Life Stories/Rants

Here is my book that I am writing, no interruptions, just straight through reading. Hope you enjoy and feel free to make any comments. Yes, this is the same thing as in General Writing, I just thought this would make it easier to read. I will post both here and there the additions of this story.
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Chapter I
Stories

The icy night breeze was just starting to prick my unaccustomed neck, the cold beginning to make it tighten and form goose bumps. I pulled my collar up a little more, barely inches higher, in a futile attempt to cover my exposed skin. I looked down at my arms and saw the frostbitten flesh turned pale by the frigidness of the air. I moved my arms further into my sleeves so that no skin showed, only my black coat that ended at my leather gloves. The breeze posed a potential threat to my overall mission, but, if I could remember what I was told in training, and recollect my past experiences, I could easily compensate for it.

I slowly crawled forward across the ridge of the somewhat tall mountain to a spot where I could easily locate my target. Looking off into the distance, I could see fires and the occasional spotlight illuminating the starless night sky. Echoing off the vast expanse of snow, the voices of the men carried off into the mountains. I couldn't make out what they said, but their drunken ranting told me that something great was coming my way. Their actions made them seem very barbaric in my mind, although I could relate to their feelings.

"Concentrate! Don't get attached," I thought to myself, and, hoping that it would help, I removed my cold leather glove to lightly slap my cheeks a couple of times, which did not give me the desired effect. The contact of flesh on flesh brought about small, sharp pains of coldness that stung my face for a while. A couple of cheers sent up by the men in the distance caught my attention, and I foolishly forgot to put back on my gloves.

The men gave me false hope, as nothing eventful was happening except the drunken partying down on the vast snow. The possibility of anything happening put off, I went back to calming myself.

I decided that the better way to control myself was through a few deep breaths, the frigid air filling up my lungs, only to make me cough as I exhaled it all out. I watched my breath slowly waft through the air carelessly, until it only blended in with the surroundings of the stronger mass.

As I continued to crawl forward at a slow pace, the weight of my body against the old, hard snow created small crunches. I glanced over across the land again and thought how desolate and dead this country was, and asked myself why we were fighting in it again.

"Focus, Nick. Just think of the mission, nothing else."

I had not learned from my past experience, as I slapped my face again, this time with a little more force, and the pain that was emitted was excruciating. I cursed under my breath at my stupidity, and slowly massaged my face with my slightly warmer hands, until I numbed the icy pain.

I continued to watch in complete boredom, my mind slowly falling into a trance because of the dullness. I just gazed emotionlessly at the scene, taking nothing in but the cold and the vastness of the area. For what seemed like hours, I just stared off, focusing on nothing, but seeing everything at the same time. I was temporarily free, and I was lost in my dreams, something that hadn’t happened to me since I was a child.

A few three-round bursts brought me back to attention, doing what I was incapable to do myself. I looked off at the group of men and saw several dark bodies holding AK-47's above their heads. I continued to watch as the events unfolded, and a dark silver, antique Rolls Royce pulled up to the rally, its polished body reflecting the light emitted by the fires into the snow surrounding it, giving the vehicle an ominous orange glow.

"I present to you our great leader, General Kamarov!"

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"Get out of here, Amanda! Get, you ungrateful little-!"

My father, if I could ever call him that and mean it, proceeded to call me a relatively demeaning name as he always does on his nightly drunken rampages. There was something different about this night, however; something about it just made it harder to let go.

I stormed out of the kitchen to the sound of his belches and alcohol-induced mumbling, my salty tears trickling down my face in their indefinite paths to a common goal, a common destiny. I reflexively swept my hand against my damp face, preventing them from reaching their destination.

I ran across the well-worn wood floor to the old, creaky stairs, my body convulsing with each futile attempt to quell my sobs. I bound up the stairs, two at a time, until I reached the scratched door to my bedroom.

