Page 59 of Hard Corps (Selected Sinners MC 7)

I walked to the edge of his booth, pointed to the empty side of the seat and waited. After a nod of his head, I sat down.

“In the future, you need to use cash. That debit card of yours is like a flashing beacon of fucking light.” I said.

Without speaking, he pulled his hood over his head.

I glanced around the diner, then fixed my eyes on Shane. “I’m going to tell you a story. Say my peace, so to speak. When I’m done I’m going to walk outside and smoke another cigarette then ride out of here. I hate shitty little dusty towns like this. They remind me of places I’m trying to forget about.”

I glanced out the window at the dust blowing down the street in front of the restaurant. “You know, if God was going to give the world an enema, he’d more than likely stick the tube in this shitty little town.”

“When I leave you can either head out with me or stay here, I don’t care either way,” I said as I pointed toward a full cup of coffee on my side of the table.

He nodded his head toward the cup.

I took a drink from the cup of coffee, and considered the analogy I was prepared to share with him. After another sip of the luke-warm java I began.

“During my first tour, we were looking for al-Zawahiri. Hell, we were searching for a lot of al-Qaeda officials, but at this point in time, he was our target. We received intel on where he was and why he was there. It seems he was having a summit meeting of sorts with every other high ranking Islamic militant within a three-hundred-mile radius. Without a doubt, on this particular night, we were going to bag this shit-bird and bring the war to a screeching halt. At least that’s what we were told.”

He sat and stared, his hood pulled over his head to a point I could barely see his eyes. A complete meal sat on a plate in front of him. Apparently, I had stumbled onto him during his morning breakfast.

I tossed my head toward his plate. “Go ahead and eat, this is going to take a minute.”

“So, based on this intel, they assembled a handful of us; three Marines, and seven or so SEALS. They indicated al-Zawahiri had gone into some shit-hole home earlier on this particular day, and he hadn’t come out. Hell, from what they said, no one came in or out after he arrived. It seemed his little meeting was underway, and all we had to do was get there before he left,” I pause and removed a cigarette from the pack.

As I chewed on the end of the unlit cigarette, I continued. “Now this being my first tour, I didn’t have much experience – and none in extraction to speak of – only training. All the brass wanted him alive if possible, so they’d preached protocol and rules of engagement to us all fucking day. We all sat around and waited for the cover of darkness while we planned what we were going to do. You know, studying the chicken-shit map they’d given us showing the supposed layout of the home, cleaning our weapons, and talking about how we were going to get this prick.”

“So, it’s zero dark fucking thirty, and we’re all waiting. About oh two thirty they round us up, take us as close as they can get us, tell us good luck and god fucking speed. We surround the front of this little mud hut and blow the door off this place, toss in a few flash-bangs, and in we go,” I paused and recalled the night of the raid, and what a cluster-fuck it ended up being.

“Needless to say, I’m as nervous as a fucking whore in church service. I’ve got diarrhea, my stomach is all fucked up, my head’s full of all kinds of thoughts on what may happen to me or to someone else, and what I’m going to do when it does. I’d gone over every possible god damned scenario based on the intel we have and who’s supposedly in this shit-hole. You see Dekk, men are just that; men. And men make mistakes. A man will give you an opinion, and portray it as an absolute fact. If you’re either gullible enough or dumb enough to believe him, you then make a life changing decision based on the inaccuracies of his beliefs.”

I gazed out into the parking lot, stared at our two motorcycles for a moment, and turned to face Dekk. “And you see, Dekk. It’s just that. It’s an opinion. It’ll never be any more or any less. If I had all of the lives we lost based on one man’s opinion of what was sure not to happen, I could fill this fucking diner with good god damned Marines. But I can’t, because they’re all fucking dead.”

“The opposite happened on this particular night. The shit-hole home was empty. No hidden exit. No tunnels. No way out except the doors which were in full view. And we had eyes on every fucking corner of this place. And after an assurance he and his band of merry men walked in and never came out – we went in after him. I was mad as fuck. Let down, depressed, and I felt kind of betrayed. They were wrong Dekk. They’re wrong more than they’re right. You know why? Because they’re fucking human and they gave their opinion.”

“You see,” I said. “If we’re forced to make a decision that has the potential to have a profound effect on our life, and it’s based on the opinion of one man, we must weigh the legitimacy of the man in question. And in my humble opinion, if the man in question is not God, his opinion is nothing more than an educated guess.”

He pulled the hood from his head and stared. After a few seconds, his face washed with what I would have guessed to be shame. I said all I came to say, and I hoped my little speech was enough to convince him to come home. As he gazed at me blankly, I stood, flipped the cigarette into my mouth, and nodded my head.

“I’m going to go burn this. I’ve been chewing on it for too damned long. Come out and join me?”

He nodded his head and stood from his seat.

I walked to my bike, lit the cigarette, and waited for him to come outside. Half-way into my four puff limit, and he was standing in front of me with a blank look on his face.

“So, you riding out with me?” I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I just…”

I shifted my eyes to meet his and glared. “You just what?”

The more I studied him the angrier I became. I tossed the cigarette on the ground beside the motorcycle, stepped on it, and stepped in front of him.

“You wanna give me your honest opinion as to whether or not you think you can whip my ass?” I asked.

His eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

I spread my feet shoulder width apart, and tugged against the thighs of my jeans. “You heard me.”

His eyes fell to my feet, back up to my face, and narrowed. I needed to make another point, and I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Desperate times, however…