Rise and Walk Read Free Page A

smokes. Amongst the clutter of the picnic table; underneath Jack’s copy of Secrets of the Ninja and Tony’s Improvised Munitions Handbook , laid his pack of cigarettes. Tony noticed that the box felt a little light but was relieved to find two smokes left. He separated the pair and popped one into his mouth. Finding the lighter would be another matter. It wasn’t underneath the men’s camp fire reading materials. It wasn’t near Tony’s collection of obscure vitamin supplements, nor underneath his motorcycle helmet that he had allowed to fade in the sun. Tony stood over the table with his cigarette hanging dumbly from his mouth as he searched.
    “Here, it was on your bike,” Jack’s voice rang out accompanied by Tony’s lighter as it sailed through the air. Tony caught the stainless steel Zippo and lit his cigarette. Tony saw Jack disappear into his tent and wondered what time it was. Looking out over their campground, past Jack’s white late model truck and their two motorcycles on a trailer, he could see the sun, still low on the horizon. There was still some hot water on the camp stove and the thought occurred to Tony that he should have some more Coffee. He poured a hot cup and added only instant creamer. He opened a bottle filled with eleven different vitamins and amino acids. Each pill had an esoteric purpose that Tony resolved would help him fight off the effects of smoking, careless nutrition and the occasional hangover. Tony had previously filled the bottle at home from his supply of health products in anticipation of the weekend. He palmed the mixture and downed eleven pills with a large slug of hot coffee. Cigarettes and vitamins, Tony never even considered the contradictions.
    Tony smoked while looking at the books on the table. They were so different from the textbooks that he had so recently studied at college. The Improvised Munitions Handbook was written in the eighties by the U.S. Army to teach field personnel how to create explosives from common household materials. Tony had bought the handbook when he was sixteen from a military surplus store during the first Bush administration. Back when World War Three seemed like it was just over the horizon. He had read the book cover to cover many times and was reasonably confident that he had absorbed the principals of improvised explosives. The weapons and training all seemed like useless knowledge now. After finally graduating with a Bachelors in English just two months ago and now facing the prospect of finding a real job, Tony wondered if he had wasted his youth studying the wrong things.
    “Don’t you think thirty is too old to play army?” Tony asked with a loud voice as he smoked his dwindling cigarette.
    Jack exited his tent dressed in full camouflage combat gear. His tactical vest was neatly stuffed with equipment. A large combat knife hung on the left side of his chest with the scabbard fastened securely as not to snag on anything while sneaking through the brush. He cradled a very expensive black paintball rifle in his arms, always aware of where the weapon was pointing.
    “Who’s playing?” Jack asked.

 
    THREE
     
     
     
     
    The bright sun continued on its westward course over the Sierra basin warming away the early morning mist. A short distance from the main body of the campground, away from the reveling and often loud local campers, stood a lone tent next to an old country squire station wagon. Inside the tent, Marcia Dahlgren’s mind danced in that small space between consciousness and slumber.
    Since becoming a mother, she had discovered an ability to multitask in her sleep. Her first acquaintance with this ability was when she had fallen asleep while her husband David had been watching football. Her dream had incorporated the sounds of the game coming from the television. That evening, during her nap, she had led the Steelers to victory over the Eagles twenty-one to seven. Marcia found the experience quite pleasing. It was an