I gripped the brass doorknob and forcefully threw the door open. It hit the doorstop and recoiled with almost as much force as was exerted into it when opened, and came back to hit me in the face. It was almost as though my own room was rejecting me. A new torrent of tears were starting to swell up in my eyes, the tears of pain and sorrow mixing together, until it was too much and it all poured out. I painfully walked inside my room and slammed the door shut behind me. I then threw my body onto my faded blue bed, which was once my mother's, and found the only counsel that I used in these dark times, and that was my pillow. I let out all the sobs that were building up inside of me into this sole pillow, my tears leaving water stains where they met the cloth of my bed. I vented out my rage by screaming and cursing my father, both verbally and in thought, for what he did to me. I even tried to soothe myself by saying that this night was no different, that I should be used to this by now, but I just couldn't shake off the fact that he may have actually meant it, that it wasn't only the alcohol speaking.

I thought to myself in solitude on what I should do, and could hear my father clumsily walking throughout the house, random songs with no true tune or words being sung on his alcoholic lips. I came up with only one conclusion, and it was the only thing I could do. I slowly rose up from my bed and made my way to my beat-up closet. I opened up the doors, from which was emitted one of those horror film creaks. I crouched down so that I could easily maneuver through all my junk. I pulled out this and that of my belongings that I deemed necessary, and when I collected enough, I made my way solemnly to my bed. From beneath it, I grabbed my suitcase and began to pack.

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I looked out at the group of men, all looking on with bloodlust and fear together at the man that had exited from the Rolls Royce, General Kamarov. He walked to the elevated platform with dignity and honor, although my trained eye could see the fakeness of his movements, his nervousness shrouded by his masquerade of power. He appeared to walk duck footed, and when ascending the stairs to the podium, he was clumsy and stumbled a few times. It must have been his charisma that they were falling for (although I saw none), for the barbarians, as I have come to know them, were oblivious to his mistakes.

When he stopped moving, I pressed the scope of my rifle to my eye, the cold metal of it penetrating deep into my body, pushing through the thin layer of skin that surrounded my left eye. I moved the rifle a little and moderated the dial that controlled the clearness of the scene until it was “crystal clear”. I then moved the crosshairs so that they focused straight on Kamarov’s chest, and I placed my finger around the trigger.

“My brethren,” Kamarov spoke in a influential tone, “I come before you to defend Mother Russia, to understand, my comrades, that we are being pressured by a foreign force. The imbecile Americans are attempting to destroy our culture, they want to stop the power of our homeland. We are a threat to the damn Americans, and I say that we use this to our advantage. So help me Бог, the Americans will pay!”

The crowd erupted in cheers and chants of Kamarov’s name were being echoed throughout the empty air, making their might even that much threatening. I pressed the scope closer to my eyes, all emotions that I possibly had evaporated from my body, and I slowed my breathing until it was almost nonexistent. Then, I squeezed the trigger.

Those emotions never truly returned to my body, to never course through my veins again. All I knew was to kill, and anything else that I had learned as an innocent child was gone along with my innocence. I became a cold-hearted killer, and at that I was best. I came to accepting my fate for the rest of my life, although, one event did change my life, something I was not expecting to find in the military. This is my story. This is my destiny.

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Chapter II
Journeys

“Welcome to San Antontio everybody. I hope your flight with Southwest Airlines was enjoyable and have a good stay in Texas.”

The sound of the flight attendant woke me up, and as I tiredly gazed about the airplane, I saw many passengers up and stretching in their rows, stifled yawns and a few babies crying told me that we were indeed in Texas. I got up from my seat, putting back the Air Mall magazine that I had fallen asleep to reading. After stretching my arms and cracking my neck a little, I grabbed my bag from the overhead compartment and started to exit the plane.

As I walked off the plane, the flight attendant wished me a good stay, and I smirked at how fake her voice was, wondering what would force any woman to degrade herself and be a flight attendant. With this thought in mind, I proceeded about the airport to grab my luggage, found myself a taxi, and I was off.

