Come Back
The door chimed as he entered, and Freeman nodded to the the clerk behind the counter.
“Good evenin’,” said the clerk.
Freeman ignored him. He made his way to the middle of the store, picked up a bottle of scotch, checking the price. He paused there, looked at the window beside him, reflecting the aisles like a mirror. There was a man, mid-twenties, behind him, eating Pocky and staring. He put the scotch back, picked up another bottle, nodding to himself.
He started back towards the counter, slowing at the sight of a second man entering from the street, hands in his pockets, glancing around the room. Freeman stopped at a display of mini-mixers, listening, waiting.
“Major?”
Freeman wheeled around. Behind him was a young man in military clothes, dog tag at his neck. He was smiling like he’d just won the lottery.
“Lieutenant Armstrong,” Freeman said, saluting. “How’ve you been?”
Armstrong saluted back, shrugged.
“Same old, sir. How’ve you been? The guys all miss you. Haven’t seen you in ages.”
“I’ve been around,” Freeman said, holding the scotch behind himself. “Are you back now? Back for good?”
“No sir. Short breather, sir. We ship out next week. Militia’s been using the proceeds from piracy to buy new guns, so there’s a never-ending supply of bad guys to kill.”
Freeman nodded, checked over his shoulder. The two men were on opposite sites of the store, looking at bottles without using their eyes.
“Wish you were still with us, sir,” said Armstrong.
Freeman laughed.
“I doubt anyone else feels that way,” he said.
“No, sir, that’s just not the case. The guys have no hard feelings. None at all, sir. We all wish things had gone differently. More than anything. Hell, if it had been any of us, getting that news, we’d have been on the first plane back. You can count on it.”
“It wasn’t an easy decision to make,” Freeman said quietly.
“It was an easy one to accept, sir. You’ve got my word on that. AWOL isn’t always AWOL.”
Freeman shrugged, smiled weakly.
“Let me get your drink for you, sir. It’s the least I can do. Saying thanks for all the times you saved my ass.”
He reached for the bottle, but Freeman pulled it back, shook his head.
“No, Lieutenant, I can’t let you do that. I’ve got expensive tastes.”
“It’s okay, sir. I’m not a lieutenant anymore. Got promoted to captain last year. Now come on, I want to do something with my captain’s pay, and something tells me this is gonna be as good as it gets for a while.”
Freeman smiled and went with Armstrong to the counter. Armstrong patted Freeman on the back, nodded confidently.
“This man’s a hero,” he said to the clerk. “And I’m buyin’ him some scotch.”
The clerk looked between the two.
“Good for you,” he said.
Just then, the two men at the back of the store burst forward, guns out, yelling furiously to get on the ground, get down now!
The first one grabbed Armstrong by the neck and tossed him down, stepping on his neck and aiming the gun at his head. The second aimed at the clerk.
“No heroics, army-boy! Empty the register now!”
Freeman sighed.
The first one switched his aim to Freeman.
“On the ground!” he shouted.
“What do you want?” Freeman asked, not moving.
“Cash! Now get down!”
Freeman turned to him, snarling.
“What do you really want?”
“Cash! Now shut up before I—”
The scotch bottle exploded across the robber’s head, and he fell over in a heap. The second thug started to turn, but Freeman hit his wrist so hard the gun dropped. They faced each other, one frantic and cornered, the other eerily calm.
The robber reached into his jeans and began pulling out a second weapon, but before he could aim, Freeman’s boot caught him in the throat, and he landed on his back, gagging, grasping at his neck.
Freeman turned to Armstrong, helped him up, and patted his shoulder.
“Nice talking with you, Captain. Tell the men I’m counting on them.”
“Yes, sir,” nodded Armstrong.
He started towards the door, but the clerk called out.
“Wait! The police will be here and…”
“I’ve got to run,” Freeman said. “I’ve got places to be. That all right with you?”
The clerk nodded, smiled nervously, still shaking from the ordeal.
“Please, take a case of beer. It’s free. As thanks.”
Freeman grabbed a six pack from the display at the front. The cheapest stuff in the store. He held it up, smiled.
“Thanks.”
He ran out and back to his car as the sirens closed in from all sides.