by Faulks, Kim
The young girl stared at the purple medal and then smiled. “Yes, of course. One second, let me find that for you.”
Her fingers danced across a keyboard as she searched. She turned her head and raised a hand. “United has a non-stop going in about an hour. Let me call ahead and let them know you’re coming.”
I nodded, bent, grabbed my bag and made for the blue and white. “Thank you.”
“No. Thank you,” she answered behind me.
This feeling of being noticed was uncomfortable. I tried to shuck the weight of their stares and headed for the United departures. People stepped aside as I neared and made way, an older man came closer, unshed tears shimmering in his eyes and reached for my hand. “You’ve done your country proud, son.”
I held his grip. “Thank you.” And then made for the counter as the young woman waved me through.
“One-way ticket to Houston, please.”
She punched in the details and printed me out a ticket. I memorized my pin number and handed over my card.
She shook her head, and waved the card away. “No charge on this, Sir. United Airlines are just happy we can take you home.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her I had no home, but this was something—this was real. I grabbed my rucksack and the ticket. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” she answered, “We’ll be boarding very soon. I can take your bag for you, and you’re welcome to freshen up in our VIP lounge.”
I heaved my bag onto to conveyor belt and waited as she slipped a tag around the strap before it disappeared. But I didn’t want VIP, I didn’t want anything like that. I wanted hard, dusty. I wanted that driving force pushing me one step closer.
I walked to the rows of plastic seats and sat. My belly tightened, gnawing with a hunger that a couple of sandwiches and two apples couldn’t fill. I glanced around the terminal and caught a voice rising over all the others.
“Specific DNA testing allows us to really narrow in on the perfect soldier, that’s why I believe training facilities like Connor Island need to look deeper than physical strength. We want to know that the man, or woman, we’re fighting next to share the same traits as we do.”
I stared at him, in his perfect dress uniform with medals sparkling under the overhead lights, talking in front of the cameras.
He was the same fucking asshole I remembered. The same entitled fuck who used the status of his Dad to get anywhere in life.
The question was, why was he here?
Didn’t make it at Fidler’s Green…psychological issues the Commander said. Best watch your back, son.
Those words lingered as the cocky bastard smiled into the camera. “This is why I’m calling on our Government to conduct a thorough investigation of all recruits, both past and current, and really dig into the DNA of each and every one of us. After all, when the going gets tough, I want to know the man standing beside me is every bit as tough as I am.”
He turned then, turned to scan the growing crowd in the middle of the damn airport, and then lifted his gaze to me.
And all I saw was that same gutless bastard all those years ago, watching every bed in the barrack rattle and shake as the silver light poured from my eye.
One reporter stepped closer to shove her microphone into his face. “Corporal Gready, sources tell me you were medically discharged…can you confirm that?”
He just smiled into the camera and then stepped away. “Then your sources are wrong. I’m sorry, but I really have to go. Thank you for your time today.”
Was it a warning shot? One round perfectly placed to make me falter?
I stared at his back as he walked away. He never once turned, but I knew this media stunt was all for my benefit.
Watch your back. The Commander’s words filled me as Gready was lost in the crowd. A call cracked overhead announcing my flight number. I gripped the straps of my pack and rose.
The stewardess smiled as I boarded and stowed my bag overhead. An hour and a half and I’d be landing…an hour and a half and it’d be just me and this unknown power to guide me.
I slipped into the seat and buckled the belt. That was what Gready wanted…my power, or some kind of indication I wasn’t like the others. But would he be that desperate for the Military to test everyone just to uncover the truth?
You bet your fucking ass he was—and the Commander’s warning rang in my head as other passengers boarded.
I closed my eyes and tried not to hear the engine. The seat beside me sank, and there was a soft clearing of the throat. I cracked open my eyes long enough to nod and force a smile at the older woman next to me. Before long the plane was moving, creeping along the runway as the stewardess mimed the safety briefing.
I gripped the armrest as we took off and then soared through the sky, and this time I didn’t sweat. I stared out of the window to the perfect blue sky and thought of the guys back in Sangin. Part of me felt bad for leaving, for not standing by them until the very end.
And it’d be the end somehow—mine, or theirs.
Food trays were delivered along the rows of seat. This time a salad. I stared at the damn thing and felt my stomach twist.
“Healthy, but not very filling is it?” the woman muttered next to me. “Thank God I ate before I left. You can have mine, if you like.”
I wanted a burger…with fries…I wanted to eat until I couldn’t move. Instead I took the tray from her. “Thank you.”
The salad tasted better than it looked, but then again, I was that hungry I’d eat almost anything. It seemed we only just finished climbing before we were descending. The stewardess came again, taking the empty trays and smiling as the fasten seatbelt lights sign illuminated overhead. Then we were declining toward Houston airport.
Energy hummed through my mind as we touched the ground. I could feel the redhead, Tex, in my mind, his presence growing with every step closer.
I held onto that energy as the plane stopped and the doors opened. And as I debarked from the plane and made for the terminal I felt him, for the first time since my vision.
