Don't Miss: Old Testament

Even I took notice. Himeko's normally boring skirt and blouse was replaced by a more...lacy affair. A black blouse and skirt were contained in a white lace apron piece, which seemed to stop under her breasts, lifting and compressing them. The skirt came down to mid-calf, but what I could see of her legs seemed very alluring.

I spoke up, "yeah, why the sudden wardrobe-change? Did you know we were having guests?"

Elena looked confused. "You mean, she doesn't normally dress this way," she asked both of us.

"She's only done this once before. It was New Year's Eve, and I still think she was trying to impress my brother," I said, laughing as Himeko blushed at the last comment.

Awkward Silence.

"Moving right along," Elena said, breaking the silence, "second question: why is your name Himeko? Not to offend, but..."

"Don't even try," I interjected, "I've wanted to know ever since I was eight, and she won't tell. She says it's her real name, but I don't know."

"In answer to your question, I get asked about my name all the time," said Himeko, ignoring my criticism. "Ever since I can remember, my name's been Himeko. It's not the typical white-gal name, but I like it."

Elena asked, "what does it mean?"

"Princess Child," Himeko responded.

"Enough small talk," I said, "Elena, you'll need your things, correct?"

"Oh my, I forgot. I don't have my toiletries, or...or clothes, or...I'll have to go and get everything," Elena said, beginning to panic.

"Relax." I started writing on a pad of paper that sat on the table. "Himeko, this is Elena's address. Please go and retrieve her toiletries and other unmentionables she will require for her stay with us."

"For how long will that be...sir," Himeko asked, standing and trying to regain her professional composure.

"A one-week stay. We can wash in the same schedule. Here are the keys," I said, holding the keys out. Himeko went to take them from me, but I raised my arm, halting her grasp. "And this time, make it quick and clean. No stops, no exploring, get in, get out. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," she responded, a hint of sadness in her voice.

"Alright then," I said, dropping the keys into her hand, "take no prisoners."

Himeko hurried out of the house. I heard the car pull out of the driveway, and turned to Elena. I asked her, "Elena, how are you feeling?"

"I feel fine, I suppose, thanks for the water. Why did you send her out so soon? We could have done that later."

"Just to get rid of her for a bit. Come on, let me give you the tour."

I took her hand to help her up, and led her out of the living room, past the container-covered hutch, which Elena determined to be tea-making implements. We walked through another doorway, and stood in the kitchen.

"Wow, this is a nice kitchen," Elena said, running her hand across the marble countertop. "Do you cook much?"

"Indeed. However, it's usually breakfast. Himeko sleeps until eight, so I make breakfast before school. Hime makes dinner, except for the one day."

"Which day is that?"

"Why, her birthday, of course."

"That's sweet of you. And what does the gentleman cook for his lovely maid on that day?"

"Well, last year it was Lobster Thermidor. Two lobsters, butter, mushrooms, scalded cream, egg yolks, some paprika and pepper."

"That sounds heavenly."

I laughed, remembering the sheer disgust on Himeko's face when she tried my bastardization of the French gourmet dish. "It would have been, but I'm a horrible cook at anything other than bacon and eggs."

We proceeded out of the kitchen, and, having already seen the living room, I led Elena up the staircase leading to the bedrooms. We passed a bathroom, which I pointed out, connected two rooms together. I stepped into one of the adjacent bedrooms with Elena in tow.

"This is where you'll be sleeping...Assuming you still want to stay."

Elena looked around the room, from the large window facing the back acres, to the four-poster bed jutting from the west wall. Eventually she spoke, "it looks like...one could wake up and see the sunrise just over their feet."

"That's the hope, yes. But I think you'd better rephrase that," I told her, walking up behind her and holding her at arm's length. "You can watch the sunrise, over your feet. This room is yours for as long as you want."

"You've been so kind to me Alphonse. I can't think of any other place I'd like to be than right here, with you. I finally feel...safe."

