Where the Sun meets the Star

12. The Unthinkable Happens

Chapter 12: The Unthinkable Happens

Dr. Amara Velasco’s POV

The camp was too quiet. It was the kind of quiet that sank into your bones, made you want to scream just to hear a sound. I’d been standing by the communication tent for the better part of an hour, my heart pounding every time one of the radio operators adjusted a dial or whispered into their headsets.

I was hoping, no, clinging to the idea that Kalix’s voice would crackle through any second.

But with every minute that passed, hope grew harder to hold onto.
Rumors had already started to trickle in. Whispers in the camp that Kalix’s unit had gone dark, that they were “unaccounted for.” Unaccounted for such a clinical way of saying lost.

I shivered as I tried to focus on my duties. Every time I looked up, I saw the same pity in my colleagues’ eyes. They knew what Kalix meant to me, even if I hadn’t been able to admit it fully.

“Amara.” Nurse Marsha’s voice was soft, hesitant. “You’ve been on your feet all day. Why don’t you sit down, get something to eat?”

I shook my head. “I’m fine. I have work.”

“But you—”
“I’m fine.” My tone was sharper than I intended, but I couldn’t afford comfort. Comfort would mean stopping, and stopping would mean I’d have to think about what could be happening out there.

The clinic was bustling with patients and supplies, so I threw myself into it, doing anything to keep my mind busy. But even as I wrapped bandages and administered IVs, my hands shook, betraying my calm exterior. I kept picturing Kalix’s face, the way he’d smiled at me that last night, so full of life, determination, and the promise of something we hadn’t even had the chance to fully explore.

He’s out there, I told myself. He’s coming back.

But hours dragged into the early morning, and still no word. I lost myself in the endless rhythm of tasks, moving from patient to patient, pretending that the gnawing ache in my chest was just hunger, exhaustion anything but fear.

Captain Kalix Santiago’s POV

I groaned, forcing my eyes open as I tried to orient myself. Everything was dark, save for the faint red glow of a blinking emergency light overhead. The pain hit next a sharp, searing pain in my shoulder and a dull ache in my leg. I tried to move, but my body felt like it had been trampled.

My team. The ambush.

Memories flooded back in a rush. We’d been making our way through the jungle, moving stealthily through hostile territory, when the ground had erupted in a hail of gunfire. One of my men had shouted a warning, but it was too late. Everything after that was a blur of confusion and pain.

Slowly, I turned my head, blinking against the dim light. My helmet was cracked, and there was blood on my uniform, but I’d been through worse. The question was whether my team had been as lucky.

“Falcon? Lemuel?” I rasped, trying to lift myself.

There was a groan to my left. I turned, barely making out Sergeant Falcon’s form. He was covered in dirt and grime, but he was alive. Relief surged through me, even as I gritted my teeth against the pain.

“Cap...tain.” His voice was strained, hoarse.

“We’re going to get out of this,” I told him, as much to convince myself as him. I scanned the cramped space we were in a supply bunker. At least we were hidden for the moment, but if our attackers were still out there, it wouldn’t take them long to find us.
Falcon managed to sit up, wincing.