Grayson (This is Our Life Book 1) (8 page)

Hoorah! Duty, Honor, and Country—my new motto.  Today my dream begins. West Point.
Here I come
.  The clock on the wall is blaring at me, sending my whole body into meltdown mode.  I leave in eight hours, thirty-two minutes, and twenty-nine seconds...
deep breaths
. 

My mom is having a hard time letting me go.  We talked late into the night.  I held her tightly as she cried about her loss.  She knows I won't be back for a long time and understands it's time to let her little boy go. It doesn't stop me from worrying about her and Addie, not having me here to protect them.  I have to believe in my sisters.  They promised me they would take care of them.  That's why they've moved back to the View.  I know my family has it under control.  It's my turn to leave. 

My Bluebird’s not going with me. Part of me will be staying in Florida until we're together again.  Knowing this is the right move for me, my mind’s telling me ‘
Hell yeah,’
while my heart is screaming ‘
Don’t go
.’ 

We've been inseparable the last few weeks.  She's been my rock.  Seeing her upset almost changed my fortitude, but I know we can't have a future without me following my dream.  This is for the best.  She's my zing and I'm not giving her up.  Ever.

We said our good-bye's last night after having dinner with my family.  One of the hardest moments was when she started crying. 

“I’m sorry, Grayson.  It just isn’t fair.  Just when we’ve found each other, now I’m losing you.”

“Shhh, little Bluebird.  You know that’s not true.  I will come back for you.  You can count on that.  I’ll never give you up,” I hold her tightly, smelling strawberries and vanilla. 

We’re sitting on the bed of my truck under the stars, cuddled up close, out in the field at the end of my driveway.  Even with the thick summer humidity in the air causing stickiness on our skin, we don’t want to separate.   Wrapping her up in my arms as her tears flow freely down her face guts me.  I gently lay her back onto the padded blanket I’ve spread over the back of my truck.  Wanting to show her my words are real, my actions speak for me.

I kiss her deeply, guiding her shirt up and over her head as the dampness of Ella’s body clings to the fabric.  Once off, she moves to help me take off mine.  We startle as headlights approach and the rumble of a truck is getting closer.  Ella quickly puts her shirt back on. Leaning up, I see who it is...my father.

He exits the truck and approaches us.  “What are you doing here, boy?  Your momma is looking everywhere for you.”

“Just spending some time with my girl.  Before I leave.”

“Well, hurry up, Grayson.  Momma’s waiting.”  He grumbles as he makes his way back to his truck and leaves.  Typical dad.  Our time is cut short and I take Ella home. 

Getting up from bed to finish packing my suitcase, I'm interrupted by Addie's knock on my bedroom door.  Her baby doll eyes are glistening with tears. "Now, Adalyn Grace, we've talked about this, and you're not keeping your part of our bargain.  No tears.  No crying.  You promised, baby girl.  I'll be back next spring.  Just think how great Christmas will be around here when you are the only kid Santa visits," I laugh, trying to gain a smile from her.  As I reach for her, she bats my arm away and continues across the room to sit in the rocking chair.  Once seated, she looks at me, trying hard not to smile.  She's so temperamental lately.  Her mood swings go from cold to hot in five seconds flat.  She's got that Blackwood temper and is not afraid to use it.  She will be very dangerous to the male population soon.  God help them all.

"Christmas won't be the same and you know it.  It will suck! And just because I'm the only kid doesn't mean I'll get more.  Gosh, why can't you stay here and go to the community college? Why do you have to go so far away? Oh yeah, and why can't I talk to you for six whole gosh darn months? I've never gone one day without talking to you.  You're asking way too much of me, Gray.  You're not just my big bro, you're my BFF," she pauses to take a deep breath then continues,  "My life's gonna suck monkey toes without you. You know that.  Mom's clingy and dad… Well, he's dad.  He's never interested in anything I do.  I've got horseback riding competition starting soon too!  Who's gonna give me advice about boys? You do realize that I'm almost thirteen, right? Well, I'll be dating, and my big bro won't be here to take care of me... I could go on and on, but you get the point, right?" Grumbling, she stares out the window to the pasture and starts laughing.