I pulled her closer into me, and held her, softly stroking the back of her hair; drawing my fingers through the soft cascade. "I'm glad I can help you feel this way. If it can help put that smile back on your face for good, then it's my most important task."

"Thank you," she giggled as she had before, "little Al."

I lifted her chin from where it had rested at my chest, saying, "I think I can forgive that one, but it's a good thing you're so damn cute, or else..."

She laughed in earnest. "I don't know how I could ever repay you. I'm already in your debt for my life, but now room and board?"

"Well, I can think of one way," I said, and only after leaning down and kissing Elena fully did I realize how cliché my words were. Our lips met, and Elena's were the first to part, open but not aggressive. I let my tongue pass my lips, and soon we were feverishly exchanging tongues, minds ablaze with the pleasure we never knew could come from a kiss.

I sat on the edge of the bed, and Elena was quick to follow, as though our joined breath was our only source of air. Elena nestled herself closer against me, and I felt her soft breasts caress my chest, sending a wave of warmth emanating from the contact point. I wrapped my arm around her back, my hand on her taught stomach, reminding me that this was still the same beautiful, fragile Elena with whom I had fallen madly in love.

Pressing my luck, I raised my hand ever so slightly, stroking softly her stomach and sides. I felt the palm of my hand reach the bottom of her breasts, and rubbed lightly. Elena moaned into my mouth from the contact, but made no attempt to pull away.

I heard a slight rustle and saw movement in my peripherals. I reluctantly let the kiss end, and stood up. I had a good feeling who it might be. "You bastard. The jig is up; show yourself."

"Damn, either you're getting good at spotting me, or I'm getting lazy," I heard a voice say from somewhere in the room. Albrecht emerged from a wall closet, wearing his ACU's.

"How...how long have you been in here," asked Elena in disbelief, turning away in embarassment, and then realizing she wasn't indecent.

"Since 'I don't know how I could ever repay you'," my brother responded smugly. "That was a pretty hot show you put on there, bro – if they processed it, I could heat my house with it."

"Hey, you in the ACU's, the one who's spying on his little brother: fuck you."

"Hey, you on the bed, the one who stopped making out with his girlfriend to talk to his brother: fuck you!"

"Fuck both of you," another voice said from out in the hallway. Himeko stood in the doorway before entering, correcting them, "don't you know it's impolite to swear in mixed company? And Albrecht, officers don't swear."

Albrecht just looked generally grumpy, having been corrected by a civilian, worse yet a girl. "Yeah, well I ain't an officer. What part of Staff Sergeant don't you understand, girl!?"

While Albrecht and Himeko argued over rank, Elena and I stood dumbfounded. "Did she just say the F-word," I asked Elena.

"She doesn't normally do that?"

"She's only done it that one other time."

"New Year's Eve, right," Elena asked.

"How'd you know," I quizzed.

"I figured your brother must be the common element here. The maid outfit, the swearing...I think you're right about her. She definitely likes him," Elena responded. "I think I'll break it up."

Elena strolled over merrily over to where the soldier and maid were arguing, and caught Albrecht in mid-sentence.

"...at least once per day. More if they're practicing or there's a football game," Albrecht said.

Himeko looked puzzled. "I still don't see why their motto is 'click click click...misfire, misfire,'" she eventually responded, still confused.

Though Elena had no idea what they were talking about, she politely interrupted, asking, "Himeko, did you manage to find my things at the house?"

"Things? Oh yes! Yes I did. Right this way, and we can organize them and figure out where to store everything."

Himeko led Elena out and down the hallway. I turned to my brother. He still seemed grumpy from his argument with Himeko. "The girl wouldn't know a howitzer if you stuck it up her cunt," he said, in reference to Himeko's lack of military bearing.

I laughed at the graphic image my mind created. Himeko stood at the counter, preparing dinner, six feet off the floor, the artillery piece's barrel disappearing under her skirt. "Oh, she'd know about it...However briefly, that is," I managed between chuckles.

