My Wonderful Little Sister- Seperate Ways
Disclaimer: You know the drill the by now...either be 18 or older to read this or get out. ...still here? Well, I admire your persistence. Okay, you can stay, but I'm NOT responsible if your mom catches you on here...or dad if your mom is dead or something. If both parents are dead then don't sweat it....although come to think of it that is god awfully depressing, and you have my pity (something not easily earned in this world). So, read on at your own risk. Just check the tags for what may or may not be in the following paragraphs. Also, all characters belong to me Casonova, so don't get any ideas about doing a fanfic without my permish...m'kay? I think we understand each other now, so read on! cough Pervert! ;D Hey! Who threw that?
Magic City Nightclub - March 17th, 9:15 P.M. I usually don't like crowds, dancing, or any large-scale social gathering, but for Katie I make an exception. I'd never been to a nightclub before, but fortunately Scott and Trea knew a good one downtown in Five Points called Magic City. It had changed management a couple times during the recession, but it was now bouncing back. Even better, Scott and I got discounts for being vets, which was handy since the price of admission is a bit of a rip off if you ask me. We'd gotten there around eight and were still going strong. Part of the reason was Scott and I couldn't drink yet, so we had to stick with Tab and Mountain Dew, so we were tripping balls on caffeine. Plus, our girls looked pretty hot and it was fun to show off for them. Katie, frugal as ever, had declined to buy any new clothes...save for a sexy pair of black heals. I never thought I'd actually think women's footwear was hot, but Katie found a way to make it work. While I was picking up my black suit jacket and pants I'd grabbed her favorite black dress along with a red velvet scarf she got at Christmas while I was away. Put together and her clothes not only looked great on her, but they kinda matched my fur colors as well. Likewise, Trea was dressed to match Scott, although her dress was a marine blue that matched Scott's blue facial stripe. She also didn't wear heals, instead opting for some other white shoes that I don't know the names of because if it's not an instrument of war or a videogame, I probably know nothing about it. Still, she looked pretty awesome and I could tell Scott enjoyed making other guys jealous when Trea turned down a stranger's offer for a dance. As for me and Scott, we both wore suit jackets and dress pants, along with a dress shirt minus the tie. My shirt happened to be red because it looks badass, while Scott's suit was navy blue with a white shirt. If there's one thing I love about men's fashion, it's that it's really easy to keep track of everything. Also, pockets. The club' DJ was pretty good, too. Unlike a lot clubs, Magic City didn't just play rave music or dubstep. Sure there was the occasional trance song mixed with strobe lights and a few college couples with glow sticks, but they also threw in some great rock songs from the past. After all, who could forget classics like "Juke Box Hero," or "You Shook Me All Night Long?" My favorite though had to be when "Cherry Pie" by Warrant came on. I immediately grabbed Katie's wrist and told her we had to dance to it. "Why? What's so special about it?" "Because it's the story of our lives when we first fell in love!" I explained with exaggerated enthusiasm.
Of course, once she heard the lyrics she nearly died laughing...although I couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or amusement. Maybe both? Either way, she's cute when she's happy. I mentally listed which of the places mentioned in the song we had actually yiffed. We'd yet to try my car...that could be interesting. Still, that'd have to wait for another day. My mind drifted back into the rhythm of the song as I tried my best not to look like an idiot while Scott and Trea made out in a dark corner of club. As the song ended a lovely cheetah girl next to me asked her date to give her back the iPhone he'd kept in his jacket pocket for her. The first thing she did scroll to Twitter, where something important caught her eye. "Hey Mike...my mom just texted me asking if we're alright, she says to check the news or something." I started to tune her out as Katie and I stepped off the dance floor until I heard her gasp in terror. "Oh my god! Oh my god!" "Cindy, what's going..." "THEY DID IT! They did it again!" She was ecstatic with fear; her paws were practically crushing the phone. By now the other furs around her had noticed her flipping out and began checking their own phones. Even the DJ hadn't bothered to put on another track as he tried to look out from his booth to see what was the matter. His boss came up behind him and instructed him to turn on the various LCD flatscreens lining the walls. Seconds later, Fox 5 Atlanta was playing with grim news. "...emergency services are urging everyone to stay indoors and keep all building entrances locked until further notice..." The reporter, a bloodhound in his late forties, was standing in front of a police barricade...wearing a gasmask. His words were barely audible, but they fell on deaf ears anyway. The police behind him weren't just regular officers, SWAT teams from both Gwinnett County and the metro area were moving the background, armed to the teeth with rifles, body armor and of course gas masks. No...not gas masks, bio masks. The kind used by the WHO when that outbreak of Ebola hit Zimbabwe a couple years back since ordinary gas masks don't kill airborne pathogens. I watched as the screen switched to a helicopter shot of the city...namely Five Points, the very section we were in. The Georgia State University campus was here too, and from the looks of it the whole thing was engulfed in flames. Even stranger, the fire department wasn't trying to put it out, either. Suddenly a convoy of Kodiak assault vehicles pulled into view, and fully armed soldiers hopped out. I recognized them as being National Guard since a lot of their gear looked to be obsolete, save for their new rides. Still, I knew that if the Army was being called in, whatever happened must've been big. The TVs switched back to another reporter, this one in a studio. "We've just received word now that the biological agent used in the attack is indeed D1H1, also known as the hellfire virus, which we all remember from its use in the attack on Denver two years ago." Hellfire? I couldn't believe it, this had to be a mistake. We'd burned most of the samples of that virus, and what we hadn't destroyed we kept safe at the CDC where we tried to manufacture a vaccine. I don't know if we ever did, the only vaccines the Marines gave me were for smallpox, hepatitis, and some vitamins that they were too lazy to put in pill form. Chances are it was some sort of experimental drug, possibly even an early version of a hellfire vaccine. The fact that they never came clean about it thought told me that it probably wasn't very effective at stopping the virus. "Currently, police and military units have managed to contain the original outbreak source, which is believed to have come from somewhere within the GSU campus. No other signs of the virus have been spotted, but the city is now on full alert in case of additional attacks."
One Hour Earlier Mr. White was a dead man, he knew that the second the canister of hellfire explode in his face when he pressed the start button on the timer as it lay within the broken vent on an A/C ventilation shaft. He'd been set up, and so had Mr. Red and Mr. Blue whom both possessed canisters of the virus. White felt stupid for not having put his mask on first in case his boss tried to sell him out like this. Ah, but he'd been in a rush and wasn't thinking ahead. Well, he knew one thing; he wasn't going to become one of them. No, the tales of what the virus did to one's mind, one's body were too gruesome to even contemplate. Having been created from a cross strain of swine flu (H1N1), AIDS, and rabies, the virus wreaked havoc on an infected creature's mind and body. Even worse, the incubation period had been reduced to only a few minutes, and shortly after being exposed and infected person's body would start to feel the first symptoms. White slumped against the wall and tried to lick the roof of his mouth, only to find he had no saliva. Dry mouth, one of the first signs of the virus causing the body to dehydrate. Next would come sweaty palms, fever, chills, swollen gums, body aches, and loss of balance. About ten minutes later the first signs of dementia would set in, bringing with it feelings of extreme paranoia, psychotic episodes, hallucinations, and of course, hunger. White smirked as he patted himself on the back for remembering all the intricate details of hellfire, while also chiding himself for neglecting the very small detail of his mask. Oh well, too late for that now. It wouldn't be long before a security guard came to inspect the intrusion he'd made. He'd no doubt been picked up on a security camera as he sneaked behind the building to its main A/C units and punched open a maintenance hatch within which he laid the canister. Now the hundreds of students who were still in their dorms, along with custodians and other security personnel wandering the campus halls had been exposed and would begin showing the same symptoms he was developing, although a few minutes behind him of course. Reaching in his duffel bag he withdrew his backup pistol, the one weapon he'd kept with him since leaving the van. With no hesitation, he pushed it under his chin and squeezed off two pounds of pressure against the trigger.
