Home > Saviour Boy (All American Boy)(3)

Saviour Boy (All American Boy)(3)
Author: S.L. Sterling

“Yep, along with the one in my bedroom.”

He fiddled with the little lock on the door, managing to open it while it was locked. “These locks are shit. They are really easy to open. Burglars can open most with a credit card if they do it correctly. Do you have an old broom or mop handle you can place down into the track?”

I nodded. “I will just take them off the broom and mop,” I said, rushing to the utility closet and removing both and laying them in the track of the doors.

“Okay, leave it with me. I’m going to look into getting you a security system too.”

I nodded as I got up and followed my brother to the door. “Thanks, Chris.”

“No problem. Get some sleep,” he said, kissing my forehead before he left the apartment. “If you notice anything else, just call me. After eight, I will be at home. Call the super tonight, too. These locks need to be changed tomorrow morning. If he gives you flack, I’ll come do it.”

“Thanks,” I said, giving my brother a hug.

 

 

Grant

 

Johnnie’s laugh was loud and clear as he finished telling us one of his usual jokes. His laugh was the last thing I remembered when the explosion sounded. We’d driven off the road and over a land mine, sending us and the MRAP flying. I braced myself, but not good enough. I felt every roll. I could hear the other guys screaming for help, and when the vehicle finally stopped rolling, that was when I felt the searing pain

I was just about to call out when I bolted up. I glanced around the room. It took me a minute to slow my breathing and realize I was in my bed, the early-morning light of the day was just peeking through the blinds. I ran my hands over my face. I was covered in sweat and my head ached. I reached for the bottle of prescription medication, but the pain that shot down my armed stopped me. I persisted and grabbed the little bottle I had picked up from the pharmacy the day before. I quickly popped two pills and took a drink of the water that sat on my bedside table before lying back down. At first, I stared at the ceiling, and then I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing the way they had taught me to do in therapy upon realizing it had just been a bad dream.

I’d had many bad dreams over the past year. You would, too, if your MRAP hit an IED and sent you and your team flying. We lost three of our guys that day; the others had minor injuries and recovered in a field hospital. I had been airlifted to Germany where I found I had undergone surgery to fix the broken leg I had received when I had gotten pinned in the MRAP. Figuring that was the worst of my injuries, I knew I would recover, and with a little therapy, I would be back in the field, until the doctor who was caring for me came in and I tried to sit up.

Searing pain in my neck, back, and shoulder stopped me quickly. He explained to me that there were bone and shrapnel fragments that were inoperable because of their placement. Ten very long minutes later, I’d learned that my recovery was going to be hell, but I was still ready to fight and get back to what I loved doing. Then he pulled out my x-rays and crushed all dreams I held of getting back to normal. He told me I would be discharged from the career I loved. All because of some tiny pieces of shrapnel near my spine.

At first, I’d been angry, but after nine months of intense physical and mental therapy, I was discharged from the hospital. My best friend, Chris, visited many times during my time in the hospital. When it had come time to leave, he picked me up, and together we returned to our hometown of Merlot, CA.

I struggled for a bit, trying to adjust to my new life with little to no idea of what I was going to do for work. One night, I’d been over at Chris’s house when he suggested I open up a security company. At first, I thought it was a bad idea, but after a few months, I put the plan into motion and finally opened the doors. The security company idea had been one of Chris’s better ideas. It had taken off, and soon I had more work than my crew could handle.

 

 

I’d just finished handing out all the work assignments for the day and gathered the remaining work orders that probably wouldn’t get done until tomorrow. I had finally poured myself my first cup of coffee of the day and had just sat down behind my desk when I heard the bell out front, signaling that someone had come in. I really needed to give Gale more shifts, I thought to myself as I struggled to get up. My leg was still weak, although I worked out every day to build the strength back up.

I rounded the corner and saw Chris walking towards me.

“Hey, man, how the hell are you doing?” he greeted me, holding his hand out for one of our bro shakes.

“Good, man. How about you? Things going well?”

“Not too bad. Work’s been insane. I just got off shift and thought I’d come and see you. Check out the new place now that you’ve settled in,” he said, looking around. The entire shop still wasn’t completely finished, but it was almost done.

“Well, this is it,” I said, holding my arms open. The construction guys will be back to finish everything next week,” I said limping, out the door to take Chris on a tour of the place.

He was quiet as he followed me into the back area where we stored our equipment. “How’s the leg and back?” he questioned.

“Better, thanks.” I wasn’t one to complain—never had been. Life had just handed me yet another hurdle to jump over. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, which I had done plenty of when I had been in the hospital, I now looked at it as a gift.

“Good to hear, and you’re going to be just fine. I’ve been passing out your name.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. So, what’s up? What brings you all the way over to the other side of town?”

Chris sat down on a wooden box and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s Becca.”

“Ah Becs. I haven’t seen her since my coming home party. How’s she doing?”

“Good, but I’m concerned. She called me over to her place last night. She’s in danger. I’m feeling a little uneasy about her being on her own.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“She apparently got herself mixed up with this guy. They had a falling out, and he put his fist through her kitchen wall. She apparently got out of the shower last night and found some writing on her mirror. There was no one in her apartment, but she claims that things are being moved around her office, and she feels like she might be being followed.”

“Why don’t you just pull him aside and deal with him?”

“That’s the thing. We haven’t met him.”

I felt the sudden urge to want to protect Becca. She had always been rather special to me. She’d written to me while I had been on tour—a secret that we kept just between us. Her letters had kept me company on all the cold and lonely nights away from home, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t started having feelings for her. After the injury, I fought to be myself. Even when I was in the hospital, she had religiously written to me. It was always the days I felt like giving up the most when her letters would arrive.

“What do you need from me?”

“Well, for starters, an alarm system, and anything else you might have ideas on to keep her safe.”

He didn’t need to say any more. I would do whatever it took to protect her. “No problem. You know I’ll get you whatever you need. How about we go over and look at her place?”

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