OBLIGATION

by Donald Stilwell

  “I’m only teaching you this as a back-up, Kevin,” he had said. “Today we have GPS and every other imaginable tool, so the possibility of you actually using an old school topographical map like this one?” Will shrugged, “Highly unlikely. Perhaps one day you will show off for a girlfriend with one while camping, score some. ‘Oh, Kevin, you’re my wilderness man’ ass with it, but probably little else. Still, why not plan for any outcome.”

  I smiled at him and he continued. Will had set up targets everywhere and known distances from those targets were areas of hide I had to find using my newly learned map reading skill set. It wasn’t as hard as I’d first imagined. With practice, I had found nine out of the ten spots Will had constructed.

  Many were simple and hasty, just enough room to wiggle in, take a shot and get out, all while concealed by natural foliage. Will offered no advice on the operation of a sniper rifle. He allowed me to take the first shot, a head shot on a bad guy holding an innocent 200 yards away, without instruction. We had zeroed the rifles at two hundred yards that morning. It was a straight forward shot from my position, no dope adjustment on the scope, and a no value wind still prevailed. I took a second to get comfortable, remembered everything my grandfather had ever taught me about shooting, and pressed without thought. The shot found its mark in less than a second, and Will had been pleased. The other targets had ranged anywhere from 50 to 650 yards. I’d scored all life ending hits. When I’d failed to find the last hide, Will pointed to a lofty place amongst an ancient tree. I had found it, but I had just failed to look up.

  “It’s a fatal flaw with most operators,” Will had said, “No one ever looks up.”

  With the final shot taken, a 220 yard downhill shot into a parked van, eliminating a bomb wearing mannequin, with equally fake C-4 strapped to his chest, the day’s events, at least in the field, were concluded. We humped the three miles back into kill town with darkness spilling upon our shoulders and the rooftops around us. I cooked a quick meal of chicken stir fry. We ate deliberately, as Will remarked there was more yet to be done.

  Will changed clothes and suggested I do the same. It was a pleasant feeling, getting out of the dirt stained fatigues and pulling on fresh ones.

  Will threw me a sweatshirt, told me to forgo the camo top for the night, explained the nights were cold up here. Dressed out, we hit the town.

  Again that strange uncomfortable feeling that at any moment the places replica townsfolk would spring to life had the hairs on the back of my neck standing tall.

  Will walked out in front of me and entered a bar. As soon as he stepped through the doors, the lights illuminated within. I was maybe a second behind.

  The place was creepy. The lights revealed only a portion of its true identity. Pool tables in one section, a real wooden bar lining a wall, and tables and chairs everywhere. I had never been in a bar prior to that moment, but I was fairly sure this is what it would be like. The true to form counterfeit people were spread out everywhere. How expensive could they be I thought. There were so many of them.

  Will had glided across the room. I set a line to follow him when my nightmare came to life, literally.

  From the bar area, one of the replicas came to life. I shit a true silver dollar in that instant, and I faintly heard Will laughing as the thing attacked me.

  He, it, had a beer bottle and was intent on smashing me over the head with it. It almost got its wish as I backpedaled into one of the other patrons, knocking it down and barely recovering myself.

  “Come on, motherfucker!” the thing screamed. Holy shit, they were capable of speech?! I leapt right, then left without ever thinking of doing so.

  I wouldn’t have recalled that detail had Will not played the footage for me later, another nugget of fact he didn’t disclose until after this scenario. After darting left, I reached out, grabbed the thing’s hand with both of mine, twisted quickly down, then left, and flipped it easily over my right hip.

  I heard an audible pop and subsequent scream as the thing hit the floor. What now, they feel pain? I was on full-fledged, butt puckered alert.

  My mind raced ahead of my body as I scanned for more of them. Two more came to life from a pool table close by,

  “Hey asshole, that was my friend you just fucked with.”