Scott's Apartment - 1:50 A.M. Katie and Trea had changed back into their underwear since they were the only clean clothes they had on hand. They weren't dry either, Scott had simply done the old fill the kitchen sink and throw in some Wal-Mart brand detergent trick. We'd thrown everyone's undergarments in, and now we huddled nervously on the couch while watching the news. It was ironic, the lack of A/C made the room nearly seventy-five degrees inside--which is hot for this time of the year even in the south--but we couldn't bear to leave one another's side. We weren't allowed to leave Magic City until midnight. By then, the police had pretty much quarantined off the infected areas of the city. A few carriers had made it out of the GSU campus and broke into a nearby restaurant, thus infecting or killing many of the poor saps stuck inside. But by then the first police units began to show, and after that the military and SWAT teams once the threat had been identified as hellfire. After Denver, I'm pretty sure every city in the U.S. had some sort of plan ready to put in play should an outbreak like that occur again. We were finally getting a death toll; nearly a thousand people at the university had been shot or burned to death due to their exposure to the virus. Even worse, since the virus had originally been spread through the air it had infected several passing motorists and pedestrians as well. Anything within a hundred feet of the school had likely been infected, and since many of those people wandered off into the night, there were cases all over the city of police subduing an infected person trapped in their car. Still, it wasn't all bad. Apparently there were two other terrorists, but they didn't have the stones to go through with the attack and instead turned themselves in to the police. According to the police they were brothers, so chances are when one got cold feet the other did, too. All in all, there were roughly three thousand people infected, but the police managed to corral most of them into a single area and then hit them with chloroform grenades to knock them out. Many of the infected were then restrained and given a dose of the hellfire vaccine, although it wasn't foolproof and about 1 in 3 people remained infected. For those whom the vaccine couldn't cure, they were quarantined, kept under sedation, and hauled to the National Guard's new base in the middle of the Five Points intersection. From their they'd be taken to a special quarantine center being constructed at Fort Stewart, where the Army could keep an eye on them while doctors from the CDC and WHO tried to come up with a truly effective cure. I was surprised at how many people the police were actually able to save. Out of three thousand infected, roughly twelve-hundred had to be shot as they attacked and tried to escape the quarantine zone. The rest were methodically subdued throughout the night, and promptly vaccinated. Over a thousand of these people began to recover, although it would take them at least a full twenty-four hours for their immune systems to purge the disease from their blood. However, 589 people showed no signs of improvement after being vaccinated, and thus would get to spend the following months in a military quarantine zone. None of us felt like talking as we sat there, eyes glued to the TV. The ride home had been tense, and ridiculously long since we couldn't go through the city to get home. Instead, I had to go south, get on the I-285 perimeter highway and take it around to the north side of the city, and then get off onto I-85 in order to get back to Scott's place. The whole time we listened to the radio since our phones no longer worked. Just like when 9/11 happened, the networks became overloaded with traffic as relatives frantically called to make sure their families were okay. Even though AT&T and Verizon both claimed that their networks could handle the full load of every single customer in Atlanta using their phones at the same time, they made the mistake of sharing the same cellular towers, which had only enough power to provide for maybe thirty percent of the population at any given time. When we got home I'd pushed all thoughts of using my phone out of my mind, so I was a little startled when I heard my ringtone go off. Rushing up from the couch, I grabbed my phone and saw that it was Eliza calling. "Hello?" "Kyle!? Are you okay?" She was frantic with worry, I could tell. "Yeah, yeah we're fine." "And Katie? Is she okay too?" "Yup, we're all fine mom." Heh, "mom." After I'd found out I was adopted I'd stopped using "mom" and "dad" since it just didn't feel appropriate. I guess when you're ankle deep in a disaster your mind forgets little details like that. "Thank God! I've been trying to call you two for hours now, but I just keep getting a busy signal." "That's because you and about five million other people are trying to do the same thing," I explained. "The phone networks can't handle that kind of pressure." "You're telling me," she said with an exasperated sigh. "Tell me, is John with you guys too?" "No...why would he be?" "Oh god..." "Mom what's going on? Why would John be with us? I told him I would bring Katie home," I replied while feeling a familiar pang in my gut that always came right before a bout of bad news. "He...he didn't think you'd actually do it, he went down there himself to pick you both up," she said. "He wanted you to come back home before everyone at church started wondering why you weren't staying with us." I let out a painful sigh as I realized that once again John's own hubris had gotten the better of him. "What time did he leave?" "Around 7:30, I think," she replied. "Good, then he probably got blocked out of the city before the virus struck. He's probably just waiting at a McDonald's or something for the roads to re-open." I was lying, I knew that John had a pretty good chance of being in Five Points right when things started going down. He'd have driven right by the campus if he was coming to get us, and knowing him his windows were rolled down because he was too cheap to use the A/C in his car. "Listen, we're really tired here," I said while trying to think of a better excuse to hang up, "I'll call you in the morning and bring Katie with me. So when you eventually hear from John, let him know so he can stop worrying." "Okay, thanks hun," she said tiredly. "Night night." "Goodbye mom, sleep tight." I hung up and walked back over to the couch. "Scott, have they released the names of the infected to the public yet?" "Dunno, maybe. I think they're still trying to identify everyone," he replied with a yawn from the sofa. I opened my phone's browser and started Google searching about the disaster. Sure enough, I found a link to the CDC's page on the attack. Mostly it had news snippets and how to take precautions on avoiding infection. But then I found it, hiding in the bottom left hand corner of the screen. Casualty Listings Bingo. I quickly began flipping through the list of fatalities. Badger, Bingham, Bishop, Black, Blackburn...Blakely. I heaved a sigh of relief; no Blackmons in the kill list. Next, the vaccinated list. I quickly scrolled through it, only to come up empty handed again. For a moment I felt relieved. What if John hadn't even made it to the hot zone and was just waiting in some 24 hour joint trying to make a phone call. But then I realized that the phones worked now, and I still hadn't heard from him. That alone told me I couldn't stop yet, and I had to check the third list. The list of infected who showed no signs of improvement. Biehler, Alex. Billings, Kelsey. Birt, Eric. Bittermann, Kim. Blackford, Roy. Blackmon...John. "Shit!" "Kyle? Is everything okay?" Katie asked from the couch. I said nothing, how could I? What...how, how do you tell the person you love the most in the world that their father is as good as dead? If you're lucky, you don't have to. They can read it off your face, and Katie looked at me as if I had 50 Shades of Gray printed on my cheeks. "It's...it's daddy isn't it? Is he...you know..." I shook my head. "No, he's not dead. But...he's not well either." "What do you mean?" "He must've been near the college when it got hit. He's been infected, but the police managed to restrain him and vaccinate him." "Yes! So he'll get better right?" Katie asked hopefully. I gritted my teeth as I tried to find a way that didn't involve me bluntly telling her that John wasn't getting better, likely, ever. "Well...not exactly. His body isn't responding to the medicine, so he's still sick. But they're gonna keep him alive and quarantined until they can come up with a cure," I explained. "You mean...there isn't anything they can do to make him better right now?" She kept staring at me, as if expecting me to say something more, a promise maybe that John would indeed get better. But then it began to sink in, the pain of knowing that her father might as well be dead, and she realized that there was nothing I, or anyone for that matter, could do. Well...maybe not nothing. "Come on Katie, we're going home." "What, now?" Scott asked in disbelief. "It's the middle of the night, why you leaving?" "We got church tomorrow," I answered. "Right Katie?" She looked up at me curiously, and tried to put on smile but couldn't quite do it. "Mmhmm, we do." "Dude, can you even still drive? You've been awake like twenty-hours." "I've been awake longer than that," I replied. "I'll be fine. I just need to get home." He nodded. "I understand. Good luck man...and I'm sorry." I held up a paw to silence him and started to gather my things. "I don't want to talk about it right now, just help me get packed." "The Xbox too?" "Keep it." "What?" "I'm not gonna need it for a while," I told him grimly. "No sense in letting it go to waste." I finished getting dressed in my cargo shorts and t-shirt, which fortunately didn't stink too bad. A few minutes later Katie and I were in my Explorer driving up I-85 back to Duluth. Even for two in the morning, the highway felt unusually deserted. Every time I looked over at Katie she just had a blank expression as she stared at the dashboard. I reached over and took her paw, lightly squeezing it. She forced a smile and met my gaze, if only for a second, and then started to break down and cry. I let go of her and for the moment decided to just let her air it out. After five minutes though I couldn't take it anymore and pulled over to the side. Wrapping my arms around her, I clutched her tightly and tried to comfort her. "It's okay sis, just let it out. We're gonna be okay," I whispered gently. "W-what about d-daddy? Can they cure him?" I knew better than to try to lie to her by now. "Not yet, but they're working on it. We just need to be patient...and pray. Especially pray." She nodded but continued sobbing. I didn't know what else to do besides hold her in my arms. We wouldn't move for another half an hour before I started to feel tired and realized I needed to get home. Rolling my window down, I hit the road again and hoped the cool night air would keep me conscious as Katie slowly managed to compose herself. I wish I could say I feel what she was going through, but after the way John's treated me my sympathies for him extend only so far. Especially since this all happened because he failed to trust me...although he might've been right to do so considering how the night was going. Which means...this is all my fault. God, how can I begin to make up for this?
