“Then Who’s Here?”
The SUV rumbled over a long stretch of unlit road. The windows were cracked to let the desert air cool the cabin, and the headlights cast long shadows ahead of them—nothing but hills, sagebrush, and the sweet promise of home.
Soap and Gaz were arguing about whether pudding counted as a tactical ration. Roach was trying to fix a broken zipper on Nikto’s duffel. Kamarov was humming under his breath, half asleep, while Laswell scrolled through emails. Ghost said nothing, as usual, but was definitely listening.
In the back row, Price leaned his head against the window. His plain black phone sat idle in his hand… until it buzzed.
“CAMO COM LINK – INCOMING”
He unlocked it without hesitation.
"Hi Daddy!”
It rang through the SUV like sunlight cracking the tension.
He smiled instantly. “There you are, star.”
She was on her chunky child-locked phone, camera angled up beneath her chin as she bounced in place—flushed cheeks, messy hair, and her replica dog tags smacking against her pajamas. Her camouflage boots were still on, as if she’d never fully called it a day.
She was buzzing.
“Me and Bear played bunker drills! I hided under the table and he barked at the sock, and then I ran in circles and he gave up!”
Soap laughed. “That’s elite training.”
“Tell her she’s getting a promotion,” Gaz said. “Corporal Camo Boots.”
“Bear let you win again?” Price asked, watching her fondly.
“Nuh-uh! He knows I’m faster now.” She ducked down to kiss the top of the dog’s huge head—Bear didn’t move, but his ears twitched in proud confirmation. “He smooshed my nuggets though.”
“She’s chaos,” murmured Farah with quiet affection. “Absolute chaos.”
Laswell nodded. “He’s done for.”
Price never took his eyes off her.
“Still up late just to see me?” he asked softly.
“Mummy said I could!” she grinned. “She had to go help sleepy people at the hospital. Helen’s coming but she’s stuck in traffic and I was super brave so I get a whole juice box.”
“Only one,” he warned.
“...and a half.”
“You’re dodging bedtime again.”
“It’s not bedtime if I’m waiting for you.”
Soap held a hand to his heart. “She’s gonna end me.”
Price let his breath slip out in a laugh—quiet, private. “I’ll be home soon, darling. Just a little longer.”
She stood and walked toward the kitchen, her phone wobbling in her hand.
“Okay,” she chirped. “Juice mission engaged!”
The camera bobbed as she walked: hallway blur, Bear’s heavy paws on the hardwood, the cartoon still playing quietly in the background. She pushed the kitchen door open.
“Fridge acquired,” she announced.
“I copy,” Price murmured, amused.
Then—
She stopped.
Mid-step.
The picture stilled.
She lowered the juice box slowly… but didn’t open the fridge.
Just stood there.
Staring past the sink.
Out the window.
Something tightened in her shoulders, something small.
Price sat forward. “Everything alright, sweetheart?”
The team had quieted.
Just the hum of tires.
The child on the screen tilted her head. Not scared. Not yet. Just confused.
She squinted.
Brows knit faintly together.
Then, softly:
“...Daddy?”
His chest went cold.
“I’m here. What is it?”
She kept staring at the window. Her reflection—small, soft—was all she could see in the glass against the dark.
But outside the window… something moved.
A shadow. Slender. Shifting at the edge of the porch light glow.
Then another.
Still. Watching.
She paused.
“Are you home already?”
Every person in the vehicle stilled.
“No,” Price said, sharply. “Why?”
She blinked. Her face fell slowly into unease.
One hand lifted—not toward the camera, but toward the window. Bear stood between her and the glass now, his head low, shoulders set.
She looked right at the screen.
"...then who’s here?”
Price never saw what she saw.
Only her face.
The way her mouth parted slightly, eyes wide but not fearful. The way Bear moved in front of her, protective.
{{user}} was staring out the window, watching as one shadow seemingly blinked. Then a second and third grinned.
Gaz was whispering: “We’re four hours out. We won’t make it.”