  Don’t think, Kevin, don’t listen, just react, act, whatever, let’s keep it together The pool cue came whooshing through the air right for me. Too late to duck or sidestep, so I caught it in the high back, winced a second and enveloped it as Will had taught me. I slid along the stick and punched the thing in the throat, then quickly reapplied my right hand to its chin and pushed up and back, all while placing my right foot behind the thing’s feet. He, it, crashed heavily to the floor, again a loud rush of air and resonance emitted from its mouth by way of compressed lungs. Number three was coming when Will called a halt.

  “Good, good. Jesus Christ, he’s gonna kill you guys. Stand down.”

  Will was all smiles as he stepped forward. “Nice work my boy, nice fucking work, not a moment’s hesitation, okay, perhaps a moment when you filled your pants with fresh crap, but after that, remarkable.”

  I was breathing heavily. My eyes must have exposed the shock I still felt as Will was standing directly in front of me snapping his fingers and looking concerned. I took a long beat to recover, looked around at the two men I had just dispatched. They were dusting themselves off, both holding onto damaged body parts.

  “Didn’t tell us the kid was a fucking hair trigger, Will,” one of them said while rubbing his wrist.

  Will didn’t change place, just remained by my side as he spoke, “What did you guys expect, I trained him.”

  With that Will made introductions, “Broken wrist guy”

  Will paused, “Is it broken?” The man shook his head and said he didn’t believe so.

  “Okay, sprained wrist guy is Sasco, real solid operator when he’s not lying in a pathetic heap crying his eyes out.”

  Sasco just smiled, and it was the kind of smile which transcended the need for further explanation, and simply stated, “I’ve known this prick for way too long.”

  Will turned a nudge, directing his attention to the one I’d punched in the neck, “Crushed larynx guy.” Again Will paused a tick to confirm, again a response signaling emergency medical attention was not required. He continued, “Bruised ego guy is Simmons, another creature of the night they usually keep hidden under glass except in the case of war, and finally, the lucky man I saved from whatever brutality you were prepared to perpetuate on his unsuspecting ass.”

  “Hey kid, I’m Wright, Will here would pontificate us right into the next millennia if we let him.” Wright put his hand out for me to shake. It was a firm grip, tough calloused hand, I expected nothing less.

  “Alright,” Will said when introductions had passed. “What did you guys think, Sasco?”

  The one named Sasco spoke matter of fact, as if debriefing after a real world op. “He’s fast Will, no doubt about that, and strong. His grip was solid, his direction, and redirection; it’s obvious you’ve drilled him to dirt a time or two. My only question for young Mr. Anderson is why he allowed me off with just a warning?”

  Will looked over at me. “What say you, Kevin?”

  I was still a little blurred by the entire incident. My belief everything in the room was an inanimate object had had an undesirable effect on my thought and reasoning at this particular moment.

  I answered, or began to answer too late for Sasco’s liking as he responded for me, “Simple thought for you, Anderson. Little tip from the pros as it were. When unpredictable elements present themselves and a battle is eminent, finish your opponents, or enemies for a better word, surely and completely. You don’t want that same motherfucker you just put down popping back to life after two or three of his buddies have decided to corral you.”

  I had been scolded, or counseled, as Will enjoyed putting it, enough times to understand the critique given was not to embarrass me b
ut to further my development as a warrior. I nodded and thanked Sasco for the input.

  Will gave the floor to Simmons. “What about you Symptom, what did you see?”

  Simmons grinned a sheepish grin and commented, “Will, I gotta tell you, I didn’t see much. I was fortunate to move back instead of forward when that first shot was delivered, or this conversation would have been taking place on the helicopter outta here.” Simmons looked over to me. “You got skills, kid. Whatever old Will the pill here is doing with you, it’s paying off. Good instincts, too. Don’t ever lose that. It’ll serve you well when the shit starts hitting fans from every direction around you.”

  “Thank you, sir” I managed.