Two Months Later Time passed quickly. I lost my job at Wal-Mart thanks to the fact that I moved back in with Eliza and Katie. Neither felt safe now that John was in the hospital, which left me as the only man around the house. Shelly came back home as well, her school's registrar office giving her a penalty free drop for the semester so she could be home with us as we tried to sort our life out. During that first week since John's infection, we all just sat around the living room trying to not drown in our own tears. Crying's contagious I guess, and I found myself reaching for a new tissue almost as often as Katie was. As the weeks wore on, things began to look even bleaker. John's health insurance more than covered the bills the Army sent us, but since he wasn't drawing a paycheck our savings were beginning to dry up. I had quite a sum saved up in my account, but it was really only enough for me to live on for about a year. Plus, I'd be back on deployment at the end of September, probably to the west coast to help keep order there as we tried to rebuild. That meant I needed to get things squared away here before then, otherwise Katie, Kelly, and Eliza were gonna be on their own financially unless John miraculously got better. As May rolled around and Katie got out of school for the summer, I started to further worry about what we were going to do. Eliza and I had pooled our bank accounts, giving the family about a hundred thousand to live on. We cut everything we could from the budget to save money: cable, our yard service, take out, etc. Still, we only had about enough to last us eighteen months. Fortunately the house was paid off, and I'd paid for my Explorer entirely with cash up front, so that wasn't an issue either. Unfortunately, we still had to pay for John's 2013 Accord, which was also now a flaming scag heap since the Army torched it after pulling John's sedated corpse from it. Turns out State Farm doesn't cover that since according to them, the Army taking a flamethrower to our car is an "act of war." I'm calling bullshit on that one, but that's about all I can do. The one positive to John being gone was that Katie and I didn't have to hide anymore. No one said anything when we locked the door behind us at night. Usually we slept in Katie's room since her bed was both bigger, and newer (and thus softer). But don't get any ideas; we were far from being in the mood to fool around. We both felt sick with guilt since we knew if it hadn't been for our little escapades John wouldn't have felt the need to come drag us home. Mostly we just cuddled and made empty promises to each other that we'd stay strong through this whole ordeal. The few times we did try to get it on usually ended after second base with both us stifling tears and fighting for Kleenex box. Irony, a crueler master you could not be. John's presence had been the biggest obstacle in our relation. Now his absence was utterly destroying it. "Kyle, what are we gonna do?" Katie asked me one night as we lay in her bed. "It's been two months and they haven't made any progress at all." "We'll be fine sis, mom'll get a job and added to my paycheck we'll be able get by," I said calmly. "Trust me, we'll be okay." "I don't care about us, I want my dad back!" she cried. I hugged her close and nibbled on her shoulder, trying my best to comfort her. "Plus, with how things are going, I'm gonna have to skip my mission trip to Panama," she dejectedly sighed. She was right, of course. Our church's youth group was teaming up with some big missionary organization and planning on sending anyone who wanted to go down to Panama City for a week to help several churches in the region. They'd also being doing other volunteer work as well, such as helping to distribute clothing and food to the poor, building new homes for people who had been hit by hurricane Erin the previous year. There was just one little problem...you had to cough up $1,500 for the plane ticket, food, clean water, and board in a tenement building the church had rented out for the week. Considering the way things were currently going, that was money we didn't have, which really sucked since Katie was as big on being a missionary as I was being a Marine. It didn't feel right that she'd have to miss out on her dreams while I got to live mine...although to be fair mine had sort of turned into a living nightmare. "We'll find the money sis, don't worry." "But the deadline in is three weeks! How are we gonna get that much money by then?" "I don't...know," I paused as I recalled a little something I had hidden away. "Wait a minute, OF COURSE!" "What?" she asked excitedly as I jumped up and started getting dressed. "You know where we can get $1,500 bucks?" "Not just fifteen sis, TWO MILLION!" I yelled as I realized my pants were on backwards. "You're kidding...you're kidding right?" "No! I swear to God sis, I know where we can find two million dollars," I explained. "Look, it's a long story, one that will have to wait for now. But unless something has happened, there's two million dollars in gold sitting in the Arizona desert fifty or so miles west of Phoenix" "But I thought Phoenix was destroyed in the war?" she asked. "It was, they're still in the process of rebuilding it," I replied, "But the gold is in the desert." "How'd it get there?" "I may have stolen it from someone else who stole it," I cautiously replied. "All I know is that it's hidden out there, and unless someone got lucky and found it, it should still be hidden under a pile of rocks out by an old bandit camp." "So how do we get to Arizona?" Katie asked, still a little skeptical that I hadn't gone crazy. "We'll have to fly." "Are you serious? Plane tickets will cost us like two grand! And what happens if the gold isn't there, then what?" "Then we're out two grand, but I think it's worth the risk. I mean I'm the last person alive who knows where this gold is," I said. "Now pack up a couple days' worth of clothes, we're catching the next flight to Phoenix!"
The Next Day Katie and I headed to the airport around midnight, leaving only a note for Eliza and Kelly explaining what our goal was. Then we caught a red eye flight on a Southwest Airlines 737 to Phoenix, which had only just recently repaired its airport and was starting to take travelers. A lot of refugees were packing up and heading back to Arizona to rebuild their lives, so it was no surprise to me that despite the flight taking place at 2:15 A.M., there were nearly a hundred people aboard. We slept most of the way, waking to the sunrise as the plane landed in Phoenix...although the strip was actually a decommissioned military field that the Army had hastily put down during the war. The old airfield had been thoroughly bombed and probably wouldn't be repaired for decades. As a result, we had to get off the plane the old fashioned way by means of those rolling staircases that a pair of ground crewmen wheel up to the side of the plane. Katie wanted to check into a hotel and finish sleeping, but I told her that there would be time for sleep once we had our gold. I went to Hertz and rented an F-250 truck, making sure it had desert capable tires and a full gas tank. Then we stopped at Home Depot and I bought eight five-gallon jerry cans and filled them up with gasoline as well. With my spare fuel stored in the truck bed under a tarp, along with my twenty-five gallon tank fully fueled, I estimated that I had about 975 miles worth of travel available to me, provided I actually got 15 miles to the gallon as the manual promised. Since I was going off road, I figured it was probably closer to 10, which cut me down to 650 miles. Still, I roughly remembered where my gold was hidden, so I shouldn't be driving around too much. My last stop was at a pawn shop. Sure enough, the owner was laden down with used rifles from the war, many probably belonging to the civilian militias that I had seen back in the day. Fortunately I had brought plenty of cash with me since I had a feeling that many of the people out here wouldn't take credit, and turned out to be right. Laying down eight hundred bucks, I bought an old H&K 416, not to different from the one I had been issued later in the war. A quick inspection showed that the bolt was oiled, and the piston was in good condition as well. I also bought a couple boxes of ammo and a spare magazine. I wasn't sure I'd need all this gear, but I felt it was good to be prepared. Finally, we hit a grocery store and stocked up on several gallons of purified water and non-perishable food like peanut butter, crackers, and beef jerky. I also got Katie a jar of pickles, although I warned her that those have to be refrigerated after you open them. She assured me that wouldn't be a problem, and from my many years of living with her I knew that to be true. At last we were on the road, about eleven in the morning local time. Being in the desert, the sun was unforgivingly bright, not to mention hot. Even worse, the A/C in the stupid truck didn't work (actually, it probably did, I was just too lazy to check the manual), so we left the windows open as I sped along at fifty-five MPH down the highway. I could've gone faster, but I was relying on a mental map. The town of Skull Gulch was gone for the most part, it was nothing more than a skeleton of empty buildings and derelict trucks left behind once the Army sweeped through and rescued everyone a couple months back as the war was winding down. I knew that to find it I had to head about fifty miles west of the city, so I figured if I traveled west for an hour I'd be pretty close. From there, things would get a little trickier as I would have to try to remember whether we went north or south of the town, and how far as well. Good thing I've got plenty of gas... "Kyle, how did this gold wind up out here anyway," Katie asked as we cruised along. "I told you, it's a long story." "I think we've got more than enough time," she said smoothly, "I mean what else is there to do?" "Road blow job?" "Ah...no," she refused with mild disgust. "C'mon, I want to know why we're blowing so much money to go on a possible wild goose chase." I didn't reply. "This is painful to talk about isn't it?" I nodded. "You lose some friends while chasing it or something?" I nodded again. "Yeah. I was the only one of the five of us to make it back alive." "I'm sorry. I...you don't know how bad I feel for you." I curiously looked at her from the corner of my eye. "Really, I do. I mean sure, my dad's sick and all, but he's not dead. Yet, at least. But you've been through a lot, and I know it can be hard to talk about it," she said with honest sympathy. "It's alright Katie, I learned how to cope a long time ago. I'm kinda sick in the head now with how many macabre jokes I come up with to take my mind off the reality of things." "So will I ever get to hear about what happened?" I sighed and looked her in the eyes. "Katie, it's not that I lost a bunch of friends out here...I did some other things. Things I regret, and wished a thousand times I'd never done before." "Like what?" she asked. "I mean, you're not a war criminal...what's the worst thing you could've done." I bit my lip and clenched the steering wheel so hard my knuckles went numb. "You tell me." "I don't know...killing children?" "I mean the worst thing I could do that would hurt you," I explained. She just gazed at me in wonder, knowing that I was hiding something while also trying to come clean about it. "Kyle, just spill it. What did you do? I promise, no matter what it was, I won't hold it against you. Not now, not after all we've been through." I sighed, somewhat in relief, the rest in concession. "I fell for a girl that wasn't you, and it got her killed." Katie just stared at me, her mouth slightly agape as she just looked at me in disbelief. "I swear, nothing happened between us. I just wasn't thinking about anything other than getting through the day alive, and the next thing I knew I had some unwanted affection coming my way," I said, trying to not let my voice crack. Katie nodded and looked out at the road. "So, did you love her?" "Not the same way I love you..." "But you did, didn't you?" I tried to stay strong and not break down in tears, but shame has a funny way of turning you into a child again. "Katie, she was my squadmate. We went through a lot, I never saw her as someone who could equal you, it's just...she was a good friend. I couldn't help caring for her." "I think it'd be best if you start from the beginning, then we'll see how I feel after you're through," Katie sighed. I felt sick; she couldn't even stand to look at me now. Taking a deep breath, I composed myself and made sure the truck's cruise control was on before recounting my tale. "It all started back in September as the war started to take a turn for the worst..."
