Killed in Action - A Spy School Story

Chapter 4: Aftermath

CIA Academy of Espionage

Washington, DC

Hammond Quadrangle

December 19th, 2017

1100R

Mike POV

I was feeling pretty good.

My exams were over, I was to head home for winter break the next day, and Ben was coming with me. Sure, 2016 was the only winter break we didn't spend some time together—considering he was hanging out with the Hales—but tomorrow, we were about to bring the cool back to Alexandria, with my brother showing up too.

The boys were gonna be back in town!

But for the time being, I was fooling around with some of my classmates on the Hammond Quadrangle, fighting with snowballs and snow forts—courtesy of the snow that fell last night. We dramatized it as much as we could, hamming it up with stage pain and SpongeBob SquarePants quotes ("Score one for the boys back home!"). And of course, being the miscreants we were, we started chucking snowballs at people passing by, with it escalating to an all-out war between factions unknown.

All in all, just a certified me-and-the-boys moment.

I wondered where Ben and Zoe were. Yesterday, while we were studying together in the Vandenberg Library, Ben suddenly got a text, apparently from Alexander—something about career counseling, since they were in their last year of school. I hadn't heard from them since. Maybe it just took them a long-ass time, or—due to their operational experience—they had discussions with some important people in the CIA.

Having seen enough weirdness at this point in my life, I was fairly certain anything was possible.

After waving goodbye to the rest of our friends, Nate and I proceeded to head back to Armistead, yakking all the way. We ended up becoming friends sometime after the guy named Warren—Nate's old best buddy—defected to SPYDER. While he could still be a real potato head at times (resulting in the "Potato Head" moniker sticking), he'd become more confident and competent—physically and mentally. He had an affinity for aquatics and if I wasn't mistaken, he could probably rival Chip and come close to Jawa in terms of swimming skills.

"Iowa, huh?" I asked, shedding my headgear upon entering the dormitory. "Isn't that just Nebraska Premium?"

"Har-de-har-har," Nate mock-laughed, shoving me lightly. "My uncle and his family live there, so we're flying up to visit for Christmas. It's weird, really... the CIA accountants were in my direct family, while my extended family's wild."

"Yeah? In what way?"

"My uncle was a SWCC ("swick")—basically the Navy SEALs' aquatic taxi driver—before he became a farmer. My grand-uncle was a cop for damn near all his adult life in New York—tangled with the Mafia too. My other grand-uncle was a doctor, doing some humanitarian shit in some of the most dangerous places on Earth—always strapped though, and even fought his way in and out of tricky situations, getting called the 'Surgical Shooter.' My great-grand-uncle: Marine rifleman in World War II, no introduction needed. As for my cousin over in California, she flies the airplane that drops smokejumpers—basically the special forces of firefighting. She's a little cuckoo, but we love her... say, come to think of it, her husband's a smokejumper and just as crazy as her... no wonder they fell in love."

"Holy shit. And hey, just how long have your cousin and her husband been married?"

"Three years, dated for two before that."