The Gotland Deception

Chapter Twelve: The Weight of Duty

The Silverado’s Duramax diesel engine growled as SFC Ramon Torres pulled into his driveway. He sat for a moment, engine ticking as it cooled, staring at the basketball hoop mounted above the garage. The net hung limp in the windless El Paso evening.

How do I tell them? he wondered.

Through the living room window, he could see his wife, Maria, helping their daughter, Sophia, with homework at the dining table. The warm glow of home life before him was bittersweet as he became aware that he was about to shatter it.

He grabbed his patrol cap from the passenger seat and headed inside.

“Daddy!” Four-year-old Carlos launched himself from the couch, Spider-Man pajamas already on despite it being only six thirty.

Torres scooped him up, inhaling the scent of Johnson’s baby shampoo. “Hey, mi hijo. You already ready for bed?”

“Mommy said if I put on PJs early, I could stay up for the Spurs game.”

“Smart move.” He set Carlos down, ruffling his hair. The boy scampered back to his Lego fortress on the carpet.

Maria looked up from Sophia’s math worksheet, her smile faltering. Sixteen years of marriage had taught her to read his face like a tactical map. She must have seen the weight he carried as soon as he walked through the door.

“Sweetie, finish that problem. I need to talk to your dad.” Her voice stayed steady, but Torres caught the tremor beneath.

“But, Mom, I don’t get fractions,” Sophia protested. Ramon couldn’t help but smile to himself — his daughter was twelve, going on twenty-one.

“I’ll help in a minute, mi hija.” Maria stood, smoothing her nurse scrubs. She hadn’t had a chance to change yet after her shift at Del Sol Medical Center.

They met in the kitchen. Maria pulled a pair of Dos Equis from the fridge, which was another tell. She only drank beer when she needed to brace herself.

“When?” she asked.

Simple. Direct, he thought. That’s Maria.

“We got the warning order today. We deploy by month’s end.”

Her hand tightened on the bottle. “Europe?” she pressed.

“Poland,” Ramon confirmed.

“It’s the exercise — the one on the news, isn’t it? With the Russians and Chinese?”

He nodded. Through the doorway, he watched Isabella, their eight-year-old, building a Lego creation with Carlos. Miguel, twelve and obsessed with Call of Duty, hadn’t even looked up from his Xbox.

“It’s just an exercise, right?” asked Maria. Her eyes betrayed that she knew better, even as the words left her lips. She’d been an Army wife too long.

“That’s what they’re calling it,” Ramon replied. He took a long pull from his beer. “We’re bringing the new robotic tanks, the Ripsaws. It will be their first operational deployment.”

“Robots.” She laughed, but it came out bitter. “They can send robots but still need to take you.”

“Someone’s gotta tell the robots what to shoot.”

Silence stretched between them. From the living room came the crash of Lego blocks and Carlos’s delighted shriek.

“How long?” she asked.

“Unknown. Could be ninety days. Could be…” He didn’t finish.

Maria set her beer down and moved over to be close to him. Her head found that spot on his chest where it had always fit perfectly, even back in Riverside High School when he was just a linebacker with dreams bigger than Jacksonville, Florida.

“I watch the news, Ramon,” she said. “This feels different.”

“It is different,” he answered as he put his arms around her. There was no point in lying. She’d see through it anyway.

“The kids — Miguel’s tournament is next month,” Maria said, holding back tears.

“I know.” The weight of missing moments pressed down. “I know, baby.”

She pulled back, hands framing his face. She looked at him with those same brown eyes that had watched him ship out to the Middle East and Europe. But they’d been younger then. Back then, they hadn’t had a mortgage, or four kids with soccer practice and orthodontist appointments.

“You come back to us,” said Maria. It wasn’t a request. It was an unspoken order.

He smiled. “I always do.”

Maria held his gaze for a second. “I’m serious, Ramon. You come back to us.”

He kissed her forehead, breathing in deeply. Maria smelled like vanilla perfume mixed with hospital antiseptic. It was a familiar aroma that brought him comfort.

She sighed, then motioned with her head toward the family room. “Come on. Let’s tell them together,” she offered, leading him into the chaos of domestic bliss.

After a moment, Maria had gathered everyone in the living room. Ramon had done this before, but it never got easier. Miguel paused his game, which was a minor miracle. Sophia closed her math book. Isabella and Carlos continued building a tower between them on the carpet.

“Kids, Dad’s got something to tell you.” Maria’s hand found his.

Ramon cleared his throat. “You know how sometimes Dad has to go away for Army stuff?”

“Are you deploying?” Sophia asked, too perceptive for twelve. “Is this like that time when you went to the Philippines a few years ago? Or when you went to Romania?”

“Yeah, mi hija. Except this time, they’re sending me to Poland. Back to Europe.”

“I know where Poland is,” Miguel piped up. “It’s next to Russia and Ukraine. Are you fighting Russians?” he asked.

“No fighting — no one is fighting anyone right now,” Ramon tried to reassure them. “We’re just going over to do some training, and making sure everyone stays friendly.”

Carlos looked up from his blocks. “How long?” he pressed. The hardest questions always seemed to come from the smallest voices.

“A few months, buddy. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“But you’ll miss my tournament.” Miguel’s voice cracked. He was caught in that stage between being a boy and a teenager.

