FicWad

Chapter 2
Leaving A Mark

Silver was simply known as the "new guy", a fitting description for an apprentice warrior who had yet to see action. Only after his first deployment, which was less than less than two weeks away, would he be considered a journeyman within the SEAL culture. In the meantime, the young sailor was practicing his shooting. All SEALs were marksmen. But Silver was an expert marksman denoting him as a sniper, the best rifleman in the group. A couple of hours at the range would make sure it stayed that way.

Keeping the mind focused during shooting drills is essential to putting rounds on target, especially if that target is more than five hundred yards away. But a mastery of technique in skills such as controlled breathing, steady hands, and excellent timing greatly increases a shooter's chances of neutralizing any target they set their sites on. It's easier said than done, a primary reason why good shooters always try to get to the range as much as they can. Practice truly does equal perfection.

An hour of shooting was spent standing, the next was spent kneeling and now he was getting ready for an hour of shooting from the prone position. An ability to shoot from either position dictated how well one performed in combat. But a brief spell of bad memories was preventing him from firing accurately. If this was combat such distractions could get him killed, a haunting reminder that he should get his mind back on track and quickly.

Trying to shrug off the thoughts Silver took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. Just as the rifle shook he jerked the trigger sending the bullet wide right of his target. Cursing under his breath he tried waiting a little between breaths. On his next shot, no luck, the bullet clearly missed its mark. Why today damn it, why today? Frustration was the exact emotion he was trying to avoid. Now he had to find a way to get rid of it, a task that was becoming more and more difficult.

"I'll bet you'll miss this next shot." A familiar voice said behind a pair of binoculars.

"Don't expect me to bet against you sir." Silver replied.

"Try it again." Ackerson said.

Lining his sites on the target, Silver waited for his breathing to get into a rhythm. When the butt of his rifle felt comfortably wedged into the soft skin between his shoulder and arm, he began to curl his index finger in front of the trigger. Seeing the crosshairs rise and fall predictably he waited to fire on exhale. Two seconds later, he fired, this time, hitting the paper but missing the black silhouette situated in the center of the target.

"Well, look at it this way Silver, it's better than hitting the sand."

"I guess so sir, I guess so." Silver managed through a sigh.

"Alright sailor, cease fire. What's on your mind?"

"A bad case of luck sir." Folding his rifle's bipod. "And some things I wanna forget."

"Women trouble?"

"Nope." Standing up. "Just some shit that happened a time long ago."

"Sit down." Ackerson told him. "Wanna get to the bottom of this right now. Can't have my sniper distracted before his first time out."

"Understood sir." Silver sat down on an ammunition crate.

"Well? Lets hear it."

"You've read my background?"

"Adopted right? Said you had some trouble with your original family."

"Did it get into any details? Just askin' 'cause I haven't seen it."

"Not really keen on the specifics, but as far as I can remember, all it said was you had some problems with your previous family and left home at sixteen."

"Oh." Silver paused. "Well, guess I should put all my cards on the table then. My original family was, um. Lets just say we started out okay and things got worse from there. I would say shit got kind of crazy when I was about five years old. My dad or, excuse me, asshole of a father, used to own an auto body. But somewhere along the line a big company, moved in across the street and eventually pushed him out of business. He turned to drinking, didn't bother finding another job and just stayed at home. But back to what I was saying, when I was five, I remember hearing my mother crying about something and my father was shouting. It was at night and being that young all that noise scared the shit outta me. Now ordinarily, most kids would have stayed put, but I was curious. So I went to the foot of the steps looked down and saw that son of a bitch hit my mother. I really didn't react at that point because what the hell is a kid supposed to do in a situation like that. You're confused as hell wondering if you should cry, yell, scream, try and do something. I didn't know what to do. After that, everything was a blur of pain and suffering. My father became more and more abusive and my mother bared the brunt of it. I couldn't escape it either, but Goddamn, if only he hadn't done the things he did to my mother. Sooner or later she just couldn't put up with my father abusing her. She soon stopped working and got addicted to prescription drugs just to escape the daily pain. I ended up being the man of the house, going to school, going to work, buying the groceries, managing the finances. You could say I grew up a little too fast. But everything changed when my mother killed herself. In fact, it was the night I ran away. I came home, after a bad day at school. Of course my father was passed out on the couch so I went to use the bathroom. Opened the door and there my mother was, sprawled out on the floor bleeding out of the wrist. By the time I got there her skin was comatose, she was gone. I should've called the police then, but I was angry more than anything. I know I..." Silver could feel the anger boiling. "Sorry sir, just don't feel like talking about this shit anymore."

