A sharp knock jolted Rook out of his blissful dream. “I’ll get it!” Rook swung his legs out of bed and walked towards the door.

  “It’s Sheriff Cecil, open up, Jimmy,” A voice announced at the door, before three more rapping knocks. “Tell Samuel to come out.”

  Rook paused. I’m about to get kicked out for this one. He pulled the door open and scowled at the Sheriff and his deputy. “Well, well, Sheriff, you made a house call for little ol’ me?” He asked, looking at the reflection in the Sheriff’s aviators. “You know, with that mustache, you probably shouldn’t be here.” Rook leaned in, “I think people may get the wrong impression,” he said with a wink.

  Damn this sense of humor.

  “That’s it. Cuff his ass, Mandy.” Sheriff Cecil pivoted on his heel and walked off the porch.

  “No way his name’s Mandy.” Rook allowed the new deputy to take his arms behind his back and let the cool metal lock around his wrists. He was then led to the patrol car and Cecil opened the door. Rook grimaced as the distinct ammonia smell hit him like a wave. “Seriously,” Rook said, frowning at the deputy. “It smells like piss in here.”

  “Too damned bad, sit down and shut up.”

  Rook obliged, sitting on the damp fabric with a grimace, hating every second until they arrived at the courthouse a few short miles away. Well, this brings back memories. Rook frowned at the front doors and the entrance hall, and let the familiar location sink in. When Mandy led him through to the basement that served as a holding tank, he smiled. It could always be worse, I guess. So long as I get out soon. Rook faced a sleepless night on a bench next to an old drunk in ratty clothes.

  “Samuel!” Mandy ordered, banging his baton against the cell bars. “You’re getting let out.

  “Someone posted my bail?” Rook asked, with a frown.

  Mandy shook his head. “Be lucky, Jimmy’s your grandpa, some people still appreciate old vets.” Mandy opened the door and led the way to the courtroom.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Judge wants to see ya, be lucky this didn’t take longer. Normally, Judge Haggar makes troublemakers rot in the holding cell for a while.”

  Rook sighed. He couldn’t be upset, and best of all, his leadership wouldn’t know about the incident, hopefully. They pushed through the doors, and Rook tried to smooth out his hair prior to entering. Can’t look disheveled in front of the judge.

  Sitting there was the same old judge Haggar, the same old bailiff, and the same old courtroom. Same as the time when he took a joy ride on a horse from the Amish community. He thought about the memory, and the guilt still ate at him.

  “Well, looks like the old Merrell boy came back. I owe you fifteen dollars,” The judge said to the bailiff. “It seems you’ve caused several thousand dollars’ worth of damage to Mr. Jacobson’s field, house, and front door,” said the judge, adjusting his spectacles. He opened his mouth to say something, thought better, and closed it. “Jimmy called in his last favor, and I’m a man of my word; you’re free to go…for now.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” Rook replied, letting out a breath.

  I’m not cut out to be a prisoner. I’m much too pretty.

  The man seemed to mull something over in his mind, and his wrinkled jowls shook so very slightly, as his eyebrows furrowed together.

  “Your Honor, if I may,” Rook said, scratching his chin with his cuffed hands. “I understand that Mr. Jacobson is upset that his crops were damaged, but there’s an explanation.”

  “This outta be good, Judge,” the bailiff said.

  “C’mon, then,” muttered the Judge.

  “I was working for Mr. Jacobson on repairing his field, then got chased by his German shepherd,” Rook said. Before he could continue, the judge cleared his throat.

  The judge adjusted his glasses before shaking his head. “I don’t want to hear it, Army boy. You’re already free to go.” The judge gave a breathy laugh. “Get the hell out of my town and don’t come back.”

  Without a word, Mandy led him out of the courtroom, taking him all the way home in the piss smelling car. The deputy had warmed up to him extremely quickly. All it took was Rook’s military knowledge of law enforcement, a few funny stories, and finally feeding the deputy’s ego. Presto chango, the man was dazzled with brilliance. His grandfather was seated in his rocker as Deputy Mandy’s car rolled up in the gravel driveway. This time, Rook was staring at the spider-webbed front window, where something had chipped it recently.

  “You’re shitting me. You get a month off each year, paid?”

  “Yeah, man,” Rook responded with a smile. “You’d be a great Soldier, and I don’t say that lightly.” He opened the door. “It’s been a pleasure, Mandy.” He held his hand.

  “Same, Rook. Let me know when you’re ready to go to the airport, and I’ll drive you.” He shook Rook’s hand.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Sure, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He follows the familiar path up the driveway. “I’m back, Grandpa,” Rook said, walking up to the old man in the rocking chair.

  “I take it you skated by on the skin of your teeth.”

  “Sure did.” He looked at the old man’s cloudy eyes. “I’ve gotta go a day early. Unit called me and-”

  “You don’t have to explain, Sammy.” His grandfather coughed weakly. “Listen, I know my time is coming to an end.”

  “Nothing’s gonna take you out, right?” Rook asked with a smile. “Remember if the Vietcong-”

  His grandfather cut him off. “Listen to me, when I go.” He coughed into his handkerchief. “I’m with Grandma, with your mom. Your dad. I’ll be happier than a pig in shit, and I’ve got instructions for my body. So don’t you worry about coming back.”

  “I really hate when you talk like that,” Rook responded, with a frog in his throat.

