Mirrored Man: The Rob Tyler Chronicles Book 1 Read Free Page B

happened.
    Rot lay in his bed with his head still
wrapped in gauze. The nurse had elevated him enough that he could
see the royal blue, semi-sheer draperies covering the window. They
were closed because the direct light reflecting on the stark white
walls sometimes hurt his eyes, an effect he was still suffering
from his head wound.
    His thoughts were the same as they had been
from the first time he awoke in the hospital. They were of his last
mission. A mission, like so many of his other assignments, where he
was to take the life of an assigned target. In the past, it had
mattered little to him what motivated his superiors to send him to
do his work. He had simply followed orders. But his last mission
was different. His target was a well-known terrorist leader who was
suspected of committing some heinous crimes. Rot agreed, with just
the common knowledge of what this man had done, that he probably
deserved to die. But still, when the stand-down order had been
issued, Rot recalled feeling an almost overwhelming sense of
relief. Not because the man’s life had been spared. No, not that.
It was the fact that God had spared him from being the
instrument that took the man’s life from him.
    “Hey, somebody said the pus bucket in this
room wanted some ice cream.” Sack’s voice came rolling into the
room just ahead of his wheelchair. He was balancing two bowls of
what appeared to be either chocolate chip or cookies ‘n cream on
his lap, pushing the chair forward with his hands.
    “What? They didn't have Neapolitan? Variety
is the spice of life, my friend.”
    Sack’s expression hardened as he stopped by
the bed and regarded Rot.
    “What? You gonna tell me you love me?”
    “Okay, Rot. Tell me what you remember,” Sack
stated flatly as he handed one of the bowls to his friend.
    Finally . “I remember everything up to
when the choppers came in.”
    “That's it?”
    Rot thought about it for a minute. Images of
the helicopter on the ground in front of him flashed through his
mind. “Did the choppers crash?”
    “One of 'em went down.”
    Rot sat his bowl aside and folded his arms
across his chest. “Are you gonna tell me or—”
    “It got hit in the rotor by an RPG.”
    “Did the crew—?”
    “They made it. The rag heads only hit it
hard enough to knock it down, and it only dropped about fifteen
feet. The co-pilot got his ankle broke and a couple of guys got
shot up, but nothin' serious.”
    Rot picked up the bowl and took a spoonful
of ice cream. Chocolate chip. “Go on.”
    Sack looked down at his legs. “Right after
that, I got my legs shot out from under my ass.” Suddenly, the big
man’s eyes went wide and he cupped a hand over his mouth in mock
embarrassment. “Did I just say a bad word?”
    “Get stuffed!” Rot laughed, and then
gingerly laid his head back on the pillow. He looked at the ceiling
in frustration. “Could you, I don't know, maybe tell me the parts I
don't already know?”
    Sack only smiled.
    “What?” Rot shouted.
    “You, man.”
    “What do ya mean, me?”
    Sack sampled another spoonful and winked as
he swallowed. “I mean you saved the friggin' day. That's what I
mean.”
    “Huh?” Rot mumbled through the ice cream in
his mouth.
    The big man slapped the bed, hard. “I
thought you wuz wussin' out on me, man. I thought we were goners
'cause you found religion .”
    Rot screwed up his face in confusion. “Are
you gonna start makin' sense anytime soon?”
    Sack gave him a knowing look. “Got baptized,
huh? Got all warm and fuzzy with the man upstairs, huh? You had me
fooled, brother. I thought you wuz lost. You had me thinkin' I was
a dead man in the desert 'cause you couldn't do yer job.”
    A picture was starting to form in Rot’s
mind, a picture he wasn't sure he wanted to see.
    “After the bird went down, those desert rats
came scurrying out of their holes from everywhere. All around us.”
Sack’s description was animated. “There must've been fifty or sixty
of 'em. They