He was still too far away. His power ebbing and flowing like a constantly changing tide. I grabbed my rucksack from the conveyor belt and strode toward the car rental.
The young kid stared, glancing at my pack as I neared. “I need something with a little grunt, no return.”
“Yes, Sir.” He punched in the details. “How long will you need this?”
“Let’s take it for a week and I’ll let you know.”
“We have a brand new Chrysler coming in the afternoon…” He started.
I shook my head. “Just give me what you’ve got.”
“I’ve got a 1973 Mustang, cherry red.”
I slid my license and credit card across the desk. “I’ll take it.”
He rushed the application, scanning my license and punching the numbers on my credit card into his system, before I had a chance to worry he was sliding the keys across the counter. “Please help yourself to complimentary maps as the older cars aren’t fitted with GPS.”
I just nodded, grabbed the keys, the paper work and turned toward the lot. “Thanks, but seems I have one built in.”
The damn thing was unavoidable, gleaming cherry red in the middle of the day. I strode toward the back, popped open the trunk and stowed my rucksack.
She was beautiful, better than anything I’d ever driven before. I opened the drivers side, cast my pack into the backseat and then started the engine.
A hungry growl echoed through the car. I caressed the wheel and then the stick, gave her one nice pump of the accelerator and then shoved it into gear.
I rolled out of the parking lot and left Houston Airport Terminal behind.
Every mile I drove the Texan’s pull became stronger, and I followed that urgency, stopping once to refuel and eat, until I hit the city’s outskirts and then punched the accelerator to the floor.
The open road lay in front of me. The sun was already starting its descent, and I had no
idea how long this journey was going to take. I leaned forward, hit the button on the radio and leaned back against the seat.
It wasn’t Aerosmith, singing about the world. It wasn’t even anything I knew. But I listened and caught the news, once, twice and a third time before I straightened out along a stretch of road and caught the flash of red and blue behind me. I glanced at the speedometer, and then to the paperwork beside me as I signaled and pulled over to the shoulder.
The afternoon sun gave me a silhouette as the Highway Officer moved to the lowered drivers window. “License and registration.”
I grabbed my wallet, and pried the license free. “It’s a rental, just a second.”
I turned my head toward the seat beside me and caught his hand move to his pistol. “Put your hands up and step out of the vehicle.”
Hands rose in the air. “Easy. Okay, easy now.”
He was panicked, yanking his pistol free and aiming at my face. Flashbacks descended…Walker…Snowman…Purple hair as I barged into that foyer, and lifted my head to the end of the sniper’s rifle.
He yanked the driver’s door opened with one hand and motioned me with the gun. My gaze went to the trigger. His finger was curled, sliding carefully across the midway point. “Easy now. I’m obeying everything you say.”
He stepped forward, eyes wide watching my every move. “Turn around.”
I gripped the scorching metal of the car and waited. His hands skimmed my belt, and then my thighs, sliding all the way down to the tops of my boots. “Are you carrying any unlicensed firearms?”
Unlicensed firearms? “No. I have no weapons either on my person or in the car. Only my pack in the back seat and my rucksack in the trunk. You mind telling me what this is all about?”
He stepped closer, driving me harder against the blistering steel. But it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter at all.
“Anonymous tip came into the station. Someone driving a red mustang with this registration was carrying illegal firearms. Now I’m going to handcuff you, for my own safety while I check the trunk, you understand me, son?”
I nodded and slowly dropped my hands behind my back.
Cold steel smacked my wrist. The teeth on the cuffs bit, grinding metal against bones. “Do not move.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Boots scuffed against the rocky shoulder as he reached through the window and grabbed the keys. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
“I’m not moving,” I answered and Gready smug fucking smile filled my head. “You’ve been given wrong intel, officer. I have no weapons.”
He popped open the trunk and disappeared behind a sheet of cherry red. My rucksack was invaded, zipper opened, boots hit the floor with a thud.
Minutes later he straightened, closed the lid and made for the passenger’s side of the car. The door was opened, and the front searched before he yanked the seat forward and started in the back.
My pack was lifted. I caught the moment he saw the medal. Hands worked faster now, not as thorough as they were before—but they were thorough enough.
He stepped backwards, and yanked the seat into place. “How long ago did you touch down?”
“From Bagram?” I mentally calculated the time. “About four hours now.”
There was a shift in his demeanor, a carefulness now as he came around the front of the car. “Where about’s where you stationed?”
“Sangin.”
He stiffened and holstered his weapon.
Careful eyes saw me now, saw the man instead of the weapon. “Sangin,” he said slowly. “Had a cousin return from there last year. He was never the same after his tour. How many was it for you?”
“Five.”
He stilled, and just stared. “Five? Five tours?” Brown eyes searched my body, catching the outline of the dressing on my chest, and then glanced to the Purple Heart on my pack. “Jesus Christ.”
I lowered my hands. “Can these come off now?”
There was a rush of movement as he pried the keys from his pocket and stepped close. “I’m very sorry. Bad intel is right, sonovabitch calling the station.” His voice turned thick and husky. “You’ve done your country proud. It’s an honor to have met you, even under these circumstances.”