Turning my head to see what has her giggling, movement catches my eye when Razor, our Australian Shepherd, scrunches low on his hind legs as he stalks a rabbit on the hill.  He pauses periodically, frozen in time with his front paw lifted up along with his tail and ears.  Silly dog.  He looks hilarious as he stalks his prey.  His timing is perfect, because it gives me a moment to collect my thoughts.  I love Addie and don't want to hurt her feelings, but she's really being selfish at the moment.  I'm not abandoning her; I'm going to college.  It's part of life.  We've always made her the center of our universe because she's the youngest, but this is just too much.  Even for me. 

"Are you finished bitchin', yet? This is temporary. Just like grandma always told us, it's another chapter in my book of life and I don't want to miss it, Addie.  I might not be here physically, but you know my heart will be with you.  Write me, and I'll write back.  Six months isn't forever.  You keep practicing and I'll be back before you know it.  Fallyn, Jo, and Sage are here for you too." I shake my head in exasperation at her final plea for me not to leave.

Glancing at the clock one more time, I hear a bustling down the hall and Fallyn appears in the doorway. 

"You 'bout ready to go?   We've got a drive to get you to Mobile in time to fly out.  Why in the world you made your reservation to fly from there is beyond me.  What in the hell were you thinking?" she adds as she grabs my suitcase and wheels it down the hall.  She didn't even give me enough time to reply.  This ride should be oh so much fun.

Looking around my room one more time, I motion Addie forward.  She takes her time crossing the room and into my arms.  As we hug, moisture begins to pool in my eyes and I know it's time to take my leave. 

"I love you, Adalyn Grace Blackwood.  Good journey till we meet again," I quote He-Man from the Masters of the Universe, one of the many movies we've watched together over and over on nights she couldn't fall asleep.  

Riding to the airport with Fallyn is a true test of my will. 
Who in the hell taught her to drive?
  She's driving pedal to the metal like Dale Earnhardt, Jr., her most beloved racecar driver, while Bon Jovi blares
Livin' On a Prayer
over the radio.  Crazy woman, she's gonna get a ticket. 

"You know we have four hours till I have to be at the airport, right?  And it like takes only two and half hours for a normal person to get from the ranch to there.  You could slow down a little, Fallyn."  She grunts at my comment, not replying. I try again, "So, why ya in such a hurry, Little Lyn?"  I use my pet name for her.  She cut it short to make it easier on me when I was little and couldn't pronounce the F in her name, and I tacked the little on when I eventually outgrew her small five-foot frame. 

"No hurry, no worry.  I promised I'd get you there and I will.  Don't want to let you down, G," she states while swerving in between vehicles.  My stomach does not like this and if she doesn't stop soon, I'm going to throw up in her nice little Lexus! 

Fallyn is the strong one of the group.  She’s like a mother hen!  She keeps us all together and doesn't allow weakness.  She only asks of you what she is willing to give.  She left home when I was two years old.  Our relationship has always been strained because of dad.  He ran her off and she never stopped to look back.  Don't get me wrong, I love my sister, but sometimes I wish it could have been different from the beginning.

All of a sudden, her car begins to beep, signaling a police car up ahead, and she finally slows down. 

"Looks like ya got your wish, Grayson, you must've been praying really hard," she jokes.  "Are you ready for your next chapter to begin?  It can be overwhelming starting over in a new place, not knowing anyone.  Most folks want to stay close to home, but I guess we aren't like most people, are we, hon?  You'll be fine.  I guarantee it.  When I left home, the hardest part was not having my family around.  Many a night I cried myself to sleep, wishing I had y'all close, but I kept on telling myself it was temporary, and finally lo and behold, it was over and done and well, you know the rest.  You can do this, you're a survivor, you carry the Blackwood name." 

No other words were better said.  She knew what I needed to hear, and I thank God for her words of wisdom—Fallyn style.

We arrive at the airport and Fallyn parks the car in order to help me find my way.  This is the first time I've flown by myself and I'm a little anxious.  People from various places around the world are hustling to and fro, scurrying to their next checkpoint.  Chaos in a controlled environment.  You can feel the excitement build as she escorts me to the final line that begins my journey away from family and friends. 

