47
Connie had been one of ten people on the flight to Chicago. Snow had trapped her there and she’d slept on the terminal floor Christmas Eve. Then the equally empty flight to Nashville and one of three, including the driver, on the bus back up to Kentucky. She’d arrived tired after twenty hours in transit to cover the six hundred miles from Muskogee to Fort Campbell.
It had an upside though. No Christmas dinner Army-style. No Christmas morning with a bunch of duty personnel who wanted to be anywhere else and were morose about it. She knew them well, having been there for every one of the last six years. And often as a charity case before that.
She slept through the rest of Christmas and woke fine with the next dawn. Nothing from John. Nothing from the Majors. The unknown mission must b
