Book 1 – “Retalliation” :: Chapter 3: “Trail Of A Thousand Tears”
DISCLAIMER: This Chapter of the Book is currently NOT complete. It will be updated at some point in the FUTURE.
Chapter 3: “Trail Of A Thousand Tears”
“In a perfect world, there would be no war, no loss, no suffering…and no humans, as a critical dependency.”
– David Quinn “ZeFyre” Ebert (2003)
– During his 4-year struggle, “Days Of Treason And Reason”
Zephyr stirred in his bed, raked free from a restful slumber by the melodious, yet inhuman chime of his wristwatch alarm. The first thing he laid eyes on was the sight of his lovely wife Regina, or “Reggie,” as he liked to call her. She had awoken naturally a few moments earlier, she said, at the sight of her partner’s awakening. He wished he had the choice to sleep longer, but, he had confined himself to the execution of a task which, while carried out for the love of his child, could easily mean the demise of another for whom, while she was not his, had grown up before his eyes, along with his own.
“Having second thoughts,” Reggie asked Zephyr, trying to explain for herself why he was not saying anything. Even when there was nothing to be said, or no questions to be answered, Reggie knew that her husband was always one to try and strike up idle conversation. “Of course I am, just trying to ignore them, that’s all,” was his response. “Don’t blame you, but, you’ve said, and we both know, Angela’s just as experienced in defending herself as Chrissy is,” Regina responded, knowing it would do little for the matter, but, it was all she could offer. “I know. I don’t doubt the girl’s abilities, I just don’t want to deal with my own conscience if anything happens to her,” Zephyr admitted, “Benjei’s reaction to that eventuality would pale in all comparison to any emotional turmoil I might suffer from such a tragedy.” “I’m in constant admiration of your bravery, Zeph,” his wife submitted, “and you should be in admiration of Angela’s, just the same.” He didn’t respond to that, but, Reggie knew his silence signfied his agreeance.
Moments later, after having dressed in their most well-maintained “Woodland Camoflauge” BDU’s, Zephyr and Reggie emerged from their temporary bedroom, and made their way down the rear hallway, and into the family room, where they found Angela, in full, brand-new NSVA “Grenafolya” battle regailia, an exquisitely-maintained (or possibly even new) Glock 19 on each hip holster, and what they thought to be the barrel of a battle-scarred AK-74 peeping through from behind her back. The two ex-marines couldn’t help but to share a look of confusion, horror, and humor at this, which was only made more obvious by seeing this underaged “soldier” sitting in a loveseat reading the most recent Sunday issue of “Komsomolskaya Pravda,” whose Sunday issue Benjei had drop-shipped to his home. “Vnimanie, Angela,” yelled Zephyr, using the Russian for “Attention,” which he’d had the pleasure to learn from spending time in Russia during his stent with the Navy SEAL’s. To their surprise, Angela shot to her feet, and took stance as if she’d done it time and time again in formal NSVA training. “Oh…Kay,” Reggie stammered, as her husband walked over to Angela, where he proceeded to inspect her as would a drill instructor. “Very nice, Angela, I just have one question for you,” her inspector said. “Da, Comandante,” was the vigored response from the young one. “Now listen, soldier, when you address me, you use English, am I understood,” demanded her inspector turned commander, in a voice one would seldom use with a child. “Sir, yes, sir,” was the response…but, it was loud enough to pre-empt the commander’s planned response of “I can’t hear you.” “Sir, what’s your question, sir,” was Angela’s next appropriately out-of-turn boasting, which Zephyr didn’t expect from a “raw recruit,” let alone one who wouldn’t likely survive more than 5 minutes in Basic Training…at least, he reminded himself, that was the statistic. “Okay, Angie, that’s enough. Wow, Kid, you’re on the ball,” Zephyr said, allowing himself to gasp a bit…more for Angela than himself, he thought. When he saw that she was still playing along, or perhaps just showing off, he allowed himself to say “At ease, soldier,” to which she responded by maintaining perfect meter and stance as she returned to her seat, and returned her attention to her reading.
Around 5:45AM, Anita entered the family room, where she announced “Well, guys, what do you think?” “During my time as an instructor, I think I never had a more poinient soldier, even including the ones that came back for re-assessment,” Zephyr said, still almost visibly glowing from the notion of having found such an obviously obedient and well-disciplined soldier in his neighbor’s 17-year-old daughter.
“Anita, may I have a word with you privately,” asked Zephyr. “Yeah, of course,” she replied. Anita followed Zephyr down towards the end of the rear hallway, where they stopped at the closed Theater Room door. “What’s on your mind, Zeph,” Anita asked. “She’s had more training than I’ve given her…that’s for certain,” Zephyr stated, matter-of-factly. “You didn’t know she was in St. Catherine’s Academy for four years,” asked Anita. “No, Christian failed to mention that,” Zephyr admitted. Having cleared that up, and parts and pieces of a few of his worries in the process, he allowed himself to lead their way back into the family room.
“Angela,” Zephyr said, in the gruffest voice he could muster. “Yes, sir” was the soldier’s courteous response. “How would you like to be court-marshalled,” Zephyr said, again with as much base-lung power as he could spare. “I’m sorry, sir,” she asked, appearing truly confused. Zephyr let out a hearty laugh and, returning to his normal voice, said “You didn’t mention you went to St. Catherine’s.” “Yes, sir. I did,” she admitted, “but you never asked,” a point which Zephyr couldn’t contest, or, at least, couldn’t prove. “Oh, and one more thing Angela,” Zephyr said. “Yes, sir” she replied. “I’m not your drill instructor. First, I’m your best friend’s father, and, then, I am your commander. You can drop the formalities unless you see lead flying by our heads,” Zephyr advised her. “Sure thing, Zephyr,” she said. Zephyr allowed himself a sigh of relief on Angela’s behalf, when it became apparent she was not going to allow herself that luxury. The soldier then returned to reading the last few pages of the newspaper.
As the sun started to emerge over the horizon, Zephyr, and his “Motley Crew,” were joined in the family room by Benjei, who proudly proclaimed, “Ah, it is nice to see my comrades in arms are eager for battle!” “I may be so, but, I am not sure about the other recruits,” Angela chuckled, in Russian. Benjei’s reply was a gustuous belly-laugh, which naturally made Zephyr curious, but, he decided to keep his indescretions to himself. “Come, let us have breakfast, I have quite a feast awaiting our noble warrirors,” exclaimed Benjei, to which the battle-ready trio gladly followed lead.
