The only sound I hear is my blood thumping and my calm breath, inhaling and exhaling in rhythm with it.When the soldiers burst into the room, I watch the scene unfold as if in slow motion again.
They stand guard over the women and children, search the dead teen boys, give the all-clear signal and escort the survivors from the room.As they pass, the little ones' eyes pierce me to my core.The pain, the fear, the unknown.When the women pass, their eyes are cast down as they approach, but one cuts hers at me, and I see utter hopelessness.
Everett!
Rushing back down the stairs, real-time returns, and my hand finds its way to my jugular.The pounding comforts me.I stop in the doorway just long enough to assess the current conditions outside and wipe the blood from my hands before entering the light.
Soldiers are everywhere, combing the area.The situation is under control.
I step into the light, and the intensity of the warmth feels good.I'm alive.
Making my way back to the vehicle, I arrive just as a medic exits.Looking in, I breathe a sigh of relief.My crew chief sits there smiling.
"You good, Easy?"
"Always," Everett says with a smirk and heavily glazed eyes."Morphine is my new best friend."
I chuckle at that truth.
"Did you take care of business?"She asks.
"Always," I reply with the same smirk.
"Smartass!"Then her eyes clear, and they look directly into mine."Did you find the motherfucker?"
"Affirmative."
"Dead?"
"Yeah."
"Good!"She looks down at her mangled leg, then at the front seat where Bradford had been sitting.
"Bradford?"I ask.
"He's been escorted back."
We stare at each other, knowing the pain of his death will bond us together forever.She opens her mouth.I know she wants the details, so I begin telling her before she has to ask."The Motherfucker was hiding as a woman."
"Piece of shit!"The venom in her voice is pure.
"Yeah.Hiding with the women and children."
"Are they okay?"
"He killed three boys before I could get my hands on him."
She looks up."Are you good?"
"Yeah."I smile at her, raise my arms and turn around so she can see I'm unscathed."I'm good."
"How did you...."
"Knife," I answer, classifying the killing, then hold my hand out."My gun, please, Ma'am."
She stares at my open hand, digesting the information and realizing I won't share any more details.She quietly lays the weapon in it.I check the safety, return it to its holster and zip it up with the buck knife.
I state the obvious."Looks like you'll be heading home."
