The Saga of Dan Smith 'Targets'

Bullets ricocheted off the stone wall protecting us. Kill or be killed was the only important fact to remember.

It wasn't all that many years ago that my neighbor taught me how to shoot. He and I entered shooting competitions before teaching me to hunt. The neighbor was not only a pilot and ex-Air Force, but he enjoyed outdoor things like hunting. He was a man's man. Three things he taught me before he died. Self-defense, flying, and marksmanship. He was also the father of the one I would marry.

The enemy wasn't a life. It was a target. That person placing an I.E.D. by the side of the road was the enemy. When I was sure of their actions, adjusting the rifle's scope for the correct azimuth for the bullet velocity and drop rate and the wind was second nature. The click of the safety meant go time.

"Take your time, slowly exhale and pull the trigger." Those were instructions from my neighbor. The voice in my head was his.

The shot rang out as a cloud of dust billowed up from the explosion of the I.E.D. "Good Job." I again heard from my mentor.

Another bullet chambered. I waited for the dust to clear. A secondary target entered the picture. One more round left my rifle, hitting one more target.

I remembered my hunting days when the kills-to-bullet ratio efficiency was important. Back then, it was food. Today, it's survival.

They had shot me down while attempting to provide air support. I landed amongst marines. It didn't matter which branch of the service we were in. Currently, I was a sniper, as they had lost theirs.

An extraction plan was in progress, but the enemy needed to know this was a no-man's-land.

The following day vultures picked over the bones as I scanned the horizon for more activity. The next night we sent up a drone with thermal imaging to see if there was any enemy activity that would hinder our extraction.

Just over the hill, a dozen soldiers had set up camp. There were children and women in the area. I gritted my teeth and thought targets.

An RPG left our camp, landing on theirs. We radioed for the helicopter once satisfied they were no longer with us.

Flying in, using infrared, we escaped, carrying out our dead. Leave nobody behind.

The memories of war never leave. Everything you do in life alters you. Every decision you make has some effect on your life.

Enemy or not, those decisions changed who I was. I had stopped seeing the enemy as anything other than a target. Dehumanizing them was necessary for my sanity.

***

Sitting at my desk, pondering the night they extracted us for a report, a knock at the door startled me.

Closing the notebook, I responded.

"Colonel Smith, General Phillips would like to see you."

I had been back on base for a month. D.C. was muggy this time of year. I went to the General's office, unsure of what to expect.

After the formalities, we shut the door and smoked a cigar together.

Pouring us a scotch, the General became Hank, and I was Dan.

"I understand you saw some action."

"Yes, sir, you could say that."

He shuffled through the paperwork in my file. "I wanted to be the first to tell you you're on the list for that promotion."

Full Bird Colonel, I mused. I smiled and thanked him.

"Dan, we can't afford to lose you. You're a fine leader, but this mission could have been your last."

I thought back to the rush of ejecting from the jet and finding myself in a ground war.

"The guy got lucky. My odds in the air are much better than on the ground."

Hank smiled as he sat back in his chair. The squeak of the mechanism under him indicated the age of the chair and how many butt hours that chair had logged. Flying a desk was not something I wanted to do.

"It's a new war we're fighting, and I think you have the talent to assist us with that part of the puzzle."

The idea of retiring went to the back burner as I listened.

"Your knack for solving puzzles with computers has caught the attention of some at the Pentagon. We are constantly under attack through this interweb thing. They have requested that I loan you to them to see if you can help harden their data centers."

I stared at him and then looked at the screen on his computer as the cursor blinked patiently, waiting for something to happen.

"I'm a pilot, a soldier…why would you want me to sit at a keyboard?"

"You and I go back a long way. I have read the reports from the doctors. I would prefer that you offer to do this in the spirit of who you are instead of me making it an order."

I cocked my head. "Doctors?"

"You're too aggressive and take too many damned chances. Dan, they think you have PTSD, and it colors your judgment. You're too valuable to lose. As your friend, I certainly don't want to attend your funeral. Do you understand me?"

I didn't know what to say. He scribbled a name and number on a yellow sticky and handed it to me. "This is Dr. Morris. She specializes in PTSD. I made calls to find the best in the business on your behalf. Make this a priority, Colonel."

I nodded, picked up my glass, and sipped more of his fifteen-year-old scotch.

He glanced at me as if we were toasting something while drinking his whisky. "Dan, as your friend, I am concerned. Please follow through with this so I don't have to make it an order."

"Is this because of the kids that were in that cell?"

"You were flying way too low. You blew up children, women, and a few soldiers. That has to mess with who you are."

