Amy Lynn: Golden Angel

by Jack July

  “So honey, how are you really?” Carla Jo asked with concern and sincerity.

  “I’m not sure.” Amy thought for a few moments. “Why is it I’m not comfortable in my own home?”

  “Your daddy’s house? That’s not your home. Not anymore,” she said with finality.

  Amy slowly nodded. “Okay, that’s a good place to start. I have no idea where I belong.”

  “Frankly, I think you belong in a dorm going to med school but that’s just me … and your Uncle Jack … and your daddy … and the rest of your family. It’s your opinion that’s important. Jack says you have a job offer from the CIA.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know. They think I’m a little more talented than I really am.”

  “Really? Let’s see. In the past couple weeks, the President of the United States called my house to hunt down your daddy to tell him you were alive. Then the entire family is whisked away to Washington, D.C., for a private tour of the White House, followed by a private no-press ceremony in the Oval Office where President North personally pins medals on you, and then we all get a private dinner with the President and her family. Remember, honey, I was in the Army. I’ve seen people receive Silver Stars before. The President does not clear her schedule and stop her day to hand out Silver Stars. You did something, something big that can’t be discussed, am I right?”

  Amy looked out the car windshield without twitching a muscle.

  “Now Jack, he knows. He went quiet and kind of upset after he met with one of his old friends in D.C. I think his name was John Masters.”

  Amy remembered meeting John at Langley. He had introduced himself as her uncle Jack’s “friend.”

  Carla Jo continued. “That man had CIA written all over him. I’ve been with Jack for over twenty years and I’ve never seen him like this. I know you can’t talk about it; I’m not going to ask you to. If your destiny is the CIA, then that’s what it is. I love you, honey. I just want you to be happy. The truth is, whatever calls you is where you need to go. That’s how you find your home.”

  After two hours of power shopping in the nicest stores in the biggest city in Alabama, Amy had what she needed. The ride home was quiet and a bit more leisurely. A sudden pinging of the gas gauge broke the silence. “Pull into the Purple Martin, they have the highest octane fuel.”

  Amy nodded. “You thirsty?”

  “I could use a Sprite. Diet please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Amy smiled as she pulled to a stop.

  The Purple Martin was a small, older gas station. While it had a good selection of sodas and snacks, it did not have a way to pay at the pump. When Amy went in to pay for the gas and get some drinks, Carla Jo noticed a group of four young men at the side of the station to the front left of the car. The largest one walked out of the shadows. He was holding a paper bag with a bottle inside. Wino in training, thought Carla. He watched the door until Amy came back out with a couple of sodas and a moon pie.

  “WHOO-WEEE!” he exclaimed. “What do we have heeah?”

  Carla Jo became frightened and protective as she slid her hand toward the glove box for the .38. Amy just smiled, shook her head and said, “Hi, Johnny Ray.”

  Johnny Ray was a former high school classmate. He stopped and announced, “Could it be? Why yes it is, Amy Braxton all growed up. They grow ‘em pretty in Black Oak, don’t they boys?” The other men nodded with grunts in agreement.

  Amy did not break stride as she continued walking toward the gas pump. As she picked up the handle, turned the lever, stuck the nozzle in and began fueling, she turned her head back to him and nodded with a little smile. “Thanks, Johnny Ray.”

  “Why don’t you park that pretty car, come over here with your little friend and have a drink with us?” Carla Jo scowled.

  Amy shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t drink and I have to get home. Maybe another time.”

  “Ah ha, that’s right. You always did think you were too good for the rest of us, ain’t that so?” Johnny Ray said with a little sneer.

  “Whatever,” said Amy, dismissing him.

  One of the other men from the side of the building yelled out, “Forget it, JR. She’s one a them queers, remember?”

  Johnny Ray walked slowly to Carla Jo’s side of the car and said, “Yeah, I remember now. Hey, is this your nigger aunt?”

  Amy responded like someone slapped her. “’Scuse me? What did you just say?”

  In a hushed tone Carla Jo said, “Let it go, let’s get out of here.”

