Joe excused himself from the campfire, Carol silently taking his place beside Sophia. She gave him a warm, knowing smile as he passed.
He made his way back to his tent, but paused when he heard muffled voices from inside... Amy and Andrea.
No tension, just quiet conversation. They seemed to be on peaceful terms now.
Joe was mildly curious but mostly relieved. He hadn't shattered the bond between the sisters after all.
Stepping closer briefly, he moved to his duffel hanging outside and changed into a red-and-black checkered shirt and black cargo pants.
He strapped his Ka-Bar to his hip before heading out again, the soft hum of the sisters' voices still carrying gently behind him.
Joe walked to the RV and grabbed the toolbox he'd recovered from the city. Dale, seated atop the roof with his usual silent watchfulness, didn't say a word.
At the front of the RV, Joe popped the hood. Dale glanced over but remained quiet.
Joe examined the engine bay. The wiring, hoses, and mounts. One thing stood out: the upper radiator hose, more duct tape than rubber.
He sighed, twisting off the radiator cap and peering inside with a flashlight.
Black gunk. Sludge coated the inner walls, likely residue from rotted hoses and ancient coolant.
Footsteps approached. Joe turned just as Glenn came into view.
"What's wrong?" Glenn asked.
"Radiator's junk," Joe said flatly. "Completely blocked. I'm surprised the cylinders haven't warped from overheating."
Glenn nodded, not fully grasping it. "Dale's been complaining about heating issues. We have to shut it off every fifteen minutes when emptying the waste tank."
Joe opened the toolbox and pulled out a socket wrench, fitting it with a 10mm socket.
He removed the upper core support and swung it out of the way, leaving the hood latch cable intact.
With the radiator more exposed, he pulled off the cooling fan and detached the deteriorated hoses... if you could still call them that.
He tossed the hose remnants aside, then removed the radiator itself. Glenn watched, fully locked in.
When Joe walked off toward the red Challenger, Glenn piped up, "Can I try?"
Joe paused, eyebrows raised, then nodded. "Go ahead."
Glenn fumbled through the process, managing to get the radiator free after a few tears and a busted knuckle.
He looked over proudly. Joe gave a small nod of approval and took the radiator.
Back at the RV, Joe attempted to fit it in, but the mounting studs didn't line up. Frowning, he pulled it out again and cut off the top and bottom studs.
He scavenged some bracket pieces from the Challenger and fashioned a mount to secure it.
By now, Joe's shirt clung to him, soaked in sweat. A few people watched, whispering.
Amy and Andrea stood together nearby, smiling softly as they observed him.
When Joe glanced over and smiled, their faces lit up before they turned away toward the storage area.
Joe turned his focus back to the RV. He hooked up a mechanical pump and flushed the engine block.
Before attaching the new hoses, also taken from the Challenger...
Thick, black sludge poured out.
He kept pumping until the water ran clear.
Arms aching, throat dry, he started hooking up the hoses. Footsteps approached again.
This time, it was Amy and Andrea. One held a glass of water, the other a small tray of nuts, dried apricots, and apple slices.
Joe accepted the water with a quiet, genuine, "Thanks," and a smile that sent flutters through both women.
Taking a much-needed break, he sat on a nearby log. Amy and Andrea sat on either side, close enough for their hips to press against his.
Their smiles were warm, doting. Almost like sister wives competing for his attention.
Joe noticed how they leaned into him, chests subtly pushed forward, the energy between them almost playful.
Across the camp, Glenn watched with a mixture of envy and resignation. He sighed and trudged off to get water.
Joe finished the snack and patted each woman's shoulder affectionately before standing.
Back at the RV, he mixed coolant and water and poured it into the new radiator.
Inside the vehicle, he started the engine and blasted the heat, bleeding the system as the temperature gauge crept upward.
It settled at normal operating temp. No spikes. No boiling. Joe stepped out and checked under the hood. No leaks.
Satisfied, he shut the engine off and stepped out. Dale now standing nearby.
"Thanks," the older man said quietly.
Joe gave a short nod, then walked off to inspect the other vehicles. Most had issues, minor ones. Nothing as serious as the RV.