"So," my brother began, leaning against the windowsill, "why's the girl staying with you?"

"Elena? She's afraid to stay in her house alone. Albrecht, it was her parents...It looked like..." I let my voice trail off, not able to will the word past my mouth.

"Judas," my brother sighed. "I know the story. The police report though...more red flags than Rhinos playing soccer." He paused, as though remembering something. "On a lighter note though, how good is Himeko's cooking? I know she can cook for two."

"As far as taste goes, she's better than SoDexHo, if that's what you mean. I think she can handle cooking for three."

Albrecht laughed. "Three? Think she could handle seven?"

"Seven? Oh no...Albrecht...You didn't."

Albrecht reached inside his pocket, and retrieved a shiny whistle. He blew once, loudly, and assumed a more commanding posture.

"Fall in," he called out.

"Oh, God no."

I heard a rustle from the same closet from which Albrecht had been hiding. The door flew open with a bang. From an upper shelf tumbled the bodies of the rest of fire team Able. After a short respite of lying in a heap, Gibalev, Manstir and Peterson lined up in front of my brother at a stiff attention.

"Parade," Albrecht said, pausing for but a second, "rest!"

The men staggered their feet and assumed the more relaxed posture, eyes dead ahead. I edged nervously out of Gibalev's gaze, trying to avoid making eye contact. Albrecht addressed them, saying "men, this is House Rosethorne. These premises will be our temporary base, whilst Peterson recovers from his unfortunate...uh...Head and Groundhog-Hole injury.

Peterson rubbed the side of his head. "I thought it would fit," he said, woefully.

"And I tried to convince you," Albrecht continued, "that there was no tactical advantage to putting your head in a groundhog-hole. Moving along...Manstir, I want you to do a perimeter check, and for God's sake, Gibalev, stop raising that eyebrow at me.

Gibalev locked his gaze again. Albrecht continued, "finally, if things get bad, and with two women around they might, if things get bad, and we're forced to retreat, this room here is the Alamo. Last one alive blows the bomb.

I looked around frantically, waiting for someone to laugh; that it was a joke, "Wait, bomb? What are you--"

"That'll destroy us and our enemy along with any evidence. Then it's an easy one-sheet cleanup. Questions?" Nothing. "Good. One more thing. If I am gone, this man," Albrecht said, as he pushed the whistle against my chest, which I took, "is your NCOIC. Fall out to your assigned tasks."

*************

Sitting there in the house, surrounded by my brother, his friends, and Elena, I couldn't have been happier. I looked over at Elena, and she smiled back in earnest. Now that we were together, now that we were all gathered, our lives could begin anew. I told myself there that I would stick by Elena no matter what. Death, terror, and further hardships can be overcome, as long as one has something to fight for. And for me, that something is Elena.

*************

--Chapter Three--

--the Sound of Madness; the Sound of Laughter--

*************

I was getting annoyed.

"I thought it was Foxtrot. You are using NATO phonetics, right," Elena asked.

"Well, it could be, but if there's a heavy machine gunner layin' some death on your 20, and you've got to radio foxtrot for assistance, you gotta count your syllables. Take an extra syllable, and your jaw could be hangin' by a thread. Shot clean off. That's a messy procedure, reattaching a jaw, mind you," Gibalev told her.

"Christ, Gibalev, tone it down. Some of us don't eat off of cadavers," Himeko scolded him.

"Ah, let him talk," Albrecht said, swallowing some more eggs. "This is the first time in months they've eaten at ease."

"First time in a while I've done a lot of things, Staff Sergeant," Manstir said. "Sleeping in separate rooms for once is a blessing."

"That's never stopped you before," commented Gibalev, struggling to cut the thick slabs of bacon. "Don't think we can't here you fapping up there. Not too tactical."

Peterson started graphically chugging his tall glass of orange juice. Himeko started cheering for him as he drank.

