Farm Tag

Prologue.

« Enemy target at ten o'clock. Need visual! »

"Got it."

« Any suspicious movement? »

"A grenade, fuck!"

The grenade leaps with all its weight into their hiding place, already stripped of its pins. The soldiers throw themselves to the ground, protecting their heads. The grenade explodes.

A cloud of dust rises. The impact of the grenade destroys everything in its path, taking fathers, children and brothers with it.

« Can you hear us? Delta team? I repeat. Did anyone survive?! »

"Holy shit."

« Identify yourself, a rescue team is on its way. Stand by, soldier. Alpha Team is working to neutralize the individuals on site. It's over. »

"It's me, Reid. I survived."

He lets his head fall back to the ground. Looking up at the beautiful blue Middle Eastern sky, he ignores the pools of blood around him, including his own, dripping from his legs and arms.

"Sir, can you hear me? Please, wake up."

I open one eye, a doctor leans over me and blinds me with his flashlight.

"Ouch, fuck!"

"Yes, you have to answer when I call you!"

He inspects my body, upset.

"My colleagues have fetched a stretcher and we're going to take you to New York by helicopter."

"What the hell is this? Why are we doing this?"

"You'd better save your energy for future operations, unless you want me to amputate your legs and arms right away?"

I lie back, wanting to rub my temples to relieve an acute migraine but my arms don't respond, completely drained of energy.

Oh, fuck.

"The operation was a success, Sir. You were brave. Do you have any family to contact?"

I shake my head negatively, swallow my saliva and moisten my dry throat.

"Some people want to see you, can we let them in?"

I cough to lighten my voice.

"Go ahead."

I straighten up, recognizing the captain with the commander at his side.

"At ease."

My arms are still sore and prevent me from standing at attention.

"Private Reid. You are the only survivor of the American hostage rescue operation. That's why we've canceled all field operations and recalled our troops to American soil."

"Your condition is not to be overlooked. Your injuries could have cost you your life and unfortunately, most of them still do."

"Private, we are officially discharging you from the U.S. Army due to your condition, which renders you incapable of working to protect our fellow citizens."

"On the other hand, we award you this medal for having served the Army for nearly ten years. You are a man of honor and an example to our future recruits."

"But we won't let you down. So that you can resume a normal life by learning to live with your temporary disability, a family has agreed to look after you since you have no parents."

"This family lives in Pennsylvania and looks forward to meeting you and taking care of you. Your treatment has already been sent to them. A hospital will be close by to start the physiotherapy sessions and a psychologist will be at your disposal, paid for by the military mutual insurance company."

They lower their eyes after staring at the wall behind my back during their monologues, tears in their eyes.

"We're gonna miss you, man."

"It's really fucked up, isn't it?"

"You have no idea, we keep going to funerals. It's a miracle you're alive."

"Right."

"We know it's hard for you to leave the army, but tell yourself you've done your time and we've all gone too far."

"I'll get over it, I'm not as in love with the army as you two."

They smile at each other, the captain discreetly wiping away his tears.

"Private Reid, it's been a pleasure working with you."

They can't even shake my hand, so they stand at attention one last time before me and leave the room. I collapse on the bed, staring at the hospital room ceiling and the mold on the edges of the walls.

What the hell am I going to become ?

________________________________

Angel Madden.
November 28, 2004.
Blood type : A+.
In love with her farm.

Reid Holloway.
September 23, 1997.
Blood type : A+.
Catholic.