"I remember flying low to hit the tank, battering the marine's position. I did what I had to do."

His furrowed brow was rather comical as he thought about what I said. I laughed, causing him to smile. "Ok, Hank."

His chair creaked as he leaned back.

"Thanks, enjoy Florida. Try not to kill anyone."

Hank sent me to a specialist in Florida under contract to the Air Force. I thought D.C. was muggy until I got off the plane at Patrick A.F.B. on the Atlantic Coast. I wasn't far from the Cape, but aerospace was not why I was here.

After checking in at the hotel, I drove to a small professional building off Hwy 513. I waited for a few minutes before entering. I waited even longer in the lounge because the door to her office was still locked. She was late. The clanking door caused me to glance away from my book to see a tall, slender lady fighting against the door. She was pulling something on wheels that had files in it.

The person was clumsy. I instantly liked her, even though we hadn't even met.

"It will be just a minute." She stated as she struggled with the keys to unlock her office.

"Would you like some help?"

She smiled and shook her head.

I could hear her making phone calls behind the door. A large 'clunk' on the wall inside her office startled me. The sound made it into the hallway, echoing as it dispersed.

The door opened. Her hair was still tussled from the ocean breezes.

"Colonel Smith, come in. You can call me Valerie."

I faced many doctors during my day. I figured I would go through with this for Hank, so he would get off my back. After the introduction, she asked me who I was and why I was there.

Valerie was taking notes.

I observed that her office was in a state of disarray. Much like her, she seemed a bit of a mess. Shifting around in her chair, she was less than ladylike. I found it hard to concentrate; it had been years since I had been in close conversation with a lady.

My mind flashed back to Connie and our wedding night. The lacy, silky underthings that she wore were much like those lacy things that Valerie had on.

Averting my eyes, she stopped writing.

"Where were you just then?"

"What do you mean?"

"You stopped talking, and your face went blank. What were you thinking?"

I wouldn't admit the reason for my distraction. My memories of Connie were indelible. I talked about Connie and her funeral.

"How long ago?"

Pondering the water under the proverbial bridge, I peered into her blue eyes. "Twenty years at least."

"Why haven't you moved on?"

Her question made me huff. "I have. I'm married to the military. I live with my brothers and sisters wearing the uniform."

She made more notes.

"And you take some pretty big chances with your life."

My stomach knotted. "It's a dangerous job, Dr."

We hit an impasse. My curt response ended the session.

"Ok, our time for today is up. When can you come back?"

"Back, we're not done?"

She laughed. "No, Colonel. Smith, we're far from done. You're stuck, and you haven't moved on since the death of your wife. I saw the tears in your eyes when you told me about her. You've got lots of things going on, including depression. If I were you, I would stay away from fighting any wars. You have compartmentalized so much of who you are that you are truly lost inside yourself."

I pinched my lips, thinking of what she said.

"Valerie, I appreciate your kindness, but I am certain my boss will not approve of me staying here until we clean out all the cobwebs."

She spun around in her chair, punching a few keys on the computer. The printer sang as paper slid out its face like something sticking its tongue out.

She handed me the paper; it was a note to her with a paragraph for me.

Dan, you are on paid leave until she tells me you are who you should be. Play some golf, have a few drinks, and relax. You need time to process everything; Dr. Morris is one of the best. --Hank.

I clenched my jaw, peered back at her, and smiled. "It looks like I am on leave. How often do you need me?"

"Let's start with weekly. He gave you good advice. There's a club by the airport where many flight attendants hang out. When you're not golfing or catching up on the beach, why not check it out?"

"Is that an order, Dr?"

Her rigid demeanor turned warm as she smiled. "No, that's a prescription. I would encourage you to fill it. They wound you up like a spring. You need to let go, Colonel."

My room overlooked the ocean. I opened the sliding door. The seagulls harmonized with the sea to make this odd cacophony of sounds.

My mind wandered to the last few hours, replaying them in my head.

I sat on the balcony staring at the surf, the people on the beach, and the clouds turning from pink to violet to gray. I was on the sidelines, benched like someone who fouled a fellow player. I didn't see any reason for this, but I respected Hank.

My phone buzzed. Turning my attention from the ocean, I saw a text from Valerie. I was sure you would take the hint that I might be at the club I told you about.

I guess the good doctor wasn't so good. Attempting to date a patient is against the rules of patient-doctor ethics. The flash of lacy fabric played through my mind. Did she do that on purpose? I texted her back. Sorry, running a little late. On my way.

