27 Lies(5)

By: MJ Fields



Neither candidate is looking good this coming election. We have a book smart, loud mouth who has smart business sense, yet the public has seemed to have forgotten about the bankruptcies his corporation has filed. Then we have a raving bitch who has committed crimes, screwed the military by cutting funds, and in turn lets my fucking country appear weak. But what does J.Q. have to say about it? Depends on what the hell is trending.

I love my country, care about the people I protect, but they are sheep wearing blinders when it comes to the media. They have their noses stuck in their smart phones, checking out what everyone else is doing, and not doing what they should be. Consequently, our country as a whole is affected by it!

“Wake the fuck up,” I utter as I switch off the TV and grab my laptop. I want to tap into intelligence and find out what the hell my unit is in for.

***

My unit returns in less than twenty-four hours. Everyone is fine, as I knew they would be. The problem lies here: It’s getting harder and harder to distinguish the good guys from the bad guys.

We go on assignments all over the world. Sometimes we go alone to gather information from other operatives. Some are American; many are not. That doesn’t mean a damn thing except you hope and, yes, pray that those giving you the information have been thoroughly investigated and followed to ensure they are working for the same damn cause you are.

The cause is all that matters. The cause is safety and security to our nation and, yes, other nations. J.Q. Public doesn’t get that, even though they get more than they should.

The madman who stormed Fox Club is an American who joined the Islamic fundamentalist cause. They, meaning the fundamentalist. Not the entire Middle East, not Muslims around the globe, but the fucking terrorists who hate what they call Westernizing influences in the world. These groups—Isis, Al Qaeda, and all the others who pop up everywhere—call my country the “Great Satan,” chant “Death to America,” and stand on a platform of hate, saying they are doing it in the name of Allah.

I have worked with many Muslim, men and women, who do not share the same belief or feelings these terrorists do. I have had many discussions with men I trust to have my back while at war about what is said globally about Christian fundamentalists who hate as deeply. It’s a sick world out there when people have such weak minds.

Weak minds, fear, limited knowledge, and hate destroy nations...and people.

This “American,” Jordan Blackstone, was not acting on behalf of anyone but himself. He was a sick, twisted fuck who craved mayhem and wanted to be known.

Hell, we have seen and heard of acts like this being carried out because someone, usually a politician or group of people behind a politician, with their own agendas want stricter gun laws.

Think I’m full of shit? I’m not. J.Q. doesn’t know the half of it. They are led. Led by the media and people they feel they can trust. Well, they can’t.

Like I said, the world is a sick fucking place. We just try our damnedest to rid the world of the evilest threats, and we are damn good at it. Just as good as the powers that be who will blame Jordan Blackstone, a redhead from the Midwest, for being a terrorist when my spidey senses are telling me and my unit brothers that he was led to this by some liberal fuck who stands on his moral bullshit and is a terrorist himself for thinking those lives lost are for the greater good. Sick fucks.

Give me the intel on who was behind that, and I will damn sure take on that mission.

As sure as I am about never falling in love with anyone other than the United States of America, I am equally sure I will never bring a kid into a world like this.

No. Fucking. Way.





CHAPTER TWO


I’m over you. - A. Millan


LUKE


Seven weeks later…



I look out the window of the plane as we start to descend. I see the big, red football stadium and the sprawling campus that is Cornell University. Then I finally I see Cayuga Lake, where I spent countless hours, fishing with Mom, my step-dad Ryan, and my sisters and brother.

Ryan has always been a hardworking man. From spring to snow fall, he busted his ass to make bank running his construction company. In the summer, though, the family would meet every Friday at five o’clock. Mom would have coolers stocked with food and drinks already loaded on the boat. We would walk down the dock, and she would meet Ryan with a damn captain’s hat.

“You all ready to get the hell out of here?” She would ask with a smile. And we all would say yes.

Aside from going to the Cape for a week at the end of the summer, that boat was our summer getaway. I’m not complaining. I loved it out there on the water. The stresses of work, or school, or sports, or family didn’t matter. Fridays with that boat were all about the six of us.

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