To Whom It May Concern: by M.J. Garrett (books to get back into reading .TXT) 📕

Knowing that I’m ok, I quickly jump up and grab my flak vest and helmet.

“Dave! Brian!” I yelled.
“We are here! We are ok!” I hear from under the pile of tent debris.
“Grab your shit! Dave, look around and find the other 2 guys. They were sleeping in the back of the tent! Brian, come with me!”

There are moments when you see humanity at its worst and then there are moments when you see a total lack of humanity and you see people for the machines we were trained to be. There are times when your training takes over and your senses are no longer at play. There is no sound. There is no emotion. There’s only you. “Brian, take Dave and go next door to see if we have any guys in the tent next to us. Meet me at the dumpster in 2 minutes. Have your gear and the others ready for action. Go!” I cautiously step through the debris and out of the tent where the door used to be when the world became so slow. The sky is dark from the cloud of dust and debris. Soldiers standing with lit cigarettes, sharing the same look of awe as they stare up to see the pending destruction. No one is moving. Stuck like statues…like black and white charcoal pictures seen in artist’s renditions of what they think war would be like. They were right. It’s exactly what they thought. The smoke from their cigarettes slowly floats toward the dark sky as each soldier slam their eyes shut and turn their heads. Suddenly…there is silence.

“Sarge! Sarge!” a voice quietly enters my ears like a whisper. “Sarge! Sarge!” the voice becomes louder until the sound of Dave yelling grabs my attention. “Sarge, are you okay?!” Still yelling in hopes that my delirium subsides and I come to my full senses. As quick as I come to, fear grips my heart and throat as I just grab Dave’s arm and look him in the face with nothing to say. “You are good, Sarge….you are all there! Nothing but a small scratch under your eye.”

“Dave…where are they guys?”
“By the dumpster…just like you said.”
“Help me out of this shit!” I said as I began to kick more of the remains of our tent off my legs. Dave grabbed boards from homemade shelves and wall dividers and began to remove them from on top of me. “Dave! Where’s my rifle?! Where the fuck is my rifle?!”
“In your hand, Sarge, it’s in your fucking hand, man! Come on! Let’s get the fuck out of here!!”

As quickly as we could, we scurried to the dumpster as both of us simultaneously through our backs up against the dumpster. With our weapons in the ready position and our hearing impaired by the sound of our breathing, I feel a hand grab my on my shoulder and pulls me around to face him. “Sarge, I got one question! By any chance, do you think Dave’s collection of sadistic porn and nudie mags made it? I don’t know if I can go on without it!”

Dave, without turning around, quickly responded, “Brian, did you fart? I smell ass with a hint of semen.”

All of us quietly laughed and hugged the corner of the dumpster as we made the turn toward the pillar of billowing smoke.

My head quickly comes back to reality as I put the memory of my past to rest. I smile with the smell of the desert air in my nostrils. I put a menthol cigarette behind my ear and one in my mouth and let the sound of the burning rice paper bring me back to normal. I stood on the porch and dropped the box of cigarettes in the mailbox. I quickly glanced over to the neighbor’s house and see her sitting on the porch eating a bowl of cereal. With her lips squeezed tight around her spoon, a drop of milk runs from the corner of her lips and drips off her chin as she sat there in silence. She looked at me with curiosity but her eyes filled with a bit of fear. I smiled and then turned back toward the traffic as if she wasn’t there.

“I’ve seen that look before.” I thought to myself. “…in my own reflection.” I quickly put the cigarette out and turned and walked in the house.


CHAPTER 13

Carla nervously lay in her bed. Clothed with her pajamas and a small kitchen knife under her mattress, she laid there thinking about everything. Her life was once so normal. A tough childhood? Maybe…but last night’s experience takes the cake. Who was this man…this intruder? Maybe just a dream, she thought, but what if there was another answer? Was the man real? He seemed real. She thought it could be her mind playing tricks on her, but it was so detailed. His Irish voice was soft and low…but she knew that she would never make up such a thing.

Lying there…silent. She pictured the moments she and Nate had shared. Although the moments were small and maybe not worth remembering to some, she thought of him. He was quiet, reserved, and attractive. He was particular about so many things…maybe everything…but he was very nice.