8:37 P.M. - September 13th It had been an exhausting day. The previous night, after following the tip from the raccoon Kyle interrogated, the squad found the PRA's camp at an old horse ranch. Sure enough, there was a full platoon of PRA troops there, along with the fuel truck and five cargo trucks loaded with the gold and supplies. One of the trucks was filled with 55 gallon drums, some of which were still being filled from the large tanker. Unsure of how to take the gold and fuel without causing a stir, they decided to take a quick precaution. Jake had a box of caltrops in the Explorer in case he needed to stop an enemy vehicle without destroying it. Together, he and Tariq sneaked down to the entrance of the ranch and deployed dozens of caltrops along the road. The next morning, the PRA had finished their refueling and began to pull out, only to burst the tires on three of their trucks before the convoy stopped and realized something was wrong. A couple of careless soldiers managed to step on a couple of caltrops, although thanks to the steel plates in their boots their feet weren't punctured. The Marines hung back and watched in amusement as the PRA limped back inside the ranch, trying to decide what to do next now that their vehicles were disabled. Throughout the day, Blackmon and the others took turns picking off the odd PRA guard patrolling the perimeter. Elise's M-21 came with a bipod, giving her a stable platform to snipe from. Eight PRA guards would fall to her shots that day. As evening fell, the PRA platoon had thoroughly been thinned from roughly fifty men down to twenty-two. Towards the end of the day a squad of them made a desperate charge in their one remaining truck to try and close with their attackers, only for Robert to open up with his M-27 and destroy the truck's engine block and leave the ten men inside trapped in the open desert as Edgar and Tariq picked them off with ease. However, the remaining PRA troops knew they had the advantage in numbers despite their losses, and they also had a more defensible position. The orange evening sky was filled with vultures, all of them eagerly awaiting the fallen PRA troops to thoroughly decompose before digging in to the feast that rested below them. Inside the camp not one guard dared look out a window or step out from one of the many buildings enclosed behind the barbed wire fence that surrounded the ranch proper. It was to be a standoff, one the PRA would win due to their large stash of food and water. As night fell, Jake decided to run the Explorer back to Skull Gulch to refuel, and to round up additional militia and supplies to help the Marines storm the ranch. Until then, they just had to keep the PRA pinned inside. The others were hesitant at first, mainly because if Jake didn't come back they would be stranded in the middle of the desert with little hope for survival. Tariq pointed out that Jake's people needed the fuel in the ranch as much as the Marines did, and thus there was no risk of getting left to die in the wilderness. And so as Jake sped off, Tariq assigned Blackmon to take the first watch to ensure that the PRA didn't try to wander out and look for their camp. Begrudgingly he complied and readied himself to stay awake for four hours. He'd already been up nearly a full day already, having had only two chances to rest for about an hour during the afternoon heat by camping in the shade of the Explorer and using nothing but a rock as a pillow. He and the others didn't have helmets, but rather desert camo boonie hats since helmets were in short supply. The boonie hat was nice though; its wide brim made him feel like a cowboy and kept the sun off his face and neck. At night though it didn't serve much a purpose, save for a plaything to be twirled on his fingers to help pass the time and maintain his sanity. Carefully he trudged around the camp perimeter, getting a feel for the area and looking for possible areas to take cover behind. There were a few large boulders nearby, but other than that it was just flat, unforgiving desert. It hadn't always been this bad, since the ground wasn't so much sand as it was dusty, cracked earth. This probably had once been farmable before a severe drought hit the southwest and utterly killed the agricultural industry in the region. California had better irrigation systems in place, but finding water to put into them became a challenge, especially in the later days of the war when the PRA was confiscating all manner of food and water for their soldiers. After his third pass around the camp, Blackmon was certain that everyone was asleep. He grinned excitedly as he made his way behind a nearby bolder and looked back to make sure he wasn't followed. It was time to take care of something that he'd been forced to neglect for months, and now his base needs could finally be fulfilled in this precious moment of privacy. The last time he'd had a chance to paw off was in a foxhole back in Utah. He'd forgotten how low that had been, but since his buddy Scott had played lookout to make sure no one approached them while he took care of business, he knew it had to have been at least four months. Blackmon felt a slight twinge of guilt knowing that Scott had lost his primary masturbation paw just a few days after that incident, but on the bright side it earned him a ticket home to safety. Kyle knew it was a bad sign when you could only think of one friend who was still alive after fighting in a war for fourteen months. Hastily he unbuttoned his trousers, which took some time since his field uniform didn't come with a zipper fly. On the plus side, he didn't have any undergarments since he'd been wearing the same clothes for about six days now, and that would've been one more article of clothing to trap dirt and other bodily odors. He wondered just how bad he stank, since his nose had learned to tune out the smell of his and his comrade's bodies. Still, he hadn't forgotten the familiar scent of male arousal as he pulled his throbbing erection free and gave himself a few light strokes. Instantly his cock jumped as it finally received some much needed attention. Throwing caution to the wind, Blackmon took off his gloves and let them fall to the ground before pawing furiously, knowing that he needed to get this done quickly in case the PRA were nearby. However, his senses became dulled as all the blood rushed from one head to the other, and soon he was lost in the warm glowing bliss that was slowly building in his loins. That is, until he heard the light crunching of gravel being padded upon. Whirling to his left, he found Elsie grinning at him as she slowly strolled around the boulder. "Well well well, look what I found," she cooed while not hiding the fact that she was staring at Kyle's crotch. "Need a little stress relief do we?" "Elsie, what the fuck?! Go back to sleep, god!" Blackmon hissed while trying to hide himself in embarrassment. "What are you doing out here anyway?" "Oh, just seeing what my favorite wolfie was up to," she huskily purred while walking up to him and batting his paws away so as to get a better look at him. "My my, aren't we a big puppy?" Blackmon's ears flattened across his head as he tried to back away from her, only to find himself pressed against the boulder. "Kyle, please...don't be scared," she whispered, "I just want to help you." "Help? H-how...ah!" Kyle gasped as he felt her wrap a paw around his flesh and gently began pumping him. "Like this silly. C'mon, you know I've had the hots for you since the day we met. But you've always just been so shy." She paused to look him in the eyes, his face a contortion of guilty bliss and poignant fear. "I like shy," she said with a sly grin. "And now, I'm gonna have fun popping you." "You're a little late on that one," Kyle retorted as he tried not to enjoy her paw's movements across his member. "Aww, then why are you so scared of girls?" Before Kyle could answer he found his muzzle was now tightly pressed against Elsie's, her tongue pushing its way into his before quickly retreating, daring him to follow her. Hormones raging, his instincts took over and he soon returned the kiss in full, his paws finding their way to her breasts as he gently nipped her bottom lip as he pulled away, only to press his mouth to hers again and kiss her roughly. Elsie moaned in approval, finally breaking the kiss with a satisfied smile. "Mmm, I knew you had it in you somewhere," she teased. "Now just relax. Let's see if I can fix this little problem between your legs." Elsie spat on his length, slicking him up while wiping him clean of dust before slowly taking him in her hot, graceful maw. Kyle's gasps elicited a giggle from her as she gently suckled on him, her tongue teasing the underside of his cock like an angelic serpent slithering delicately in the night. Her eyes met Kyle's as he found himself placing his paws on her head and his hips bucking against her face, all the while his mind tried to get a grip and take back control before the situation progressed any further. "E-Elsie please! Cut it out," he moaned. "I mean it!" "Mmn mnnn," she churred haughtily while lightly shaking her head. "Your mimef!" With that, she sunk her head deeply on him. She'd never deep throated a male before, and quickly learned that he gag reflex like advance notice before finding something jabbed in her throat. She quickly pulled off, coughing hoarsely as she tried to catch her breath. Kyle tried to push her away, but soon found his cock was within her teeth's clutches again as she gave him a love nibble before sinking him into her throat again. This time she didn't go so quickly and found it easier to hold him there. Changing tactics, she started to bob her head along his wolfhood, slurping hungrily at his masculinity while seductively moaning through her nose as she savored the many drops of precum his aching member gratuitously leaked upon her tongue. And then, like a tsunami slowly building at sea only to come crashing hard against the shoreline, Kyle reached his peak of pleasure and found himself on the tip of orgasmic ecstasy. He cried into the night, not caring who heard as his organ erupted with his hot, sticky wolf magma within Elsie's