“Where to, Miss?” the driver asked me in a Polish accent.

“Ummm,” I stuttered as I looked down at the brochure in my hand, “Fort Sam Houston, please.”

“Oh, you’re an army girl, huh? I think its very honorable at what you are about to do.”

“Thanks,” I replied absentmindedly. I wasn’t doing this for any honor, as to me, there is no such thing.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what are you going to do in the army?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Well, are you going to fight, or are you going to be a nurse?”

I really pondered over this question, as the idea of being a nurse had never really fluttered into my mind, as all I was looking for was an escape from my father. However, the idea of being a nurse really struck me as being important, and I couldn’t think of a better thing to do. It was like fate was telling me to follow this path. To make it seem like I knew what I was doing, I stalled by pretending to be searching for something in my purse.

“I guess I’ll be being a nurse. Something about it just sounds interesting.”

Most of the drive was in silence, although the southern heat did begin to get to me, so I asked the driver if he could turn up the air-conditioning.

“Sorry, Miss. A/C is broke.”

With that option of a “quick fix” gone, I opted to roll down the windows, although the slow traffic caused little wind to blow through and cool my face, now covered in sweat.

When we finally arrived at the fort, I asked how much I owed.

“Forty-seven, fifty, Miss.”

I pulled out of my purse a billfold, and peered inside. I had not thought that much about money, as that was something my father never let me have. I secretly had had a part time job at a Wal-Mart, however, and whenever my father had asked, I was doing softball or some other sport. He didn’t care about sports, he never came to one of my games anyways. So it all had worked out.

I pulled out a fifty from the couple hundred or so that I had been smart to bring, and told him to keep the change.

“Thank you, Miss! I wish you luck. Dobre szczęście!”

At that I exited from the steaming hot cab into the less inviting world, and proceeded towards the gate. Once I reached the guard post, I heard tires screech against asphalt and looked behind me. The taxi driver was speeding off to the west, obviously late for something.

“Hello m’am. Welcome to Fort Sam Houston.”

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I looked off at the chaos I had created, the half-trained barbarians fleeing from the scene, while a few took initiative and started to bark orders in Russian and German at the men. A few of them returned to the scene, many ducking behind the Rolls Royce and the elevated platform. The “smarter” barbarians were looking off into the distance through their binoculars to find the culprit who had murdered their “great leader”.

I decided it was in my best interest to begin to leave the area and get to the extraction point. I pulled out my walkie-talkie and voiced into it that the mission was a success and I would rendezvous in ten minutes at Extraction Point B.

“Alright, Eagle. We’ll catch you in ten minutes. Over and out.”

With the connection broken, I gathered up my rifle and began to take it apart, piece by piece, so that I could get it to fit in a backpack of mine. Once that deed was done, I pulled out my holstered pistol and loaded it with a new clip.

“Just to be safe,” I whispered to myself. With all that out of the way, I began my descent down from the mountain.

The treacherous path down the mountain was rather uneventful, but once I did reach the base of the mountain, a Jeep-like patrol vehicle was waiting to greet me. It’s bright lights temporarily blinded me as my pupils had to readjust to this unwelcome change from the black night. Out of instinct, I threw my body to the ground, and hid behind a snow-covered protrusion. From somewhere behind the vehicle, I heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and the voices that accompanied them. As they neared my location, the grip on my pistol tightened so hard that all the blood in my pale fingers was forced around the areas that were pressured. I kept this grip on my pistol as I listened in on their conversation.


“I told you, if anyone was to be here, they would have been located by now.”

“немая задница! We must wait, it is Ivanov’s order!”

I heard the sound of rubber against snow and rock as one of the men kicked the ground in anger. A pebble flew barely inches from my left ear.

