“Yes, sir,” he replied as he quit chewing and steadied his breathing while keeping his body perfectly still. He focused on the boy and that orange backpack still centered in his scope, though now moving away from the market and onto the street.
A worn pair of green Humvees flanked the four-vehicle caravan in the front and rear. Between them was a pair of black limousines transporting some of the world’s most influential people.
The caravan was now less than one hundred yards away from the boy and moving closer when he knelt down in the street and unzipped the orange bag.
“Please be candy,” Jackson said aloud to himself with his eye pressed against the scope. The boy moved his hands around inside the bag. “Grenade?” Jackson asked himself aloud after a brief glimpse of what was in the backpack.
He wasn’t sure.
Whole bag of grenades.
“Shit.”
“Status, Alpha Six?” the team leader asked as the boy eyed the approaching convoy looking as though he was ready to rip the machines apart with his bare hands to get to the people inside.
Jackson ignored the radio as he pictured the carnage that would remain on the streets if there were explosives in the bag. He thought about the failure he would become if he let that happen. Sweat collected along his brow.
His concentration broke for only a few seconds when his mind wandered to the video he’d watched earlier that morning. Jamie sent it to him last week. It was of Jax, age two, singing nursery rhymes with his mother in the kitchen at home.
“Pocket full of posies,” she sang to the toddler while clapping with a big smile on her face. “Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!”
His little boy smiled. Jackson couldn’t help but smile now, in spite of getting ready to do the unimaginable in the streets of Mogadishu.
“Your turn, Jax!” Jamie said in the video.
“And we all fall,” the little boy sang back to her, so sweetly. He chanted the phrase over and over, ominously Jackson thought now as unfathomable pressure and the African sun beat down on him.
Time was running short to avoid an international catastrophe, if that is what was about to happen.
I don’t know!
“Alpha Six. Please respond. What is your status? Alpha One to Alpha Three. Proceed with caution. Possible threat on your twelve. Alpha Six, please confirm threat status. Over.”
The Somalian boy came back into Jackson’s consciousness, now walking towards the convoy that was now being slowed down by the team leader. The boy dropped down to one knee and reached into the bag again as he eyed the convoy.
“Damn it, kid! Don’t do it!” Jackson tensed his finger around the trigger.
The boy looked over to Dakarai, who watched him from the market and they nodded at each other. Jackson swore he could see evil in their faces. He looked at the caravan now just twenty yards away from the boy.
The driver addressed the boy using a megaphone attached to the Humvee. “Attention! You in the street. Move out of the way! Immediately!”
The boy looked again at Dakarai.
“Come on. Get out of the street,” Jackson begged as the warlord nodded again
“Move out of the street! That’s an order!” the lead driver commanded through the megaphone.
The boy reached into the bag and began to pull out a grenade as a .50 caliber round passed through both ends of his skull and finally stopped just before it went all the way through a mass of green apples stuffed in a crate behind him.
“Target is down,” Jackson said into his radio as tears flooded his eyes. “Over.”
And we all fall.
He couldn’t get the thought of his sweet little boy saying it out of mind as a member of his team in the lead Humvee hopped out of the vehicle and raced toward to the boy’s body.
Jackson moved his scope towards the market and found the warlord Dakarai now holding a small machine gun and running towards the orange bag. The decorated sniper was one second from putting a bullet through the warlord’s head when he felt the hot metal bore into his chest, the armor piercing round slicing through his Kevlar vest with ease.
Jackson fell to his back against the blistering hot African street.
It was still morning, but it didn’t take long for everything to heat up on the streets of Mogadishu on any given day, adding potency to the appalling smells. Jackson felt Jumper’s teeth sink into his shoulder and drag him away as weakness overtook him. All Jackson could see and hear despite the onslaught of ammunitions all around him was his wife and Jax singing the old nursery rhyme as he wondered what would happen to the convoy and to him.
To Jax.
Someday.
Chapter 14
“Where was he trained?” the firefighter, Nick, asked Jackson as he pet Jumper, simultaneously dragging the hero out of the mental loop that he too often found himself reliving. It took a year before he quit doing that every time he saw the scar on his chest in the mirror.
The words were barely recognizable on the grizzled firefighter’s yellow fire tested hardhat anymore, the name of some town’s fire department in Georgia. The joy he felt petting Jumper was obvious from the look on his face.
“Unites States Marine Corps,” Jackson replied as the firefighter stopped petting Jumper and stood up.
“Threat’s contained, Captain,” the firefighters said to Nick. Jackson and Nick looked down the hill at what used to be a grand, healthy oak.
“What a shame,” the captain said.
Jackson stared at it, unable to disagree.
“We better get back on the road now. Ready, Jax?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s get going. Take care,” Jackson said to Nick.
“You too.”
They shook hands. Jackson turned around to find a Georgia State Police Trooper blocking his path, waiting to get a statement from him.
“I understand you are in the Marines,” the police officer said.
Jackson nodded.
“Thanks for your service, and what you did today.”
“Just doing what anyone should do, officer. Are we done here then? Free to go?”