The cuffs loosened and slipped away. He snapped them back together and stowed them in his pouch. “You won’t have any more trouble on this road, you have my word on that.”
“Thank you, Sir. I appreciate that.”
He reached for the mic on his lapel and stepped backwards as I yanked open the driver’s door and climbed in. Gready was behind this, I’d stake my damn life on it. Thoughts wormed their way inside my head as I twisted the key and started the engine once more.
I glanced into the rear-view mirror, signaled and then pulled out before punching the accelerator. Wasn’t hard to find out the flight details…maybe the sonovabitch figured I had no one waiting for me, a few calls and my name thrown around could’ve caught the clerk at the car rental’s attention.
Still the question was…why?
To keep track of me…
The words filled my mind as the Mustang surged forward. Miles slipped by, still I never got tired of the country, no matter how dry it looked, and for the first time in a long time—I was finally home.
The sun slowly dipped toward the horizon, and I felt the growing energy pull me left. There were no signs out here…just a hole in the wall service station with a diner out the back I’d passed twenty miles ago.
Still, I hit the blinker and nosed the car off the highway and onto a side road. Stones peppered the underbelly as the fat tires gripped and kicked up dust in the rear-view mirror and that urgency inside me grew stronger.
My pulse sped as I scanned the acres of tall grass. I leaned forward and stabbed the button for the radio, silencing the sound. Heat flared across my chest as I stared at the waving tips of the grass, and that vision returned.
It wasn’t here…I knew it wasn’t here…but it was someplace just like this.
Someplace the grass reached high…someplace that smelled of sweet rye.
I gripped the wheel and turned when that tug came again. There was no second guessing now…no turning back…
And when that urgency tugged one last time to a small dirt road with a beaten-up mail box I knew I was finally here.
Chapter Fourteen
I turned the corner to see a sprawling olive green country house with white trim that sat in the shade of two towering trees. The wind picked up, whipping branches back and forth.
The place was stunning, like something you’d see in a Beautiful Homes magazine, and so very different to anything I’d ever known.
Cattle peeked over the tops of the long grass in the distance, too many to count. I slowed the car to a crawl, and stopped at the end of the drive, in front of the biggest damn barn I’d ever seen.
The double doors were open, tractors and machinery sat inside half hidden by shadows. I switched off the ignition and listened to the Mustang’s motor ping and tick.
I’d been so determined to get here…to finally find someone who’d occupied space inside my mind. Someone who’d get me one step closer to her—that I hadn’t thought what that would be like.
To face someone closer to me than my own flesh and blood.
Even if he didn’t know it yet.
An ache flared across my chest, like a band wound tight. I gripped the door handle, shoved, and climbed out of the car. Birds called in the tree high above…and the faint call of cows slipped across the land.
Each step was a tremor…each second one second closer to meeting Tex. I felt him before I saw him standing at the back of the open-tail gate on a big Chevy pickup. Sweat ran in rivulets along his bare back to seep into the tops of deep blue Wranglers.
He pierced the belly of a pile of grass with a hay fork and heaved. He was just as big as I expected…and just as dangerous. I wanted to remember that.
He kept moving, heaving mounds into the back
of his truck. But he knew I was there...
“Looks like a dangerous job.” I stopped at the edge of the shade from the barn.
He stilled, and then raised his hand to wipe the sweat with the back of his hand. “Not really, just haulin’ hay.”
His voice had that thick Texas twang. Red hair danced in the breeze as he finally turned toward me. Hazel eyes burned with energy. He knew me…maybe not in the same way as I knew him. But deep down there was a connection…a vibration that was undeniable.
“I wasn’t talking about the work…” I answered. “I meant you, being here around all this. One flare of anger, and we all go poof, right?”
There was a smirk, one that gave the late evening breeze a cool bite. “One thing you’ll come to understand about me…I don’t get mad.”
I remembered him then, remembered the way he faced the darkness…remembered the flames dancing at the tips of his fingers as I answered. “Let’s just see about that.”
He gripped the handle of the hay fork, snatched his shirt from the end of the pickup and turned. Long legs made short work of the distance to the open barn door. I tried to search for the words as he slipped into the shadows.
I turned and took a step. “This is going to sound really crazy. But hear me out. There’s a woman…she needs our help.”
He strode back out two seconds later wearing a cowboy hat and carrying a duffel bag. “Sorry, had to say goodbye to my cow.”
For a second I couldn’t speak.
“She’s blind, I raised her from a calf.” He strode toward me. “She gets stressed when I’m not around, but she’ll be okay now. I put my old jumper on the barn door. You drivin’ or me?”
There were no questions, no hesitation…I drove my boots into the ground to catch up. “You know what we’re doing right?”
He held up his hand. I threw the keys through the air and he caught them with barely a sound. “I’ll drive,” he said, “these back roads can be a little tricky, especially at night.”
“You know who I am?” I muttered and made for the passenger’s side.
