His Mystery

One

Jacob

“Watch out!” My second in command, Peter, screamed out at me. I looked back to see what was coming my way, but what I saw was not something that one could ever recover from. I saw a four-year-old boy running toward me, his face all dirty, and his white shirt was now grey and torn. His khaki pants are rolled at the hems, and he was barefoot. He was holding a teddy bear that has seen better days in his hand. He smiled at me. Then I knew what I was taught at school but never thought I would see in my life. He had a bomb tied to his torso.

While in training, we are taught to shoot to kill no matter the target. I don’t have kids, but I hope to have them in the future. My finger was on the trigger as I looked at this little boy, and the thought went through my mind. What kind of father puts his children in this predicament? But unfortunately, if I wanted to live, I needed to kill this little boy. I threw my feelings aside and pulled the trigger.

I got up, panting and sweating from the reoccurring nightmare haunting my dreams for five months. I am supposed to sign another four years with the military next month, but I don’t think I could do another tour. I needed something new, I needed something different. I lay back down on the cot, then began thinking of what I would do when I was done here. I have a house back in Montana, a ranch, but it’s in a small town. My neighbors, the Simpsons, watch it for me when I am out on the road. I guess I'll go over there for a couple of months and then decide what I want to do with my life. I lay there with my arms folded behind my head, staring at the tent’s ceiling—just three more weeks of living in this tent, three more weeks of this insane heat.

I don’t lay there for too long before the horn blows, letting us know it’s time to get up. Every morning, that thing rings at five am, and I want to shoot it every day. I am not a morning person, please don’t talk to me until noon, but here in the military, they could give two rat’s asš. You will be up and ready by five-thirty, rain or shine.

I get up from the cot, fold the small blanket, place it down on the pillow, then get ready for the Sergeant to come in and tell us our ops for today. Lucky for me, I get to stay behind and keep an eye out on the team. The rest of the team leaves for another operation, an operation I am glad I don’t have to go to.

***

Four weeks later

I am walking out of the recruitment office with a pep in my step and a smile. I just told them that I would not sign for another four years. They offered me more money and fought me tooth and nail, but it was a flat no at the end of the day. I was the best sniper on their team, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I haven’t been able to sleep a whole night without seeing that little boy’s face for six months. I walked toward my pickup truck, got in, and headed toward my ranch, windows down. The wind was blowing, and Buy Dirt from Jordan Davis blasted on my radio. I was driving down the gravel road of the Simpson’s ranch, admiring the horses running on the side of the farm and their land. I am a country man at heart, which don’t ask me how. My mother was a drunk, and my father hightailed it as soon as I turned three. After that, my life turned into a living hell.

I got out of the pickup truck and headed toward the front steps. I walked up the four steps, leading to their house when I heard laughter inside. That laugh I recognized, my heart began to race, and my hands got clammy. It can't be. I raised my hand and knocked on the white wooden door.

Mr. Simpson opened the door with a massive grin on his face. “You’re home! Come here.” He said, grabbing me by the neck and pulling me in for a hug. “Come in, come in. I was hoping you could meet my great-granddaughter and her husband. They just had a baby!” He exclaimed, his green eyes sparkling with happiness. He turned around and headed toward the living room. I followed him into the living room and froze on the spot.

I can’t believe this. How is this even possible? Her face turned white as paper, and he turned around to see why his wife was now pale as a ghost.

“How?” I asked.

“Jacob.” She whispered.

“Huh? How do you know him?” Mrs. Simpson asked, but she shook her head as tears ran down her face.

“She was my fiancé before I caught her screwing him.” I said, pointing at Brian. “My best friend.” I finished with air quotations.

“It was lovely seeing you both.” I told the Simpsons, then turned around, leaving. I slammed the door to the front of the house and then ran down the four steps.

I grabbed the handle of the truck when Angelica came running outside. “Jacob! Wait!” She yelled, but I didn’t care what she needed to say.

I opened my truck door and then climbed in. I placed the truck in reverse and then hightailed it out of there. I drove the five miles to my ranch as fast as my truck could possible drive. Once I was at my farm, I placed the truck in park and headed into my house. I slammed the door and walked straight to the cabinet that held all my liquor. I didn’t need glasses for this. I wasn’t just going to take a shot; I would get shīt faced. How did this happen? How?

I have not thought about those two for the past eight years, and right when I come home, they were both there. Married, may I add. Oh, and with a baby!

I walked toward my huge u-shaped couch and slumped down. I opened the bottle of Black Label and brought it to my lips, the amber liquid burning the whole way down. I needed to get the fūck out of here. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked at the time. I am sure he is up. I pulled up my contact list and then searched for his name.

When I was four years old, my buddy from the military quit. He told me that once I was out to call him up. I am out, and I wanted into whatever he was doing.

“Jacob! I assume that you are out of the military if you are calling me?” He asked as soon as he answered the phone.

“That is true. Where are you?” I asked.

“I am in Italy. Want to come? If you say yes, I have a job for you.” He said, and without a care in the world, I answered.

“I will be there in two days. Let me settle my shīt here, and I will be out on a plane to you.” I replied.

“No need. I will have a private plane pick you up. Just let me know when you are ready.” He said, then ended the call.

I threw the phone on the table in front of me and then rubbed my face tiredly. I still can’t believe this is happening. Tomorrow, I will call the realtor and have this place sold in no time. Here, I thought I was finally going to have a normal life.

I shook my head as I brought the bottle back to my lips and chugged some of the amber liquid down. I didn’t feel the burn as much as I did on the first swing.

Little did I know how much of a change my life would take when I touched down in Italy.