BP/ACRA: Bob and Charlie #2

Tim Munn drtimphd at gmail.com
Sun May 20 13:10:19 PDT 2007

Boring Publications Presents...

Bob and Charlie #2

By Tim Munn

	There was no second wave, which saddened Bob deeply.  There was
however, a missile fired from one of the helicopters which killed a
quarter of those that were left.  Was it good timing?  Not necessarily
for Bob, but he knew that for the man who likely ordered the strike,
it could not have been more opportune.  Brigadier General Casey
Starkey had been edging in on spotlight, or trying too, for the last
few years.  In his mind, Bob thought he could hear the laughter of
General Starkey.  It made Bob shiver in his boots.  General Starkey
was crazy.
	Bob quickly jogged his mind for directions.  The main road was an
east-west route; another at the western end of the village heading
north, and another at the eastern end heading south.  He was on the
northbound road, which meant that he would have to travel back through
the village with hardly any cover now.  Through the village and south
to General Starkey.  Bob didn't like it, not one bit.  But he had to
do it if he wanted to get back to friendly territory.  He looked to
the sky: but oh no!, there they were, a dozen attack helicopters, all
spearheaded by General Starkey himself!
	The lead helicopter, no doubt the one carrying Starkey, fired off
another salvo before touching down close to Bob's position.  There was
no use in running.  If he tried to, Starkey would order his men to
fire upon him, as Bob himself had seen it done before.  Then, Bob had
barely escaped with his life, but his partner in crime Dan had been
blown to smithereens.  He'd not had a partner since, and vowed that
one day he would avenge Dan's death.  Bob clenched his fists, steeled
his mind and prepared for the worst.
	Stepping out of that lead helicopter just as expected was General
Casey Starkey.  He slicked back his jet black hair which had been
waving around wildly, putting on a helmet.  Immediately the rest of
the men in the helicopters fell out and into formation behind
Starkey.  It had been nearly a year since their last confrontation,
and nearly three since Dan's death.  Yet Bob remembered those events
like they happened yesterday, as had Starkey.  Casey casually walked
the distance between the helicopters and Bob.  Not like Starkey, Bob
thought.  Starkey would never take the time to go casual in a
situation like this.
	"Good morning General Starkey, sir,"  Bob said saluting properly.
	Starkey returned it loosely.  "Good morning to you, Bob.  A mighty
fine day for death and destruction, isn't it?"
	"I would believe so, sir.  The way you caught the enemy, simply
amazing," Bob replied, trying to lighten the normally bad mood of
Starkey.  He knew however, that tactic rarely worked.
	Casey laughed.  "Yeah, they probably thought they were being attacked
by God himself, what with the luck they've had lately."
	Yes, there was definitely something wrong with Casey Starkey.  His
mood, his inability to scream profanities towards himself.  Perhaps it
really was a more permanent madness setting in.  Bob wanted this mess
over with quickly.  "So, what's the plan going to be?" He asked Casey.
	"You've been recalled back to Saigon.  Don't ask me what it's about.
I don't know.  The only thing I know is I have to pick you up out of
here," Casey said, crossing his arms.  Bob knew that somewhere down
the line Starkey had his hands in this.  That's all right, Bob
thought, I'll play his game until I'm ready to stop.
	"Are you going to resist?" Casey asked.
	Bob thought a moment, knowing full well his answer.  "No, even though
I'm still pumped over what just happened.  Are you going to cuff me
like last time?" He asked, holding out his wrists.
	"No Bob, only if you resisted was I to cuff you.  Come on, let's go,"
he said, leading Bob forward by the arm.
	The first interesting twist, Bob thought, they always live in
interesting little places!

	Just beyond the clearing, in the dense jungle, Charlie peered on the
events from behind a tree, his anger boiling to a rage.  Part of that
rage was towards his handlers, who had told him of the forged
documents sending Bob back to Saigon.  What use was it if it was going
to take a week to get there?  The other part, the larger part, was
sitting back and letting Bob destroy his village.  How could his
handlers let Bob do so?!  It was only momentarily he knew the answer.
It was under those circumstances that he worked best, those that built
upon his anger.  His anger would be translated, and Bob would know his

Copyright 6/10/2006 7:15 p.m. by Tim Munn

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