maw. She closed her eyes and moaned with glee as she tasted his strong, savory love sauce as he released a half dozen gooey ropes of cum within her. After an agonizingly delightful minute she finally pulled off him, smacking her lips and grinning up at him. "Good wolfie," she purred. "Ready for round two?" "Elsie stop!" Kyle finally managed to say. "What the hell are you doing?" She looked hurt, but felt mostly confusion. "Trying to bone you, silly? I mean, that's what you've wanted right?" "No! Elsie, I-I have a mate back home, we can't be doing this," Blackmon tried to explain as he quickly buttoned his pants back up. "My god, what's gotten into you?" "I...I thought you liked me?" "Not like that," he replied, "Elsie, you're like a second sister to me, and believe me if I wasn't taken I'd be yours in a heartbeat...but that's just not how it is right now." "You told me you were single though..." she countered while choking back tears. Blackmon paused and realized that he had indeed said that so as to not reveal just who his mate was. Elsie scowled at him, her tears leaving clean trails in her dusty red fur. Angrily she stood up and grabbed his shirt in her fist. "What the fuck's wrong with me? Why am I not good enough for you?" "I just said you were..." "No! I don't believe you, I don't think you're mated at all. Why would you lie to me about something like that? You haven't lied to me about anything before, so why that?" "Elsie it's...it's complicated, I can't really explain," Blackmon quickly retorted while trying to come up with a better excuse. "Bullshit! You're too afraid to tell me you don't think I'm good enough for you. Of course, you'll only say that after I've gotten your rocks off." "I tried to tell you to stop, you wouldn't listen!" "I just thought you were shy, Kyle, but you're just an asshole." "Elsie, where is this coming from?" Blackmon asked, his own frustration becoming apparent. "You really liked me didn't you?" "You're realizing that NOW? How many times did I give you a free look when I was changing? How many times did I stay up with you on a fire watch just so you wouldn't be lonely? Who's always by your side in a firefight, ready to cover you when your mag runs dry? Who!?" Blackmon just stood there silently, unable to respond. Finally, he managed to look her in the eyes and say, "I'm sorry." "Me too, Kyle. You have no idea how much I am, too." With that, Elsie stormed off. Blackmon couldn't bring himself to follow her back to the camp, he knew it would be rough to get along with her the next several days. For a moment, he actually wished she would catch a bullet and die already, just like the rest of his previous squadmates. Then at least he wouldn't be on edge every time he was around her. Unbeknownst to him though, his wish was in the making. Elsie hadn't wandered back to camp, in her haste to leave she started walking in the wrong direction and began to wander out into the desert. The moon was only a sliver of its usual self, and thus Elsie had failed to notice it on her walk from the camp. If she had, she'd have noticed she was going west, and right into the hands of the enemy. Sure enough, a hidden patrol of PRA soldiers lay waiting in the desert sands, knowing full well their enemy lurked nearby. They were honestly surprised to find a lone Marine, a female no less, walking alone with tears in her eyes. They showed no mercy, however, and quickly placed a bullet in her leg. The gunshot echoed across the parched plain, reaching Blackmon's ears a couple of seconds after being discharged. Quickly he rushed back to the camp to wake the others, only to find that Elsie was missing. Her weapons were still by her backpack, along with her boonie hat and gloves. It quickly became obvious she'd gotten lost in the dark, and had possibly just been gunned down. Meanwhile in the desert, the PRA soldiers attended to Elsie's wound, ensuring that she wouldn't bleed to death before they got a chance to interrogate her. Her heart filled with fear, and all that came to mind was to cry for help. "KYLE! WHERE ARE YO-oof!" she was quickly gagged and trussed upon the shoulders of the largest PRA trooper there. Just as Blackmon returned to his post, he saw several shadowy figures on the horizon making a break for the ranch. Despite the blackness, he could make them out through his ACOG scope on his M-416. He recognized them by their rifle silhouettes as being PRA, since many carried obsolete M-16 and M-4 rifles. But then at the very back, a rather large bear with a rocket launcher...no...a knapsack? It had feet, and then he realized it was a body...Elsie's body. For a moment he wondered if she was dead, but then she managed to slip out of her gag and yell again. Oh god, no...not that, Blackmon thought as he dropped to his knees in defeat, realizing that his best friend was now in the very hands of the enemy.
"So that's all that happened between you two?" Katie asked. "She forced herself on you, you failed to stop her, and then she ran off and got captured." I nodded. "Yup." "Well, I guess I can't be too mad at you for that. It's just as shame she's dead though," Katie sighed. "Yeah, I try not to think about it too much," I replied. The rest of the trip went in silence, although by the time I finished we were almost there anyway. Sure enough, we found the ruins of Skull Gulch by the highway, although it was completely devoid of life. Not even a tumbleweed blew by, as is the western cliché. Like a wave of regret, the memories poured back. I swear I could see the ghosts of the townsfolk, my comrades, even the enemies I'd put down, all walking amongst each other in town. But that's all they were, ghosts of the past. There was nothing Katie or I could do to bring them back. And sure enough, I remembered riding off with Jake to attack the bandit camp to the north. Looking at the sun, I judged which way was roughly east and turned right to the north. "Almost there Katie," I assured her, "Almost there."
Fifteen minutes later arrived at a formation of rocks with a small opening about twenty feet wide at the front. Kyle parked just outside the opening and grabbed his rifle before instructing me to follow him out. Carefully we walked inside, unsure of just what was lurking beyond after all this time. We were first greeted by the sight of several sun baked SUVs, the tires dried and rotten from spending so much time in the heat. The paint was faded as well, and the windshields were covered in dust. To the left of the SUVs was the remains of a fire pit, with a few partially burned logs still piled inside. And then I jumped, the sight of my first skeleton catching me off guard. "Oh god...is that...real?" "Yup," Kyle replied, "Looks like they're all here. We ambushed them while they were eating dinner. Poor saps never had a chance." There were several more scattered about, and from the looks of it they hadn't been moved since the day they dropped dead. It was certainly creepy, as if time was standing still or something. "Let's not waste any time," Kyle said as he led me over to a large rock with several smaller ones piled at its base. "If I recall correctly, this is where we hid it." "Why didn't you come back here for it sooner?" I asked. "Didn't really seem right at the time," he replied. "I mean, my friends...really good friends, died to liberate this gold. It's like their blood's been spilt on it." "So what makes it right to take it now?" "Well for one thing they'd want me to take it if it means helping the family stay alive while your father is in the quarantine camp," he began while picking up rocks and tossing them aside, "Plus, if it means you don't have to miss out on your mission trip, all the better." I nodded but said nothing as I watched him shuffle the rocks to the side. Little did he know I had something important to tell him, but the words just escaped me for the time being. "Bingo!" he yelled as he moved the last rock and unearthed a large, green plastic crate. Unlike everything else in this godforsaken land, the crate looked utterly brand new. No signs of wear, no scratches, and hardly any dust covered it. Popping it open, Kyle's face lit up with an amber glow as sunlight reflected off a half dozen gold bars resting on a black foam pad. I gasped in amazement, as I couldn't believe his story had actually been real. Kyle leapt up and gave me a firm bearhug, making me groan as his arms started to crush me. "Katie, it's here! It's still here, thank God!" he yelled jubilantly. I smiled, if only because I saw how happy he was. "You can still go to Panama, and now we'll have enough cash to live on for years. Heck, I can even get my own place near you and not have to worry about privacy issues anymore," he mused while closing the box and hoisting it up. "C'mon, let's get out of here before we die of heatstroke." I sighed and followed him back to the truck, wondering if I really could tell him the news. This was definitely not something I'd planned for, but my life had taken an incredible turn recently and...well if I don't tell him things will only get worse. No, I have to tell him. He wouldn't want me to keep something like this to myself. I languidly joined Kyle in the truck, unsure of how to broach the subject. "Something wrong sis?" he asked as he started the truck. I shook my head and said nothing. No, I couldn't tell him when we had a long car ride ahead of us. I'd have to tell him later...and by later I mean I waited till the next day where we were at the airport. Kyle had used FedEx to ship our gold home, not trusting SouthWest Airlines to not lose it on the return flight. He did the same for his rifle and ammunition as well, since the TSA would certainly have a few qualms about him bringing that onboard. Fortunately, we'd managed to pack everything into a couple of backpacks, thus leaving us with only two carry-on bags. It didn't take long to pass through security, mainly because there weren't too many people leaving Phoenix to go elsewhere. As a result, the one flight leaving for Atlanta didn't depart until 3:30 P.M., or would at least shoot for that time. In reality, the overworked ground crew was taking more time than expected to prep the plane for another