As we exchange hugs, she reminds me, "Even when you don't think you can, you will.  Dig deep and keep going.  Don't listen to other people and never ever care what they think or say. Keep yourself safe, young one, and know the force is with you," she uses a mantra shared between us as a reminder they've got my back. 

Once I board the plane and locate my seat, the countdown continues while the plane waits on the runway for take-off.  The stewardess is droning on and on about safety belts and exit locations. 

I locate my iPod and select a playlist for my journey.  My thoughts begin to drift and I'm wondering what my beautiful Ella is doing right now.  Is she thinking about me?  She vowed to wait for me and I promised to come back to her.  So much can change in four years and long-distance relationships are famously known for failing miserably.  Are we the exception? I'm doing this for us. For our future.  Only my gut tells me it will be different.  I can't turn out like my old man.  I want more than wading in cow shit all my life.  I want to see the world and leave my mark on it. 

As I fervently whisper in my mind over and over
‘Sweet Ella, wait for me,’
the plane starts its ascension into the sky and my new beginning.

Seven Years Later.

It’s hot as hell! Sweat is pouring down my back from the intense heat of the sun the afternoon supplies in the Middle East.  Driving into the middle of a war-zone is not what I’d call a good day. The truth is, this place buries its way into the soul, digging its sharp talons in, making it hard to break free.  Free, such a small word with a profound meaning.  That’s why we’re here, for the freedom of the people in this God forsaken place, and for the protection of our own country. 

It’s been two years since I was assigned my team. 
That’s right, my team
.  I finished up at the academy earlier than expected and was immediately sworn into the army.  My work ethic, grades, and leadership caught the attention of Colonel Carl Wilson.  He approached me before graduation and I became a member of an elite special operations unit.  After the ceremony, I was thrust into the fray and sent over to the Middle East.  It was my dream come true.  The hard work and sacrifice paid off. 
Good times...Hoorah!

The horrid smells of gunpowder and imminent death plague my senses.   The sky is a sandy yellow haze tinged with the onset of the blistery, setting sun, reminding me again this isn’t home.  Glancing at the perimeter around the truck, I notice a few things look off and my inborn senses trip my internal alarm.  My heart is pounding wildly in my chest, warning of danger ahead.  Shadows dance off the glass windowpanes from the surrounding abandoned buildings.  We continue to drive through the mostly empty streets, and the further we proceed, the more my gut goes crazy.  My instincts are never wrong.  They've kept me alive.  Honed from a young age.  Something's not right.

The uneasiness continues as we inch closer to the designation point.  I glance at Beauty and Aabdar sitting in the backseat.  We found Aabdar through contacts of contacts.  He's a native and knows these streets and people well, and loyalty can sway quickly with the right incentive.  For the last three months, he's been our point of contact with members of the terrorist cell we are currently targeting for intel.  When our caravan nears the next intersection, I notice a shiny reflection on the top of the building and my unease intensifies.  Turning back, I grab the informant’s shirt, “What the fuck?” 

I signal to Beauty, my second-in-command and interpreter, to relay my comment to this piece of shit. 
Yeah, I said Beauty.
  He got his name real quick because he’s such a looker.  A mountain of a man with olive skin and dark green eyes emitting strength and provoking fear, he's really scary. 
Get your head in the game, Grayson.

As his strong jaw flexes and eyes narrow on the informant, Beauty rattles Aabdar with questions, and his voice escalates.  Beauty knows my looks, signs, silent messages even before I speak them.  That’s why he’s my second.  From the get-go, we clicked.  Creating an unstoppable force while adding to the dynamics of our team.  He continues to press the shaking man, finally getting him to spill everything. His right eyebrow shoots up, capturing my eyes. Knowing this is a sign to me. 
Fuck, not good. 

“It’s a TRAP,” Beauty and I both roar.  “Check your six!” I relay by com to the men in the HMMWVs (High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle-Humvee) following in front and behind us. 

