Never Forget: A Novella in the Echo Platoon Series by Marliss Melton Page A

realization that they’d been carrying those firearms under their clothing. With rising astonishment, she watched several more weapons come into view. Nearly every man in sight was packing heat—what the hell? And she was letting her son frolic in this environment? Was she crazy?
    Watching the SEALs take turns laying their arms every-so-gently into the bucket, however, she reminded herself that these men were professionals. They ate, slept, and trained with their weapons day after day without hurting anyone but the enemy. She had to trust that they’d take extra precautions with a civilian in the area, a teenager at that.
    By the time Rusty reappeared, carrying a shovel in one hand, the bucket was so full, he struggled to get the lid back on.
    He straightened to assess his audience—their game of volleyball forgotten. All eyes were glued to Draco, who stood on the other end of the leash Curtis was holding, his eyes bright with excitement and his tail whipping happily back and forth.
    “Now, who wants to bury the bucket in the woods?” Rusty asked. When every man present raised a hand, Curtis laughed. Maya took note of his anticipation. These motivated men were good role models for her son. So what if they were armed and dangerous? They were no threat to Curtis—only to terrorists and extremists.
    “Yogi and Weinstein.”
    Receiving cheers from their comrades, two men separated from the group. One snatched up the bucket and the other took the shovel. Grinning ear to ear, they headed for the woods at a run with encouragement from those left behind. The faster the weapons were buried, the sooner the dog could find the cache, the more chance they’d all be drinking beer that night.
    “You okay?”
    Rusty’s question wrested her attention to his searching gaze.
    “Yeah.” She sent him a reassuring smile.
    “Disturbed to see so much firepower in my backyard?”
    “I was taken aback,” she admitted, glancing at Curtis to convey her reasons.
    “You don’t have to worry,” he assured her.
    “I’m not worried.”
    “Good.” He gestured to her son. “Let me work with Curtis on the search procedure.”
    “By all means.”
    For the next ten minutes, she watched her son learn to guide Draco through the search. He would give the command “ reveire ,” while keeping Draco on the lead but with as much slack as possible. When the dog located the bucket by the scent of gunpowder, he would sit and stare at the site.
    “He won’t try to dig it up?” Curtis asked.
    “No, no. You wouldn’t want the dog digging up something that might explode, would you?”
    Horror registered on Curtis’s face. “Oh, no,” he said.
    “Our explosives guy will dig up the bucket. There’s a chance this boy may not even find it. His nose isn’t what it used to be. If that happens, we’ll have to plant something back here at the house or he’ll lose motivation.”
    “Right.” Caught up in the moment, Curtis stroked Draco’s head enthusiastically.
    A shout went up across the field signaling the return of the two SEALs. They waved the shovel in the air to show that the bucket was buried.
    “Let’s do this.” Rusty swung back toward Maya. “Want to join us?”
    “Of course.”
    His gaze dubiously slid to her slip-on sandals.
    “I’ll be fine,” she assured him.
    He turned back to Curtis. “You take point, son. That means you’re first. Our safety now rests in the hands of you and your MWD.”
    Curtis smiled uncertainly. “Draco,” he called, dropping all but the end of the long lead, “reveire!”
    The dog leapt into action. He started forward in a zigzag pattern, unraveling his lead as he alternately lifted his head to scent the air then lowered it to sniff the ground.
    Conditioned by their training and experience, the men fell in automatically after him, one of them snatching the shovel out of Weinstein’s hand. Maya joined them, hurrying to keep up as they tramped across the field and into the tree line. Rusty