“In a hurry?”
“Yes, actually. I’m on a short furlough back from Afghanistan. My son and I are on a road trip and running behind schedule.”
“I see. Yeah, we’re done. I have your cell number. Is it okay to call you if I need anything else?”
“No problem.”
“Great. It was a pleasure to meet you all. Safe travels, you hear?”
“Yes, sir. Sure will.”
Jackson shook the officer’s hand and Jax then did the same. The father, son and Jumper stepped back into the classic truck and Jackson started the engine. Just as he started to pull away, he was startled by a hard knock on his window. He stopped the truck abruptly and looked to his left where an EMT told him that the injured woman wanted to thank him. They got back out of the truck and went to the ambulance.
“Hi,” the young mom said with a nervous smile. “I just wanted to thank you all for what you did for me and Mary Lou.”
“No need to thank us, ma’am. How are you feeling?”
“Sore all over. Throat feels like sandpaper, but we’re both alive. Thanks to you. Thank you. We’ll never forget you all.”
Jackson nodded and shook her hand.
“Be safe, ma’am. You and Mary Lou.”
“You too.” After a few other words, Jackson and his gang returned to the truck and pulled back on to the highway, heading north once again.
“She was a nice lady,” Jax said.
“Yeah. Lucky too.”
“Lucky to have us around.”
They both smiled.
Their smiles faded as the truck passed a state trooper standing over what seemed to be the same poor deer that was injured by that Gremlin. The trooper was pointing his weapon at the suffering animal’s head. It was lying on the side of the highway, wagging its tail and lifting its head repeatedly, trying to get up, but failing.
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The officer fired just as they passed by in what felt like the slowest motion the rules of physics would allow.
The deer didn’t move again.
“God!” Jax said with a bitter look on his face as he whipped his gaze away from the highway. “Why did he do that?” he asked his dad, fighting tears.
“It was suffering I guess. Never going to get any better. Had to put it out of its misery.”
“Sad.” The look on Jax’s face made it clear that he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it.
“Part of life kid. Everything dies. Today, two lives are going to keep going though, because of us,” Jackson said with a smile. “High five!”
The two high-fived enthusiastically.
“Yeah, they are. How long will it take us to get to Maine?” Jax asked.
“About twenty hours driving time total from the house, give or take depending on how often we have to stop. This old truck doesn’t get the best gas mileage so we will be stopping for gas quite a bit, I think.”
Jax looked around, checking out the truck. “How old is Grandpa’s truck?”
“Pretty old. She runs as good now as the day Grandpa bought her. He and I put a lot into her a couple years before he got sick.” Jackson rubbed the dash. “She’s been well cared for. Loved.”
Jax looked back at the weapon that hung in the rear window. “Is that Grandpa’s?”
“What?”
“That,” Jax replied, still staring at the rifle. “The gun.”
Jackson turned to see it. “Yep.”
“What kind of gun is it?”
“That’s a model 1917 Enfield Single Bolt-Action Service Rifle. Belonged to Grandpa’s father, your great grandfather. It was his weapon way back in World War I.”
“Old. Just like this truck.”
“Quite a bit older actually. Both are classics never the less.”
“Did you ever get to shoot it?”
“No.” Jackson frowned. “Grandpa would never let me shoot the Enfield.”
“Why not?”
“Didn’t trust me with it, I guess. Even when I became a sharpshooter in the Marines,” Jackson said with a perturbed chuckle. “Can you believe that?”
“No. Well, nothing’s stopping you from shooting it now.”
Jackson pondered his son’s logic. “No. I guess there isn’t.”
“I’ve always wanted to shoot a gun.”
“Well, maybe you’ll get your chance soon. We could stop at a range on the way back.”
“Awesome! How come you haven’t sold this truck since Grandpa can’t drive anymore.”
“Don’t know. Sentimental reasons, I guess.”
“Never thought of you as a sentimental guy, dad.”
“Well, Grandpa took me to all my little league games in this truck. Had all my gear in the back. He picked me up after school on my first day of first grade in this truck. He had a little brown paper bag of candy on the seat and let me pick any one I wanted because I was ‘brave’, he said. I was crying when he dropped me off that morning.”
“You were? Crying?”
Jackson nodded. “Yes. Being a big baby.”
“Why?”
“I was scared.”
“You? Were scared? You aren’t scared of anything!”
“Hey, I was only six years old. Give me a break. Everybody gets scared sometimes.”
Jax laughed. “Okay. Grandpa said you were brave though?”
“He said I did it even though I was terrified. That made me brave. He drove me to the airport the day I left for basic training in this truck. He drove me to the wedding when I married your mom. I cried that day too.”
“Why?”
“Again, scared. But I was brave once again,” Jackson said with a smile.
Jax smiled. “How many miles is it to Maine?”
“Like thirteen hundred.”
“Wow. That’s a long way to buy dead bugs, dad.”
Jackson laughed. “I suppose it is.”
“They’re much more interesting when they’re alive.”
“Sure, like everything, but not nearly as easy to display. All life is precious. Right?” Jackson asked with a wink.