  The others next to the gas station started moving closer to the car. Carla Jo popped the button on the glove box, praying she’d kept the gun loaded.

  Johnny Ray said, “You heard me.”

  Amy nodded as she growled, “I’ll be sure to tell my Uncle you said that, don’t you fear, you got a ass kickin’ comin’.” Johnny Ray’s face twisted, becoming even uglier than he had been before. He stalked around the back of the car, acting as if he were ten times his size, then slid toward Amy. “I ain’t sceerd of him, the old fuckin’ freak. He ain’t shit.”

  Amy laughed out loud. “Oh, I’ll be sure to tag along when he hunts you down.” Then she turned her back on him.

  Johnny Ray hesitated, uncertain now. Carla Jo had seen the same behavior with a mad dog once; when its chosen victim didn’t run or attack but rather just ignored it, it didn’t know what move to make next. It had no cues. Johnny Ray chose to loom. He stood between the car door and the pump and just scowled at both of them.

  Amy hung up the gas nozzle and calmly said, “Excuse me.”

  Johnny smiled. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

  Amy took a step toward him. She leaned forward, looked him in the eye and said so softly it was nearly a whisper, “Really? Are you sure you want to do this Johnny Ray? Think about it. Are you sure?”

  Johnny Ray forced a laugh. He backed away just enough for Amy to get in the car. “I was jus’ kiddin’. You go on now, we’ll see you again.” He paused, and then spat out, “I promise you that.”

  Carla Jo breathed a whispery little sigh of relief as she watched Amy slide down in the seat and shut the door. She put the .38 back in the glove box. Amy started the car, put it in gear and had begun to drive away when Johnny Ray screamed, “AND WHEN WE SEE YOUR FAGGOT BROTHER, WE’RE GONNA FUCK HIM UP!!”

  Carla Jo was thrown forward in her seat when Amy hit the brake. She put the car in neutral, pulled up the parking brake and sat completely still with her head down. Carla Jo saw her breathing become deeper and faster.

  “Hey, are you OK, Amy?”

  Amy raised her head and turned slowly toward Carla Jo. What she saw made her aunt unconsciously lean back toward the door. Darkness had fallen over her face. An evil expression replaced what had been an angry one, a half smile that just wasn’t normal, and then there were her eyes. Oh no, Carla Jo thought, I’ve seen that before. The emerald green had come alive, pulsing and flashing.

  Amy unbuckled her seatbelt and said in a voice that Carla Jo didn’t recognize, “Hand me the .38.”

  Not inclined to argue, Carla Jo hit the button on the glove box. Amy pulled out the .38 snub-nose. She felt no pain as she smoothly glided out of the car. Her injuries didn’t exist. Her gait was light and sure, the saunter of a stalking tiger just before the attack. There was no thought of winning or losing. Amy knew the outcome was preordained, only needing time to fulfill. She held the .38 upside down in her hand, walking a bit sideways to hide it behind her leg.

  One of the other men said, “Hey, Johnny Ray, here she come.”

  Johnny Ray turned and stared. Amy was covering ground fast, and he made his next wrong choice. He placed his arms out to his sides with his palms up and knees bent, bracing. He started laughing.

  “You dumb bitch, I ain’t beyond kicking a girl’s ass.”

  He wasn’t ready for this level of speed and
violence.

  Johnny Ray was an inch shorter than Amy but outweighed her by about forty pounds. It didn’t matter. “Nigger huh?” she muttered under her breath as the butt and trigger guard of the .38 smashed into his forehead and the bridge of his nose, splitting the skin and shattering his nasal bone. She reached up with her left hand and grabbed a handful of his long hair.

  He was already too stunned to fight back. She yanked his head back and rode him to the ground, landing with one knee pinning his right arm and the other in the center of his chest. The pistol came down again, this time splitting his cheek and shattering the cheekbone. Then the hits started raining down, making slapping noises and the occasional clink from the metal striking bone. Johnny was too stunned to cry out.

  Amy caught movement to her right. She paused and flipped the gun in her hand, pointing it toward the motion. Johnny Ray’s friends backed away.

