"Oh, Captain Carter," Miller teased as he watched me stumble out of bed in broad daylight. "Sleeping during the day isn't exactly a good look. If your men see you, won't they be talking behind your back?"
"Sigh," I yawned, rubbing my eyes. "You don't know how wrecked I've been these past few days. I only nodded off for a moment!"
"That's true—you've been working yourself to the bone. But now you're rested, and tonight you can really show off that… virility of yours, and let those lovely young ladies enjoy themselves! Ha!" Miller flashed a lewd grin.
"Go to hell," I laughed, vaulting onto the jeep's bumper. "I'd rather stand back and watch you in action."
"That's not how I operate," Miller frowned. "I've never enjoyed having another man watch me with a woman!"
"Maybe you're just not up to the task," I teased, waggling my eyebrows.
"What? You dare insult my… prowess? You bastard—I'll duel you for that!"
"Duel? Hard pass," I winked. "Hey, Miller—are these women expensive?"
"It's not like you need to worry about money," Miller said, sizing me up suspiciously.
"How about two hundred dollars—enough?"
"Enough? Hell yes! You could get three women at once!" Miller whooped, whistled, and stomped on the gas. In a flash, we tore out of camp.
"Slow down—what if you hit someone?" I shouted after him, gripping the roll bar.
"Don't worry, Carter! No one's going to mess with us out here!" he called back, indifferent. His swagger felt crude and entitled—I half-wondered that he must be the colonel's favorite—maybe even his secret son.
Miller handled the jeep expertly, weaving through backroads until we arrived in a dilapidated alleyway. He cut the engine and jumped out, hefting a heavy-looking bag—probably full of canned goods.
"What is this place?" I asked, surveying the broken-down buildings.
Miller glanced around, then smirked. "Welcome to my spot. It's rough, sure, but it's private enough for us to unwind." He looked a bit embarrassed to show off the rubble.
"Not bad," I nodded, patting him on the back. "Finding any hideaway these days is an accomplishment."
"True," he said, shrugging. "I also come here to help the women left behind. Their lives have been shattered—no men, no food."
"Don't overthink it. Shall we go?" I clapped him on the shoulder. Miller puffed out his chest, adjusted his uniform, and led the way.
The alley was more a narrow passage than a street, darkening as dusk fell. War had sharpened my vigilance—my hand drifted to my holster. I regretted agreeing to this; if something went wrong, I'd be the one to die, and everyone would say, "Captain Carter got himself killed chasing whores—well deserved!" Not exactly a heroic epitaph.
"Wait, Miller—are you sure this is safe?" I hesitated at the threshold.
He gave me a confident nod. "Trust me, Carter. I've been here many times. Besides a few women, no one else comes. The war's taken all the men."
"Alright, I'll trust you this once—but next time, I'm not coming," I warned.
"Of course!" Miller replied. "I doubt there'll be a next time for me either."
He knocked on a battered door. After a moment, it creaked open to reveal a pale young woman of seventeen or so. Relief lit her features when she saw Miller; she ran into his arms, trembling with silent sobs.
Miller smiled awkwardly at me, patted her back, and said, "There's another customer here."
The girl broke free, blushed, and stepped aside. "Come in, come in!"
I entered after them. Only a single bed and a wooden crate furnished the cramped room.
"Are you American or British?" I asked, surprised by her fluent English.
"She's French—Élise Chevalier," Miller supplied, then fell silent.
Élise waved us toward the sparse seating. A younger girl, perhaps twelve, peered at us shyly, then bolted past.
"That's my sister, Madeleine," Élise explained, embarrassed. "Madeleine, come meet Captain Carter and Lieutenant Miller!"
Madeleine shot me a quick, cold glance before fleeing again.
"Everything okay?" I asked Élise.
"She always does that," she murmured. "If strangers come, she hides."
We nodded in understanding. Élise swallowed and gestured around the bare room. "The war… we had to sell everything. I'm sorry there's nowhere to sit."
Miller produced the bag of food and set it down. "Here—you and Madeleine eat first."
"Thank you!" Élise kissed his cheek, seized the bag, and dashed out.
"She's a good girl," I said quietly.
"You are right," Miller agreed. "There are many like her. Want me to introduce you to someone else?"
I shook my head. "I'd rather not."
"Because of me?" he asked with a grin.
"Something like that."
He tilted his head. "So what will you do tonight?"
"Watch the two of you," I joked.
"You dare?" he challenged.
"What's to stop me?"
He took a swing at me, but before he could, Élise returned—face pale with concern.
"Miller," she whispered urgently, "please—leave Madeleine out of this. I can satisfy you, anything you want, just please don't—"
Miller's expression froze, and Élise gripped my sleeve, panic in her eyes.
"Are we really monsters?" I asked softly.
Her relief was instant. She wiped her tears and mouthed, "Thank you."
I turned to Miller and quietly passed him the two hundred dollars. Leaning close, I whispered, "Be done by midnight, and I won't say a word."
He looked at the cash… then nodded.
I slipped back outside. In the tiny courtyard, Madeleine sat hugging her knees, the untouched food at her feet. I crouched beside her.
"Hi, Madeleine," I said gently.
She glanced at me but said nothing.
"You miss your mother?" I asked.
She nodded, tears forming in her eyes. "She's in heaven. Does she still think of me?"
"She does," I assured her. "From up there, she watches you. Your happiness—and sadness—she feels it all."
"Really?" she sniffled.
"Really," I smiled.
Just then, moans and heavy breathing drifted from inside. Madeleine whirled toward the house, her face hardened. She looked back at me with distant eyes.
I exhaled heavily. "When you're older, you'll understand."
"I don't understand!" she sobbed, burying her head.
I steadied my voice. "You're about twelve now. You shouldn't waste tears—you should love your sister for protecting you. Do you understand?"
She wiped her eyes. "I love her…but—"
"She did nothing wrong," I said firmly. "This damned war is to blame—it's destroyed people's lives. People like you."
Her gaze softened, and I pulled a cigarette from my pocket. My hands trembled as I struck a match, lit it, and inhaled deeply. I released a thick plume of smoke into the night sky, carrying with it every ounce of sorrow I couldn't voice.