I stepped into the parking lot, lit only by a large moon. Wildfires from Central America were responsible for some of the most beautiful sunrises, sunsets, and a sizeable orangish moon.

***

The pulsing beat of the club filled the parking lot. I handed the doorman a twenty, telling him to keep the change.

Smoke filled the place. Some of the smoke was not from tobacco. I saw Valerie at the bar. She wasn't alone.

"Hey."

"Ah, Dan, I see you made it. Gloria, this is Dan."

Gloria captivated me. Her large brown eyes were much like Natalie Wood's. She even favored her somewhat.

"Hey, I don't know what she told you about me, but it's all lies," I said with a wink.

Once again, civilians surprised me. We sat and chatted. Gloria was a flight attendant on an airline that I fly off duty.

"How do you two know each other?" I asked.

"Professionally, like I know you. I have an early day tomorrow. You two have fun," Valerie said.

Gloria and I snuck a peek at each other and then back at Valerie.

"You're not obligated to keep me company, Mr. Smith."

"Call me Dan…. Are you satisfied with this place, or would you care to get something to eat?"

She grinned. There was chemistry forming that seemed familiar.

"It's too loud here to talk. Do you have a car?"

I nodded. We walked outside. The doorman sent the valet after my car. Gloria returned inside as if she had forgotten something. "The bouncer laughed; I think that's a record. You picked up a hottie in less than half an hour."

I glanced at him, smiled, and didn't take the conversation further.

We found a nice place to eat. From there, we returned to the hotel, where Gloria also had a room. "I'm going to change; let's walk on the beach. Do you have shorts?"

I didn't, but I remembered the gift store in the lobby. "They sell them inside; help me pick something in style."

She smiled, giggled like a schoolgirl, and agreed.

We laughed like children as she held apparel up to me. For a few moments, the memories of the targets faded. A breath of fresh air made it past the soldier, reminding me of who I used to be.

The hotel lobby found the both of us in shorts and loose-fitting shirts.

"That looks good," she said.

The breeze off the ocean was calm and welcoming. I was lost in the spell of this woman. We held hands, feeling the water swish over our feet. How could this happen so quickly?

She peered at me and then back at the surf. The moonlight reflected off the waves as she told me about her balancing life and work issues.

"Do you like what you do?"

She nodded as she told me about the people she worked with. There were the pitfalls of sharing a flop house in different towns, and the passengers could be knuckleheads.

"What about you? Why are you here? Or is that too personal?"

Just as I opened my mouth, she screamed. I turned to see a man wearing a hoodie poking a shiny pistol in her back.

He messed with the wrong person.

"One false move, and she's dead. Your watch, your money, give it to me!"

This scumbag became an instant target. I knew what I had to do. I choreographed it in my mind. I could see how it would all play out to the last gurgle of life.

When I gave him my watch, I dropped the wallet. That split-second distraction was all I needed.

Gloria screamed again as sand flew when the lethal dance ensued. He flopped on the ground with my foot on his neck and his arm in the air. The gun fell into the sand, and we both heard the snap under my foot. I glanced at her; she was horrified. She had seen me at my worst.

"I am sorry this happened."

That magic moment ended with the thug's last breath.

The local police questioned us.

I was told that self-defense is not a reason to kill someone in the States. I thought that was stupid. There is no such thing as a fair fight when in harm's way.

I told the cops I couldn't help it if he didn't drink enough milk to have strong bones.

They weren't amused.

Gloria left the following day without talking to me. After spending the night at the police station, I was shocked that she had left her phone number for me.

I met with the detective to complete the paperwork.

The detective told me plenty. He informed me the thug was wanted on multiple charges of armed assault and robbery. He was also wanted for the rape of a young girl. "Thanks' for saving the taxpayers the problem of paying to get him off the streets."

"He sure messed up my date."

The cop stared at me as if I weren't taking this seriously.

"There's more, He had a mother, and she will probably hire a lawyer to sue you for wrongful death."

"Wrongful death. He pulled a gun on two unarmed people."

He smirked and nodded, "There are lawyers that live for civil cases like this. They will find a picture of him as a boy scout or playing soccer and depict him as a good little boy to the jury and you as a big bad military guy who only knows how to kill. We have a lawyer we use. I'll give you his information."

His words cut me to the quick.

I called Hank. "What part of don't kill anyone, didn't you understand?"

"Yea…about that." I shook my head as if he could see me

Hank was onto something; I called Valerie, "You'll never believe what happened on our date."

Where will the next Reedsy Prompt take Dan?

Should R.I.S. be an acronym for Reedsy Inspired Story?

-Best