“I don’t give a damn about Ivanov! I want to go home and eat my dinner and sleep with my wife! Kamarov got what was coming to him. Would you speak in front of many in such a dangerous manner if you were likely to be killed? He was an idiot, and he deserved it all!”

“Hush, don’t speak such words! If Kuznetsov or someone else hears you speaking such blasphemy, you will be killed!”

“So be it! If it wasn’t for spineless wimps like you, we would all not be fighting for some hopeless cause, and we would all be home in our beds with our women! I spit on Mother Russia and all who force us to fight for such an impudent cause!”

Pfft! I heard the sound of a cheap silenced pistol being fired, and barely seconds later, a thump confirmed my theory that the foolish Russian was executed for his words.

“I am sorry, but you deserved it, Dmitri. Don’t… ever… spit… on Mother… RUSSIA!”

With each pause, the sound of rubber against flesh met my ears, and it appeared that the partner of the Russian officer was kicking the lifeless corpse on the ground, and with the last word off his lips, the man broke down crying for killing his companion. As the minutes passed by, I heard the man get up and go to the vehicle, the metal door shutting behind him.

I waited for a moment, and I heard the vehicle’s engine be kicked to life again, its old, worn parts most likely on their last run. I stayed exactly as I was until the sound of the vehicle was long gone, and I was comfortable with leaving. Without looking back at the body, I got up and made my way back to the extraction point.

“Anything eventful happen while we were away?”

“Oh, you know, the usual.” I shrugged off the question as I answered it, and the helicopter began to increase velocity in its blades. As it began to pick up speed, the weight of the helicopter and her passengers were picked off the ground, and we made our way from the scene. The next day, as I was back at my apartment getting ready for my next assignment, I heard a news reporter talk of the mysterious death of a Mister Ivan Kamarov and an unidentified body in the northwest region of Russia. With that news, I took a sip from my coffee, grabbed my keys, and shut the door behind me as I made my way out.

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Chapter III
Home

“Williams! Heads up!”

With little time to react, a football was thrown to a person beyond me, although the wind and force to get the ball to its target were misjudged, and it was on a collision course towards one person; me. I looked up just in time to see the ball, or the tip of it at least, come straight at my face. It just barely missed hitting my right eye, hitting me on my forehead instead.

I brought my hand up to rub the probably pink spot on my head, spurts of pain pulsing from the point of contact to areas around that had had less damage done to them. I grabbed the ball and chucked it at the thrower. My throw turned out to be spot-on, as Griggs was doubled over in pain, his hands cupping his groin.

“Next time, look before you throw, Griggs. I need my eyes to do my missions.”

“F. you Williams, you didn’t have to do that, or at least not that hard.”

“I probably didn’t, but where’s the fun in that?” I retorted.

I past the scene in a jock-like manner, just taking one glance back at the scene where I was hit in the head. I grinned when I saw Griggs lift his hand up, and turned away just in time so that I didn’t see anything else. I made my way up to the door where one of the guards confronted me.

“Mornin’ Nick, how was your night?”

“Oh, you know, not too bad. Could have been worse, right?”

“You said it. If I had your job, I don’t think I could ever sleep the same night as… well, you know.”

“You grow used to it. Alright, I gotta go Mike. Don’t let any terrorists in, ya hear?”

“I’ll try my best.”

I waved one last good-bye to the guard and made my way to the briefing room on the third floor, although it proved rather tedious as many people, half of which I did not know, kept on congratulating me and saying good morning to me. I really need to learn their names…

With that thought fresh on my mind, I opened up the door and peered inside to see several people waiting for me already, a screen pulled down and a projector displaying the picture of some guy.

“You’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence, huh Nick?”

“Sorry. I got held up earlier outside.”

She took a long look at me, and a wide grin formed on her face.

“I can tell. Was it your head that held you up?” Katie remarked. She was actually the only woman in the room, and rather attractive at that.

“Shut it. I got him back, okay?”

“Whatever. Sit down Nick; we have a lot to show you.”

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