A quiet shadow moves the curtain as if a small fan was blowing in the room. She quietly reaches for the kitchen knife out of fear. Her hand and fingers twitch around the handle as her hand start to sweat.

“Shhh.” She hears from what seemed to be surround sound in her room. She firmly grasp the knife until her knuckles become white and her eyes open so wide that the whites are visible around her green eyes. Biting her bottom lip, her heartbeat becomes louder and faster.

Carla fearfully and courageously threw her blanket off and began to jump into action. As the blanket pauses in the air, it’s as if time stood still. Suspended in the air, the wind begins to blow and the shadowed figure is met with the lightning fast offense of the man in a black suit. From one corner of the room to the other, the two figures attacked and defended with the grace of dancers. Each attack was defended and countered, and each counter was defended. The blanket, still paused in the air while the figures danced…choreographed and violently precise.

Flashes of silent light flashed from the muzzles of pistols that were being slung around like samurai swords in ancient battles. Just as Carla reached her feet and the blanket fell to the floor, it was over. Silence. Breathing heavy with adrenaline, she frantically searched the wall for the light switch. Flipping the switch, she quickly glances around the room and sees no evidence of any gun slinging battle. The room was quiet and perfect. No holes in the wall from stray bullets and not a hint or smell of gunpowder. She sees the man in the suit quietly sitting in a chair placed in the corner by the curtained window. With his legs crossed, he sat there…quiet. Everyone had secrets. No one had secrets.

“You can put the knife down, Carla. It’s been over for some time now.”

To Whom It May Concern:
What the fuck just happened?!

She screamed as she pointed the knife at him from across the room. With her other hand, she pulled her hair away from her face as she tried to calm her nerves and catch her breath. Her body covered by her pajama pants and a small white spaghetti strap shirt that accented her curves and her not so hidden sexuality.

“You did well.” Nate said, “You realized after the first meeting you had with the shadow that it would happen again…and you were prepared. It took me years to figure things out. I still don’t know what the hell is going on. I thought I was alone on this planet.”

“Who is he?! Who the hell are you?!” she said, still pointing the knife at him and panting from the adrenaline.

“Do you believe in God?” he said as his face lights up from the flame lighting his cigarette.

“What?” she asked, with the look of complete confusion, almost questioning his audacity to ask such a question.

“God…do you believe in God?” he asked again; accenting each word slowly and methodically so she didn’t misinterpret him.

“Ummm…God? Yeah…I guess? Well, I believe we make our own gods. Why? What the fuck are you getting at?”

Keeping her eyes and knife pointed at the man in the suit, her neighbor, her acquaintance, she felt around the nightstand for the phone.

To Whom It May Concern:
Please let me explain this the best way I know how. I don’t understand it, but maybe I can shed some light on the situation.

Smiling, Nate looks at her with the smoke billowing out of his nostrils. “Good. If you believe we make our own gods then you must believe that we make our own demons.” Nate slowly pulls more smoke in and then offers the cigarette to Carla. Carla looks at him and slowly makes her way across the room toward him, still holding the knife in his direction…she stares at him. Clean, quiet, reserved. He stretches his hand out to her holding the butt of the cigarette in her direction. She slowly reaches for the cigarette. He calmly says to her, “There are some things we need to talk about.”

She sits on the edge of the bed. With her hair still gracefully falling in her face, she blows the smoke out of her mouth and reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear. Looking at him; questioning him.


CHAPTER 14

“Let me look at it, Carla. Stop moving!” He pulled the tape and bandage off of her shoulder blade. Her tender skin filled with black ink was still swollen.

“What is it? What does it mean?” she asked as his soft hands touched the edges of the tattoo. His hands were warm and she found herself getting chills and becoming ticklish to his gentle touch. He peeked closer to the ink and slid his hands to her shoulder, firmly holding her in place.

“I’m not sure.” He said.
“So this is all a dream?” she said as his fingers softly run over her tattoo.

“The world as you know it runs on the idea that there is good and evil.” He slowly walks around her and stands to face her. “Almost everyone in the world relies on this to be true. From the smartest to the dumbest from the richest to the poorest…life as we know it is run on the idea that if you are a good person and do the right thing, god will protect them and keep them safe from evil.