Crossing Savage by Dave Edlund Page A

those.”
    â€œYeah, rough ride, but beats walking.”
    Parked on the street in front of Peter’s place, in a slot reserved for EJ Enterprises, was Peter’s extended cab H3T. It was dark metallic red, with a black interior except for red inset panels in the front and rear seats. It looked rather sporty with its roof rack and black trim. Jim whistled. “Now she’s a real beauty!”
    â€œAlmost too pretty to take off-road,” replied Peter. “I haven’t yet, but I will. There’s a dirt road, poorly maintained, that runs north from the Cascade Lakes Highway at Todd Lake along the east side of the Tamm McArthur Rim into Highway 242. It’s closed this late in the year, but come next summer I’m going to test the off-road capabilities of this baby.”
    â€œSounds like fun. Can I come along?” said Jim, still smiling.
    â€œAnytime, just don’t forget the Scotch.”
    After topping off the gas tank at a convenience store, Peter drove onto the parkway heading north towards Sisters. So far, there wasn’t much traffic. Peter hoped his luck would hold.
    After driving for a while with just the sound of the tires humming against the pavement, Peter asked, “So, what’s it like to be a SEAL? Lots of adrenaline, I suppose.”
    Jim was quiet for a moment as he considered the question. Then he answered, “Yes. Enough, anyway. I’ve been to Iraq, Afghanistan, and other places I can’t name. Saw a lot of good men die. Spent five years in-country leading a SEAL team. It was the same shit every day, just different bad guys to take out. Then one day I got a call, and the voice on the other end made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. So, I took up residency at The Office. I lead a team there too, doing all kinds of interesting and challenging intelligence stuff that I’ll never be able to tell you about. But I can tell you this. It is every bit as challenging as what I did in the field. Except now I make a real difference.”
    Peter registered a degree of bitterness in Jim’s voice. “And you don’t think you made a difference as a SEAL team leader?”
    Jim shook his head. “We always completed our missions—killed a lot of really bad people. But did it change anything? The Taliban is resurgent; Al Qaeda is just as active as ever, maybe more so. And now Pakistan’s tribal area is sheltering and giving birth to new generations of terrorists and groups we’ve never heard of. We fought the battles, but we didn’t win the war.”
    â€œHow about the guys in your old SEAL unit? Do you stay in touch with them?”
    â€œYeah, the ones who made it out, anyway. They’re good men… the best of the best—SEAL Team Six.”
    They drove on in silence for a while; Jim was deep in thought, struggling with demons he might never defeat. Peter had never imagined anything could get to Jim. He had been a tough kid, seldom challenged and never backing down. But Peter had never been to Iraq or Afghanistan—for that matter he had never been to a war zone anywhere. He assumed the old saying to be true—war is hell.
    They arrived in Corvallis right on schedule and found their way to the Oregon State University campus. They parked next to the campus bookstore, not far from Gleason Hall where his father’s office was on the second floor.
    Peter knocked and from inside a familiar voice said, “Come in.”
    He opened the door, and his father glanced up with a neutral expression. Upon recognizing his son, his face broadened into a wide, radiant smile.
    â€œHello, Peter!” he said, rising from his desk chair. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you today. What brings you here?”
    Peter entered the office with Jim close behind. “Hi, Dad,” he grinned and gave his father a big hug. “You remember Jim Nicolaou? He was my best friend from high school.”
    â€œYes, I do