  It broke the trance, fortunately for Johnny Ray. Amy turned back to him, took the .38 and jammed it into his mouth, breaking his remaining front teeth and splitting the roof of his mouth with the barrel sight. She pulled back the hammer with her thumb and let it park there for a moment. His face was like hamburger and they were both spattered with blood. He was still conscious. He tried to scream but choked on his own blood.

  She leaned forward and whispered. “If you ever touch my brother, speak to my brother, or so much as look at my brother, I will kill you. Do you understand me?”

  Johnny Ray nodded. She let him go, jumping to her feet. Johnny Ray screamed through his hands, blood spraying in a fine mist, and writhed to one side. Amy looked at his friends. “The same thing goes for all y’all. Do you understand?” They all nodded, gaping at her. She stared at them for a couple of seconds longer and said, “Good.”

  She walked back to the car and jumped in. Then she noticed the bloody handprint on the pristine steering wheel. Oh no, Aunt Carla Jo’s car, she thought. She got back out, put the gun on top of the pump and stuck her hands in the window wash fluid for a quick rinse, drying with a handful of towels from the dispenser above. She wrapped the gun in more paper towels and slid it into the glove box. Only after starting the car did she remember her aunt was sitting next to her.

  Carla Jo looked almost in shock.

  Amy reached over to hold her Aunts hand then spoke in a brisk military manner, she said, “I won’t tolerate my family being insulted or threatened.”

  She put the car in gear and drove away.

  CHAPTER 7

  An hour after Amy and Carla Jo left for the city, Jack showed up to visit with Leon. He was in the barn working on his old tractor. Jack walked in and said “Hey cuz, whatcha doin’?”

  “Trying to get another year out of this ole tractor.” He sounded exasperated. Then he stopped and wiped his hands with a faded pink shop rag. “You want to tell me what happened to my daughter over there?”

  Jack had known he would ask and he still didn’t quite know what to say. “You heard the President. She read y’all the commendations. What else do you need to know?”

  “The truth. That woman that walked into my house today ain’t the same one that walked out a couple of years ago. I don’t recognize her.”

  “Well, hell, Leon, she’s seen combat. Of course she’s not the same.” He didn’t want to lie to his best friend.

  “Bullshit. You ain’t never lied to me before. You really want to start now? I know you better than that. After we got to Washington and you disappeared with that John Masters, you changed on us. You got all quiet. I need to know and you need to tell me.”

  Jack looked down at the dirt barn floor “I can’t Leon. It’s classified, real secret stuff. If I spoke about it, that would be treason.”

  “A secret, huh? They’ll tell some damned ole bootlegger, but they won’t tell her daddy. No shit?” Leon’s voice rose with every word.

  Jack put his hands in his pockets and dug at the floor with one foot. That comment stung, coming from his best friend. After a few moments Leon put one hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Look cuz, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I know who you are and what you are, and I know you have friends in that world. But dammit, Jack, I need to know.”

  “Some things you just don’t want to know.”

  “I NEED TO KNOW!” Leon barked.

  A few moments went by while jack weighed the pros and cons of telling him. “All right, fine. You ain’t gonna rest until I tell you. But, you can’t tell anyone you know, not even Amy. Do you understand that?”

  Leon nodded.

  “Okay, sit down.” Jack pulled up milk crates for both of them. They sat across from each other. Jack took a deep breath than began. “That dog and pony show you saw in the Oval Office? Yeah, that had nothing to do with why she was really there. Sure, she helped rescue a couple boys from their crashed Humvee while it was under fire, but that was her job. That’s what she was trained for, and Amy ain’t never run from a gunshot anyway. Truth is, she shouldn’t have been anywhere near that base.”

  “Amy volunteered for an operation to rescue a sick child, the daughter of a tribal chief. She didn’t know it at the time, but the operation was CIA, through-and-through. In their religion, only women can doctor other women, so they needed a female medic bold enough to go in and do it. She was the one with the best chance of getting out alive if everything went wrong.

  “They took her to that FOB forward operating base to catch a ride with six SEALs, her bodyguards. One of those SEALs was her boyfriend, Matt Oliver. The mission was supposed to be to fly to one of the most dangerous places in Afghanistan, retrieve that child and take her to the evac hospital. The whole thing was a lie, though.”

