A Tommy Logan Story

by Darren D. Lee

  “I promise, Squirt, I promise.”

  “I love you. I love you so, so much.”

  “I know, I love you too.”

  Shey pulled away and stormed out the door. I looked at Sara. “Watch out for her?”

  “I will, Tommy. I promise.” Sara approached and hugged me again, squeezing tighter. “I love you, Tommy Logan.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Don’t you forget those promises.”

  “I won’t.”

  Sara backed away slowly, nodding her head. I watched her walk to the vehicle through the window. She kept glancing back. I could even feel Shey’s glare burning a hole through me. They backed out of the driveway and they were gone. I’ve missed them every moment since.

  May 23rd, 2026

  I hadn’t slept so well the night before. The grief of Shey and Sara leaving paired with the anxiety of what was coming kept my mind restless. It was around ten that morning when the phone began to ring. I looked at the phone and recognized it as Johnson. “Sir,” I answered.

  “Logan, put me on speakerphone.”

  I quickly followed his orders. “Done.”

  “Open the GPS app included on that phone prepare to input these coordinates.”

  It took me a few seconds to get the app open. I pulled up the manual latitude and longitude input. “Ready.”

  “Lat is three seven point two four three six six. How copy?”

  Johnson was speaking very clearly and drawn out. It was the manner of radio communication I missed from the military. If you fucked up a copy with someone relaying intel like that, you were hopeless. “Good copy,” I answered.

  “Long is negative eight one point nine four seven three three three five. Do you have the location? Confirm.”

  The map took a couple of seconds to load but I had the location. It wasn’t far from my old cabin in the woods. “I do, Sir.”

  “An airdrop is in route.”

  “An airdrop?” I asked. Panic was in my voice. An airdrop couldn’t be off the record. Couldn’t be covert and would surely go noticed.

  “Take me off speaker.”

  I once more followed Johnson’s orders. “Done… Sir, an airdrop?”

  “Yes Logan, an airdrop. Don’t think me so foolhardy to officially sanction this. It is nothing more than a training exercise to drop a container of supplies in an isolated mountainous region. Your gear is in said crate with none the wiser.”

  “Understood, Sir.” I shouldn’t have doubted Johnson, but I was a little jumpy, all things considered.

  “Logan, you must move quickly. You have about thirty minutes before the aircraft is over the DZ. After the drop is made, a recovery team will follow to retrieve the container by chopper. You’ll have another thirty minutes or so to locate the container, retrieve your gear, and clear the area. Is that understood?”

  “Sir, yes Sir.” Johnson had this planned out. As long as I was fast, no one would have any suspicion.

  “Logan, good luck. Now, get moving.”

  With a swipe of my finger, I ended the call. Now wasn’t the time for discretion. I couldn’t be cautious about others seeing me; I had to move. The building keys jingled in sync with the sound of my backpack rubbing against my shirt while I ran through the yard. After unlocking the building door, I hopped on the ATV and started it. In the corner of my eye, I spied some bungee straps and an old helmet. The straps hooked along the ATV racks nicely and the helmet stood to shield my eyes from the wind with the visor down. After locking the door, I was off.

  Wind beat against my clothes as the ATV carried me up the trail. Before long, I was on the old access road. It was hard to watch the skies and pay attention to the trail, but I had seen no sign of the aircraft. It would’ve been hard to miss; those drops were usually made at low altitude. My eyes glanced over to where my car was hidden. She was still safe and that gave me a semblance of happiness. I started my ascent up the overgrown portion of the road. Eventually, what was left of my cabin was in sight. I slowed to a stop and pulled out the phone. The DZ was farther up the mountain… And it had to be the direction a trail didn’t pass. After studying the steep and wooded terrain for a split second; I knew the ATV wouldn’t make it. I was going on foot.

