Read Online Beowulf: Explosives Detection Dog by Ronie Kendig - Free Book Online
Authors: Ronie Kendig
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sir?”
Burnett gave him a “you’re an idiot” smile. “Call it a suggestion. For your own good.” The smile vanished. “Dismissed.”
Pounding the dirt beneath his feet, Tony made his way back to his bunk. He could take a lot of heat, he could handle anger, but telling him what to do and with whom he could do it—that ticked him off. Especially since it related to Timbrel.
From his locker, he grabbed his duffel. Slammed his gear inside it.
“What’s up?” Java asked from his bunk two over.
“Heading home.”
“Says who? And why’d you get to go early?”
“Burnett.” Tony tossed in his Bible, stared at it, then lifted it back out. “We’re all going back.” He peeked at the inscription from Exodus 14 his mother had added:
“The L ORD will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
That was just it. Sitting still defied his nature. Action. Taking the proverbial bull by the horns, that was his way.
“What’d he say?” Dean asked as he sat across from him on Rocket’s bunk.
Fanning the super-thin pages, Tony looked up through his brow. “Nothing.” He tucked the Bible in his bag and the rest of what little he’d brought over. “Said we’re heading home and we’re to rest up. But I could tell something was bothering him. He’s working on something.”
“Bet it’s those WMDs.” Dean rubbed his knuckles. “I have a feeling this will get ugly before it ends.”
‘A DL —D IVINE J USTICE
Seven Years Ago
Screams echoed through the village. The shout of injustice meeting the sword of Allah. The shriek of evil dying. The howl of penitence.
The voices fell on the deaf ears of a colonel who sought to right the way of his people, to restore to Allah the people who had once served him wholly. War and violence were the way of his people. Especially when injustice propagated itself in the hearts and minds of Allah’s children.
“Colonel.” Irfael strode toward him, hard lines gouged into his face by years of working in the unrelenting Afghan heat. Tall, beady-eyed, he could be trusted only in the way of violence. “We’ve gathered the men around back.”
Shrieking, a young girl bolted from a house. Fist up, dagger in hand, she dove at him. “I’ll kill you!”
Catching her wrist, the colonel sidestepped. Yanked her around in front. Arm around her throat. Hand struggling to control her more against that deadly blade. “Why do you do this?” His heart spun. Her fire. Her passion. Her willingness to throw herself on the coals of hell for something she believed in.
Brown eyes met his with hatred. “You killed my father.”
“So you come to kill me? To deliver your own justice?”
Her nostrils flared, revealing a small gem embedded there. “Isn’t that what you are doing?”
He grabbed her by the hair and jerked her toward the vehicles. “You want to see justice?”
She cried out, slapping at him, kicking. She even dropped to her knees, but he yanked her onward. Stumbling, she regained her feet.
Irfael stepped out from a plaster-and-thatched-roof hut, blood splattered across his face.
Around the corner, the colonel found his men guarding a half-dozen men. All dressed in international uniforms. All on their knees.
One of the younger men looked up, and his gaze widened at the prize the colonel dragged with him. “Leave her!” He lunged upward.
A single shot rang out.
The man crumpled to the ground, a plume of dirt the last applause of his life.
The girl screamed. “No!” She wrested herself from the colonel and threw herself at the man’s body.
“Please,” the village elder begged, spittle clinging to his beard as thickly as the man’s betrayal. “Do not do this thing. They are innocent.”
“They are
not innocent
!” Sword in hand, he walked around him. “You have tainted them, Shamil, when you helped the Americans.”
“No, no. I did not help.” Tears marked beige paths down the man’s dirty cheeks. Knuckles white from clenching his hands so hard,
Burnett gave him a “you’re an idiot” smile. “Call it a suggestion. For your own good.” The smile vanished. “Dismissed.”
Pounding the dirt beneath his feet, Tony made his way back to his bunk. He could take a lot of heat, he could handle anger, but telling him what to do and with whom he could do it—that ticked him off. Especially since it related to Timbrel.
From his locker, he grabbed his duffel. Slammed his gear inside it.
“What’s up?” Java asked from his bunk two over.
“Heading home.”
“Says who? And why’d you get to go early?”
“Burnett.” Tony tossed in his Bible, stared at it, then lifted it back out. “We’re all going back.” He peeked at the inscription from Exodus 14 his mother had added:
“The L ORD will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
That was just it. Sitting still defied his nature. Action. Taking the proverbial bull by the horns, that was his way.
“What’d he say?” Dean asked as he sat across from him on Rocket’s bunk.
Fanning the super-thin pages, Tony looked up through his brow. “Nothing.” He tucked the Bible in his bag and the rest of what little he’d brought over. “Said we’re heading home and we’re to rest up. But I could tell something was bothering him. He’s working on something.”
“Bet it’s those WMDs.” Dean rubbed his knuckles. “I have a feeling this will get ugly before it ends.”
‘A DL —D IVINE J USTICE
Seven Years Ago
Screams echoed through the village. The shout of injustice meeting the sword of Allah. The shriek of evil dying. The howl of penitence.
The voices fell on the deaf ears of a colonel who sought to right the way of his people, to restore to Allah the people who had once served him wholly. War and violence were the way of his people. Especially when injustice propagated itself in the hearts and minds of Allah’s children.
“Colonel.” Irfael strode toward him, hard lines gouged into his face by years of working in the unrelenting Afghan heat. Tall, beady-eyed, he could be trusted only in the way of violence. “We’ve gathered the men around back.”
Shrieking, a young girl bolted from a house. Fist up, dagger in hand, she dove at him. “I’ll kill you!”
Catching her wrist, the colonel sidestepped. Yanked her around in front. Arm around her throat. Hand struggling to control her more against that deadly blade. “Why do you do this?” His heart spun. Her fire. Her passion. Her willingness to throw herself on the coals of hell for something she believed in.
Brown eyes met his with hatred. “You killed my father.”
“So you come to kill me? To deliver your own justice?”
Her nostrils flared, revealing a small gem embedded there. “Isn’t that what you are doing?”
He grabbed her by the hair and jerked her toward the vehicles. “You want to see justice?”
She cried out, slapping at him, kicking. She even dropped to her knees, but he yanked her onward. Stumbling, she regained her feet.
Irfael stepped out from a plaster-and-thatched-roof hut, blood splattered across his face.
Around the corner, the colonel found his men guarding a half-dozen men. All dressed in international uniforms. All on their knees.
One of the younger men looked up, and his gaze widened at the prize the colonel dragged with him. “Leave her!” He lunged upward.
A single shot rang out.
The man crumpled to the ground, a plume of dirt the last applause of his life.
The girl screamed. “No!” She wrested herself from the colonel and threw herself at the man’s body.
“Please,” the village elder begged, spittle clinging to his beard as thickly as the man’s betrayal. “Do not do this thing. They are innocent.”
“They are
not innocent
!” Sword in hand, he walked around him. “You have tainted them, Shamil, when you helped the Americans.”
“No, no. I did not help.” Tears marked beige paths down the man’s dirty cheeks. Knuckles white from clenching his hands so hard,
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