Next, all hell breaks loose and our convoy is rocked off its axis.  The deafening boom of a bomb explodes on the left side of our vehicle.  The impact lifts the Humvee up off the ground as if it’s a toy car, twisting slightly before slamming back down with a bone shattering jar.  My ears ring loudly as a buzz pounds through my head, temporarily dazed, while smoke and dust billow throughout the interior.  After wiping the dust and sweat from my eyes, I snap alert, searching my scope for the assailants.  I catch sight of Aabdar as he’s yelling and kicking while being dragged out of the truck by several armed men wearing turbans around their faces. 

Gathering my bearings, I muster the strength to crawl from the crumpled vehicle, feeling the bite of rubble scraping my hands and knees as I continue to be aware of what’s going on.  Scanning the vicinity, I see the other two Humvees in a strategic blockade maneuver.  Boxing us in for protection.  Beauty nears and I signal him closer as I relay my command, “Fuck! Light 'em up!  Get those motherfuckers!” I bellow out to my team. 

Like a battle cry in the night, bullets whisk and ping around us, trapping the team in place.  We begin a strategic maneuver, each individually working as one.  Preparing to strike back against the terrorists.  Beauty scrambles to gather equipment from the vehicles, placing them ready for use and powering off rounds as he does.  In stealth mode, Styx rounds the back transport, setting up for his assault on the hostiles.  Animal gains ground up around the front of our makeshift barrier, organizing his equipment for execution.  Without further thought, instincts kick in and my team is lost in the assault, doing what we’ve been trained to do.  Kick some motherfucking ass!

Tossing a grenade into the fray of insurgents, Styx readies for action as the enemy scatters for cover in the deserted buildings like the cockroaches they are.  Pushing through the falling debris and raining dust, he runs into the spreading crowd, fighting his way to our informant, using only his knife and fists.  We all cover his move, capping off anyone who poses a threat to our team member.  It’s an amazing sight to see when Styx scoops up Aabdar in a fireman’s hold without breaking speed and proceeds back around to our secure location.

Then we’re falling back into the building fifteen feet away from our barrier that Radar cleared during the conflict.  We gain additional cover as Styx releases another grenade toward the opening of the building, where the enemy took cover.  Keeping our eyes on the area around us, we shuffle into the building, slamming the door as the sound of gunfire lingers in the air.

We take a minute to catch our breaths.  “Major pucker factor, boys!” Beauty calls out as he surveys the entry and exit points.

“Hoorah!” echoes through the open space.

“Don’t get comfy just yet,” I order my team. “Radar, get on the horn and let base command know our location and that our cover is blown.  We’re FUBAR.”

The men instantly go into field strip mode, taking stock in ammo, checking their guns and tending to any wounds that need attention.  We are privy to the best equipment and protective gear money can buy, but sometimes bullets stray or gashes and cuts happen.  And after the bullshit we just wrapped up, no one's that lucky. 

Jacobs a.k.a. Doc, the team medic, begins to clean a few wounds Styx received during his crazy ass stunt.  Nothing deep or life threatening, thank God.  Jacobs is the quietest one of our tight-knit group.  Lethal in all areas and never hesitates, just like the rest of us, but he also has a calming, healing nature that helps in times like these.  

Johnny a.k.a. Animal I’ve known all my life.  My best bud.  Instead of following his dream and becoming a vet, Johnny decided to enlist in the military.  He moved through the ranks quickly and became one of the best snipers around.  I knew he would be part of the team I was building; it was a no-brainer.  He’s someone who has always had my back.  Now we’re working together.

Styx is our explosive expert and one crazy son of a bitch.   Case in point with him jumping into the fire, but that’s what we’re best at, assessing the situation and rectifying it.  Pete, a.k.a. Styx, and I’ve been friends since high school.  Pete graduated with Johnny and me.  He played ball with us.  He was one crazy motherfucker then.  Styx loved to blow shit up, on and off the field. I was surprised as fuck to find out he was a candidate for my team.  Another one I trust implicitly.

“Your hands are so gentle, Jacobs.  That feels real nice, man.” Styx murmurs in his sexy voice, and we all begin to smother our laughter.

