The Names We Bury

Garret was already there when I found him. Sitting by the small hearth with his bad leg stretched out, staring into the flames like they might answer something for him. He didn’t look surprised to see me.

I closed the door behind me. The room smelled of old smoke and wet wool.

“You said the name,” I started. No point dancing around it. “The Grainfield. I’ve seen it before. In my father’s notes.”

He didn’t move at first. Just kept looking at the fire. Then he let out a slow breath.

“Figured you would, eventually.”

I pulled a chair closer and sat down across from him. The wood was cold under my hands.

“Tell me what happened that night.”

Garret was quiet for a long time. Long enough that I thought he might not answer at all. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough.

“We were supposed to take them out. Quiet. Clean. Syndicate cell planning something bigger. Your father and I got there first. Scouted the camp.” He paused. “They were just kids. Fifteen, maybe sixteen. Scared. One of them had a sapper charge he didn’t even know how to arm properly.”

I waited. He rubbed his thumb along the edge of his mug.

“Your father saw it first. Said we couldn’t do it. Not like that. I… I didn’t argue with him. Should’ve. But I didn’t.” He looked at me then. His eyes were tired. “He hesitated. That’s all it took. One of the boys panicked. The charge went off. Your father took the worst of it. I got him out, but barely. Syndicate grabbed what was left of him before I could go back.”

He stopped. The fire popped.

“I never told anyone I froze too,” he said quietly. “Not until now.”

I sat with that for a moment. The weight of it settled in my chest, heavier than I expected.

“He didn’t run because he was a coward,” I said.

Garret shook his head.

“No. He ran because he finally saw what we’d become. And he didn’t want you to see it too.”

I looked down at my hands. They were steady. That surprised me.

“Thank you for telling me,” I said.

He gave a small, tired nod.

“Don’t thank me yet, girl. Truth like that doesn’t get lighter just because you know it.”

I stood up. The chair scraped against the floor.

“I know,” I said. “But at least now it’s mine to carry.”

I left him there by the fire. The corridor outside was cold, but I didn’t feel it. Not really.