  “I know you do.” He smiled, more lucid than he’s been in five years. “I haven’t said this enough, but I’m proud of you, boy. Proud of the man you’ve become.” His grandfather held his hand out for a handshake.

  Rook grabbed it, taking a shuddering breath.

  “Remember the survival training? The SLLS checks I used to have you take when we hunted?”

  “Of course, that way we found the Vietcong before they found us.”

  “That’s right,” his grandpa said with a grin, a strand of bloody dribble slipping down the corner of his mouth. “My only wish is for you to go out and keep making something of yourself in life.”

  Rook thought about his grandfather’s words; they echoed in his head over and over. He couldn't shake a heavy feeling from the drive to the airport, to the plane flight, to the return to his barracks room. The next morning, his phone rang while he was getting dressed for PT, and he swiped the green phone button on his screen. The voice was familiar, Mandy.

  “Good morning, I’m sorry to bother you. This is Deputy Mandy from the Pineville Sheriff’s Office.

  “Hey Mandy, it’s no bother. Are you finally ready to join the military?”

  “Rook, listen. It’s about Jimmy,” he said, letting the words hang in the air. “He’s gone. This morning, he didn’t go to the diner, so we did a welfare check.” He clicked his tongue as if finding the words to say. “I’m sorry.”

  “Okay, thanks for the heads up,” Rook responded with a near robotic level of tone. Rook hung up and sat down on his barracks bed.

  After several moments, his hand buzzed, and his phone screen lit up from the rapid notifications. Rook’s world seemed to pulse as if nothing felt real; the last family he had was gone. His cough was getting worse, but now who’s he going to remind to take their medications each morning? He stared at the Legends Triumph Online poster on the wall. The warrior with his battle axe, the mage with their wand, the rogue with twin daggers. The poster above his dresser was colorful in design, reflecting a recent expansion. His eyes drifted to the half-empty bottle of whiskey beckoning him on his counter top.

  “Hey man, where the fuck are you?” His friend Knox’s voice echoed in his head.

  Rook looked to his right and realized he had answered his phone. Knox’s words sounded like they were underwater. He placed his hand down by his side, as if the strength had left his body, and holding up the phone had just been too much. Memories rolled around his mind. His grandfather saluting him on the bus, leaving for MEPS. The room with all the pictures of his career. His breath hitched in his throat, and he pinched himself to ensure he wasn’t dreaming. The artificial light of the room hummed, and the walls felt like they were closing in. What’s happening to me? His heart began pounding in his ears, and he rubbed at his temples.

  A loud bang sounded from his right as the barracks room door slammed open. His buddy and Squad leader swaggered in. Rook stared at them. Why? Was I late to formation?

  “Rook,” Knox said, concern striking his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “My grandpa. He’s gone."

  The following weeks were a blur as they prepared the platoon for a training cycle. Everything passed in a blur, and he got that familiar feeling of being on autopilot. Get the soldiers’ gear laid out, get the trucks up, get weapons ready. Rook reveled in the early mornings and late nights, training the Soldiers.

  * * *

  “Rook, are you dozing, dude?” The voice of his friend Knox came into focus, bringing him back into the world.

  “Yeah,” he responded. He looked to the right. The fire break that led into the security perimeter seemed to stretch on forever, cutting through the gloom. To the far right, he could barely see it, but at the other apex, the other squad’s gun trucks idled. “Fuckers are probably sleeping right now.” He groaned. “Wish I was too.”

  Rook rotated his stiff neck and yawned, trying to stave off the weariness, and sighed. Shit. The night was exceptionally hot for June. Rook’s squad was in charge of maintaining a three-sixty degree security in the muggy forest as a way to train up for deployment. His platoon made a giant circle around an assembly area. Pulling security was always a pain in the ass, twenty-one days in a training area to simulate deployment. Give me a break. What that really meant was it was going to be a muggy 8 hours of looking into the gloom of the woods, listening to the insects fucking in the bushes. He put his cheek back into his rifle, waiting for the mock enemy to probe their security with pop shots from their M4 Carbine rifles.

  “It’s hot as balls, Sergeant,” his buddy Knox said, from beside him.

  “Oh, it’s not that bad, it’s got to be at least seventy degrees hotter on deployment,” Their Squad Leader, Staff Sergeant Buck, said, leaning behind the truck .

  Rook swiped away a buzzing insect. “At least we have the great company keeping us awake.” He swiped again at the insects.

  Barely. If I’m nodding off, I know these guys are suffering just as bad.

  “What about you, Knox? You doing okay?”

  “Yeah man. Say why are MPs out here anyways, in the forest pulling security, laying in the mud next to a HMMWV?” He adjusted his cheek on his buttstock, no doubt making a better make-shift pillow.

  Rook watched his friend getting a better position and laughed. “Listen, man, if there’s anything I’ve learned in the past few years, it’s that military police get thrown into whatever dumb ass tasking that comes down from the higher ups. You just have to roll with the punches, be a sucker for pain.”

  Buck laughed. He was a squad leader, so in his decade in, he no doubt learned that hard lesson.

  “You bet your sweet ass, Rook. We’re multi-purpose,” Buck said, spitting a wad of dip on the forest floor. “Sucker for pain, I like that.”

  A chill tore through the air, breaking the moment and Rook whipped his head this way and that. Why did it get so cold? He bristled at the unnatural cold causing a shiver to run up his spine.