Paladin Prophecy 2: Alliance Read Online Free Page B

your out-of-the-blue question—“Did I know a man during the Vietnam War named Sergeant Dave Gunner?”—would be to send you a photograph I’ve kept all these years.
    Will found the photo attached to the back of the letter with a paper clip. An aging snapshot, in close-up, of a tanned and shirtless Dave reclining on a tropical beach, holding his sunglasses up with one hand and winking, while giving a thumbs-up with the other. Wearing a devil-may-care grin, like he had the world by the scruff of the neck.
    Looking exactly like the Dave Gunner Will had known, same guy, no question about it. The only difference: no disfiguring scars on his face from the chopper crash. That was yet to come, and apparently soon.
    As you probably know, Dave didn’t survive the war. In fact, he was killed two days after I took this picture. I was just a kid then, and we only knew each other a couple of days but he certainly made an impression. That’s the kind of guy he was. So full of life he could hardly contain it. If anyone had met Dave, then I’m sure they’d never forget him, and his dying when he did, even with all that unimaginable violence going on around us, hit me hard as something senseless and tragic.
    “I hear that,” said Will softy.
    One more point. This is an even harder thing to describe, Will, but since then, more than a few times during my life, hard times, I’ve had a strong feeling that Dave was nearby. In a good way. I don’t know if that sounds too awfully strange to you, but there it is, for what it’s worth. It was a long time ago, and I’m married now, happily, to a really great fella, so I’ll say no more about that.
    But I did hang on to this photo for a very long time, didn’t I?
    Anyway, I hope I’ve answered your question.
    Sincerely yours,
    Nancy (Hughes) Deangelo, RN, retired
    “Yes, you did, Nancy,” said Will. “You sure did.”
    Will went into his bedroom, sat at his desk, folded up the letter, and looked at the photograph of Dave again.
    So full of life he could hardly contain it.
    As he stared at the photograph, he felt a strong vibration issuing from his desk. He opened the top drawer, where Will kept the pair of “black dice” that Dave had given him. Of course, when Dave used them, they functioned as some kind of holographic database that projected information he requested into thin air, but ever since he’d thrown them Will’s way, they’d stubbornly resisted looking or acting as anything other than ordinary dice.
    But now the dice were oscillating in place so rapidly he could barely see them, and his whole desk was shaking.
    “What’s going on, Will?” asked Will’s syn-app, looking up from the screen of his notebook, seated at a virtual version of the dining room table, which was also shaking.
    “I don’t know, Junior. It started after I opened this letter.” Will had grown so comfortable with the constant presence of his miniaturized/computerized double that he’d started calling him Junior.
    “May I see it please, Will?”
    Will stood, picked up the notebook to stop the shaking, then held the letter up to the screen. “It’s from that navy nurse you found the address for last year.”
    Will held up the photograph, too. Junior stood up and appeared to study them, while analyzing and scanning them into memory.
    “That is the same guy, right?” asked Will. “In the other picture you found. That’s Dave Gunner.”
    “Yes, it is, Will. I can definitely confirm that,” said Junior. “It really makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
    “Yes. It really, really does.”
    “I wonder what Nurse Nancy looked like way back then.”
    “Knowing Dave, it’s a safe bet that back in the day she looked pretty doggone good.”
    “I’ve made a note of her current address,” said Junior. “If you ever need to contact Ms. Hughes again.”
    “Thanks, Junior,” said Will.
    As soon as he put the letter away, his desk stopping shaking. He opened the drawer to look at the dice, as