"Take it easy sailor." Ackerson noticed the rage. "Go on whenever you're ready. I still feel like you need to hear yourself talk about it before you move on."

Keeping his emotions in check, Silver continued. "I was about to call the police but the first thing I thought of was attacking my father. At ran to the kitchen got a knife and seriously thought about killing the bastard. Fortunately nothing ever came of that. Don't know if it was God or luck, but whatever the hell it was, it damn well made sure I didn't end up in prison. So instead, I took him on like a man. I punched him smack in his face, he grumbled, got up and I hit him again, then I kicked him and just started pounding him enough to knock him out. Then I remember his body just lying on the ground, seeing him crying to himself and whimpering like a little boy. Watching him like that was crazy, seeing such a violent and seemingly powerful man turn so weak. I just stared at him for a moment and then I just left. I knew I hadn't killed him, but I just scattered before he got a chance to get sober which never happened apparently."

"So I can imagine the police were looking for you?"

"Oh yeah, they picked up me up as a bum sleeping in Central Park. Once they found out who I was, they started questioning me about the events surrounding my mother's death and the assault of my father. But thank God, the guys who were questioning believed every word I said. To make a long story short they ended up sending me to a foster home. Foster home changed everything."

"Then if things turned out for the better, why are you worrying about your past? I mean you ended up with a great family, did well in school, and shoot, made it to the place you're at now."

"I ask myself the same thing and I'm surprised I'm thinking about the bad things right now. You know sir, I really don't know."

"It was traumatic and I never had to put up with the kind of stuff you had to. But I hate to break it to you. You're gonna need to get this off your chest or forget about it. Because once we're in the field, I can't afford to have my sniper distracted. I need you focused and ready to rock, on the fly. Now I'm not going to let you feel sorry for yourself, why? Because I have never seen you feel sorry for yourself I think you never have, else you wouldn't have survived BUD/S and made it this far. You got the strength to forget about the pain and move on. Besides you survived and got out alive. May have happened a little late but better late than never." Ackerson explained.

"Guess your right and come to think of it my foster family was the best. Complete turnaround from what I was used to. I started off a little rough, but they straightened me out. My foster dad." Silver laughed. "Never thought I'd say that before then, but hey, there was lots of love and support in that house, things that I used to think never existed."

"In that case I shouldn't even have to talk to you then."

"No you shouldn't sir." Silver smiled sheepishly.

"Glad to see you've finally figured it out. Now can you honestly tell me you'll be ready to deploy, because we do in less than two weeks?"

"Yes sir." He confidently replied.

"Alright. I'm counting on you sailor. Get your mind right and rely on your training. When shit gets tough, whether it's bad memories or a crazy mission, draw from your Hell Week experience. Just the silent recognition that we busted our asses for five days in cold, wetness, and hunger should remind you that you can overcome any odds. And by judging from the story you just told me, you overcame the odds twice. Let's do it again. Hooyah?"

"Hooyah sir!"

"Good, now lets get back to some shooting. Besides, I need to fit in a couple of rounds. Mind if I join you?" Ackerson pulled out his M-4.

"As long as you keep you mouth shut." Silver grinned.

Ackerson grumbled. "Just hit the damn bulls eye."

"Aye aye sir."
---
An instructor once told them that their careers would consist more of training than actual combat. As a matter of fact a sailor was considered lucky if he managed to deploy at least five times during his tenure as a SEAL. For men who spent their whole lives training to fight, combat was a very big deal. Like athletes who trained with hopes of going to a championship, they trained with hopes of being deployed.

Speaking of deployment, Rios and Asher were starting to feel rather anxious about theirs. The last time they felt this way was on the first day of Indoc, not knowing what to expect. Of course this would not have been their first deployment. But since no two missions were ever the same, there was always some degree of unknown associated with such undertakings. Most people always felt some degree of apprehension when it came to the unknown. Asher and Rios were no different. They just had the guts to saddle up for the ride, regardless of what lay ahead.

