by J. B. Havens
My name is Molly Everett. I am a survivor.
The End
Coming Up Next
A Steel Family Christmas
A Steel Family Christmas
Taping down the last corner, I finished wrapping the gifts for the guys. Five packages sat around me, in colorful paper and glittery bows. My tiny tree winked at me, the lights twinkling and sparkling; drawing a smile. This was the only time of the whole year that we were off duty.
Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were sacred to us. All the other days of the year, we were dropping into jungles and deserts, dealing out justice, one carefully placed bullet at a time. Today, we weren’t Steel. We were a family.
This year was more precious than most; each of our last two missions nearly cost us one of our own. First came Pierce; he had been wounded in Saudi Arabia, shot in the leg and his arm badly broken, exposing the glistening white bone. His blood had painted the floor of the chopper a sickening red. Mingled with vomit and bile, it was a hellish mess. Phillips had saved his life and arm, but only just barely. Pierce was still in a cast, not letting it stop him from going on missions. He used it as a club when necessary.
Flynn had nearly crashed the Blackhawk a week ago on the African coast, just north of the South African border. An RPG had flown within inches of the Blackhawk, forcing Flynn to bank at a dangerous angle, nearly crashing. He had gone into a spin; we could hear the alarms screaming even on the ground. We thought we’d have to stand there and watch our brother die. Flynn did the impossible and corrected the spin, righting the chopper just in time to land and pick us up. Pierce lost all military bearing and embraced Flynn the first second he could. Those two were more than brothers; they had an unexplainable bond.
Just thinking of it had the power to tighten my throat with emotion, even now.
“Don’t ever fucking do that again, you hear me!” Pierce had shouted, gripping Flynn’s face hard.
“If you’re gonna kiss me, dude, can you wait until the others aren’t watching? I don’t want them to witness our first; it’s supposed to be special.” Flynn puckered his lips, reaching for Pierce, who shoved him away.
“Stop it, fuck stick. You nearly died. I’m allowed to be emotional.” Pierce wiped a hand across his face, not even trying to hide the tears leaking. Someone must be cutting onions nearby.
“It’s not my fault, ass wipe; bitch at the fucker with the RPG.” Flynn punched Pierce in the arm.
“I got him for you, Flynn,” Jones piped up.
“As touching as this all is, we need to get the fuck in the air. You two can play with each other later,” Phillips snapped from beside me.
Glancing at the clock, I gathered the packages. I loved giving gifts, for both Christmas and birthdays. Seeing the wonder and surprise on their faces. This was the best part of Christmas for me, besides being with my family.
Slipping on my boots, I spared a thought for Aunt Beatrice; the phone hidden under my bookcase tempting me as usual. Instead, I wound my scarf around my neck and buttoned my coat. No point in thinking about that right now, or ever. My family was in the mess hall waiting for me. I gathered the gifts, juggling the heavy boxes in my arms, and walked out into the snowy night.
The cold air slapped my face and stole my breath, but it was still beautiful. The snow glistened and sparkled in the moonlight. Snowflakes fell softly, clinging to my hair and coat. Like a child, I stuck out my tongue, catching them as they fell. I tasted a quick prick of cold before they melted. The lights from my tree shine out of my window, coloring the pure white snow in reds, blues, and greens.
Ahead at the mess hall, the door opened briefly as Jackson walked in. It was hard to see in the dark, but his silhouette was unmistakable. No one else around was that tall or wide. I hurried my steps along the salted walk. Reaching the door, my hands were too full to open it, so I resorted to kicking it with my heavy snow boot. Thud, thud, thud…
“What the fuck, Mic, can’t you open the door?” Flynn’s smiling face greeted me. He was wearing a Santa hat and no shirt. His cheeks were cherry red and his eyes shiny. Someone had started early it seemed.
“Unless you want me to drop your kick-ass gift in the snow no, I can’t open the fucking door. Now move, this shit is heavy and awkward.”
“Flynn, stop being an ass. You’re letting snow blow in.” Phillips barked in his gruff voice, shoving Flynn aside. He pulled me in by my arm and slammed the door shut, glaring at Flynn.
“What? Come on Phillips, get in the spirit.” Flynn looked up; some jackass had hung mistletoe over the door. I hurried out of the way, but Flynn was fast, even drunk. He grabbed me around the waist and dipped me down, packages and all.
“If you kiss me, I will return your gift, and you’ll be the only one who doesn’t have one. Then, I will sneak into your cabin and super-glue your balls to your stomach,” I said, his face inches from mine. He visibly paled and slowly stood me up.
“Okay then, no one kisses Mic.” He backed away, clutching his crotch with both hands.
Turning on my heel, I walked to the giant Christmas tree. The floor underneath was already loaded with gifts, packages of all shapes and sizes spilling across the floor. I added mine to the pile, carefully arranging them so the bows weren’t crushed.
“Merry Christmas, Bea,” Jackson said from beside me, slinging a giant arm across my shoulder. I usually hated it when he did that, it made me feel so small. Right now, though, it was like my father giving me a hug. I patted his arm and smiled.
“Merry Christmas Jackson. Another year gone and we’re all still here.”
“Thank Christ for that. Though by the looks of it, Flynn may die tonight.” Flynn had Pierce trapped under the mistletoe, his arms draped around Pierce’s neck. He was laying smacking kisses all over Pierce’s neck.
“Are you going to help me?” Pierce shouted at us all. Jones and Phillips were laughing their asses off, so I guess it was left to me.
