Haley. Things are a little different right now. The world would be very different now. The world, or at least our world, was changing, and in this new world, a trip to the store came with the danger of not making it back. People we had known were no longer people we could trust, and a group of strangers, who in a moment of chaos had shared the common goal of saving a nine-year-old girl, had been forced together to survive until help arrived, or as long as the new world permitted.
We looked to Gary as a minivan approached. He nodded and said, “It’s him.”
The van pulled up next to the truck, its driver shut off the engine, and the door opened. I let out a sigh of relief as Sean stepped out of the van. My relief was not only for Haley, but for me also. It would be my job to explain to Haley why her dad hadn’t come back and see the pain in her eyes as I broke her heart—a pain I knew too well—a pain I would not want to inflict on such a sweet young girl.
The bruised and swollen cheeks only helped to accentuate the shine of Sean’s eyes as they lit up, as Haley ran by me and into his arms.
I wiped my face as I moved around to the passenger side of the van, where no one would see me cry, remembering the last time I hugged my own father.
14 | Conflict
“I spent ten years of my young adult life serving with a rifle; I’ve spent more than twice that serving God to make amends for my sins against his children,” Randall said, staring at his hands.
I sat down on the stool at the opposite end of the breakfast bar. “You were in the Army?” I asked.
Randall glanced over at me, then lowered his head again, seemingly unable to maintain eye contact. “I killed for my country, and others died for theirs. They didn’t call it war—they called it conflict. One conflict after another, each one for a different objective, but it was all the same. Countless soldiers and civilians, on both sides, each of them praying to God to help them survive or to help them kill the other. Imagine one of your children, asking for your help to kill another of your children.”
I glanced around the kitchen to Powell and Gary. They both stood staring at the floor while Randall continued.
“By the end of my service, I was emptying my rifle into empty space and wondering if I was the only one trying to miss. I was too ashamed to ask, knowing that I was betraying my rifle team, the men I had come to know as brothers. My brothers were relying on my bullets to help silence the enemy, to neutralize the threat, and to ensure that we made it home to our families. What about them and their families?”
Gary looked like he was going to speak, but closed his mouth into a tight line, and turned to face the wall.
“My brother is a soldier,” I said.
Randall raised his head and stared back at me. “Poor devil.”
The word devil has a lot more weight when uttered by a preacher; I frowned, trying to discern his meaning.
“War makes men out of boys, and devils out of men,” he said.
“Or preachers,” Gary added.
“I’m just trying to claw my way back from the darkness. Not even God can forgive a man who can’t forgive himself,” Randall said in a low monotone.
“Have you? Forgiven yourself?” I asked.
“No—nor will I ever. My guilt is the medal I received to remind me of my sins.”
“You were following orders,” I said.
“What order is greater than the order of God—Thou shalt not kill?”
Gary let out a breath as he made his way around the breakfast bar and out of the kitchen. Before leaving via the front door, he turned and addressed the preacher. “There’s going to be lots of broken commandments over the next few months, Preacher. Lots of desperate people coveting and aiming to steal what we have, you can be damned sure that I’ll be willing to break at least one of your precious Ten Commandments to survive.”
Randall remained staring at his hands and spoke his reply in the same low
We looked to Gary as a minivan approached. He nodded and said, “It’s him.”
The van pulled up next to the truck, its driver shut off the engine, and the door opened. I let out a sigh of relief as Sean stepped out of the van. My relief was not only for Haley, but for me also. It would be my job to explain to Haley why her dad hadn’t come back and see the pain in her eyes as I broke her heart—a pain I knew too well—a pain I would not want to inflict on such a sweet young girl.
The bruised and swollen cheeks only helped to accentuate the shine of Sean’s eyes as they lit up, as Haley ran by me and into his arms.
I wiped my face as I moved around to the passenger side of the van, where no one would see me cry, remembering the last time I hugged my own father.
14 | Conflict
“I spent ten years of my young adult life serving with a rifle; I’ve spent more than twice that serving God to make amends for my sins against his children,” Randall said, staring at his hands.
I sat down on the stool at the opposite end of the breakfast bar. “You were in the Army?” I asked.
Randall glanced over at me, then lowered his head again, seemingly unable to maintain eye contact. “I killed for my country, and others died for theirs. They didn’t call it war—they called it conflict. One conflict after another, each one for a different objective, but it was all the same. Countless soldiers and civilians, on both sides, each of them praying to God to help them survive or to help them kill the other. Imagine one of your children, asking for your help to kill another of your children.”
I glanced around the kitchen to Powell and Gary. They both stood staring at the floor while Randall continued.
“By the end of my service, I was emptying my rifle into empty space and wondering if I was the only one trying to miss. I was too ashamed to ask, knowing that I was betraying my rifle team, the men I had come to know as brothers. My brothers were relying on my bullets to help silence the enemy, to neutralize the threat, and to ensure that we made it home to our families. What about them and their families?”
Gary looked like he was going to speak, but closed his mouth into a tight line, and turned to face the wall.
“My brother is a soldier,” I said.
Randall raised his head and stared back at me. “Poor devil.”
The word devil has a lot more weight when uttered by a preacher; I frowned, trying to discern his meaning.
“War makes men out of boys, and devils out of men,” he said.
“Or preachers,” Gary added.
“I’m just trying to claw my way back from the darkness. Not even God can forgive a man who can’t forgive himself,” Randall said in a low monotone.
“Have you? Forgiven yourself?” I asked.
“No—nor will I ever. My guilt is the medal I received to remind me of my sins.”
“You were following orders,” I said.
“What order is greater than the order of God—Thou shalt not kill?”
Gary let out a breath as he made his way around the breakfast bar and out of the kitchen. Before leaving via the front door, he turned and addressed the preacher. “There’s going to be lots of broken commandments over the next few months, Preacher. Lots of desperate people coveting and aiming to steal what we have, you can be damned sure that I’ll be willing to break at least one of your precious Ten Commandments to survive.”
Randall remained staring at his hands and spoke his reply in the same low
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