As afternoon faded into evening, fatigue crept in. Joe finally made his way back to his tent, stepping inside and collapsing onto his cot.
For now, the camp was calm.
...
Joe was awoken by the sound of the tent flap being pulled back.
Amy stepped inside, brushing the fabric aside. She came to his side and softly said, "Dinner's ready."
Joe nodded, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
She didn't pull away... she leaned in, turning her head to kiss him on the lips instead. The moment was short-lived.
Andrea's voice rang out from outside, calling for them. Sharing a smile, they got up and stepped out into the evening light.
Amy took hold of Joe's left arm, while Andrea moved to his right, slipping hers around it too and resting her head lightly on his shoulder.
It made walking a bit awkward, but none of them seemed to mind. They made it to the campfire, settling into a spot as someone handed over the last servings of venison.
Joe stayed mostly quiet, listening to Amy and Andrea chat about plans to go fishing the next day.
"You should try my bait," he finally added with a smirk.
The girls wrinkled their noses, amused but unconvinced.
Joe studied their faces. Amy and Andrea were close in age, just a year apart. Smooth, youthful, untouched by time or hardship.
He tilted his head slightly, curiosity getting the better of him.
"So how old are the both of you?" he asked, cutting into their conversation.
Andrea blinked, taken aback. "Don't you know not to ask a woman's age?"
Amy gave a knowing nod, but she caught the genuine curiosity in Joe's expression.
"We'll tell you," she said playfully, "if you tell us first."
A few of the nearby campers glanced over, sensing the shift in tone.
Joe paused, then said matter-of-factly, "I'll be twenty-four next month."
Gasps echoed across the firelight.
Andrea stared. "What?" she blurted out.
Amy leaned in, whispering in his ear, "I'm twenty-six. Andrea's twenty-seven."
Joe nodded again, unfazed.
Rick, sitting nearby, couldn't help but chime in. "Married with a kid before twenty-five... you move fast."
He cast a glance between Amy and Andrea, clearly implying something.
A few others nodded in agreement. Glenn exhaled. "Sharing is caring," he quipped, eyeing Joe.
Joe raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing.
The mood shifted when Morales turned to Dale, asking about his watch. He'd seen the older man winding it faithfully every day.
Dale launched into a monologue about the importance of time, the passage of days, and the need to keep structure, even in chaos.
Joe tuned him out.
His arms were wrapped comfortably around both women, hands resting on their upper thighs.
His thumbs moved in slow, rhythmic circles. Neither Amy nor Andrea said a word. They simply leaned into him, accepting the comfort.
"I wish we had some music," Glenn muttered wistfully.
"There's that swanky guitar in the RV," Dale offered.
Glenn perked up, looking around. "Anyone know how to play?"
"I do," Joe said.
The camp turned to look at him again. Walker killer. Deer butcher. Bait maker. Kid wrangler. And now, guitar player. The man of many talents.
Joe rose to his feet and strolled to the RV. A moment later, he returned with the guitar in hand, casually tuning it by ear. Clearly better than most.
He sat back down, strummed a few chords, then launched into a familiar tune.
"Little ditty... about Jack and Diane… two American kids growin' up in the heartland…"
Smiles spread across the fire-lit faces, the melody wrapping around them like a warm blanket in a cold world.
Joe's fingers danced across the strings, the chords full and warm beneath his touch.
The group quieted, drawn in by the music and the gentle rasp of his voice.
"Suckin' on chili dogs outside the Tastee Freez...
Diane's sittin' on Jacky's lap,
He's got his hands between her knees…"
Laughter rippled from Amy and Andrea, soft and surprised. Dale blinked, looking faintly scandalized.
T-Dog smirked, elbowing Glenn who mouthed, "Did he just say chili dogs?"
Joe kept playing, eyes half-lidded, focused more on the rhythm than the campfire around him.
"Jacky said, 'Hey Diane, let's run off behind a shady tree...
Dribble off those Bobby Brooks
Let me do what I please'…"
Andrea raised a brow, whispering to Amy, "Damn, he's bold."