  My exhaled breaths bounced against the bottom of the helmet while I scrambled up the mountainside. I looked at my watch; there were about five minutes remaining before the aircraft would be overhead. It only took about twenty minutes to get from my house to the cabin. I hadn’t seen or heard an aircraft since I started climbing the mountain on foot. This was becoming difficult. The trees were thick; rocks were abundant, and leaves from the previous fall littered the ground. I stopped, leaning on a tree for a moment to catch my breath while I checked the location. The phone said I was close; maybe a hundred yards off. That was close enough.

  I removed my helmet and sat it on the ground next to me while I crouched, in silence, listening. A minute or so passed and I decided to have a quick smoke. A strike of the lighter and an exhilarating exhale led to a satisfying cloud of smoke before me. Only the sounds of the swaying tree branches; the occasional snap of a twig; or rustling leaves could be heard. I checked my watch. It was five minutes past the time Johnson gave me. At first, I thought they may be late… Hit some turbulence or something. Then my thoughts started dwelling on the opposite. What if the drop had already been made? What if I was wasting time smoking when I should be looking for any signs of the drop? I put the cigarette out and began scanning the forested slopes of the mountains. Nothing. No sign what so ever… Then I heard the roar of the aircraft in the distance.

  With unwavering vigilance, I watched through the forest canopy for the aircraft. The roar of the propellers loomed overhead as the craft zoomed by. I glanced around looking for the drop to no avail. It dawned on me that it must be further up the mountain. I put on the helmet and continued my ascent. Moments later, I heard the snapping of trees ahead of me. The large container crashed through the trees and finally stopped just before landing. The parachute was hung up in the canopy. I quickly approached the metal container and pulled the latch, allowing the doors to swing open and strike the ground. After crouching down and looking in the container, there were three black duffel bags taped to the floor. Each had TacSIX labeled on the side of them. I unzipped one, it was filled with magazines, CS grenades, black case that contained the thermal scope, and the satchel containing the NBC mask. Unzipping the next, I saw my M4, more loaded magazines, and a .45 caliber sidearm.

  When I opened the last bag, it caught me by surprise. Inside was a thin Kevlar vest which wasn’t out of the ordinary in itself… But this Kevlar vest was mine. On the right side was my old nametape. This bag contained my old gear, even my dog-tags that had been confiscated upon my discharge. My black BDU’s and all. It also contained a med kit. I opened it and seen everything I’d need to treat a small arms fire wound on the spot. Coagulant powder, antiseptic, a couple vials of morphine, a few syringes, sealed bandages, some small surgical tools, and even an adrenaline shot. Not that the adrenaline shot would do me any good if the worst came to worst, but I’d find a use for it. Last but not least, there was a handwritten note from Johnson.

  “Logan,

  I hope you find this note. I hope you recover this gear simply because if you don’t, I’ll be in quite the predicament. I’ve included all you requested and more. I know you. War is your element and I’ve given you everything you need to withstand that element. I hope all you do is gather the evidence we need, but I know you. Blood has been spilled – your blood. I know you won’t rest until your mission is complete. I don’t assign your ops any longer and I’ve helped you as a measure of good faith. I know you’ll do the right thing regardless of what I want the right thing to be. I wish you well on your mission and pray for your success. In a last attempt to deter you from what you’re about to do, I’ll do something I’ve never done. Logan, I beg you, find the evidence and do nothing more. We will take them down together even if it t
urns this country upside down.

  J.J.”

  That note almost had me talked into it. Seeking out evidence and coming forward. Then I thought about the what ifs. What if I did and they went after Shey or Sara? What if they just offed me before I could testify? What if the courts were in on it? At this point, I still had no idea what was going on. They had tried to kill me, and I was damn sure they had killed Angel… Even if I didn’t have the evidence yet. I had the EYE and it was time to scour it. I’d make my final decision after sifting through data.

  I pulled the bags up and slung each of them over my shoulder. After shutting the container, I began my descent down the mountain. Riding along on the ATV, the sound of the chopper’s rotor could be heard overhead. They had to be searching for the container. Military personnel was on the scene; that was my cue to disappear.

