Read Online Promises to Keep by Nikki Sex, Zachary J. Kitchen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nikki Sex, Zachary J. Kitchen
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the sight within.
The
Marine in the bag had been shot in the face.
Just
when he thought he was getting used to it—too used to it—reality would kick him
in the nuts, hard. Just as it did at this moment, Jack frequently found himself
pulled back into the humanity that he so often felt, and feared, was slipping
away from him.
He'd
read about it, he'd even seen it himself—that people who see horrible things
every day find that they have to put their normal and natural emotions behind
them. They have to compartmentalize their feelings from the job they have to
do.
Otherwise
they couldn't do the job.
All
too often, this made people numb over time and they had difficulty feeling at
all. If a person pushed the human side of themselves so far, so deep into that
separate compartment of their mind, they sometimes never get it back.
That
Jack could still react emotionally to a dead body, even one he was expecting to
see, told him that he was not too far gone— yet. It gave him a weird
degree of relief.
Most
of the insurgent snipers couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, but recently
they had foreigners, veterans from places like Bosnia and Chechnya come to join
the Jihad. These new enemies were skilled and could hit a soldier right through
the left lens of his sunglasses.
Jack
sighed as he looked down at the man. The left side of his face held a serene,
almost peaceful expression.
The
right side was a ruin.
Amazingly
he'd lived long enough to arrive at Jack's tent, borne by a frantically driven
truck. He was gone before Jack was able to get a good look at him. As a doctor,
the only thing he’d been able to do for him was sign his death certificate.
Jack
pulled the canvas aside and saw the ring square on the dead man's chest,
glittering in the antiseptic fluorescent lights above. He picked it up and read
the name inscribed on the inside. It was most definitely Bob's ring.
Sunlight
flooded the trailer as the door opened.
"I'd
never thought you'd be the one I'd find grave robbing."
Jack
turned. Lieutenant Dwight LaGuardia stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the
light outside.
"Can't
rob a grave where there isn't one."
"So
you say," Dwight smirked. "What have you got there, sir?"
"If
it's any of your business, it's a personal effect that I must have dropped into
the bag when I tucked him in."
Dwight
stepped further into the trailer. The door closed behind him. "I see. Most
irregular and I'm afraid I'll have to put you on report."
"Report,"
Jack said flatly. "Really? Does anyone even say that anymore? You sound
like the tough guy in a Star Trek movie. What the Hell are you going to report
about?"
Dwight
sneered down his nose. "I caught you red-handed. Stealing valuables from a
casualty is a courts martial offense. I'm surprised you'd risk your freedom and
career over a simple ring that's not worth more than a couple of hundred dollars."
"The
ring is mine." Jack walked up to the shorter, younger man. "It must
have slipped into—wait, how did you know it was a ring?"
It
was Dwight's turn to be blindsided. "I...just guessed—"
"No,
you didn't just guess." Jack grew angry.
Had
Dwight stolen it? Had he planted it on the dead soldier? He couldn't have known
what it meant to him. He couldn't have known he'd tear up the whole damned camp
looking for it—could he? Had Dwight expected that Jack would end up rummaging
through a body bag to look for it?
His
eyes narrowed as he glared at Dwight. "You know exactly what it was
because you put it there."
"No...no...I
just—"
"You
stole my ring and stuffed it into a body bag just to fuck with me, didn't
you?"
White-faced,
it was clear that Dwight was really getting uncomfortable. Turning Dwight's
accusation of theft back on him, was obviously not what he'd expected when he'd
barged into the back of the meat wagon.
"Did
you go through my things? What else did you steal? Do I have to count my money
too?"
"No!
I—"
Pushing
in close, Jack backed Dwight against the cold
The
Marine in the bag had been shot in the face.
Just
when he thought he was getting used to it—too used to it—reality would kick him
in the nuts, hard. Just as it did at this moment, Jack frequently found himself
pulled back into the humanity that he so often felt, and feared, was slipping
away from him.
He'd
read about it, he'd even seen it himself—that people who see horrible things
every day find that they have to put their normal and natural emotions behind
them. They have to compartmentalize their feelings from the job they have to
do.
Otherwise
they couldn't do the job.
All
too often, this made people numb over time and they had difficulty feeling at
all. If a person pushed the human side of themselves so far, so deep into that
separate compartment of their mind, they sometimes never get it back.
That
Jack could still react emotionally to a dead body, even one he was expecting to
see, told him that he was not too far gone— yet. It gave him a weird
degree of relief.
Most
of the insurgent snipers couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, but recently
they had foreigners, veterans from places like Bosnia and Chechnya come to join
the Jihad. These new enemies were skilled and could hit a soldier right through
the left lens of his sunglasses.
Jack
sighed as he looked down at the man. The left side of his face held a serene,
almost peaceful expression.
The
right side was a ruin.
Amazingly
he'd lived long enough to arrive at Jack's tent, borne by a frantically driven
truck. He was gone before Jack was able to get a good look at him. As a doctor,
the only thing he’d been able to do for him was sign his death certificate.
Jack
pulled the canvas aside and saw the ring square on the dead man's chest,
glittering in the antiseptic fluorescent lights above. He picked it up and read
the name inscribed on the inside. It was most definitely Bob's ring.
Sunlight
flooded the trailer as the door opened.
"I'd
never thought you'd be the one I'd find grave robbing."
Jack
turned. Lieutenant Dwight LaGuardia stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the
light outside.
"Can't
rob a grave where there isn't one."
"So
you say," Dwight smirked. "What have you got there, sir?"
"If
it's any of your business, it's a personal effect that I must have dropped into
the bag when I tucked him in."
Dwight
stepped further into the trailer. The door closed behind him. "I see. Most
irregular and I'm afraid I'll have to put you on report."
"Report,"
Jack said flatly. "Really? Does anyone even say that anymore? You sound
like the tough guy in a Star Trek movie. What the Hell are you going to report
about?"
Dwight
sneered down his nose. "I caught you red-handed. Stealing valuables from a
casualty is a courts martial offense. I'm surprised you'd risk your freedom and
career over a simple ring that's not worth more than a couple of hundred dollars."
"The
ring is mine." Jack walked up to the shorter, younger man. "It must
have slipped into—wait, how did you know it was a ring?"
It
was Dwight's turn to be blindsided. "I...just guessed—"
"No,
you didn't just guess." Jack grew angry.
Had
Dwight stolen it? Had he planted it on the dead soldier? He couldn't have known
what it meant to him. He couldn't have known he'd tear up the whole damned camp
looking for it—could he? Had Dwight expected that Jack would end up rummaging
through a body bag to look for it?
His
eyes narrowed as he glared at Dwight. "You know exactly what it was
because you put it there."
"No...no...I
just—"
"You
stole my ring and stuffed it into a body bag just to fuck with me, didn't
you?"
White-faced,
it was clear that Dwight was really getting uncomfortable. Turning Dwight's
accusation of theft back on him, was obviously not what he'd expected when he'd
barged into the back of the meat wagon.
"Did
you go through my things? What else did you steal? Do I have to count my money
too?"
"No!
I—"
Pushing
in close, Jack backed Dwight against the cold
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