Jax grinned and nodded, thinking of the character who said that in his favorite TV show. Jamie hated that Jackson let him watch it.
“You still okay with the trip? Even though they’re dead?”
“Heck yeah!” Jax answered, beaming. “Best thing ever!”
“Ooh Rah!”
“Ooh Rah!” Jax yelled back even louder. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything, dad.” Jackson was unable to hide the pride he felt.
“You’re a good kid.”
“You are a good dad. A great dad!”
“Awe. You’re a great kid!”
The two shared a look of adoration.
“That was awesome what we did back there, helping that mom and her baby. Even Jumper helped.”
“We did the right thing is all.”
“No way! Most people would not have stopped at all, and risk their lives to get them out of that burning car. What kind of car was that again?”
“Gremlin.”
“Death trap.”
“Sure. For many reasons.”
“I recorded the whole thing on the GoPro. Even that poor deer running onto the highway. And that policeman shooting it.”
“That’s cool. I mean recording it, not what happened to that poor deer.”
“I know. I can’t wait to tell mom all about it and show her the video. She is going to be so proud of us!”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“So dad…”
“What?”
“I have a question.”
“Okay. Shoot. No pun intended.”
Jax giggled. “What’s the deal with you and bugs?”
“The deal?”
“Yeah. I mean, why do you love bugs so much?”
Jackson looked straight ahead at the road, pondering the past. “That’s a long story.”
“We have time. ‘Bout twenty hours. Right?”
“True.”
Jackson took pause after another look at that GoPro, still recording.
“It goes back to my first tour in the Marines. You were two, almost three at the time. My team was handling an operation in Somalia. You know where that is?”
“Africa.”
“That’s right.”
“My geography teacher from last year has family there. We talked about Somalia all the time in that class last year.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. He said he would probably have ended up being a pirate and dead if he didn’t have a chance to come to America and become a teacher.”
“That’s probably true. I’m sure you know I was shot in the streets of Mogadishu, the capitol of Somalia.”
“That’s why you have that long scar. Right?”
Jackson nodded as he replied.
“A sniper on the roof of a building across the street fired a round that went through my vest and lodged in my left atrium. Son of a bitch shot poor Jumper too, after Jumper pulled me into the abandoned building behind us.”
Jackson rubbed the panting German Shepherd’s head.
“I’ve heard mom talk about that with some of her friends when they’ve been over to the house. She said you were lucky to survive.”
“I was lucky. We were both lucky. I only survived because Jumper moved me to a covered place in an old building, which also happened to be the team’s rendezvous point. He saved my life, but had to take a bullet himself to do it. He has had that limp ever since.”
“Such a good boy!” Jax rubbed all over Jumper’s head, and the canine couldn’t get enough of it.
“Our team found us just in time.” Jackson pulled away drool that collected around Jumper’s mouth and wiped it on his jeans. “I plugged Jumper’s wound with a rag just before I passed out. He was bleeding to death.”
“He’s lucky.”
“Unfo
rtunately, it was dirty and he got an infection from it.”
“That’s why he limps?”
Jackson acknowledged with a nod.
“He’s still a lucky dog.” Jax stroked him again. “Lucky to be alive.”
“I was lucky, too. Lucky that we had a medic and a blood supply with us for that operation. He saved my life. You know that medic actually.”
“I do?”
Jackson nodded. “Ben.”
“Uncle Ben saved you?”
Jackson smiled. “You know he isn’t really your uncle, right?”
“Of course, dad. He’s black.”
“True.”
“Is that why you’re such good friends?”
“Well, we would have been friends anyway. He’s an awesome dude. I love the guy.”
“He’s really cool. He always laughs when I call him Uncle Ben. You know, because that’s the name of the guy on the rice box?”
Jackson laughed. “He kind of looks like him. Now that he’s losing his hair and getting gray.”
“Definitely. So, what about the bugs?”
“Oh yeah. So when Jumper dragged me into that building, he left me next to a Siafu colony.”
“Siafu? What’s that?”
“Ants. Big African ants with powerful pinchers that can rip flesh apart.”
“Oh God!”
“I know, right? I must have disturbed it when I reached over to get the head rag that I ended up stuffing in Jumper’s wound. The damn things crawled into my uniform. They even found their way into my boots. Had bites on all my toes.”
“Whoa!”
“Whoa is right. I can tell you from experience that it hurts like hell when they bite. I had already passed out by the time the team found me. I don’t know if it was from blood loss or the pain from those ants biting me.”
“I don’t get why you would love bugs after that. I’d hate them.”
“When I woke up in the hospital back in the states, the doctor told me what happened after I asked what all the red bumps all over my body were. He said I was covered in the ants when my team found me. He said they picked them all off me and saved them in a jar. Then he handed me the small glass jar full of them and said, ‘Here’s a souvenir for you. My team put him up to it. A sick joke.’”
“I’ve seen that jar!”
“Yep. It’s on my desk at the college. I love it!”
And We All Fall (Book 1) Page 12
