*
“I’m sorry?” Molly had her back to the Commander when she heard him say something.
“I said don’t get in my way.” He warned. The Commander had escorted her down to an old admin office that now featured a bed roll and enough room for habitation. Now that they were alone it was time to set boundaries.
“Funny, I could say the same to you.” She gave a jagged smile. Molly turned back to putting a few things away here and there and continued; “I can always tell when I’m doing my job. I start really getting under the skin of people like you.”
“Is that so?” He crossed his arms and dug his heals in.
“Yes, that’s so.” Molly turned around and decided to face him. Her voice was even and cool. “If my questions piss you off, I’m doing my job.”
“So, whose side are you on?” He decided hard eye contact would communicate his position.
“Our side,” She returned the look and kept her voice razor sharp.
“Which side is that?” He refused to blink.
“The side that is still breathing, Commander,” Molly took a step closer and turned to point out a window toward the fence. “You see, while you and the US government have decided to have this little game. The real enemy has just surrounded us outside. “
“I do not have time to tell you how many levels of stupid that is.” She concluded.
“Lady, I’m a military man.” The Commander refused to give up his ground. Something grated on his insides. Was it agreement? “I follow orders and get things done.”
“You do, do you?” Molly’s mouth worked into an upward arch. For a chill of a second it reminded the Commander of the thirteen year old girl at the gate. “So tell me, where is the fine line?”
“The fine line?” He kept his voice low and arched an eyebrow.
“The fine line between protecting freedom or curtailing freedom?” Molly seemed to be eager to hear the answer. “Tell me where that fine line is.”
“Don’t you dare dictate to me about freedom!” He raised his voice suddenly, surprised at his own anger. She barely reacted. Instead, Molly stood her ground and crossed her arms, waiting for an answer. “I’ve fought for freedom!”
“Are you sure?”
Why the hell are you even listening to this crap? He wanted to scream at her, let his feelings out and be done with her. Post a guard at her door and let this reporter rot in hell for the rest of the mission. But Kentucky rain kept washing away his will, Kentucky rain and an order to terminate with extreme prejudice. Did she know about the order? Damn it, God damn it.
“What about you?” He tried a different tact after letting out a long sigh. “You reporter people always get it right, do you?”
“No we don’t.” Molly gave ground. “In fact some of us twist the truth pretty badly.”
“Glad to hear someone on your side admit it.” He felt a sarcastic smile invade his face. He tried to control it but it felt too good.
“I do, we can be the worst.” Molly admitted and made sure that their eyes locked. “Trouble is, on my side there are many people who don’t have a problem with it.”
“That explains a few things.”
“Me?” Molly smiled at his jab and continued; “I believe my job is to have a healthy adversarial relationship with the military and the authorities.”
“Really, why is that?” The Commander was feeling the calm after his temper storm. He wasn’t a television person but he had heard of her.
“Because whenever we agree on everything, bad things happen.” Molly summed it up with an intelligent look and a disarming smile.
*
“Gentlemen, I want all available personal from your units to search every inch of this compound.” Beauragard’s voice was stern, in command. “Is that clear?”
“Yes General.”
“Yes sir.”
“Don’t be afraid to let Miss Hunter wander around, either. The lady is quite a bloodhound. If something is out of place, she’ll find it.” The General advised. “Just make sure you keep an eye on her,”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” The Corporal from the assault raised a question. “Perhaps it might help if the General could tell us what we’re looking for.”
“Gold, son.......”
*
I couldn’t have done it without you. She thought, as she slipped off the six inch Zanotti’s. That click-clack sound they make when hitting the floor was an adrenaline charging, confidence building rush. A few strides anywhere made Molly feel unstoppable. Her body just fell into the rhythm, the steps became longer. The sound was a warning to anyone in her way. Like any short term empowerment, it had its limitations. Molly fished around in her Louis Vuitton to put her hiking shoes back on. The Merrell Moab ventilator shoes felt like big blankets around her feet.
Yes, men who don’t get women don’t understand the shoe thing. Molly wiggled her toes and tried to decide what was next. It’s all about the shoes. She stood up and let her feet explore the new support from the Merrell Moabs. I could walk all day in a pair of these.
But when it came to kicking an entire army’s ass, nothing beat a pair of six inch Zanotti’s. Molly was up and looking for information. She thought a walk around might clear her mind.
*
The Commander couldn’t stop the words from working themselves around inside. Are you sure? She asked me that, she really asked me that. Damn it. The hallway was way too short for his thoughts. He had arrived at the infirmary way before he had finished wringing out his emotions. He sighed and slipped into the room quietly.
Hodges was lying on his side with a blanket draped over his form. He was breathing softly, the slow rise and fall of shoulders signifying a healthy slumber. He looked okay. There was no need to wake him.
Ubaid was lying on her stomach, the bandages seemed darkened in spots but not as bad as he had recalled. The Commander felt a tinge of embarrassment, her back was naked, she had been given one of those ridiculous hospital smocks that seemed to cover nothing and fall open at the slightest provocation. The Commander silently walked through the room toward a half open door that looked like an office. There was a nurse, he had heard. It might be a good time to drop in.
Sunlight from one of those siege castle windows offered some illumination. Just enough to watch the particles of dust play around in the air. They were like swirling fireflies in the ray of light. The desk was old school, from the fifties at least. A few files were stacked to one side beside an ash tray. He examined it closer, a few butts lay curled up inside the black interior. It occurred to the Commander that he hadn’t seen an ashtray in years. They had just simply disappeared with the passing of a few health laws. It was like looking at something from a museum, archaic trappings of time long since passed.
There was a noise from the other room. Clumsy feet had just made contact with a metal table leg.
“Fuck.” Someone whispered, more out of exasperation than injury. It was Birk. He was sure of it.
“Hey,” Birk whispered. “Sorry man, I was just popping over to check on things.”
“No problem.” Hodges replied with a gravel whisper.
“I found one of these.” Birk even made noise while rummaging in a backpack.
“That is the smallest damn whisky bottle I have ever seen in my life.” Hodges had a laugh in his voice.
“It’s