“I know. I’ll try to watch online if I can.”

Isabella crawled into his lap. “Can you take Whiskers?” she asked, referring to her stuffed cat that she carried with her everywhere. It was worn threadbare from love. “So you won’t be lonely?”

His throat tightened. “That’s a great idea, princess.”

“This is because of what’s on the news, isn’t it?” Sophia asked. Once again, she was too smart for anyone’s good. “I heard on the news that the Chinese and Russians are doing something big in Europe, the Middle East, and Asia.”

Maria intervened, saving him from answering. “Dad’s job is to keep us safe, Sophia. Sometimes that means going places to make sure nothing bad happens.”

“Like a superhero,” Carlos announced. “Except with tanks — a tank superhero.”

“Something like that, mi hijo.”

They talked until bedtime. Sophia wanted to make sure that he packed his winter gear because it would be cold there. Carlos was confused about the time zones and was amazed that when it was bedtime at their house, Ramon would be eating breakfast. And Miguel wanted assurances of staying connected.

“We’ll video chat every chance we get,” Ramon promised.

Finally, Maria herded the younger ones upstairs. Sophia lingered, curled next to him on the couch.

“You’re scared,” Sophia said. It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement.

Ramon considered lying but decided against it. “A little, I suppose. It seems tensions have been building for a while now. I don’t know what it all means, but it’s generally not a good thing when lots of military units from opposing sides are in such close proximity to each other.”

“Yeah, Lisa’s dad mentioned something like that the other day when he said her uncle was going to England for a few months. He’s a fighter pilot in the Air Force,” his daughter explained. “I think Mom’s scared too. She only drinks beer when she’s worried.”

Ramon laughed softly. “Wow, you think your mom is that easy to read?” he teased.

His daughter shrugged. “I don’t know about that. It’s just about the only time I see her drink one of your beers.”

“Huh, you’re pretty good at noticing things, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Well, someone has to when you’re gone,” she answered nonchalantly.

He smiled at her. “My little soldier. I like it. Hey… can you promise me something?”

She looked up at him, nodding slowly.

“Go easy on your mom, and your brother. I need you to step up, help take care of your mom and the littles till I get back, OK?”

She smiled. “I always do.” She hugged him tight, kissed him on the cheek and headed upstairs, leaving him alone with the weight of leaving.

Later, in their bedroom, Maria lay against his chest. The house was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner.

“Remember when you first deployed?” she whispered. “It was 2018. I was so scared, I threw up every morning for a week.”

“You were pregnant with Miguel.”

“That too.” She traced circles on his chest. “But mostly scared. Now I’m just…” She searched for the word. “Tired, I guess. Tired of goodbyes. Tired of explaining to the kids why Daddy missed another Christmas, another birthday.”

He winced at the comment. It stung, but he knew it was true. It was an unfortunate part of being a soldier. “I know. Maybe I should have gotten out six years ago when I hit the midway point, but now with sixteen years in…” He sighed. “Hell, the sergeant major says I should make master sergeant once they post the cutoffs. That bump in pay will be nice.”

She sighed too. “Money doesn’t do us any good if you’re not here.” She propped up on an elbow. “Ramon, we’re not eighteen anymore. I see what’s happening over there. This isn’t like Afghanistan or Syria. This is—”

“Different. I know,” he finished for her.

“Do you? Russia, China, this isn’t like Afghanistan, Syria, or Iraq.” But her anger deflated as quickly as it had come. “I’m sorry. I just—” Tears came then.

He held her while she cried for a moment, releasing the anxiety and fear she felt.

“Hey.” He tilted her chin up. “Remember what you told me before my first deployment?”

“That if you died, I’d kill you?” she replied through a watery laugh.

“Ha-ha. No, not that. You said you’d be here. No matter what happened. That this” — he gestured to the space between them — “doesn’t break.”

“Sixteen years, four kids, five deployments.” She wiped her eyes. “I’m still here.”

“Me too,” he answered, leaning in to kiss her.

They made love then, desperate and tender, knowing he would be gone soon. Afterward, she fell asleep curled into him, one hand fisted in his shirt like she could anchor him home.

Ramon lay awake, thinking of her, the sound of her breathing, the faint scent of her shampoo, and how lucky he was to have found his soulmate. Down the hall, he heard one of the kids cough. In the kitchen, the ice maker in the freezer churned out another batch of ice cubes into the tray. These were the ordinary sounds of home. The sounds and smells he’d carry with him to Poland, and whatever the future held.

On the nightstand, his phone buzzed. He reached for it and found an email from the battalion S3.

Equipment inspections at 0600. It was midnight, and his mind was racing.

Ramon thought about the Ripsaw systems arriving tomorrow. They were autonomous killing machines, but they still needed men to guide them. The irony wasn’t lost on him. They could build robots to fight, but they couldn’t build robots to say goodbye.

Maria stirred, murmuring something in her sleep. He pulled her closer.

Three more days. Three more breakfasts. Three more bedtime stories. Three more chances to bank memories against whatever comes next.

Outside, a siren wailed somewhere in El Paso. The world spun on, oblivious to one family’s countdown to goodbye. Ramon closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Tomorrow would come soon enough. It always did.