  The duffel bags laid across the floor, unzipped, exposing their contents. I wanted to inspect everything closer, make sure it was all fit for combat. The M4 felt oddly familiar. The sights were adjusted to my exact zero. I pulled the weapon to its side and looked at the serial number. This was my m4. The same one I carried on every TacSIX mission. After inspecting the sidearm, it was mine as well. Johnson really did want to give me an advantage. After fitting the thermal close quarters scope on to the M4, I switched it on and verified it was working. I took a few moments to fill the pouches on the Kevlar vest with loaded mags. There weren’t enough pouches, so I’d be carrying a pack. Three grenade pouches were present, so I filled them as well. Finally, I pulled the bolt back on the M4 and inspected the chamber. It was well maintained and ready to fire. Johnson must have given it a once-over before sending it out.

  I pulled a seemingly normal looking laptop from a black carrying case. After switching it on, there wasn’t a desktop screen, a start menu, or anything – just a blinking cursor. These things required a command prompt to operate. If I wanted to boot to the desktop; I had to type the boot command. No need for any of that. I pulled the EYE from the bag and inserted it into a USB drive on the side. The cursor went wild across the screen, filling it with numerous characters. Then finally, it went blank and a loading bar popped up. It took a couple of minutes to fill but when it did, there was Robins’ desktop.

  There was one file in particular that demanded my attention. The Misc. file. I tapped my fingers on the laptop mouse pad to open it and a password box popped up. A second later the password filled itself in and got me access. The EYE was working like a charm. I looked at all these files. They had numbers for file names. Five two four two six was the newest file, so, I opened it. There was a single document inside. I opened that. This looked odd. A list on one side of the document of two letters paired together. On the other side were numerical values with something I did recognize. Abbreviations for count, milligrams, and grams. This was some sort of manifest for illegal drugs. I thought that maybe the letters were initials, but I couldn’t say for sure. After backing out of the file I stared at the files for a few moments. The filenames were numbers. They had to be some sort of significance. I kept looking them over and over. Each file I opened had a similar sort of manifest. One had an additional line below the obvious drug amounts. Three F – But what did that mean? I had no clue, I hadn’t seen anything like that. I backed out and once more studied the file names and it clicked. They were dates.

  My hands quivered as my heart rate rose. There it was. A file named seven three one two five. July 31st, 2025, the day Angel was murdered. I took a deep breath and opened the file. Nothing different. Numerical values, letters, and abbreviations. I backed out once more. I knew there had to be a connection. If Robins had accessed his email recently before Ronnie used the EYE, I knew it would’ve copied its contents as well. I opened the email and sure enough, it was password protected. The EYE forced itself through and luckily his email contents were present. I opened the sent folder and scrolled down to August first. An e-mail was sent to an email address that was a series of ones and zeros with the at dot gov attached at the end. I opened it.

  “One W T. AK. Copy of filed report attached.”

  I clicked the attached report, but nothing happened. The eye didn’t copy the report data, unfortunately. I couldn’t win them all, I don’t guess. There was a drop down, someone replied.

  “You fucking idiot. You killed a witness and let it look like a murder? Now people will be snooping. You’ve jeopardized our entire operation. So help me if the wrong someone catches on you’ll burn. Not me.”

  It wasn’t signed but that confirmed it. The ASA murdered my sister because she was a witness. At that moment, I made my decision. I was going to kill them. I’d send Johnson any evidence that I found, but I was going to make sure they died. I switched to the inbox and scrolled back to that date and found another email received from the same address.

  “TL transferred to your agency. W’s brother. Will be trouble.”

  TL was my initials. It was clear why the investigation was botched. It was clear why I wasn’t allowed. There was a reply.

  “Handled. Assigned to training.”

  I switched back to the sent folder. On August twenty-first, an email sent that weird address was timestamped at ten fifty-nine.

  “TL T accident.”

  Those were initials again. The T had to stand for terminated. That was the night those bastards tried to kill me. I read the reply right after.

  “N o K? SK and SL T?”