Desiring to be prepared for the mission, Rios and Asher embarked on yet another series of runs. Keeping the body in shape was just one of the many ways these elite warriors got themselves ready for the big moment. Running offered them the opportunity to get used to traveling long distances and carrying heavy loads. In order to simulate this, both men ran a total of twelve miles with rucksacks weighed down with seventy pounds of stones. It took them three hours to complete the run drenching their shirts with no less than a gallon of sweat. Before deciding to hit the showers, both sailors stopped to catch a breath and a healthy swig of water.

"Wonder if we'll be walking this much in Brazil?" Asher asked still panting.

"Yeah." Rios took a gulp of water. "We will, else we wouldn't have just strapped all those rocks to our backs."

"And hiked twelve miles with 'em." Asher finished the statement.

"So how long it take us?" Rios asked.

"About two hours and fifty six minutes."

"Three hours, if you round off." Rios smiled.

"Whatever, I like to be precise." Asher kidded.

"Precise my ass." Rios muttered. "So you just about ready?"

"To deploy?" Asher asked. "Been waiting three years since my last one. I say yeah. What about you?"

"Yup. Just wanna finish up the weaning moments of our pre-deployment work up, do the deed and get out." Rios replied through a stretch.

"Not going to argue with you there." Asher took a seat. "You think we're actually doing the right thing this time?"

"You know I like to steer clear of discussions like this. They pay us to follow orders. But aw hell, its just the two of us, might as well speak my mind."

"Isn't like you'll be arrested for it. Go ahead speak your two cents."

"For starters I think it is. A country has been to hell and back and now some invader comes in and takes away hope. Can't find any reason against why sending us in is such a bad idea. What's your take?"

"It's better than fighting against another country, another guy fighting for what he believes in. I mean this time we got an actual bad guy, essentially paid mercenaries holding a shattered nation hostage. In the past we had to fight national armies and if not that, people with a cause."

"Have a pretty long list there. From Germany to Iraq."

"And looking back, you kinda wonder. Were we really fighting against evil people or ordinary human beings? Of course people like Saddam Hussein, Bin Laden, and Hitler can rot in hell for all I care. But I'm not really talking about them. I'm talking about the guys fighting on the battlefield. Look at World War Two. Do you really believe and think that every single German soldier, sitting in his foxhole, gave a damn about Hitler's final solution or any of that bullshit. Hell no. On the battlefield I look at it like this. We're all the same. We both have bullets zooming past our heads and we fight for the guys next to us. Politics and religion doesn't mean a damn thing when you're trying to survive a firefight."

"Especially when you're the guy who goes down. Patriotism and pride for your nation are good and all that. But whenever you're bleeding your guts out, you don't have some heroic song playing in your head. You're thinking, 'oh shit, what about my family, am I gonna die'. I've seen it before, that fear of dying, unsure of whether or not there's anything waiting for us on the other side. Its funny that we don't dwell on death until it's knocking on our doorstep."

"Couldn't have said it better myself. I don't care what anyone says, fostering democracy or freedom through warfare has never made sense and never will. It's so easy for someone, who is so far removed from conflict to say that sacrificing lives for the greater good is necessary. C'mon, when was the last time we fought a war in defense of our country. The war on terror, maybe, but aside from that, after the Second World War, when has any nation ever threatened our existence."

"I see where you're going with this. You look at world war two and we were attacked by another country. An actual order was given to hit us at Pearl Harbor and after that... Well, we all remember what happened afterwards. We beat the hell out of Hitler's army and nuke Hiroshima and ended up expanding foreign policy to those countries and beyond."

"Korea was next, the great war against communism. Now let me ask you something, what the hell could North Korea have done, at that time, that would have threatened the good ole U S of A? Nothing. I know I'll piss a lot of people off by saying this, but why did we risk so many brave American soldiers and even our own UDT ancestors to fight a war that only ended up in a stalemate? Was it necessary to fight the Forgotten War and have so many young men give up their youth. The only reason we fought in Korea was to project our influence in East Asia. We accomplished half of our mission, no pun intended. South Korea wasn't run over, but more than ten thousand men had to suffer because some greedy politician thought it was a good idea to stem the spread of communism. A bunch of bullshit if you ask me, a bunch of bullshit that tens of thousands of young men had to pay for."

