He follows orders. That’s what they thought. They thought I was a dog on a leash. They thought the uniform made me obedient. They didn’t understand what Delta Force really was. We don’t just follow orders. We are the ones they send when the orders are illegal. We are the ones they send when the law isn’t enough.
I wasn’t a soldier anymore. Tonight, I was an insurgency of one. I put the recorder away and started the truck. I didn’t go back to the hospital. I didn’t go back to the house. I drove to a 24-hour hardware store three towns over. I walked the aisles under the buzzing fluorescent lights. I looked like any other guy working a late shift, maybe a contractor fixing a leak.
I bought a few things. a roll of heavyduty plastic sheeting. A box of industrial strength zip ties, a staple gun and a hammer, a heavy claw style framing hammer. I waited in my hand. It felt balanced. Solid, I paid with cash. The sleepy teenager at the register didn’t even look up from his phone. “Have a good night,” he mumbled.