“No. You’re a Ranger. Figure it out,” I shouted back. Pierce knocked Flynn’s arms off his shoulders and shoved him hard, both hands smacking on Flynn’s bare chest. Flynn cartwheeled his arms but it was no use, he fell over like a tree in the forest.
Pierce stepped over him, leaving him on the floor. Flynn was gasping, trying to make his lungs work. Getting the wind knocked out of you is a real bitch sometimes.
“Enough fucking around children, food is ready,” Jackson shouted from the tables. All of our favorites had been prepared: green bean casserole for Jackson, stuffing for Pierce, mashed potatoes for Jones, sweet potatoes with marshmallows for Flynn. Phillips’s favorite was the turkey; and for me, I just took a little bit of everything.
We sat together and started passing dishes, loading our plates high with the feast spread before us. No one took a bite until everyone had their plate filled. Jackson stood and raised his glass.
“Another year for the books, gentlemen and lady,” He began, with a nod to me. “You continue to serve with honor and dedication. Each and every one of you does me proud; I couldn’t be happier to call myself your Master Sergeant. Merry Christmas to you all; eat, drink, and be merry. Unless you are Flynn, then you need to stop fucking drinking before you embarrass yourself.” Flynn carefully put his beer down at Jackson’s words. Jackson took a drink, and we all followed, draining our glasses and smacking them on the table.
I stood and prepared to give my yearly speech. The words stuck in my throat; this year more than others, I was grateful we were all here to celebrate.
“Ladies… and man,” I began, nodding to Jackson, who passed the pitcher of beer around, refilling our glasses.
“Fuck you, Mic!” They all shouted, nearly in unison.
“Calm your shit and let me talk, fuckers.” They quieted down; I think more due to Jackson’s glare than anything else. “Tonight marks another Christmas and another year. We’ve survived a lot in the last year, but we made it home.” Pierce raised his cast and clasped Phillips on the shoulder. “You’re more than
my team, more than my warriors; you men are my family, and there isn’t any place I’d rather be on this night, than right here with all of you. Merry Christmas boys!” I yelled, chugging my beer once again.
“Hear! Hear!” They shouted, downing their own beers.
Dinner was finished, and we were packed together around the sparkling tree like kids; sitting on the floor, tearing into gifts. I had just finished opening my gift from Flynn, the Christmas edition of a Chippendale’s calendar.
“Wise ass,” I said, backhanding him across his chest.
“You love me, and you know it,” Flynn shot back, pushing me.
“Flynn, I love gag gifts as much as the next guy… but seriously man, what the fuck?” Jones was holding up a ball gag by its leather string.
“Well, you’re so damn quiet all the time, I figured you use one. And might need a replacement.” Flynn was inching closer to me, hoping I’d protect him for the ass whooping coming his way.
“You’re the one that needs a gag or better yet, a muzzle,” Jones calmly replied, ignoring Flynn, which is worse for him than getting his ass kicked. Jones dropped the gag into a pile of wrapped paper and moved on to the next gift. “This one is from you too, Flynn. If it’s a whip or some shit, prepare to be beaten with it.” Jones ripped the paper, revealing a plain brown box. We all stopped to watch.
“Better assume the position and call him sir, Flynn,” Pierce laughed.
Jones opened the box, and inside was something none of us expected, a matte black night vision spotter scope. Jones held it up for all to see, before settling down and engrossing himself with it.
“This is awesome man. Thanks,” Jones said, hardly looking up from his new toy.
“I’m not that much of a dick; everyone got a gag gift and a regular gift,” Flynn said, handing me a large box.
I gleefully ripped the paper off and tore off the lid. Nestled in the tissue was a black leather jacket. I held it up, and the back dropped down onto my legs. It was a duster… in my size.
“Flynn… my god, it’s gorgeous.” I stood and slipped it on; the hem brushed my ankles but not the ground.
“It’s from all of us. We had to have it hand made to fit your tiny ass. There is even a pocket designed for your M9 in there.” Flynn explained. I lunged at him, hugging him tight. I went to each man and thanked him.
“Okay, you guys have to open your gifts from me.” I handed out the heavy boxes to each of them.
“Jesus, Mic, this is heavy,” Phillips said, ripping the paper aside. The shock on their faces was priceless. Each was holding a black plastic case with Sig Sauer embossed on the front.
“Open them!” I shouted; one-by-one the cases clicked open. Their gasps were music to my ears. “They are Sig Sauer 1911 Fastback Nightmares, the forty-five.”
“Look… look at the side, guys,” Pierce said excitedly. Engraved on each pistol were their rank, name, and the Steel insignia.
“This is the coolest fucking thing I have ever seen,” Flynn said, swarming me in a big hug. Pierce, Jones, and even Phillips, followed.
“Thanks, Mic, this is… it’s just… wow.” Jones stuttered out.
Jackson was holding his pistol in his hand. His was a little different than the boys’. His was more of a showpiece, though it would certainly fire. His name and rank were painted in gold, and the insignia was larger and in silver.
“It’s beautiful, Mic, thank you.” His voice was thick with emotion. In all the years I’d known him, I’d never seen him like this.
“This is amazing, Mic. It’s perfect,” Phillips gruffly said, clasping my shoulder. “I’ll keep it by my side, always.”
“Merry Christmas guys…” My smile felt like it would split my face. This was true joy, being with my family, all of us whole and happy, at least for today.
The End
About the Author
J.B. Havens lives in rural Pennsylvania, and is a wife and mother of three, a boy and twin girls. She has a love for a good cheesesteak and anything that involves coffee or chocolate. When she’s not caring for her family, she is busy researching and writing her next novel.
Other Books by J.B. Havens
Core of Steel
Hardened By Steel
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