"Sounds like crusading to me. First it was war against fascism, then communism, the war on terrorism, and now a war against private militarism. Sooner or later wars become nothing more than words in history books. Times change and so do people. Today's enemies will be tomorrow's friends. If you look at it that way, the term bad guys is only relative. I mean a thousand years from now, you think some kid in sixth grade history class is gonna give a damn about our heroic exploits? I mean, did you ever give a damn about how a hundred Spartan hoplites fended off ten thousand immortals at the battle of Thermopylae. Sure it's admirable from an objective standpoint, but I never knew those guys. Why should I care? We'll fade away, just like those guys did. All we're here for is to fight for the guys next to us and do our jobs. This ain't about notoriety."

"It's not, but try telling politicians that? They treated warfare like some kind of international pissing contest. Using warriors as instruments of foreign policy, tools to protect interests. That was their way of showing everyone how big their dicks were. Guys who probably never even held a gun in their lives, acting like they're the toughest son of a bitch to ever walk the earth. Call me biased, but that's exactly what this country's involvement in the Middle East was all about. Soldiers were sent in harms way, soldiers died, and a shitload more innocent civilians died in the three decades we had our feet in the sand. Growing up as a kid and hearing about this war on terror angered the hell out of me. But you should have seen my parents. They were angrier. Every news station you turned to, you heard something about Arabs doing this and Muslims doing that. That was a point when you saw the true racism of this country. They acted like terrorists were all Arabs, and the public chomped at the bait. Racism fueling a war against Arab nations. We hardly fought our so-called war on terror then. A lot of fellow warriors died out there all because some politicians wanted their oil. Those bastards."

"Good thing we're fighting a company then. I won't have any qualms about taking these lives. No telling what they're doing to those people there. I feel like this fight is worth fighting, isn't like we're trying to impose our political structure on another nation, we're just trying to save 'em. And for the first time in a while, we'll actually be using a multinational force. Makes things seem a little more fair this time around doesn't it."

"But we're just custodians, like wiping shit off the floor. The world got itself into this mess. Should've never trusted that damn company. And I'd venture to say that someone saw this coming. But what is getting angry gonna do for me?"

"Raise your blood pressure eventually causing you to die of a stress related disease. Believe me, I know this stuff, I'm a doctor, in case you forgot." Rios joked.

"Whatever. Until you have a medical firm of your own I'll believe you."

"Let's see if you say that when you're laying flat on your back from a gunshot wound and I have to be the one to save your ass." Rios countered.

"Sure, but for now I'm headed to the shower and from what my nose is telling me you're gonna need one too." Asher joked.

"Gonna wash my back?"

"You wish." Asher chuckled.
---
On average their day usually ended at about one in morning. Waking up five hours later their day began with a light PT session followed by breakfast. Once breakfast was finished some of the sailors headed over to the range to perfect their marksmanship while others spent a little time studying their role in an upcoming exercise. A more rigorous PT session was done again, preceding a briefing in preparation for a full training exercise. Afterwards, the team attended a debriefing to learn how they could do things better on the next exercise. By the middle of the afternoon lunch was served. The next series of events were more time on the range and the last but most rigorous PT session of the day. When the physical exertion came to an end, everyone graciously headed to the mess hall for a nice warm dinner. With the day finally coming to a close, weapons and equipment were currently being cleaned in preparation for tomorrow's activities. But for these sailors, the day was not yet complete without a set of warning orders they were due to attend after their equipment was squared away. It was a busy routine, but someone had to follow it.

"Y'know, something kinda told me we should've done this earlier." Moore said, cleaning his M-4.

"You mean clean our weapons, like everyone else did, instead of stuffing our faces?" Oliveira asked, checking some ammunition magazines. "Nope, sorry, I sacrificed lunch to read up on our little exercise. That PT tore my stomach in half."

"Yeah, me too." Brigham announced. "But I had to skip lunch anyways. Senior Chief Moggs wanted me in on planning this one. Since I hope to take his job someday, I gotta know the rules and all that good stuff."

"Looks like you banking on a promotion after this op ain't ya?" Moore noted.

"I certainly hope so. Haven't worked towards the rank of SCPO for nothing. Navy's been a career fellas, it's been a career and I plan on getting the most out of it."

"God help us. A SCPO with the likes of you? Damn we're in trouble." Oliveira joked.

"Yeah Chief, ain't you got a woman at home or something? I mean I admire your climb up the chain of command, but I know you gotta miss the se..."

