Memories of You

Chapter Thirty-Eight - Mayday

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Tobias' POV

"Zeke, you're an idiot!" I laugh, taking a small swig from the flask he had handed back to me, feeling the burn of the alcohol go down my throat. Damn, that's strong.

"Come on, Four! You have to admit it was pretty funny when that French guy didn't understand a damned thing I said." He gestures with his arm toward the front of the tent.

I snort, handing the flask back to him again, remembering the man in question. "You do know he spoke perfect English, right?" I reply, keeping a straight face.

His eyes go wide, and he stands up quickly. "What?!" he yells.

I can't help but laugh at the look on his face. "He spoke perfect English," I say through chuckles of lingering laughter. "You just didn't bother to even try using the French phrases your commanding officer taught you. He was giving you utter hell for being rude."

Zeke sits back down, rubs his face, and chuckles. "Well, shit. I feel like an idiot." He leans back, taking a large swig from the flask, a quick cough escaping his mouth.

I lean over, taking the flask from him, and laugh again. "You should be, but the situation wasn't dire, so that's why he gave you so much shit." I take another swig, content to finally be able to laugh at something. These past few weeks have been hell with all the destruction going on around us. We haven't had time enough to even take a breath, let alone laugh.

"How did you learn French so quickly? I still have a hard time asking where the bathroom is," Zeke asks.

"The guy next to me in the hospital taught me most of it," I say with a shrug. "Gave me something to do to pass the time, more than anything else." I lean over, rummaging in my bag for the candy Amar was handing out earlier.

The recent weeks have been difficult since we've struggled to gain ground in Germany, but they have been even harder knowing that Tris' letters are taking longer to arrive. Her last letter didn't give me much insight into how much she had taken on, but my mother's letter revealed more than Tris', whether she meant it to or not. I was able to put two and two together, and I figured out that Tris has probably taken on far more work than she can handle. It pains me to know I can't do anything about it, and I know she won't ask for help, even if she needs it.

"Where are Will and Uriah?" I ask, throwing Zeke a tube of candy.

He catches it, impatiently opens it, and dumps several pieces into his hand. "Oh, Uriah's on duty. He should be done soon, and I think Will was trying to bribe one of the French Resistance guys to give up a bottle of wine to go along with this." He plucks the half full flask out of my other hand.

The tent flap is suddenly yanked back, and Will appears, holding a brown bottle. "And he succeeded!" he crows, holding the bottle above his head.

Zeke stands, clapping Will on the back as we celebrate his success in procuring another bottle of alcohol. Will sits down with Zeke and pops the cork; he passes it around after taking the first taste. "Not bad," he says, looking at the bottle. "Not good, but I don't think we're looking for good right now," he jokes with an amused grin. I throw him a tube of candy and it smacks him in the shoulder, landing in his lap.