flight, and so it wouldn't be until 4:50 at the earliest till we left. The wait in the terminal was tense, partially because it was not so much a terminal as it was a hastily converted aircraft hangar that lacked sound proofing, so whenever a jet passed by it sounded like a freight train was driving behind us. However, despite all the ambient noise, Kyle still noticed that I was being unusually quiet. "Katie," he said while placing a paw on my knee, "I know something's up. You've barely spoken since we found the gold, what's wrong?" I couldn't look at him, my eyes seemed to be glued to the floor as I took a breath and tried to find the right words to tell him. "Kyle...I'm..." "What?" "I need to talk with you about...us," I said evasively. He cocked his head, unsure of how to respond but looking inquisitive as ever. "Kyle, I think we need to stop being mates." His face froze, and I recognized that look well. I'd made the same one when he told me he didn't want to be mates a couple years back at Christmas. Ironically the tables had turned a full one-eighty degrees on that issue. "Katie...I don't understand, what did I do?" "Nothing, that's just it. You're a great brother, and an even better mate, but I think you were right all along. We can't be together, it's just not right," I explained. "But why? We had this argument years ago and you showed me we were right for each other, what changed your mind?" he asked shakily, his voice now full of panic as his mind raced to come up with a good response for the bomb I was about to drop on him. "Kyle, our lives have gone downhill ever since we got together," I said sorrowfully, "I mean think about it. First, daddy catches us and ships you off to go die in a proxy war. You got shot, almost died, and then died for real after I took a bullet in the parking garage." "Yeah, but we came out of that on top, and we were told that we'd never have to worry about dying suddenly again." I shook my head, "Yes, but look around us. We just got moved from the storm to the eye of it, while everyone around us suffers. A week after we cheat death, WWIII starts and millions of people die. How many friends did you lose because of that?" Kyle scowled at me, something I don't think I've ever seen him do. "Katie, we didn't cause world war three, that was going to happen anyway. And if we hadn't been together, I might never have survived it." "You wouldn't have been in the military period. You'd have still been in high school and sat it out for the most part," I countered. He just looked at me incredulously and shook his head in disbelief. "I'd have still gone in, and had nine bloody months of hell to follow." "True, but that's...ugh, never mind. The point is, things keep getting worse the longer we're together. You come back from the war with more than your fair share of nightmares, only to be kicked out of the house your first night back. And then Atlanta comes under attack and...and well you know the rest. Kyle, I love you more than anything but you have to see that it's clear we're not meant to be together. Something is telling us that." "What, like God? If I recall our own guardian angels backed us not to long ago, so I don't think He's got any qualms with us being together," Kyle replied. "I didn't say God," I retorted, "I...I just think we need to go back to being siblings. That's why I felt it a shame that you lost Elsie, you could've gone back to her." Kyle just bit his lip and looked at me. "What about you?" "I doubt I'll find another mate. Mainly, I just want to help people, and I really think I belong in the mission field. I can't very well do that if it comes to light I'm mated to my own brother," I explained. "Katie, we can find a way to work this out, please...I'll leave the Marines once my enlistment is over next year and do whatever it takes to join you. We don't have to just go our separate ways," he tearfully pleaded. "I'm sorry, I...I just can't. Not in good conscience while my father is still sick," I bitterly replied. "Please, forgive me." "No Katie, forgive me," Kyle said while standing up. "Forgive me for not being a better mate. If I hadn't taken you dancing, John would be fine right now. Don't blame God, or fate, or yourself for what happened. Blame me. If you can do that, then I can't say I'm surprised you want to end things between us." I stared at him; unable to speak as I tried to convince myself what he said wasn't true. After several seconds he got tired of waiting and turned around. "Where are you going?" I asked while following him. "To finish burying my friends," he said cryptically. "Go home, go to Panama, get into college, and do what you were put here to do" "But what about you?" I asked desperately. "You've got your mission, I've got mine. Just remember I'll always love you, even if you don't think I should." With that, he turned and started to walk towards the exit. I rushed over to him and grabbed his arm, my mind no longer caring that other people in the terminal were now looking at us as I began tearing up, no longer able to hold back the grief stirring in the pit of my heart. "Kyle, I just want to go back to the way things were, I don't want to lose you from my life!" He shook my paw off him and kept walking out. "You're better off without me, Katie. The sooner you realize that, the soon you'll truly be happy instead of having to lie to yourself that you are." And with that, he slipped into a crowd of people walking out of the terminal and disappeared. I wanted to follow him, to tell him to come back, but I knew it was no use. I couldn't believe it though...one moment he was trying to save our relationship and the next he's willing to back out. Was I too forward? Did I make him feel unappreciated? I suddenly felt like a lead weight had dropped to the bottom of my stomach as I worried if I'd ever see him again.
I left the terminal and walked back into the city, unfamiliar grounds to be sure, but I wasn't going without a purpose. No, I intended to visit each of the families of my fallen comrades and do my part to assuage any doubts or fears they had about their loved one's demise. After that, I figured I'd wander back to that ranch in the desert and put a bullet in my head. Either that or major in political science, both actions seem to be equally beneficial for finding a job in today's world. There weren't any cabs to hail, so I just walked. Phoenix only had about 50,000 or so people in it at the moment, and most were living in the suburban areas that hadn't been hit too hard during the war. And it was just my luck that one of those people happened to be on my visiting list. You see, when my pals and I went treasure hunting in this desert, we were officially AWOL and assumed to be dead by our superiors. For the most part they had us listed as MIA, and since I was the only one to come walking out of this hellhole, I was the only one whose status got changed back to "active." This in turn meant that their relatives and loved ones had no idea whether or not they were still alive. The government refused to confirm or deny their deaths, since even though MIA isn't officially dead, there's a really low chance of the person still being alive. Now it was my job to finally clear this mess up so my friends could at least get a decent funeral, although a decent burial was a whole other matter since their bones have probably been picked clean by vultures now. I went back to the cheap motel we'd originally staid at and checked back in; claiming that something else had come up and I'd need the room an extra day. Considering my credit card was almost maxed out though, I'd have to pass on renting a car. I had decided against brining my laptop, so I had to wander over to a nearby library that was miraculously still running and use one of their computers to Google Map the address of one Mrs. Stephanie Baker--Elsie's mother. Considering it was my fault she died, I figured she'd be the first one I apologized for. Mrs. Baker's house was six miles away, great. I jotted down the directions on my phone and then huffed it out of there. I could walk at a pretty good pace, but I knew it would still take me at least two hours to go the entire way on foot. It's funny, had I been a kid I would have found the prospect of walking adventurous and a nice change of pace, but now it was just friggin' annoying. Thirty minutes in and I was dying of thirst from the heat, forcing me to stop at a 7/11 and rehydrate using the bathroom sink. Not the most sanitary of water taps, I'm sure, but I was too cheap to buy a water bottle for a buck fifty. I did manage to catch a break coming out though, as some poor sap found his credit card didn't work at the pump and he had no cash on hand. I offered to throw down twenty bucks if he'd give me a lift. He was more than happy to oblige, and fifteen minutes later I was at Mrs. Baker's house. I'd looked up Elsie's relatives back in March just before coming home. I'd originally planned to stop by here first, but the government was only willing to comp me one plane ticket, and I had to use that to get back to Atlanta. From what research I'd done, I learned that Elsie's parents were divorced and that her mother had moved to Phoenix towards the end of the war so that she could search for her daughter's whereabouts. As for her father, I couldn't find much on him, just that he lived in Langley, Virginia and was a retired Air Force colonel. Chances are he was still there, although I figured I'd let his ex take care of informing him of his daughter's demise. Knocking on the door, I was greeted by a spitting image of Elsie, although she was slightly aged, with wrinkles just starting to form at the creases of her mouth and slightly hair. "Um...may I help you?" "Yes ma'am," I politely replied, "You don't know me, but I served in the Marines with your daughter, Elsie." Mrs. Baker's eyes lit up. "You know my Elsie? Please, tell me she's alive..." I just looked at the ground and said nothing. That was all it took. "Oh god...no. I always knew something had happened to her, even though those heartless bastards told me they were still looking for her only two weeks ago," she sobbed. "I'm sorry for your loss ma'am, I was with