My Name Is Tristan Read online

  A snap. We all jerk our heads around to see what it was. There was nothing. No sound, no movement, no life. We were just about ready to relax when we hear another snap, this time closer, louder. Rooter shoots a glare at Skinner and he instantly knows what he has to do. He plants each hand firmly on the ground and closes his eyes. Another snap. Rooter is obviously getting frustrated and impatient as he slowly brought up his gun into his sights. Skinner shoots his eyes opens and signals eleven bodies approaching from the south; from the village. Beecher and Jones slowly bring up their guns as Skinner and I prepare for the worst.

  Another snap. This time coming from just on the other side of the bushes. I poise my hands at my side in combat position and Skinner plants his feet in the ground, charging up his pulse. A goat comes running out from behind the bushes followed by another, then another, then another. Rooter quickly scans the area for humans and sure enough, three of them, two younger most likely teenagers, and one older man appear from behind the bushes.

  The goats walk right on by us without noticing or drawing attention to us. At first, no one moves. We are going unseen and if we can keep it that way we will. But then the youngest of the three walks right on by Rooter’s bush and if he takes one more step, he’ll be stepping right on Rooter’s hand. Rooter quickly jumps up and aims his gun at the three Middle Eastern men. Right then, everyone jumps out from behind their cover and begins yelling orders. The oldest man freezes and puts his hands up as does the youngest one but the middle one begins to run back down the mountain towards the village. Rooter chases after him but the kid was faster and more agile as he didn’t have sixty pounds of gear on him.

  Skinner saw that Rooter was losing him so he immediately let out a strong energy pulse which radiated from his chest. The pulse was like a silent shock wave, knocking over trees, sending people and goats flying through the air. I was flown high up into the sky as gravity took over and I began my descent back down to Earth, I thrust my hands towards the ground and instantly stabilized myself, slowly landed feet first gently on the rough surface.

  I rush over to Rooter who was on top of the young man who was running away, holding him down, immobilizing him. The young man was struggling and shouting things in Arabic so Rooter covered his mouth with his hand. Beecher called our attention up the mountain a ways.

  “Guys,” Beecher said calmly.

  We all looked up the mountain side to where Beecher was standing and there, on the cold, hard ground, was the elderly man, lying lifeless. The youngest of the Middle Eastern men began shouting and then ran up to the body. He kneeled down and rested his head on his chest as tears began pouring down his face. No one stopped him. We let him have this moment of remorse as any of us would have wanted. I look over at Skinner who is sitting on a boulder with his head buried in his hands. I walk over and take a seat next to him.

  “Hey,” I began softly, “you alright?”

  “I killed him,” he uttered.

  “Skinner, it was an accident. You acted accordingly and you can’t hold this against yourself.”

  Skinner just sat there, avoiding eye contact, drowning out the world including me. I realized that no matter what I said, he wouldn’t hear it so I just sat next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder just to let him know I was there.

  A few moments go by when Rooter stands up with the young man in front of him.

  “We have to let them go,” he stated firmly.

  “But they’ll run down to the village and inform Ramir of our presence and soon these hills will be swarming with Taliban!” Jones exclaimed.

  “Well what else would you have us do?” Rooter said, almost to the point of yelling.

  “We eliminate the issue then continue on to finish our mission,” Jones retorted.

  “No, no,” Rooter quickly said. “We can’t kill them.”

  “And why not?” Jones began. “They would have done the same to us!”

  “Because I don’t want our faces plastered all over CNN stating that we were the reason why three civilians were killed!”

  “Man, screw CNN,” Jones stated. “This is real world! We have to make decisions that may not have the best outcome but we still have to make them and learn to live with them!”

  “I can’t live with this!” Rooter exclaimed.

  Rooter and Jones began bickering back and forth as Beecher picked up the youngest boy and led him down to the others. Things were getting heated when Skinner broke up the feud.

  “We let them go,” Skinner stated, standing up and unburying his face from his hands.

  Nothing was said for a few moments as everyone just stared at Skinner. Finally, Jones walks over to the young man that Rooter had apprehended and stands in front of him. He grabs him by his shoulder and ushers him along. Beecher lets the youngest one go too and they slowly make their decent back down towards the village. Right before they disappeared behind the bushes, the older one stops and looks back at us with an expression of hatred written all over his face. He then disappeared behind the bushes.

  “Beecher, call in that we have to abort the mission,” Rooter began. “Tell them our cover has been compromised. We will meet them at extraction point Omaha.”

  Beecher immediately gets on the radio and radios it in. Rooter walks over to Jones and stands in front of him for a few moments, making deadly eye contact. Then, Rooter brings a hand up and places it on Jones’ shoulder before walking away. Nothing is said for a few moments except for Beecher radioing in. Rooter breaks the deafening silence.

  “We need to get out of here. In just a few hours, this mountain will be swarming with Taliban.”

  With that, we move out one by one, leaving the small crater of downed trees which was caused by Skinner’s energy pulse. We left not knowing what was in store or that some of us would not survive the night.

