Read Online Divided We Fall by Trent Reedy - Free Book Online

guns.”
    McFee sat up in his seat and opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but then stopped. The governor looked his way for a moment as if waiting for him. When he stayed silent, the governor raised an eyebrow and took a drag on his cigarette. The cherry flared brightly. After a moment he let the smoke roll out. “You’re telling me that some of the protestors had guns? You say they shot at you?”
    “Yes, sir,” said Sergeant Meyers.
    This was all wrong. Meyers was trying to pass it all off on the lieutenant. I couldn’t let that happen.
    The general cleared his throat. “Why am I only hearing from NCOs? Lieutenant McFee, is this true? Did you give the order to fire?”
    The lieutenant’s eyes were wide open.
    “Pull yourself together, Lieutenant,” said the general.
    McFee licked his lips and swallowed. “Sir, there were a lot of people. Um … protestors. Okay. I’m not … I mean, I don’t —”
    I stood up. “Sir, I fired the first shot.”
    Everything was quiet. I remembered the feel of the little recoil in my M4. The surprise. How bad I wanted that bullet back.
    “What did you say, Private?” the general said.
    I thought I saw Sergeant Meyers shake his head a little as if telling me to shut up, but I’d gone this far. I had to tell him now. “Sir, someone in the crowd threw a rock. It hit me in the face. In the gas mask. The shock of it.” My eyes were stinging. No. I couldn’t cry. Not here. I wiped my eyes. “I don’t know. I was surprised. My fingers jerked. I accidentally fired my weapon. I don’t know if I hit … anyone. My lenses in my mask were cracked and I could hardly see. I’m so sorry.”
    Governor Montaine sighed. “How old are you?” He sounded different now. Sad.
    “Seventeen, sir.”
    “Seventeen? You still in high school?” the governor asked.
    “Yes, sir,” I said.
    “And how old are you, Lieutenant?”
    “Twenty … twenty-three, sir.”
    The governor snuffed his cigarette out in the ashtray. “Why do I have kids doing missions like this, General?” He spoke slowly and quietly.
    If General McNabb noticed the anger in the governor’s voice, he didn’t show it. “Sir, most of the Idaho Army National Guard is deployed to Iran. Our forces here are limited. You asked for enough troops to effectively assist the state police. Young soldiers like this PFC would never deploy without having completed their training for their military occupation specialties, but to accomplish the mission, I was forced to resort to activating almost all of our remaining soldiers, certainly all who had completed basic training and were slotted to a combat unit.”
    Governor Montaine walked to the end of the room, looking away from us. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally he turned back to me. “Son, I want you to listen to me for a second —”
    Something in my chest tightened up. “Don’t call me ‘son,’ sir.”
    General McNabb cleared his throat. “Private,” he said in a warning tone.
    “Sorry, Governor, but I’m not your son.” It had been me and Mom on our own for a long time now, but I did have a father once. The hell if I was going to let some politician or anyone else call me “son.” “My father was killed in the war,” I said to the governor. “In Afghanistan.”
    “He was in the Army?” the governor asked.
    “The Idaho Army Guard, sir.”
    “Why’d you sign up?”
    “Sir?”
    The governor sighed again. “You’re only seventeen. Why did you enlist?”
    “I signed up because … Sir, I just … I love my home. Wanted to serve my country. Do my part.” I had really believed that when I enlisted. I wanted to believe it now, but after what had happened tonight, my words sounded fake, rehearsed, too polished, like Montaine doing one of his speeches.
    The governor shook his head. “The bullets from all the soldiers who were called on this mission have been counted?” He looked at the general, who nodded. “And your squad is the only one