Read The Minus Faction, Episode One: Breakout for Free Online Page A

admitted. Save the one you can." John rolled into the hall.
    The door swung shut and Dr. Zabora repeated the soldier's words in her mind.
    Save the one you can.

T Minus: 051 Days 01 Hours 12 Minutes 25 Seconds
     
     
     
     
     
     
    John lost his best friend in Suriname. He left Danny's body in a ditch after shooting him in the head. Danny looked up at John with no fear, no remorse. He'd been caught. John had orders. Danny would have done the same. He was good. But John was better. John didn't have a wife, didn't have a family he'd leave fatherless, didn't have kids he was trying to put through college by selling biological weapons on the black market. John picked up his gun from the mud. Danny was on his knees, blood mixing with rain. Danny was the only man in the unit who knew things about John, personal things. That's why they sent him. After the shot, John ran through the jungle, seventeen miles in a relentless rain, and mourned his friend. But when he made the extraction point, he put it away. For the unit.
    John lost the only woman he had ever loved when she smiled and said her vows to another man. The sun was shining. The church was full of people. John's tux didn't fit right. He was best man. He felt like an ass and a liar standing up there in front of everyone pretending to be happy. But she wasn't pretending. The couple laughed and danced into the night. John never told her how he felt. She never knew. Later that night, when he was finally alone in his hotel room, John cried for his love in quiet, feather-light heaves. Then he went for a dawn run and put it away forever. For his friends.
    John was overseas on his first big mission when his sister's life fell apart, when her husband left her with a toddler and a baby, kicked her and them out of the house. And hit her. At least once. John was thousands of miles away doing things human beings shouldn't do to each other. It was weeks before he got the email. It was just like with their stepmom. His sister could never seem to escape it. Only now John wasn't there to look after her. Or the kids. He suited up and ran through the wind-blown desert, tears evaporating in the heat along with the sweat. When he got back to base, there were new orders and he put his pain away. For his country.
    John was seventeen when his stepmom sent his little brother to the hospital. He stayed with him until the boy made him leave. John had a game that night. It was the state finals. He was the star. Everyone was counting on him, including Jojo. John plowed over the other team's defensive line. He ran and ran and ran. He scored three touchdowns. He was graduating in the spring, going into the army. His brother and sister would be alone with the woman. He cried under his helmet before the game. Then he put it away. For the team.
    John lost his mother in seventh grade. She'd been sick for months. When the men with the sad looks showed up in English class to take him home, he ran. He ran like his coach had shown him, pushing past the strangers and sprinting down the hall and running out the door and across the parking lot and through the football field and four miles down the road to the elementary school where his brother and sister were waiting. He cried the whole way. But as he hugged them in the parking lot, he put it away forever. For them. Their dad wasn't a strong man. So John would be. Always.
    John hadn't cried in the caves. He was too worried about surviving. He hadn't cried on the flight home. He was too happy to be free. He hadn't cried in the hospital. There were always people around, especially at first.
    Do you want anything? More pills? More water? Another blanket? Can I help you wash? Help you into bed? Help?
    And there were so many other patients in pain. Some with families, some without. Some with friends, some without. John did what he could. He told stories. He smiled. He made the rounds in his motorized chair. He didn't have to say it. His appearance was enough.
    If I can