A voice came from out of nowhere, “it’s looks like you found yourself some trouble white boy.” It was my old friend and former employee TC. She looked down at the men making their way to me then the blood on my body armor. She said, “you just had to be a hero and now look at you.” I know this wasn’t her just my mind slowly unraveling from the cold, pain and blood loss. She was back home with her kids with another one on the way. But her image in my head still stayed with me. She said, “you have got to get up and go. They are safely away now so you did your hero act. Now be a real hero and return to your family.”
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From around a corner came my grandfather. He died when I was twelve so seeing him here now was a little trippy. He was killed by a neighbor who wanted his land. He said, “you are the man I wanted you to be and feared you would become.” I pointed to TC and said, “grandpa do you remember David, well this is his wife.” He tipped his hat to her and she went up and kissed him on the lips. My hallucinations are now making out. I looked down the trail and saw Bobby. He died a few years ago. He was walking with the gunmen mocking them. Then he pointed to the bridge.
A thin wooden bridge went over an icy stream. They would have to cross it to come over. Behind me I heard my grandfather say, “red rover, red rover let no one come over.” From here I could pick off anyone on the bridge, but if I got closer I could take out the supports taking out the bridge. Using my elbows, I dragged myself to a better vantage. The sites were mucked up with snow and blood. I knew any shots would give away my position so I had to make it count. One of them started to cross. He had a hand grenade hanging from belt. Dumbass. I took aim and hit the grenade. It went off tossing the guy off the bridge and snapping the supports. The bridge went into the water. I looked over as TC was twerking with my grandfather. Both were dressed like they were on vacation in a tropical island. Him in cargo shorts and a Hawaiian shirt and her in a multicolored one-piece swimsuit. They danced as the gunfire and rounds filled the air and all around them. Being delusions, the fire also went through them.
The pain was slowly going away. I know this was bad. I decided to open fire and let all my cards out on the table. I got up and found myself in my old office. David was there, we were playing cards. Poker, I think. The cards were all the same. The joker. He said, “I can see your hand and it isn’t good.” I ducked down and found myself in the desert behind a wall. Across from me was TC. It was back when we first met in Somalia. She said, “think before you act. And your only job it to return home to your girls.” She smiled then said, “whitey.” I rolled over onto my stomach and I was back in the snow. They were crossing on the ice. The extremely shoot-able ice. I took aim and hit the ice using full auto. Their weight and gunfire shattered the ice. I also cut one of them down. Three of the seven went into the water to find it still running underneath the ice and were swept away. The one I cut down was still on the ice and the other three fired back.
They had no way across and by now Bob and Christina were long gone. That is when one of the Russian’s heads cracked open. An echoing shot rang out. Then another echoed shot. Another Russian fell with a little less gray matter between the ears. The third one made it back up the path the way he came. For about three minutes then a crack of a round, the snap of a skull and he was with his friends in whatever hell was waiting for them. I rolled over and saw some blurry dark images. Then all was black.
I woke up lashed to a homemade travois being dragged in the snow my Bob. Both came back after finding a signal and called the FBI. Bob was the one who killed the last three Russians. They did the best they could to dress my wounds and made this monstrosity to move me. We made our way to a cabin in the woods. There we found a retired doctor. He did what he could with my injuries and then using a CB called in for more help. Within an hour the FBI and search and rescue were there. The FBI took the two away. And the search and rescue took me to a hospital. We let the doctor keep the Colt M4, Glock 17 and the 308 as payment. We told the FBI we lost them in the snow.
In total, I had three broken ribs, a cracked knee, a fractured femur and shrapnel from my vest imbedded in my chest. So, I guess this will make me Ironman? No, what it makes me is homebound and off my feet for a while. What was I thinking? Going in without backup? Not stopping Bob from opening the door? TC and grandpa twerking? That last one still haunts me. I will have plenty of time to think about What I did wrong while I watch my daughter play. Maybe I will someday return to the security business but not today. Sara was cool with the whole thing. She was almost interested in restarting the company even after I came back all broken up. TC was in stitches as I told her about her and my grandfather. It was about that time I got a call from Bob. He had an idea and wanted to talk to me about it.
These are short stories I wrote. Some are connected to the larger books I am working on others are just for the fun of story telling.
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