  “What do you mean, a lie?” asked Leon. “The CIA?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t us. It was the Taliban. Bad intel, an ambush. You know the scars on my face? That came from bad intel. It happens. Either the pilot or the SEAL team commander didn’t like something, because they decided to drop them on the side of the mountain and walk in. Amy must have been by the door when the rockets struck. It blew her right out of the Helo. She landed in a crevice at the back of a bluff. The Helo exploded and tumbled down the hill. Everyone inside, they all died. Not Amy. She laid in that crevice for a couple hours waiting for them to come and kill her, but they didn’t see her. A sand storm blew up and she escaped by climbing over the mountain. She climbed down the other side looking for trails and a road she had seen as they were flying in. She found a trail. She stopped to rest along the trail ‘til a Taliban soldier came along. He tried to capture her, she thinks, and, well, she killed him.”

  “What? She had to kill somebody?” Leon asked under his breath.

  Jack didn’t wince. If Leon reacted like this to Amy having one notch on her belt, the rest of the story wasn’t going to be any easier. “Yeah. It was hand to hand, she got him with her knife.”

  “Keep going,” said Leon.

  “Okay, so she took his rifle, ammo, water, and everything else she could use and continued on across a valley, They figure she walked around ten to fifteen miles, injured, in the dark. Eventually, after climbing up another mountain a little ways, she found a road she was looking for with recent tracks she thought looked like Humvee tracks. There was a big rock berm running along a widening of the road. She didn’t think she could go much further and if she kept climbing, she’d be out in the open anyway, so she hid herself behind that berm to wait for somebody friendly.”

  “At the same time, about 1000 yards away from her up on the side of the mountain was an Air Force combat controller. Now he had no idea she was there. His job was to call in an airstrike if he saw a certain convoy. There were also a satellite and a drone camera focused in on the road. They were expecting the Taliban’s second-in-command to arrive in a convoy. He did, along with eight bodyguards in three trucks. Amy figured they weren’t friendly and stayed hid until she heard crying. She snuck along the berm to t
he last truck just in time to see them murder a child, beat that poor baby to death with rocks. She snapped, declared her own little war. She took down four of them before they knew what was happening. She was runnin’ and gunnin’ behind the berm till there was only two left.”

  Leon gaped. “Jesus Christ.”

  “Not really a big deal for her. You know that,” said Jack with a shrug. “She had surprise and cover, they were all out in the open. For her, it wasn’t no different from plinking cans on the old road. They never had a chance. Anyway, she climbed out from behind the rocks and shot the eighth one, which left the leader, Taliban’s #2. Not that she knew who he was. She marched him over to the little girl’s body. Now remember, there’s no sound in the film. What we know is she proceeded to say something to him, he said something back and she lifted her rifle to kill him. Then she stopped. She tossed her rifle and her sidearm behind her and we think challenged him to some sort of duel. He charged her and she gutted him like a deer. Then she cut off his head.”

  “She did what?”

  “She cut off his fucking head, sawed it off like she was dressing a deer, held it up like there was an audience to see, even though everyone was dead. She looked like she was screaming as she took a lap around the body, then spiked the head to the ground like a football player.” Jack kept a stoic expression.

  “Oh my God, oh my God,” Leon kept saying over and over with his head buried in his hands.

  “Now because of the satellite and drone camera, that battle was seen on a big screen in Central Command Afghanistan and the White House situation room. The President, Secretary of Defense, the Director of the CIA, the Speaker of the house and others, all saw it. When she got to Langley, a Department of Justice lawyer tried to railroad her for war crimes. That did not go over too well with President North. She took care of it personally, deemed the incident a matter of national security and buried it, so it never happened. The President wanted to give Amy the Medal of Honor, but she couldn’t cause it never happened. So she opted for the best medal she could fairly award in the situation and brought Amy’s entire family to Washington, D.C. to honor her. That’s why you had dinner with the President.” Jack rocked back on the milk crate and crossed his arms.