Amy grinned. "I think it's about someone he knew... this sounds personal."
Andrea's expression shifted, watching Joe more closely. "Jack and Diane… were they real? Maybe from his old unit?"
Amy's smile faded slightly. "Maybe childhood sweethearts."
The music swelled.
"Oh yeah, life goes on...
Long after the thrill of livin' is gone…"
Carl leaned into Lori, whispering, "Is this about someone who died?"
Lori gave a slight shrug, listening closely, her expression softening. There was something aching in the lyrics. Dale stopped winding his watch, staring into the fire.
"Hold on to sixteen as long as you can...
Changes come around real soon,
Make us women and men…"
Morales nodded slowly. "That line hits different now."
Rick crossed his arms, watching Joe's face. There was no performance in it. Just memory.
"Oh yeah, life goes on...
Long after the thrill of livin' is gone…"
Joe's voice dropped a bit, almost whispering.
"Little ditty, 'bout Jack and Diane...
Two American kids doin' the best they can…"
As the last chord faded into the crackling of the fire, no one spoke. The silence wasn't awkward, it was reverent.
Something had settled over the camp. A kind of nostalgia they hadn't lived, but felt anyway.
Andrea was the first to break it. "That was beautiful," she said softly. "She was lucky... Diane."
Joe didn't answer. He just nodded, looking off into the dark trees beyond the firelight. His eyes unreadable.
Daryl finally muttered, "Never heard that one before."
"Same," T-Dog agreed. "That yours?"
Joe shook his head. "No. It was a song from... before." His voice trailed off.
Glenn looked around. "Well, damn. Sounds better than anything we had on the radio."
Rick nodded, eyes still on Joe. "Whoever wrote it knew a thing or two about growing up fast."
Andrea didn't speak. She kept watching Joe, her gaze gentle, contemplative.
In her mind, Jack and Diane were friends of Joe's. Maybe this was Joe's way of remembering them.
Amy leaned her head on Joe's shoulder again, this time more tenderly than before.
Joe didn't move.
And just like that, the campfire crackled on.
The world outside was broken, but for a little while, under the stars and chords of an unknown song, it felt just a bit more whole.
The firelight flickered, warming the surface of Joe's skin, but inside… he was far away.
The song still echoed faintly in his mind—
"Hold on to sixteen as long as you can…"
Amy rested against him. Andrea stared into the flames, quietly curious. But Joe's eyes had gone glassy. Distant.
He remembered a different fire. A campfire built from driftwood and half-damp pine needles, high in the Rockies.
Snow just beginning to fall.
---
Flashback
Jack wasn't his real name. They called him that because he always had a joke, a story, a wild idea. Real name was James Calhoun. Born in Kentucky.
Met him in basic. Served together.
And Diane? She was real too. Jack's girl.
Loved fiercely. Sent letters every week... bright pink envelopes with lipstick on the seals.
The guys teased him for it. Jack never cared. Said, "You don't let go of a good woman, even for war."
One night, Joe was off rotation. They were camped at a FOB on the edge of Kabul. Jack had just finished reading a letter from Diane aloud—something about chili dogs and a busted car back home.
He strummed a beat-up guitar he'd found in the Green Zone, plucking chords, half-remembering that same song.
"Joe," Jack said, "if I don't make it back, you tell Diane... tell her I loved her 'til my last goddamn breath."
Joe had laughed. "Don't say that. You'll make it back."
Jack just grinned. "Everyone's got an expiration date, brother."
---
Six months later.
IED. Convoy ambush. Jack didn't make it.
Joe was the one who told Diane. She slapped him. Then hugged him so tight he couldn't breathe.
He didn't play guitar again after that. Not until now.
---
Present – The Campfire
Joe blinked back the memory, fingers tightening slightly on Amy's leg. She looked up at him. "You okay?" she asked.
He nodded, faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah."
But inside, he could still see Jack's crooked smile and Diane's tearstained face. The way she'd looked at the folded flag in her lap.
He played that song tonight not because it was catchy, but because it was a promise.
One more echo of a time when love still mattered.
When kids like Jack and Diane still had futures.