"Hey!" Oliveira cut him off. "Will you stop gettin' into the Chief's sex life? I don't wanna hear that."

"Well I do." Moore grinned.

"Jesus, you're sick."

"I'm inclined to agree with you on that Oliveira. Moore isn't exactly wired right?"

"On his side too?" Moore mocked disbelief. "Last time I hang out with you guys. But really Chief. Why so short on women?"

"I had to make a choice one day. Do I continue to put more time into being a SEAL or do I concentrate on trying to get my marriage to work. Now you fellas can probably figure out what route I chose." Brigham explained.

"Kinda harsh Chief."

"I know, got two divorces to prove it." Brigham replied.

"Guess our instructors really weren't bullshitting us when they said the SEALs have a ninety percent divorce rate." Moore said.

"Not at all good sirs, not at all." Brigham smiled. "I used to be just like that until I found out the hard way. My first wife wasn't too keen on doing such a dangerous job. I didn't want to quit, she wanted me to. Basically, to make a long story short, we got divorced. I just could not give up something I just started, something that I busted my ass trying to get into. Lets face it, I love my job."

"What about your second wife?" Oliveira asked.

"She was a paranoid thing. She didn't take me seriously when I told her I would be gone about eleven months out of the year. Even though I told her time and time again, she swore to God that I was cheating on her with promiscuous women. My first wife, we still talk, but that second chick. She was crazy and too demanding. So after that, I've decided to devote most of my time to the SEALs."

"Look at it this way, at least you can get some ass anytime you need it." Moore joked.

Oliveira shot Moore a look. "You could have just said date. I swear, something's not right with you."

"I still mingle a little bit, but I don't commit. And no Moore, I am not going around having sex with just any woman I see." Brigham smiled. "But hey, if you guys plan on getting married, do not, and I'm speaking from experience here, do not plan on it lasting as long as you got this job. From what I've been through, I don't blame el-tee one bit for getting a discharge at the end of this year. He obviously, really loves his girl and I wish all the best for him. Wish I had the had the maturity he did."

"Well hey Chief, you had a decision to make. You chose this, you shouldn't hate yourself for it." Moore pointed out.

"I know that, I just wish I didn't take those women along for the ride. It was unfair that I let them go through that. To be honest I should have thought things through first. Take notes fellas, because this is as candid as it gets."

"Don't worry about Moore, Chief. At the rate he's going, no woman in their right mind would marry him."

"C'mon Oliveira, you know I'm just bullshitting. I grew in a family full of women. Never in my life have I disrespected a women." Moore replied.

"So what's with the comments then?" Oliveira questioned.

"An attempt to piss you off and quite frankly, it's working." Moore grinned.

"Whatever." Oliveira rolled his eyes.

"Don't be so hard on the guy Emilio. I think Moore's telling the truth this time." Brigham said. "Keep talking sailor, I wanna hear the rest."

"At least someone believes me, unlike some other guy, whose name I choose not to mention." Moore chided.

"Christ." Oliveira murmured to himself.

"Now, as I was saying, I have always respected women. When my father was killed, my mother worked her hardest to take care of me and my three older sisters. There were plenty of moments in which she struggled to make ends meet, but she always came through. Hands down, my mother is one of the strongest people I have ever met. Any woman who lost her husband and takes care of four children single handedly has my vote. And to think of all the sexism women have to put up with from us here guys, has to be a pain in the ass. Growing up surrounded by women, I'm inclined to believe they got it harder than us. Someone may disagree with me on that. But hey, that's just my opinion."

"How'd everyone take it when you joined the Navy." Oliveira asked.

"Interesting you ask me that." Moore laughed nervously. "But no use sugarcoating the truth. My ma was happy and yet concerned that her only son was following in his father's footsteps. Now, considering what happened to my dad, I don't blame my mother for being worried. My sisters felt much the same way. After all, I was their baby brother. Let me mind you this was before I became a SEAL."

"Yeah, because a reaction like that is kinda tame compared to what I was thinking." Brigham pointed out.

"You got it right on the money Chief. I mean things started out okay. My mother and my sisters were all happy for me when I graduated from BUD/S. Things were fine for a couple of weeks after graduation. But one day, one of my sisters, God bless her." Moore chuckled. "She apparently did some reading on what exactly being a SEAL was all about. I got a call and the first thing I hear is, 'have you lost your God damned mind'. So for an hour or whatever, we're having an argument. She tells me I can die, I say I won't, she says I'm crazy, I reply saying this is something I really wanna do. Basically, that's all we talked about. But you guys pretty much get the idea."