  I studied the message trying to figure out the first question. SK was Shey’s initials and SL was for Sara Lakelan. The T obviously meant they were a possible termination. The ‘N o K’ had to mean next of kin. My blood was boiling. I wanted to tear them apart. Robins’ reply followed.

  “Not necessary. Situation handled.”

  It ended there. Nothing else was said about me, or my family. That led me to think of the most recent file. Something was going down the next night. I thought I’d take a look at that address once more from a more recent time. There was one dated for the day before Ronnie delivered the EYE.

  “I’ll be on site to collect in person. Extra security detail on site and at the agency. Only our operatives on duty. After drop, I’ll come to the agency. Be there.”

  Somebody important was going to be at wherever this was happening. I needed to be there. Robins should have cleaned his email out more often. He must have thought no one would ever look at it but him. I shook my head. Our agency emails were nowhere near private. The central agency in DC could screen them at any time. That settled it. The whole agency was corrupt.

  After lighting a smoke to calm my nerves, I hooked in the sat modem and forwarded everything of relevance. With a push of a button, they were all sent to Johnson. A few moments later, my phone vibrated. It was a text from Johnson. “Received.” I immediately dialed Ronnie’s number. I didn’t know where this was going down or who was involved other than Ratliff, Wilson, or Robins. I needed one of them and Robins was off the table. If he vanished, they might call the whole thing off.

  “Tommy?” answered Ronnie.

  “I need help.”

  “You alright? I ain’t a member of the ASA anymore. Gave my resignation yesterday. Hell, we’re packin’ up right now.”

  “No, I just need some info. Ratliff or Wilson, where can I find them?”

  “Wilson? I couldn’t say for sure. Never had much to do with him.”

  “What about Ratliff?”

  “It’s Sunday, ain’t it? I don’t know where you can find him right this moment, but I can tell you where to find him later.”

  “Where?” I asked.

  “See, his wife is all big into church and such. Ratliff hates it. She’ll go to church and he’ll go to this bar that’s just outside town limits like you’re headin’ for the Kentucky line.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’d be surprised if he wasn’t there. Drags in all hung over on shift change on Monday morning. Doesn’t look like he gets any sleep. Hell, sometimes I can still smell the booze on him.
”

  “What’s the name of the bar?”

  Ronnie was quiet for a minute. “Ah, shit. Let me think a minute. I think it’s called Moe’s? Ain’t been there but a few years. Still a run down shit hole if you ask me.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “What’re you aimin’ to do?” he asked. Before I could answer, he said, “Nevermind, I don’t wanna know. With any luck, we’ll be outta here by the time the sun comes up tomorrow.”

  “Be safe.”

  “You too, Tommy.”

  After hanging up the phone, I went back to the building. There were bins of my Dad’s old tools. I always meant to come get them, but never got around to it. Guess that was a good thing. After picking through bins, I set aside an eighteen-inch pipe wrench, a set of jumper cables, and an old handheld torch. My tools were right at home in the duffel bags containing my weapons.

  Night had fallen. Not a single star twinkled. My black beauty roared to life and eased forward from her hiding spot. I hopped out and covered the ATV with the tarp and shrubs, concealing it. My gear was stored in the trunk, ready for use if need be, but I was hoping for a mostly quiet night. I still needed a few things. It was time to go shopping.

  My car quietly cruised through Vansant and into the upper part of Grundy. I stopped at a local auto parts store and walked in. The store was mostly dead considering it was almost closing time. Around nine if I remember right. The parts guy walked up to the counter. “Hey, what can I get for you?”

  “Yeah, need a battery for a 2005 f-150.”

  “What engine is in that?” he asked.

  “It’s got the five point four.”

  “Alright,” he said, turning the monitor around to where I could see it. “Here’s what we got in stock. Silver has six hundred cold cranking amps and a one year warranty. We also got the gold that has eight hundred cold cranking amps and a three year warranty.”

  “I’ll take the gold.”

  “Hang on just a sec, let me go get it.”

  I glanced around at the racks nearby. What I needed wasn’t anywhere to be seen. “Hey, man,” I called to the parts guy. “You got any duct tape?”