Holly's PoV)

I heard someone come into my room in the middle of the night. I made a quick grab for my little pair of first aid scissors (it was something), but I dropped them as soon as I recognized the voice.

"Holly." It was Landon.

I immediately turned on the light. He leaned against the doorway to hold himself up. His eyes were bloodshot behind his glasses, his black hair tangled and disheveled.

"Sorry to scare you." His voice was weak.

"What happened to you?" I asked.

His voice grew thinner with each sentence. "I can't take it anymore. This war needs to end."

"Wait, what?"

"I can't eat, I can't sleep. All I keep thinking about is how we're gonna be here for another several more years–that is if we make it out at all. Then again, not making it out almost sounds nice in comparisons since there's at least some certainty in that outcome."

I couldn't wrap my head around his rambling. Landon was normally so composed. "Landon, what brought this on?" I pressed.

"This war is destroying us," he went on. "We need to end it now."

"Landon, be realistic," I told him. "I know that's probably hard right now since you seem to be in hysterics–"

"I'm not being hysterical," he pleaded. "This is the most serious I've ever been. Look, I've taken history classes, I know these large scale international wars last a long time. Often times, longer than they even need to. This war is going to just keep going on and on unless we put a stop to it."

"Well yeah, that's why we're here–"

"I don't mean we, as in the country, or even the military. I mean you and me."

"We are supposed to somehow end this war ourselves? Landon that is stupid and reckless and dangerous–"

He tilted his head back and groaned. "I know. But we need to."

"How do you even plan on doing that?" I asked.

"You said it yourself. Their government is structured in such a way that 'they wouldn't be able to function without their leader'."

My mouth went dry. I had only meant that in a theoretical sense. "Are you honestly suggesting we assassinate Xang-hoa Li?"

He nodded grimly.

"That is insane." I pointed out.

"I know," he repeated. "But we have to do it. I'd rather die now than stay here fighting for who knows how many more years." He sighed. "This war is changing us–changing me at least. Holly, I killed somebody–three people–and I don't even feel bad about it."

"It seems an awful lot like you do," I interjected. "But as for killing, you don't need to take it so personally, you're a soldier."

"That's just it, no I'm not! I'm just an eighteen year old kid who got thrown into this almost 2 years ago. I should be deciding where I want to go to college, not whether or not to pull the trigger on somebody."

"I'm sorry," I apologized quietly. "I keep forgetting the rest of you guys didn't choose this."

"Holly," he said slowly, gripping onto my hands. "I'm losing part of myself every day I'm here. Frankly, at this point, I don't even know how much of the old me is left. I just want to still be Landon at the end of this war, but I know that won't be the case unless we make a point to end it ourselves. I'm going no matter what. I'm just asking for your help."

He looked so broken, yet determined. There was nothing logical about his idea, but a part of me couldn't let him go through it alone.

"All right," I agreed. "But if we're doing this, we have to do it right. We'll need the help of the others and we'll need to make a plan."