"I'm taking everyone else reacted positively." Oliveira kidded.

"I wish." Moore laughed. "My sisters gave me hell. But when my mother finally realized what I was going to be doing, she was remarkably calm."

"Now, by saying that, do you mean, 'I'm calm, do whatever the hell you want' or 'I'm calm, I respect your decision, and I'm behind you a hundred percent?" Brigham asked.

"Surprisingly, the latter. I think that after everything my mom went through she eventually reconciled with my father's death. You see, my mother wasn't one of those women that sat around feeling sorry for herself. Of course she went through a period of grief, but who doesn't grieve after a loved one dies? She was always so resilient, a character trait I look for in any woman, and it was that resilience that helped her through the good times and the bad. That's probably why my mother accepted my decision to become a SEAL. She told me that she had done her job in life successfully raising four children. Now that we were grown, she believed it would be unfair, on her part, to prevent us from doing what we wanted to do. For that, I am extremely grateful to have that woman as my mother."

"Well damn Moore. Thanks for sobering the mood." Oliveira joked.

"Hey fellas, just giving you my two cents on things. That's all."

"I tell you what though, makes me wanna respect women a whole hell'uva lot more." Brigham added.

"So since we're stuck on this running theme of family, lets hear about yours, Oliveira."

"Where do I begin?" Oliveira took time to think about what he wanted to say. "You guys already know I spent a great deal of my life in Brazil. Fifteen years to be exact. But we had to leave because of the growing poverty problem." Oliveira sighed. "But I guess I can talk about what it was like when I came to the United States. Being an immigrant family, it was difficult enough living in this country. My parents spoke absolutely no English and neither did I. But I ended up taking an ESL class and did extremely well. In my opinion, English is still so much easier to speak."

"So how'd you manage the ESL class and high school at the same time?" Moore asked.

"Well I didn't go to high school while I was taking that class. I wanted to devote all my time to speaking English, so I could help my family and help myself. So yes, I finished high school later than everyone else. But once I got English out of the way, I felt just like everyone else."

"Your parents eventually learn English?" Brigham asked.

"I kinda wished they would have, but they haven't. In part, I think that's because they came to the country and hit the ground running. They had to get jobs almost immediately and just did not have the time to learn English. So even though they never learned English they at least gave me the chance to learn how to speak English."

"Have some great folks it sounds like." Brigham noticed.

"Oh yeah, I love my family, Chief. And in thanking them for allowing me to learn English I ended up helping them with daily tasks that required English. I had to make sure our landlord did not take advantage of us, go to the grocery store, and translate for my parents at the open houses at school. I had a lot of responsibility, in terms of looking out for my family. High school and working was a different story all together. But I managed."

"What about your extended family?" Moore asked.

"A lot of them we never heard from again. For a good couple of years we stayed in contact with them. But when things spiraled out of control we knew that they did not survive. Shows you how bad war can get. I guess me and my parents were just plain lucky to leave in time. If only the rest of my family was though."

"Yeah I remember you saying at the bar the other day, that this mission was personal." Moore recalled.

"It is. I mean Brazil is still my home. I have lived there longer than I have lived here. And quite possibly, I may still have family members there fighting against that PMC. I have allegiance to Brazil and I just can't let people run over my home like that."

"A patriot huh?"

"More biased towards Brazil. I love living here. But if Brazil wasn't in ruins, I'd go back in a heartbeat." Oliveira said proudly.

"Well that's understandable. I haven't seen anyone go crazy after a soccer match like you did." Moore joked.

"Hey, Spain cheated in that game and the refs were getting paid off. It was the World Cup you know." Oliveira smiled.

"Well, this operation may not fix the World Cup, Emilio." Brigham laughed. "But at least you'll be able to make sure Brazil is a free country again."

"Glad to have you guys supporting me on this."

"It's everyone's responsibility man." Moore said. "But are we done here, because we got those warning orders in a few minutes."

"Yeah we should get a move on. Besides I'm anxious for some sleep.

Oliveira yawned. "Yeah, you're not the only one."

"Me too."