The Military Boy - At War

BBC Sponsored Campaign

"We will not stop! We will fight for justice! We will not yield to terrorism!" The lady in the purple scarf standing on a large red waste receptacle yelled at the top of her lungs. Her fists were waving in the air, and the large number of people surrounding her holding up signs and lit candles yelled along or prayed. "We will get the government to do everything they can to bring Josephine back to safety. We will not rest until we are heard. Terrorism will not win!" People started cheering and chanting outside the home of a parliament member. This was a nightly occurrence since the last news release regarding Jo.

They had no idea that the mission to rescue Jo was already planned and about to occur tomorrow night. The general public was adamant that Jo was alive and well. They had the faith that I didn't. Was she alive? Was she still ok? Was she still whole? Just imagining the different scenarios, she must have faced made me not want to go on. I felt horrendously helpless and frustratingly desperate for the special ops team to find her and return her to safety. I saw her face everywhere. Anti-terrorist groups, sponsored by the BBC, had campaigns out to solicit government support in retrieving Jo. The entire thing looked like some sort of staged propaganda. Bus shelters had posters with Jo's face on them, and it made going anywhere even more difficult.

I already saw her every time I shut my eyes. She lived in my mind. I even spoke to her at times... to make sense of my jumbled thoughts. I was going mad. This was true because the Jo that lived inside my head would respond to me. She'd smile, and she'd giggle. She'd give me advice and soothe me with her voice and her words. However, the glossy Josephine encased in a plexiglass frame at the bus shelter gave me a cold stare. The warmth from her smile never met her eyes. She questioned me. Where was I? Why hadn't I busted through the doors of her prison and saved her? Why hadn't I found and finished off her captives?

I had no idea where to look. The only person I thought knew anything swore on her son's life that she had no clue. Her son. Her son... who looked like me. Her son who was four years old. Proving she got pregnant around the time I was last with her. Her son... who called me dad.

Elle had approached us once we landed and were piling into the car, ready to head home. I can still hear the words she said to me and the look on Jo's face as she registered what Elle was saying.

"Hero, I'm so glad you made it back safely. There's someone I want you to meet. He knows all about you. I made sure of it."

We were distracted. Completely caught off guard. I could see the questions forming in Jo's mind just by the look on her face. My own face must have held a look of shocked surprise. It didn't matter, though. A group of masked men had ambushed us. Normally quick to respond, Jo and I didn't react in time, and before I knew it, Jo was gone. Elle was clutching the then two-year-old Gabe and screaming for help. It took me a good minute to look down and realize why Elle was yelling for help. She didn't care that Jo was gone. She didn't care that I was bleeding profusely from somewhere in my lower abdomen. She wasn't injured, and nor was Gabe. She was screaming because a lifeless Alex lay in a pool of his own blood. He was still holding a gun that he must have pointed at the men who abducted Jo. However, the stab wounds on Alex told their own story of what occurred.

"Are you going to eat that or throw it in the trash like everything else I try to feed you?" Felix went off on me, annoyed that I didn't have an appetite regardless of all the foods he lined up for me every time we met up. He called it a wellness visit. He took it upon himself to force me out of the house for fresh air, telling me regularly that I looked like a stale ass zombie.

"I told you not to sit where you could see the bus shelter from the bloody restaurant window. Now, look at you! I swear I will force-feed you if I have to, and trust me, it isn't going to be pretty! So, come on, eat up." I pushed the jerk chicken and rice around on my plate but still made no move to actually eat it. Sighing loudly, Felix took the fork and stabbed some chicken on it. "Why don't you tell me what you're thinking? Instead of keeping it in, talk to me." I trusted Felix, but I didn't want to talk. Except I couldn't stop the words from coming out of my mouth.