Warlord: Dervish Read Online Free

Remembering his childhood, when he was nine years old building snow forts with his friends…that didn’t help. There were some things you couldn’t go back to.
    Sometimes, it was like the kid had said, you just had to let go. Just survive. That was the thing. Concentrate on the here and now to stay in the here and now.
    Jason wondered what Rudy had been thinking when the IED detonated.
    Against his better judgment, against everything he’d just been silently chastising himself for, Jason thought about Aspen and the girls. He pulled back the sleeve of his fatigues and looked at the water-resistant watch peeking out under his glove. The watch had been a gift and it reminded him of home, of his country. He wore it upside down so he wouldn’t need to turn his hand over to look at it.
    It was a quarter after ten. That made it, what ? After six in the afternoon in North Carolina? The girls were probably doing their homework. Jason pictured Aspen on the couch, her legs drawn up under her, reading one of her women’s magazines in the late afternoon sunlight.
    Best not to think of her .
    “Sun getting to you, Jay?”
    Jason looked at his sergeant. “Nah.”
    Mook’d had his eye on him for some time and Jason knew it. Mook had a way of picking up on things. Jason wasn’t acting overtly funny, not the way they’d seen other guys act. There’d been no outbursts on his part, no strange behaviors. He’d just withdrawn further, gotten quieter than he usually was. Especially since the kid got blown all over the road.
    “It is fucking hot out here, dough,” Tucker pronounced.
    “I thought you guys did good in the heat,” remarked the Gift.
    “What is it Sergeant?” Mook was still looking at Jason.
    “You mean black guys?”
    “Yeah. You know, Africa and all that shit.”
    “I don’t know, Jay…” Mook ignored Tucker and the Gift and their banter, ignored the people passing them across the road. “Why don’t you tell me?”
    “…my black ass is from Alaska. I don’t know about them other niggers, but I hate dis heat.”
    “Nothing,” Jason stared back at his sergeant. It was like everything and everyone else had receded into the background, like he and Mook were the only ones here. “It’s all good.”
    “All good, huh?”
    “It’s all good, Sarge.” Jason suspected Rudy had said something to Mook, something about Aspen. Jason figured the sergeant knew more than he was letting on.
    “You sure, Jay?”
    “I’m sure.”
    “You sure you sure?”
    “Look, Sarge, I’m half way around the world in God’s asshole.” Things started to come back into focus. The barrier. The people. “I’m hot as shit. My clothes fucking stink.” His olive drab t-shirt was pasted to his body. “My underwear…I got fucking batwings—”
    Tucker and the Gift both cracked grins.
    “—I got, I don’t know how many thousands of potential hostiles strolling past me, thinking of ways to kill my ass. And to top it all off, I’ve got my sergeant eyeballing me like he thinks I’m ready to go out on a section eight.” The aerostat hung in the sky. “But besides all that bullshit? I’m fucking marvelous. Thanks for asking.”
    Mook nodded. “That’s all I want to hear.”
    “Hey, Tucker.”
    “Whut chew want, Giff?”
    “I gotta stretch my legs. Cover this pig for me.”
    “Nuh-uh, youse crazy you think my black ass getting’ up there.”
    “Come on, Tuck.”
    “Go fuck yourself, Giff. Some camel jockey motherfucker send an RPG down here—who you think he gonna be aimin’ at? Not dis black man down here on the ground. Dat’s for sure.”
    “Sarge?” The Gift looked to Mook.
    “Can’t help you, Gift.” Mook was back to scrutinizing the people passing by. “I can’t make these stubborn Alaskan motherfuckers do nothing.”
    “Tuck, come on. You gonna make me beg? That it?”
    “You know what, Giff?” Tucker paused, like he was thinking it over. “ Maybe if you ask me real nice—real pretty please and