her when she died though. She was a hero," I lied. Granted, the first part was true, but Elsie died far from a hero's death--slaughtered like an animal was more like it. Mrs. Baker looked up at me and smiled. "Please, come in. I want you to tell me everything." I followed her inside and took a seat on the living room sofa as she headed off to the kitchen to fetch me some water. I was most grateful, especially since I had neither asked for it, nor thought it was obvious how thirsty I was. It took only five seconds for me to drain the half liter bottle she gave me. "Goodness! Have you been walking in the heat of the sun all day?" "For the most part," I admitted. "I don't have a car and had to walk here from the airport." "Why didn't you rent a car?" "Card is maxed out," I said. "Then how will you get home?" she asked with obvious concern. "Hadn't thought of that," I said while suddenly feeling stupid. "Never really planned on going back." "Why not?" "I'd rather not get into it," I flatly replied. "I'm just here to help bury my friends, and Elsie was first on the list." She nodded, and then turned as a tall red fox walked into the room. "Darrel, I'd like you to meet...um..." "Kyle Blackmon," I said. "Thank you," Mrs. Baker said gratefully. "Darrel, this is the young man who served with Elsie." The old fox looked me over suspiciously. He was probably in his fifties, judging by the graying muzzle fur and weathered expression on his face. Definitely an officer, judging by how he never took his eyes off me and refused to sit until his wife...ex-wife...told him to. Taking a seat across from me in a large armchair, he pulled out a pack of nicotine laced chewing gum and popped two pieces into his mouth. "So, you knew Elsie huh?" "Yes, sir." "Why'd you live and she didn't?" "It's a long story," I replied. "I got time," he gruffly retorted. "I've waited eight months to find out what happened to my daughter, and I'll be damned if I wait another day." I nodded and began to recount the tale of how it all came to pass. The whole time I narrated Mr. Baker never took his eyes off me. In fact, when I mentioned the stolen PRA gold, he seemed to grow especially interested in my story. It took me nearly an hour to recount the whole event, partially because I censored out the part of Elsie coming on to me or the fact that I may have been responsible for letting her escape into the wild only to get killed. When I was finally done, Mr. Baker seemed somewhat satisfied by my explanation, but I could tell his curiosity had definitely been peaked. "Mr. Blackmon," he said after popping another couple pieces of gum into his mouth, "Are you still active duty Marine Corps?" "Yes sir, I'm off deployment for the moment on extended psych leave since I didn't get a break at all during the war." He nodded. "That's rough, something I can say I've never been through." "You were Air Force though right?" "How did you know that?" he asked gruffly. I blushed. "I may have Googled your family name to try and get this address. It just came up." He rolled his eyes and spat to the side. "Ugh, when I was your age we didn't have all this digital anal probing in our lives. Hell, I remember when people still used snail mail to talk across the country." I chuckled and tried to say something amicable. "Yeah, it's a far cry from when I was born, that's for sure. Did you ever see any action?" "I flew a few sorties in the Gulf War in an F-15E. Got to bomb Baghdad a couple of times, almost got shot down those times as well. Then I flew CAS (Close Air Support) when we went into the Balkans. After that, I got promoted and led my own squadron during our opening operations against the Taliban in Afghanistan. My last few missions were during the 2004 invasion of Fallujah where I was flying CAS for the boots on the grounds. Once that was over, I got promoted to a desk job and lived in white collar hell till my retirement." He paused, looking at me with obvious interest. "Tell me, are you a career soldier, or is this just a gambit for the college money?" "Killing's all I know, sir. Well, that and combat medicine," I joked. "I never really saw the point of college since every white collar job seems like a version of hell for me, too." Mr. Baker smiled for the first time since I'd met him. "You ever think of joining Force Recon? They could use someone like you." "I'm not that good sir, I can't tread water for very long, and I'm slow when it comes to running. I'd never make it past the entrance physical," I honestly assessed myself. "Not with that kind of attitude," he remarked, "But I hear you. Got any family back home?" "Two step sisters, my step mom and my step dad, who got infected during that outbreak in Atlanta." Mr. Baker's eyes went wide. "I'm sorry to hear that, really I am." I raised a paw slightly as I said, "Don't worry, it's fine. He's still alive, just not curable at the moment." "How's the rest of the family holding up?" "Okay I guess," I replied. "My younger sister Katie is taking it really hard though." "Ah. She still in school?" "Yes sir, eleventh grade. She'll be eighteen in July." Mr. Baker smirked. "Well, that's nice. She want to be a soldier like you?" "No sir, she's actually kinda the opposite of me," I said with some slight awkwardness as I tried not to think about Katie too hard. "She wants to be a missionary. In fact she's going to Panama in about a month." Mr. Baker looked at me with keen interest. "Panama huh? Why there?" "I dunno, it's some collaborative thing between a bunch of churches in our area," I replied. He nodded. "You got a girlfriend?" I tried to think of the smart thing to say. "No." "But you had one?" "What makes you think so?" "You paused, as if trying not to bring up a bad memory." Damn, this guy is good. I nodded. "Well, good riddance. Most women can't handle the long distances or the worry that comes with a military relationship," he explained. "You're better off alone. Less stress to worry about, and if you catch a bullet it's one less person to have crying over your casket." "That's a rather cynical way of looking at it," I replied rather coldly. "Trust me son, I've had to inform more than my fair share of widows. It ain't fun," he replied with equal chillness. "Tell you what though, since you went to all this trouble, how about you stay for dinner." "I wouldn't want to impose on you two..." "Shut it kid, you look like you could use a good meal, and it's been forever since we've had company," he warmly growled as he got up from his chair. "Now, if you'll excuse, I need to make a phone call." I watched as he stepped into the hall and went down to his office. I excused myself to go to the restroom which happened to be next door. As I locked the door and prepared to unzip, I caught Mr. Baker's voice coming through the air ducts. "Hello? Thomas? It's Darrel, listen I need you to do a background check on a Kyle Blackmon. No, he didn't give me his rank. Look, just do it, he knows about the gold and I think he might be a candidate for Operation Silent Autumn. No, he's not operative material, but he might still be useful. I think we can get him into the country without anyone noticing, I'll explain later. Good, do that, and text me if anything I should know about comes up." With that I heard him hang up. I then realized he'd be looking for me, and I quickly resumed peeing. Once that was taken care of, I washed up and headed back out to the living room to find Mr. Baker checking his tablet computer. He looked up at me, then back down to the screen, comparing notes it seemed. "You're a Lance Corporal Mr. Blackmon?" "Yes sir, that's right. How did you..." "Shut your mouth kid," he said with a snide smile. "I know you could hear what I was saying on the phone, so you probably know what I'm looking at right now." I just stood and stared, unsure of how to respond. "Do you know what happened to that gold you failed to recover?" he asked. "Failed? It was never my mission to find it in the first place. My friends just wanted to go treasure hunting and it got them killed, it didn't seem right to take it," I replied grimly. "Emotions, Mr. Blackmon, have no place on a battlefield. I know that probably sounds like some sort of cliché a striking Hollywood hero would spout off in some B rated action flick, but it's still true," Mr. Baker lectured with the air of a disappointed father. "You shouldn't have just left it there like a chump." "Fuck you." "Excuse me?" he exclaimed while taking his glasses off to look me dead in the eyes. "You didn't see what happened, you don't know how my friends died." "You forget, my daughter was with your friends, and it sounds to me like you're full of shit and covering up what really happened to make yourself feel better," Mr. Baker accused. "You want to know what really happened with your daughter? Cause I could tell you how they raped her, not just once, but for a whole god damned night, and there wasn't a thing I could do. Oh, and they beat the shit out of her, too. Broke a bunch of her ribs, knocked out her front teeth, and gouged out her right eye. And some sick fuck even used a pair of bolt cutters and took off her thumbs and toes so she could never fight again. Is that what you wanted me to say? Is it?!" Mr. Baker's jaw hung to the floor, and for a second I swore I heard him gagging on his own vomit. "I'm sorry, sir...but you're not the only one who cared about her. She was like family to me," I apologized. He nodded. "Did you at least kill the bastards that did it?" "Every last one, sir." He smiled. He could tell I wasn't lying. "Then all is well. You hungry?" "I could eat," I admitted. "Good, then lunch is on me. Steph! We're going out, don't bother cooking dinner, we won't be coming back," Mr. Baker said as he ushered me out to his garage. "What? Darrel, the war's over, what the hell is it now?" his wife asked with exasperated confusion. "My wars are never over dear, you know that. Mr. Blackmon and I will be heading to Langley tonight, so the house is all yours for the next couple of weeks." "Wait, Langley? You mean Virginia?" I asked. "Is there any other that would be worth dragging you too?" he tiredly inquired. "...I don't have a choice do I?" He smiled. "No."
