Prepper

Chapter Twenty-Five

Jake pulls me up off the pavement with a yank and before I realize what I am doing, I pull him into a spontaneous bear hug. I need to hold onto something solid because right now there is too much that feels like it is slipping away. Jake, more than anything, is the anchor I need. My trusted friend and ally, someone who I know will have my back. The moment overwhelms me. To my surprise, he returns the hug and only speaks when I finally let go.

"You look like hell dude! Are you okay? What happened to you?"

I join him in the line and begin the story of what began as a normal day and ended up with Kate shot, Tony dead and the car totalled. It took longer to tell than I expected, but there were several times I had to stop and recompose myself. In some ways, recounting the experience makes it more real giving the painful memories even more bite. As the tale unfolds, a small crowd gathers near to listen. Some have questions and I do my best to answer. It's surprising how little they know about what has being unfolding. Eventually I wrap up my story and end with, "Which brings me to here."

"Connor, man, I am so sorry about Kate. Why aren't you with her? What the hell are you doing out here?"

"I can't just sit there and wait. I can't stand seeing her hooked up to all those machines. I mean what am I going to do when some GFA shithead runs in there and starts shooting? I just think my best chance of getting her home is to make a stand out here. Once she's evacuated, I can worry about getting myself home."

"We'll get you home, trust me." Jake says with his usual confidence. He almost has me convinced that he believes that.

"What are you doing up here?" I ask.

"I was at the job site when some non-coms showed up looking for volunteers. We didn't even know this shit was going down until those guys showed up. They told us they needed help at the evacuation site, a bunch of us said yes. Then they bused us in and that was that."

We shuffle down the line slowly, bitching about the cold. At length we arrive at the tables where all the queues terminate. "I'll take you down here." A soldier says, waving me over. I look at Jake, but say nothing, and head over. The soldier looks tired, dark circles ring his bloodshot eyes. He alternates rapidly between his large coffee and his cigarette.

"Name?"

"Connor Killoren"

"Spell that." He says, and I do. He takes my other basic information; date of birth, blood type (if you know it); next of kin - basically all the typical stuff they need to know when you die. It's not a confidence building exercise for me. He then asks, "Do you have any medical training?"

"No." I answer.

"Have you ever served in the regular or reserve forces?"

"No."

"Have you ever fired a weapon?"

"Yes."

"When was the last time you fired a weapon?"

"Umm, what time is it?" I don't mean to be flippant, but it just comes out that way.

"Don't fuck with me." He warns looking up.

"Look, I was on the United Credit Building with Corporal Hartt - if you are familiar with that story - and I was in a shootout with multiple GFA crazies inside a federal building downtown. We were trying to prevent them from obtaining the evacuation plans." I say calmly, before adding. "I also crashed my car into a tank."

"That was you?" He says, still sounding suspicious.

"Look at my face man - doesn't it have tank crash written all over it?"