  ~*~

  People began filing into the auditorium all dressed in black. Some I knew, most I didn’t. I was terrified of what I would have to do. Public speaking was never my forte and to do it at my best friend’s funeral was possibly the worst time to start. One by one people took their seats and soon the line ended and the service was about to start. I walked over to the casket and there, lying peacefully, was David. He sported a black suit with a Iowa Hawkeyes baseball cap. It still hadn’t sunk in that he was gone, never to return.

  David’s mom walked up behind me and placed both hands on my shoulders, resting her chin on my left shoulder. I wanted to cry but couldn’t. Something inside wouldn’t let me. I took one final look at David and placed a hand on his cold, stiff arm. This would be the last time I ever saw him. I wanted him to just sit up and start laughing as if it was all one big joke and we could just pick up our lives where we left off. But that was not to be. He lied there, motionless, lifeless, for all eternity. I knew I would see him again someday and at that moment I wanted that someday to be today.

  The funeral directors approached the coffin and slowly slid the shut. I watched up to the very last second so I could see the final glimpses of David. With the coffin shut, the service began. At first, we sang a few hymns and then his dad, a pastor, went up and gave a short sermon. I sat in the front row next to his mom and stared off into nothing, as if I was searching for an absolution, an absolution that would never come. Soon, everything began to fade away, all the sounds and noises, the people around me. All that was left was me sitting in a lonely chair in a dark room with no windows and no doors. A single beam of light came from up above and illuminated where I sat. I sat there, motionless, staring off into something that wasn’t there when a shadowy figure appeared. At first I couldn’t make out who it was but as the figure approached me and began stepping into the light, I saw that it was David.

  “David…” I uttered.

  “Hey, Tristan,” David said with a huge smile stretched across his face.

  “I miss you so, so much,” I say fighting back relentless tears.

  “I know,” he managed to say. “Just know that I will always
be with you…in here.”

  With that, David placed a hand over my heart. A warm sensation began to spread throughout my body, pulsating from my heart.

  “No matter where you go on this Earth,” he began, “you will always have family with you. Living in you. The way you live your life will be a reflection of those of us living inside of you.”

  “David….why does it have to be like this? Why can’t we just go on with our live like this never happened?”

  “This chapter in your life is coming to an end. Another is about to begin. You will accomplish great things, Tristan. Never forget who you are.”

  “Tristan?”

  I open my eyes and see David’s mom shaking my arm.

  “Tristan, it’s time for your speech.”

  I nod then look around. Everyone in the auditorium was staring at me. How long was I dreaming? I grab the crumpled up note book paper from my breast pocket and stand up. The journey up the stage stairs seemed like it took hours to climb. When I reached the top stair, David’s dad was there and he embraced me in a big, warming hug. When he pulled away, he placed both hands on my arms and looked at me with a giant smile and tears rolling down his face. He released his embrace on me and walked down the stairs, taking his seat next to his wife. I approached the podium with nerves raging through me. I uttered a short prayer under my breath, asking God to be with me and give me strength. The notebook unfolded to reveal a poorly written speech, scribbled in black ink. I cleared my throat and looked around the room. A few people brought tissues up to their eyes while others looked away, afraid of making eye contact I looked down at my speech and began.

  “Many of you knew David as a fellow church goer, a classmate or friend but I knew him as a brother. To say we didn’t do much together would be a lie. We laughed with each other, cried with each other, even fell for the same girl. I know that if David were here today and saw all of us, he would be upset. He wouldn’t want us crying over him. Instead, he would want us to laugh at his memories, smile at his sarcasm and live our lives to the fullest as if today was our last. Let’s live our lives the way David would want us to live them; to the fullest, with friends and family and no regrets.

  “I recall a time when David and I were out goofing around one night. We were in a place that neither of us had been to before. Needless to say, and with no surprise, trouble found us. We were running and running as if our lives depended on it. Then, I tripped over a downed log and fell face first into the cold, hard ground. David stopped and came back for me, risking his own safety. I thought about that night for a long time and I realized something. That’s what friends do for each other. When you fall, they are there to pick us back up. Right now, we have all fallen. But I want you to know that David is here with us, picking us all back up.”

  ~*~

  The hot midday sun beat down on us with relentless force but we barely noticed, Our focus was to get to that extraction point before the Taliban found us. Every snap of a twig, rustle of a bush, every sound alerted us to our foreign environment. We moved at a heavy pace, not slowing down for anything. Jones led the pack, leading us over sharp rocks and under downed trees while Rooter brought up the rear, making sure nothing, no one was following us.

  “Halt!” Rooter suddenly yelled in a harsh whisper.

  We all stopped and turned around and saw Rooter frozen with a stale hand up in the air. He then quickly motioned for us to get down and find cover. I found shelter beside a berry bush and I look over and see Skinner taking refuge beside a large boulder.

  “You!” Rooter yelled again in a harsh whisper, this time directly at Skinner. “Are we being pursued?”

  Skinner takes each hand and plants them firmly on the ground. He closes his eyes and focuses hard, nearly bursting a blood vessel.

  “There’s twenty three of them,” Skinner began, “and they’re approaching fast.”

  “How far away are they?” Rooter asked.

  “Hundred yards.”

