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PAMELA
Posted On 03/02/2015 23:11:46 by JBMorrisAuthor

March 3, 2015

PAMELA


FROM THE PREVIOUS PAGE

Seth left the lounge conflicted. His growing affection for Pamela had overwhelmed him. Equally so, the fear that there was no hope for them loomed large in his mind. 

****

Unlike any other he had seen, Seth entered Moses’s conference room and was awe-struck at the ambiance of the room and its reverence to the United States Marine Corps. Photographs of Moses’ two Iraq and three Afghanistan deployments covered the three interior walls. Sprinkled among the photographs were letters, framed with museum glass, from young marines thankful that Moses had kept them alive. Others were from widows who wrote of their husbands’ pride in having served with him. At the head of the conference table, on the outside wall, were the crossed staffs of the Stars and Stripes and Marine Corps flags. On each side of the flags were two large photographs. The first, showed three marines hunkered down on the Iwo Jima beach during the first morning of the invasion and of course, Joe Rosenthal’s historic photograph of the flag raising on Mt. Suribachi four days later. 

Face solemn, eyes moist, Seth bit his lip and reached for the back of a chair in an effort to restore some sense of balance. Returning to the hell that was once his life, he saw again their faces, the living and dead who had served with him. The dead corporal at his feet. The baby the corporal would never see. The wife he would never kiss. The brand-new, wet-behind-the-ears, second lieutenant who earned a silver star after three days in combat. And lived to tell about it. Those terrifying two days and night in Musa Qala, Afghanistan, and the door-to-door combat in the Jolan District during the second battle in Fallujah, Iraq. The scream of an AK-47 bullet tearing into the dirt, two inches from his face. The explosion of a rocket-propelled grenade that obliterated the sunlight, deafening his ears.

All of it.

And the good-byes. That had been part of the job too. One moment they were his fellow marines and the next, unrecognizable from the bomb blast. Death was just another part of the workday. No time for tears or reflection. He had to keep his head down or he’d have also become unrecognizable.

Then there was Marine Staff Sergeant Billie Williams. Billie. His dearest friend, whom Seth had loved as his own brother. For whatever reason, following Seth’s devastating divorce to Allison, Billie had given himself the job of saving Seth’s emotional life. They had sealed their friendship during the second battle for Fallujah. Trapped behind a burned out truck, they escaped death when a group of insurgents had attacked them. Becoming inseparable, they began to skype each other almost every week. 

The definition of time was change, and for Billie, time had become debilitating. Suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, the marines discharged him and sent him home to an uncertain future. Seth had called and visited often in an effort to save his friend from his growing depression. The effort was futile. Billie had committed suicide six weeks earlier.

Unlike Billie, Seth had managed to hold his own demons in check. Still, he worried that one day he would surrender to them and follow Billie’s lead. Only Pamela stood in the way. She could give him the reason to heal his wounded heart and be alive again. 

Having met in an airport following Billie’s death, Moses still knew enough about Seth to recognize he was losing him to depression. He pulled Seth into his massive arms and held him close while Seth cried as all the dead faces looked on.

“I’m so sorry, Seth. I shouldn’t have brought you into this room.”

Clearing his eyes of seldom seen tears, Seth said, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Come with me. I will take you to your office. It’s next to mine.”

For several minutes, they stood silent, looking out Seth’s office window down onto Wall Street below. Having recovered, Seth finally asked, “So this is where I’ll be working?”

“Yes,” Moses answered, “but I don’t know how much time you’ll spend in it.”

Still looking down at Wall Street, Seth said, “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You have business clients operating in countries around the world. Sometimes terrorists kidnap one of their employees. My job is to go in and rescue them before a ransom is paid or they’re executed. That about it?”

“That’s about it,” Moses said, as he sat on the couch to relieve the ache in his amputated left leg.

Joining Moses on the couch, Seth asked, “So what do you when you have two kidnappings at the same time?”

“I use mercenaries, former marines who are very good at what they do. I have three of them out in the field now.”

“So why do you need me?”

“You would be the best I could put out into the field. Your job will be to coordinate from this office if we have multiple abductions at the same time. There is one caveat.”

“What?” Seth asked.

“Pamela,” Moses said with a broad smile.

“Pamela!” Seth said, surprised.

“Let me tell you something. I’m on Pamela’s side. If she continues to see something in you that I surely don’t, then I’m keeping you chained to your office as much as I can. You need her, Seth, and I think she’s got a serious case on you.” Laughing, Moses added, “Why she has lost her mind, I have no clue. You’re a mess, Seth Collins.”

Seth had recovered from the depression of standing in the conference room. Moses saw that he had now slipped into the remembrance of Pamela. Seth finally said, “Want to take her to a nice restaurant Saturday night. Something quiet. Can you point me in the right direction?

“Romantic too?” Moses said with a mischievous grin.

Seth could only smile.

“Done,” Moses said. “Speaking of Pamela, you’re still standing. Doesn’t look like she beat you up too much.”

“No, that was her mother’s job.” 

TO BE CONTINUED




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