  “What about you, Wright? As you were the lucky number three in the observation post, what could have gone better?”

  Wright looked completely focused. He had a hand to his chin, rubbing thoughtfully as he remarked, “Okay, first, don’t take this the wrong way, kid.” Wright sighed loudly as he used a thumb and index finger to push his eyebrows together. “Your initial reaction was justified. I get it, you thought everything in the room, in the whole damn city, was fake.

  So the three of us come to life and you shit your pants, and truly, I suppose your recovery really wasn’t bad either, but hesitation like that, even the briefest hesitation, can get you killed.”

  Wright glanced over at Will. “Am I wrong here, Will?”

  Will shook his head and opened his right hand upward as a gesture to continue.

  Wright coughed then began, “Train and train and then train some more. And when you can wake up at three in the morning, walk out into the freezing night and operate as if it were spring time in Albuquerque, then maybe, just maybe, you have it. You train this shit into your soul, kid. Reaction isn’t good enough when lives are at stake, especially your own. You have to become action, pure and simple, and what I mean by that is this: You must become nature herself. You ever see a field of wheat, kid?”

  I said that I had.

  “Ever see the shit think before it moved left or right as the wind blew?”

  I replied I hadn’t.

  “No, and you never will. Something happens in front of you then you happen, become the law of nature, that make sense?”

  What made sense at this particular juncture were that these guys were no fucking joke. I didn’t need to read their operational files to know they had lived the shit that scares the shit out of everyone else. I was in, baby, hook, line, and sinker.

  Will thanked his old friends for their thoughts and then stood to announce what was to come. No one said a word as the instruction was brought before them. In a minute’s time a portion of floor was cleared and mats brought forth. There was a lot of night left and for me that could mean only one thing. Train, train, and train some more.

  I didn’t remember falling asleep that night. The dream was evolving rapidly, however, and I was at its forefront. Will was just behind and to the left of me, Simmons to the right. Sasco and Wright brought up the rear.

  “It’s about to get real, kid” I heard one of them say. I was too juiced to decipher which voice had uttered the remark. Boom! An explosion of sound and then an orange/red ball of flame behind me, boom! There was another tidal wave of heat and sound to the side of me, not a heartbeat after. I couldn’t hear anymore, and my vision was pinpoint. I scanned briefly, looking for my instructors. I thought I saw Will kneeling and stopped believing he must have given the command to hold up. I focused harder and realized Will was no longer complete. Will was vertical; however, his lower half was gone. Only his upper torso remained, and somehow, grotesque as it was, it had managed to stick perfectly upright in the wet earth below him.

  I forced myself to scan beyond Will and located the others, a tangled mass of flesh and bone and blood. No one had survived no one but me. Will’s head opened up and with it his final words, “It’s up to you now, kid. Kill them all.”

  Will’s remains split perfectly into equal sections then and fell to the ground with a sickening plop. I turned around in time to see the earth shifting and rising, its crust birthing mud brown creatures who were all equipped with equally unimaginable weaponry. I was breathing too much. My pulse was alive inside me, forcing my heart to pound to an impossible pace. I leveled my M-4 at the steaming mass of monsters and pulled the trigger. One round escaped the barrel and nothing more. I worked to clear the malfunction and my rifle changed shape, turning from a long black device of destruction to an oddly shaped walking stick, and then into a 7-iron.

  “No! C’mon, no,” I screamed out loud. I turned to run but couldn’t. I was pumping my legs to beat the band but to no avail. The ground beneath me had turned to sludge, and I was helpless to escape it.

  I was in a full unrecoverable state of panic. The creatures were closing in from all sides, and their faces, their eyes, held me in contempt. “Should have listened to your grandfather, Kevin” one of them said. I stopped crying then, realized just in that moment I had been crying and wiped violently at my face. They all laughed a horrific guttural choking from the murky depths of their swamp water filled lungs. “You weren’t meant for this, Kevin. This is what men do, not little boys who play golf.” Again, the awful mocking laughter returned.

