v12-final1

a second it had rested peacefully in front of him, just below his trigger
finger. He’d figured it had been a combination of good luck and the good
Lord that had allowed him to dodge the bullet (pun intended) so he’d
kept it and made sure to say his prayers.
“Oh, yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes at her own forgetfulness.
“I keep forgetting.”
“You’re only six,” he said, smiling into the webcam. “That’s understandable.
Most of these idiots over here still can’t figure it out.” He threw
a dirty sock at Private Banks, one of his three roommates and the only
one that was awake. The four men shared a twelve feet by twelve feet
plywood box they called home.
The first couple of months had been difficult, getting used to the cramped
space, but they found it as cozy as could be now. It offered much more
space than they had in their tightly packed gun truck they took on the
road every night on missions.
“Is it snowing there, Daddy?”
“Oh, no,” he said, laughing at her innocence, ducking the sock
that Banks had thrown back at him. “Honey, it never snows here.”
“Isn’t it winter there, too?” she asked, looking confused again.
“Yes sweetie. It’s winter, but it’s still in the mid-eighties during
the day. It does get cold at night though. Down to the mid-thirties.”
“That seems like such a strange place,” she said, her face now
wearing a look of fascination. “I’d like to go there someday.”
“Well,” he said, looking thoughtful. “Maybe someday that will be
possible. Don’t count on it until you’re a grown up though. This place
isn’t going to be safe for a long time. Is it snowing there?” he asked,
changing the subject. He lived Iraq day in and day out. His Skype call to
his daughter and wife, and his three month old son he’d not met yet was
his daily excursion away from his grim reality.
“”Yes,” she said. “It just started this afternoon. I love it when it
snows on Christmas!”
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