  Rooter expresses his frustration by letting out a few tasteful words then quickly runs up to where we are.

  “They’re too close,” Rooter begins, “we can’t out run them. We’re going to have to fight them off.”

  Jones and Beecher each cock their guns then find a place where they can take cover from oncoming fire but still have a good shot. Rooter looks at Skinner then at me and then is off to find his own cover. That’s when we hear distant shouting.

  Skinner comes over to me and looks me dead in the eye, a serious expression plastered across his face.

  “Look,” he says, “we’ve been through much worse than this. We can do this. We just have to be smart about this.”

  I nod. “Be safe.”

  Skinner lets out a half assed smile. “Aren’t we always?”

  With that Skinner starts walking back down the mountain towards the Taliban. I’m not sure what his plan is but I trust him to make wise decisions. I spread my arms out from my sides and face the palms of my hands towards the ground. I slowly ascend into the sky taking in my surroundings. Rooter, Beecher and Jones are taking shelter behind logs and boulders. The last thing I see before disappearing above the canopy of the trees is Skinner slowly walking towards the oncoming Taliban.

  The wind is stronger up above the trees and it instantly cools me down. I search the area for Taliban and see them just a few dozen yards ahead of the Navy Seals. Skinner has to be close to them. Then, trees, boulders and yes, even Taliban, begin flying through the air back down the mountain side. Skinner is at work. Gun fire immediately erupts and soon you hear returning gun fire from Rooter, Beecher and Jones. I spot six Taliban coming around to the right, flanking the Seals. I thrust my hands behind my back and instantly I’m descending, traveling faster and faster. I come up to the first one and land flat on his back, killing him instantly. I thrust a hand up towards the others and dozens of bullets stop in their tracks. The gun fires ceases and the frightened Taliban begin storming me.

  The bullets drop to the ground as I lower my hand and charge towards the remaining five. I thrust my hand towards the closest one and he goes flying up into the trees, his back impaled by razor-like branches. Another one comes running at me, swinging his AK-47 like a weapon. I dunk as he swings it above me, just barely missing clobbered square in the forehead. I come up with a fist that makes contact with his gut. He arches over in agony and then my knee makes contact with his head. He falls back unconscious.

  The final one comes charging at me with a knife. He takes a few swings as I side step them, miss. Eventually, he takes one giant swing with all his weight thrown into it and when I dive out of the way, he goes stumbling past me. This is my chance. I quickly thrust my hands down my sides which shoots me ten feet in the air. I then thrust my hands behind me which catapults me forward. My feet make contact with his chest just as he turns around. He falls to the ground, dead.

  “Tristan!”

  Skinner. I immediately begin running towards where he last was. Trees, bushes, boulders all go past me in a blur as I run full force over the rocky terrain. I quickly come upon a clearing which had trees uprooted and giant boulders thrown from their previous resting places. Skinner was here. Gun shots echoed to my right so I immediately begin sprinting towards them. Soon I see bullets whizzing past my head. I dunk and dodge what I can see coming towards me.

  “Hey!”

  I turn to my right and see Rooter waving his hands and laying down cover fire at the same time. Beecher lays covering fire while Jones stands up to run to another boulder to get a different angle and possibly flank the Taliban. A lone Taliban terrorist spots Jones and immediately begins firing upon him. Jones falls to the ground hard, screaming out in pain. I thrust my hands towards the ground and I’m instantly thirty feet off the ground. I spot Jones lying on the ground next to a group of bushes firing his weapon with one hand and grasping his leg with the other. I descend drastically and land a few feet behind him.

  “Jones!” I yell over the gun fire.

&nb
sp; Jones turns and looks at me, an angry expression wiped across his face. That’s not what I expected. Even in the most peril of times these guys refuse to show fear. I guess that’s why they are the best in the world.

  “Grab my hand!” I tell him, extending an open hand.

  “What are you doing here?” he replies, still firing his gun. “Get out of here!”

  “Just grab my hand!”

  Jones hesitates, fires a few more rounds and reaches for my hand. As soon as we touch, I grab a hold tightly and we ascend rapidly, high above the trees, all the while Jones lays down covering fire. I spot a clearing a few hundred yards up the mountain and we head towards it. Ever so gently we set down in the clearing. Letting go of Jones’ hand, he lies down against a boulder.

  “You have to go back and get the others,” he says assertively.

  “Alright.”

  With that, I take off again, soaring high up in the sky, this time looking for Skinner. Then I see him. In a freshly made clearing, Skinner is releasing energy pulse after energy pulse, undoubtedly he’s doing this because if he stops, hot bullets would whizz by him or worse. My hands shoot above my head and instantly I descend rapidly. I have to time it just right so I land in between pulses so that a pulse does not send me flying half way up the mountain.

  Pulse. Breath. Pulse. Breath. Pulse. Descent.

  I land with a loud thud right behind Skinner. He turns around and glances at me but before he has anything to say, I grab ahold of his arm and launch ourselves a hundred yards up into the air.

  “What are you doing?” Skinner yells.

  “Saving your ass!”

  “I didn’t need saving! I had it all under control!”