Twenty minutes later we were sitting in a rather expensive looking steakhouse. I didn't feel right wearing only a t-shirt and shorts, but the wait staff didn't seem to care. Of course, it was only after the fact that I learned Mr. Baker had bribed all of them to shut up. We sat in a far corner, away from the other patrons and even out of the field of view of the security cameras. I wasn't sure what to say, so I was quiet up until the waitress left to go fetch our drinks. "You're CIA aren't you," I asked. "Not bad kid, I knew you weren't stupid the moment I laid eyes on you," Mr. Baker said while looking out the window to watch a group of Kodiaks drive by on patrol. "What do you want with me? I'm just a lowly grunt, not some superhuman Navy SEAL or something." "Well kid, as much as I'd like to be able to send a SEAL on this mission, most of them are still tied up in Asia rooting out communist rebels in the Chinese wilderness. So I'm ready to take anyone I can get who knows proper military protocol and can shoot straight." I scoffed at that. "Why do you really want me? This isn't a matter of skill, this is something else." Mr. Baker cocked a smile. "Well, it's a little of both. For one thing, I've seen your combat record. You have knack for surviving things that others just can't." "It's a curse," I said in jest but meant with all seriousness. "How so? I know a lot of guy's who'd envy you," he replied. "I don't know, I guess I haven't found much worth living for." "That's pretty normal for a guy coming out of a war. You ever get tested for..." "Got it. They told me to see a therapist and get a doctor to write me a prescription for Ambien." "You ever do either of those?" he asked. "Nope." "And you wonder why you feel like shit," he said while shaking his head. "Okay, enough small talk. You're right, skill isn't the primary factor here. Granted, you are quite capable, and you certainly meet the physical and psychiatric requirements to do this job." "What job, what is all this that's so important?" I asked wearily. He pulled up a picture of a tan fennec fox on his smart phone. "This is Reuben Noriega, a former enforcer for the FARC rebels in Colombia. His unit got moved into Panama a few years back when we sent a black ops team in to help the Colombians root the rebels out from their base near Bogota." "How's this concern us?" "Patience," he said while pulling up another photo, this one of a lion with a cropped mane and a surly expression. "This is Marcus Caldwell, the leader of the Crimson Scythe." "Wait, I know those guys. They're those pro-PRA terrorists that came about after L.A. fell and we disbanded the PRA!" "Exactly," Mr. Baker confirmed, "And it just so happens that Mr. Caldwell here and you have a bit of a connection." "What? How?" "Caldwell's men were responsible for the biological attack on Atlanta that put your stepfather in the hospital. Most of them died in the attack, but a pair of brothers turned themselves in after getting cold feet and told what they know. We managed to root out most of the CS cells in America, so they're heading south into Mexico and other central American countries to lay low. It just so happens that Mr. Caldwell still has a few samples of the Hellfire virus, although what he plans to do with them is still a mystery." "Maybe he'll sell them to fund his movement?" I suggested. "No kid, he doesn't need to do that. You see, that truckload of gold you left out there actually belonged to Caldwell. Those PRA deserters you killed were all part of what would become the Crimson Scythe. Thanks to you, they've got roughly $400 million dollars to work with." I suddenly felt cold inside, as if a part of me just died. "You mean..." "Listen, I don't think the gold would have made a difference in the attack on Atlanta, so don't beat yourself up over that. No, the real problem is that he's using that money to buy friends. Noriega just so happens to be a fellow socialist and we've spotted him and Caldwell in Panama City," Mr. Baker explained. Just then the waitress arrived with our drinks and took our food orders. Once she was gone, Mr. Baker continued. "Do you know the history of Panama Mr. Blackmon?" I shook my head. "It used to be part of Colombia, but then a revolution took place and we backed the rebels to help form the state of Panama so we could then build a canal through it. Well, the Colombians weren't too happy about that, and to this day there are several nationalist groups that seek to rejoin Panama with Colombia. Noriega is one such person. His former FARC mercenaries are now part of a larger unit dedicated to overthrowing the Panamanian government and reuniting the country with Colombia. Now the Colombian government has already pledged to denounce such an action, but that doesn't seem to be stopping Noriega from trying." "So how's Caldwell fit into this?" I asked. "Caldwell's men have the knowhow for special operations, the kind of things you'd need to know if you have a limited force trying to take over a whole country. By helping Noriega, we think they've got an agreement where once Noriega takes over the country it will become a safe haven for PRA sympathizers and act as a staging area for future attacks on the U.S." "They don't seriously think they can take over a whole country though, do they?" Mr. Baker sighed wearily. "Well, they might actually have a shot. Ever since we took back the canal from the Chinese the Panamanian government has been pretty mad that we won't take our troops out of their country. Their propaganda has the population stirred up, and they've accidently shot themselves in the foot since Noriega has a lot of sway with the impoverished folks in countryside. His militia force is about 2,000 men strong, although it's spread across the country." "So what exactly do you need me for? I mean why can't we just send in a SEAL team and take this guy out?" "Because we don't know where they're keeping the Hellfire virus. Hell, they've probably genetically synthesized it and made several more bio bombs. If we attack before learning their locations, they'll likely hit us with the virus as an insurance policy of keeping us from further getting in the way," he explained. "Even worse, they know we're on to them. They have agents watching the embassy in Panama City 24/7. Our guys can't get within a mile of any of their meetings before they bug out. "So far, we've had to use phone taps, drones, and satellites to spy on them, but that's not enough. Most of their communications are done off the grid by runners carrying letters in sealed envelopes. That makes them virtually impossible to intercept without letting them know something has happened. However, it works in our favor by forcing them to move slowly." "I'm not a CIA spook though...how can I remotely be of use to you?" I asked again, perplexed as ever. "Your sister, you said she was going on a mission trip to Panama?" "Yeah..." "You're going to go with her." "Say what now?" Mr. Baker looked over his shoulder, probably out of instinct since there was no one behind him. "The CS and Noriega's spies are watching the airport and the embassy for anyone who could be a spy. They have dozens of people on their payroll skimming the streets for any signs of our presence, and so far they've been able to stop us nine times out of ten. But you're something they wouldn't expect." "Why not? I'm American, I'll stick out," I countered. "Yes, so much so it'd be too unlikely that you're really up to no good. For one thing, you're too young to be CIA. They know our youngest guys are about twenty-five, and we mostly use them to get us coffee at the office. You're just a kid in their eyes, and they know we don't trust kids with things like this." "Until now?" "Until now," Mr. Baker nodded. "We can arrange for you to be part of the group, no one but the pastor in charge will know what's going on. He'll set up jobs for you that'll take you close to Noriega's and Caldwell's meetings. I'll be at the embassy to help walk you through your mission and get you close enough to eavesdrop on their plans and find out if and when they're planning to stage a coup." "How do you even know where they'll be meeting? You said they always bug out whenever you show up?" "Our satellites can still track them fairly easily. They either don't know this or don't care. They prefer to meet in the crowded marketplace; makes it easy for their hired guns to blend in and keep an eye on things. They won't take a second look at you though, and if we can get you in position, you can listen in on their meetings with some covert surveillance gear we'll provide you. Then all you have to do is report back to us, and you're done." I leaned back in my chair and mulled over Mr. Baker's words for a few seconds. "Do I get a gun?" "There's no reason for you to have one, this is recon only," he replied sternly. "Last thing I need is you getting into a firefight with civilians around." "Alright, sounds simple enough," I said. "What happens after?" "After what?" "After this mission. Is this a onetime deal, or are you gonna hook me up with some more of this spy crap?" He looked thoughtfully to the ceiling for a moment. "Let's see how you handle this one. My only concern is your family, a lot of new recruits don't like being away from their loved ones for so long. I've seen many marriages go bad; it's not a pretty thing to watch." "That won't be an issue. I'm adopted, my step-dad hates my guts, and my sisters think I'm a dick." Mr. Baker nodded and looked out the window again. "Well then, welcome to The Company." We didn't say anything else for a while. Our food arrived and I dug in, not really tasting it so much as enjoying the feeling of nourishment. My mind was too busy to enjoy anything just then. It was funny, a couple hours ago Katie had told me she wanted to break it off, and now I was on a CIA black op. However, my mind was more focused on the former issue at the moment. By now, Katie was halfway home and probably wondering what she was going to tell Eliza and Shelly. I knew it'd be awkward when I showed up in a couple of weeks and was suddenly on the same mission trip that she had been making preparations for the last few weeks. Part of me wondered if I should have just gone with her; accepted the fact that we weren't meant to be together and just go back to being brother and sister. But the realist in me knew that was impossibility. We'd crossed a line that cannot be retreated across. Our relationship, as complicated as it might seem emotionally, had also been reduced to being in one of two states: being together, or apart. There is no middle ground. If we tried to pretend things were like before, we'd only be lying to ourselves and slowly suffocate under the smothering emotional toll of knowing that neither of us can be with the one we truly love the most in this world. No, neither of us should have to live like that, which is why I'm here refusing to renounce Katie as my mate. Well, ex-mate now I guess, but at least I won't have to lie to myself and say she never was mine for however briefly we were together. I'm not giving up on you yet, Katie. You'll see. I just hope whatever it takes to bring us back together doesn't involve me getting shot this time. Looking back at that musing, I kinda jinxed myself on that one. Oh, and for those of you waiting for Katie to make a humorous comment, she's not here. Remember, she's on a plane to Atlanta. .... No you idiots, this narration may be past tense, but it's taking place like ten minutes after the events described. Why you ask? Because if it took place later, it'd give you the impression there's gonna be a happy ending like the last two times I've gotten myself in deep shit. Hell, I could be dead and this is my ghost narrating this and you'd be none the wiser? You know why? Cause this is 12 font Times New Roman text you're reading, you can't actually see me. And most of you are probably picturing me incorrectly anyway so maybe it's a good thing I'm possibly dead...and what? Okay, Arctic's giving me the "wrap it signal" and mouthing something about being over 16,000 words or something. What a baby. Fiiiiiiiiiiine, I'll end it here since this really is a ridiculously long chapter. And what a shit title, I mean "Separate Ways?" What, did you get that from Journey or something and plan to play it in the closing credits to give people that extra emotional push so they can supposedly feel the character's torment?
WHAT? No, no fucking way, you're actually doing it? God! Do you realize how cheesy and cliché this sounds? There's a reason this stuff died in the 80's. You couldn't have used a song by Black Sabbath or Metallica? You know what? Fuck this, I'm out and I'm gonna go get my sister back. And when I do, I'm gonna go to your house and do it in your bed, and I'm gonna make sure I pull out and leave a nice genetic mess in your sheets you fat fuck! ...oh and happy birthday to Aussie Scott, who turned 18 a few days back. Yeah. That's about it. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go look up how to smuggle a weapon past the TSA onto an international flight. Anyone know which bodily cavities you can safely store ammunition in? And shut that youtube video off, god!