“Shut the fuck up, man,” Jacobs calmly states without pausing even for a moment while bandaging Styx’s arm.  No longer able to contain it, they erupt with laughter. 

I chuckle under my breath at the little exchange between my men. That’s the whole of it, my team.  Even in the hellish situation we’re in, they can still find a little humor.  It’s so important to stay sane in this wretched desert, a combat zone.  Since we’re special ops, we spend a lot of time gaining intel, waiting, and like today, fighting in the middle of chaos.  It’s times like these I tend to take stock, thinking back and wondering how my family’s doing, where my Ella is...

My mind drifts back seven years to the letter I received from Ella two months after I left home. 

Dear Grayson,

I’m sorry to do this in a letter, but I just didn’t think I could wait any longer to tell you.  I can’t wait for you, Grayson.  You should move on too.

                                                                                                  Good-bye,

Ella

Three fucking sentences are all she gave me.  My Dear John letter.  At the time it hurt so bad, although we never claimed ‘I love yous’, she is my zing.  I tried to find her when I went home for the summer, but it was like she had vanished into thin air, and her dad was worthless in gaining any information.  I’ve never gotten over her.  She still haunts my dreams. 
Not now, Grayson.  Enough!

Gaining back reality, I shake off thoughts that will get me killed and address my team.  “Radar, what's the status of our extraction?” 

We need to get out of here before daylight breaks and fatigue sets in.  We can rest in shifts, but not knowing how many men are lurking outside doesn't bode well for an extended period of time.

“We’ve been told to take cover and salvage what we can from the wrecked Humvee.” He proceeds, “There’s a Bradley convoy moving out to arrive at zero two hundred and we’ll follow them out.” He looks down and continues typing on the laptop.  "Coordinates to our position have been relayed." 

Radar was a child genius.  Computers are his first language.  Why he decided to become a soldier and not the next Steve Jobs is beyond me.  He graduated from MIT at the young age of twenty and his skills have been sought after by many corporations around the world.  I’m sure there’s a story behind his decision to be a soldier, just not sure what it is.  He’s a very private person; only giving details necessary for the performance of our team.

“Unless the hostiles pose a bigger threat, then we’ll need an extraction chopper ASAP,” Beauty joins in before he takes a sip from a hydration pack.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there.  No need to ask for trouble. Right now, we sit and wait," I calmly state and pull my knees to my chest to rest my aching head on.  “Embrace the suck.  Johnny, you take first watch.”

Darkness surrounds us in the infrared-lit building.  Only the whites of our eyes are glowing, a faint red is visible.  We’re hunkered down, waiting for extraction.  Taking a deep breath and inhaling the stench of mold tickling my sand caked nostrils, the only thing I can think of is how nice an ice-cold beer would be right about now. 

Game time. 
Sometime later, Radar signals to me, conveying the incoming convoy is almost here, which ignites the team into a rush of adrenaline and anticipation.  “Lock and load ‘em, boys.  It’s extraction time,” my whisper covers my team via coms.  Gathering up our gear, locking our guns down tight, we crouch low, preparing to leave the place of refuge we had found.  No noise is heard from the other side of the door. 

Signaling again with a nod of his head, Radar gestures the time is now.  Exiting single file, we hug the wall of the darkened building, no shadows and complete silence.  A vehicle is close; the noise of the engine is faint. The Humvees sit in the distance, unmanned and ready. 

I motion for Styx and Jacobs to begin moving Aabdar toward the nearest one.  Silently, Beauty leads the remainder of the team and I’m flanking the rear.  Everyone is in position as the Bradley thunders onto the street, indicating it’s time for action.  Gunfire erupts. As we break for the Humvees, adrenaline is high, filling me with a sense of comfort I always get during these fucked-up situations. We begin cramming into the vehicles for cover as the Bradley team shields our movement.

Bullets sail around through the air, whizzing by my head and legs when a harsh jolt rackets me forward, followed by a sweltering pain.  I’m knocked off balance for a brief second then jump into the awaiting Humvee.  The smell of copper assaults my nose. I look down to see blood gushing from a wound.  “I’m hit!” I grunt from the pain now searing freely through my body.