The ride back felt longer than it was.
Eagle One skimmed the treetops, the world outside the open ramp a smear of green and gray. Albert sat buckled on the starboard bench, helmet in his lap, eyes fixed on nothing. Across from him, Ward watched the valley slide past, jaw ticking. Neither spoke. The rotor thump filled the silence well enough.
"Two mikes to base," the crew chief called, half-turning. "Skids hot. Med bay's spin-up."
Albert nodded once. He didn't need the reminder. He could still see the room in the temple every time he blinked, the shackles, the buckets, the slack, hollow faces. He'd fought in places that wrung the soul dry. This was worse.
