The Gun Runner(60)
I loaded my suitcase in the car, closed the trunk and turned to go back for the rest of my things.
“Where ya headed?”
I lifted my head.
Cap.
Standing in the middle of the sidewalk with his arms folded in front of his chest and his feet spread wide, it appeared he wasn’t going to let me by unless I answered. Going through him wasn’t an option.
I fought to swallow and tilted my head toward the bottom of the stairs. My response was just like me. Weak. “Inside.”
He pressed his hands to his hips and shook his head as if disgusted by my response. “No fuckin’ shit, Sherlock. I meant where was you goin’ in the car. And, for what it’s worth, you look like a hammered turd.”
His eyes fell to my feet, then slowly rose the length of my withered frame. As he met my gaze, he cocked an eyebrow. “When’s the last time you ate?”
I couldn’t recall, so I said nothing.
“I’ll take that as an I ain’t sure.”
“Last time you slept?”
“Last night.”
He laughed. “Don’t look like it.”
I wanted him to hug me and tell me I was going to be okay, but he hadn’t offered and I wasn’t sure of the protocol. I tried to smile, but doubt anything noticeable happened.
He turned halfway around. “Get on.”
“Huh?”
“You still speak English, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Get on. Hop on my back, and I’ll take ya up the stairs. You look like you’re gonna collapse.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I had a piggyback ride. The thought of it alone made me smile. I climbed on his back and directed him to the door.
He lowered me onto the couch and glanced around the house. “Nice digs.”
“Thank you.”
“Got any bread?”
It seemed like an odd question. “Sure,” I responded. “In the cupboard on the far left.”
“Meat or cheese or peanut butter? You got shit like that here?”
I couldn’t remember the last time I had been to the store. I did a mental inventory of what I knew was in the refrigerator. “Uhhm. There’s prosciutto, salami, some cheese...”
“That’ll work. Be back in a minute. You sit right there.”
A few minutes later, and he returned with two sandwiches. “Here, eat this.”
“Oh, I’m not really...”
“You’ll eat that motherfucker, or I’ll poke it down your throat. You pick.”
I laughed. “I’ll eat it.”
“All you got in the fridge is water. You want a bottle or should I pour it in a glass?”
I was surprised he asked. “Glass, please.”
He brought me a glass of water and a napkin, and sat down beside me. Silently, we ate sandwiches together. Seeing him seemed to breathe a little life into me. I’m sure the food helped. When we finished, he carried the dishes to the kitchen and refilled my glass.
He handed me the glass. “You can probably guess why I’m here.”
“Cap, I really don’t want to...”
He cleared his throat. “Stop talkin’. I know it’s rude to say, but I ain’t tryin’ to listen to your horseshit right now. I’m gonna talk and you’re gonna listen. First of all, Tripp don’t know I’m here. He didn’t ask me to come, and I don’t think either of us need to tell him I did.”
I knew better than to argue, so I agreed. “Okay.”
“The man you met that day in the parking lot at the Starbucks, the one who kicked the shit outta that guy without you askin’ for help. You remember that guy, right?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
“Well, that’s Tripp. He’ll step in where other men would turn and run away. It’s just who he is.”
He took a drink of water and fixed his eyes on the far wall. “We got orders to take back this shitty little village from al-Qaeda. They were killin’ civilians and wreakin’ havoc on everyone in this dusty little shit-hole city. So, we’re marching down the street, and it’s as quiet as death. Then, all of a sudden, enemy mortars started comin’ in, and buildings were blowin’ up on either side of us. Gunfire from every fuckin’ direction, smoke so thick you couldn’t breathe, and flames as high as you could see. The whole fuckin’ platoon stopped when it happened.
“Nobody wanted to advance into that shit. We weren’t just walkin’ into hell, we were walkin’ into undeniable death.
“Tripp? That cocksucker kept walkin’. Acted like he didn’t care. Fuckin’ bullets whizzin’ by, bombs going off, and he just keeps goin’. He was like a fuckin’ machine. Every now and again, he’d fire off a round, eliminatin’ one more fuckin’ bad guy from the earth.