  My grandfather spoke then directly into my mind, his voice so clear and compassionate that I wanted to cry all over again. “Do it, son. I never wanted this for you, but I see now it’s not something a man can deny. It was a part of me, and your father after me, and now you. Do what you were meant to do, Kevin. Kill them all.”

  I wasn’t afraid anymore, and the part of him he always tried to deny, the biggest part, filled me with peace. They came, and I accepted it. They had me surrounded, but it didn’t matter. Not one little bit did it matter, because I was everywhere, and what was truly me could not be contained. Before I awoke, feeling better than I had in all the days before this one, I listened and accepted my fate.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  A year had passed in the company of Will. I was as hard as a man could be without breaking, and I knew this. Will had done his job, had molded and torn away and sculpted me into the near perfect warrior I now was. I was six months away from my twentieth birthday but felt much older. In my time amongst Will and his fighting elite, I had learned to fight with every weapon imaginable, some of which, on my own, I would never have even considered.

  My hands were calloused, my wrists and forearms thickened, and my reaction time and coordination, unparalleled. For Will’s part, he had been there every step of the way. Will had become mother, father, friend, and foe. Will was hated and Will was loved.

  I didn’t know it when the end came. Will didn’t let on or give clues. He just walked me out to the rooftop of our own personal war building and sat down. The sky was black with night and the stars were few.

  Will handed me a beer, opened one himself, and spoke,

  “Special day son, enjoy.”

  It was the first I had ever had. I took a slow pull, grimaced.

  Will laughed. “It’s an acquired taste.”

  I started, “What’s up, Will?”

  Will looked straight ahead, “That’s for the United States government to decide.”

  I was confused. “What are you saying, Will?” I had an idea but didn’t want to admit or accept it. I knew this had to end at some point. I guess I’d just hoped that maybe they would forget about me and Will and I would just train until the end of time.

  Will let a sigh go and spoke without looking in my direction. “We’re done here, Kevin. I’ve given you all the tools I ever had and then some, time for you to spread your wings.”

  I couldn’t believe it was over. I felt the warmth of dread fill my veins. “What if I’m not ready, Will? What happens then?”

  Will looked at me then and spoke thoughtfully. “Remember this, son. Your training was designed to make you a best chance weapon.

  All humans are flawed, all are fallible. You’re no different. You’re going to see t
hings, do things that will fuck you up. When that time finds you,” Will looked away again, and for a second I thought I saw true sadness in his eyes, “when you believe in your heart that you can take no more, and death seems a viable option, remember your time here, remember the bullshit old Will put you through. I’ve been wrong about a few things in my life, son, but I’m not wrong about you. Don’t ever let them make me a liar.” Will stood up and walked away without ever looking back.

  I didn’t know what to do, so I stood to follow him. I‘d barely moved before being blocked by people I’d never seen before. I breathed out slowly and emptied my mind. Let them move first, let their actions dictate how bad this would get.

  I heard Will’s voice echo from the distance. The words themselves didn’t matter. It was the tone of respect and love I would remember, it was a master saying goodbye to his student.

  “Don’t kill them Kevin, they’re here to help.”

  Training was officially over.

  PART TWO

  Becoming Something Else

  In an undisclosed location Kevin sat alone in a crowded coffee shop. He read a newspaper without reading it, and ate from a plate of food he couldn’t taste.

  Kevin sipped his coffee; the aroma was the only thing pleasant about it. He had a photograph, nothing more. He had finished his food and was about to leave when the man walked in and took a seat at a table just inside the front of the restaurant.

  There was nothing remarkable about him as far as Kevin could tell. Soft in the middle, an extra fold to each cheek, he sweated for no apparent reason other than the excess luggage he couldn’t set down.

  Kevin accepted a third cup of coffee and asked for a glass of water. The man didn’t look around, didn’t notice Kevin sitting across from him, watching him.