"Maybe he wants you to hear him, Gibalev," my brother said.

I put my head in my hands. This was getting too much for me. "Jesus Christ," I sighed into my palms. "What next, a musical number?"

"KILL!!!" yelled Peterson as he slammed his glass into the table, and Himeko and Elena started to cheer and clap. Albrecht stood up from his seat to join the clapping.

"Well done, Peterson! Able till the End!"

The three men answered similarly, "Able till the End!"

"Assume the front-leaning rest position," shouted Albrecht, getting down into the same position, suitable for starting pushups.

Peterson, Gibalev and Manstir went down on the floor as well, and they started doing pushups in unison. Then they began singing. "Oh, believe me if all those endearing young charms!"

Again, I was getting annoyed.

"Which I gaze on so fondly today," they continued, very irreverently. "Were to change by tomorrow!"

Albrecht yelled through the singing, "Louder still! With fervor!"

"Or fleet in my arms," they sang, getting louder. "Just like fairy gifts fading away!" They then all rose, and Albrecht picked up his fork from the table, pointing it dramatically down the hallway.

"Retreat! Flee for your lives! They've breached the Deeping Wall!"

Able Squad sprinted out of the room screaming, with Albrecht following them, making more Lord of the Rings references as he went. His fork finally fell back onto the table. "I don't think I can take much more of this, Elena," I finally said, after the front door closed. "Now I realize why they make the recruits eat in silence."

Elena got up from her seat, clearing the places of dishes and silverware as she came towards me. "Don't fret," she said. "They're quite entertaining. It's kind of fun." She passed behind me, grabbed the plate and fork I had used, and planted a kiss on the back of my neck, whispering in my ear, "Plus, he's your brother, and they're with him. We haven't much of a choice."

"What do you think, Himeko," I asked, noticing the far-off look in her eyes. She seemed to shake herself as if from a daydream.

"You don't want to know what I think, Alphonse."

I looked behind me where she had been looking, and saw the fire team out on the lawn, about thirty yards out, doing more pushups, while Albrecht paced back and forth. By the way his mouth was moving, I assume he was giving them a highly motivating cadence.

I sat at my desk in the study later that day, talking with Peterson, who had his laptop with him. He had spread several files on my desk, which I was perusing. "Are any groups claiming responsibility for this one," I asked, motioning to one document in particular.

Peterson looked down at his laptop and furrowed his brow in thought. He made a few quick keystrokes, then responded, still typing and scrolling, "the attack on BWI? That was a while ago. Let me check it out. Police don't have anything, and local feds shut up about it before the body was cleaned up."

"What was the actual crime? My copy here's blacked out everything but pronouns and articles."

"Single target, single shot. Heavy caliber sniper round. The rifling reminded me of a Barrett, and the round was a .50 cal, but I guess I'm biased."

"Biased?"

"The M82 .50 caliber, anti-material sniper rifle: I love that motherfucker."

Even I had heard of the badass-ery possible when the weapon was loosed. "Any other information," I asked.

"Well, like I said, local authorities clammed up, but NSA...They caught something."

"NSA? National Security Agency? But they're external affairs, right?"

"I was skeptical at first, too, but I reason it like this: if it's an international airport, than foreigners can come and go, right? If there are any high-priority targets coming and going, we'd want eyes all over that bitch."

"Go on."

"Well, it turns out that TSA has its own cameras in the interior. But...NSA's got the exterior taped like a television studio. This is the only picture we have of the assassin."

Peterson handed me an enlargement of the pixel-ridden snapshot I had been provided with in my document. It was a smallish figure, probably no more than five and a half feet tall, hunched over, hefting the sniper rifle. The figure wore a skintight suit with a tactical vest-rig.

"One thing," Peterson said, "it's a woman."

"Intriguing. So who's this...bitch's master?"

Peterson thought for a moment, hand running over his high-and-tight haircut. "Well, we don't know. The only physical evidence we have is what was left on the rooftop."

"Follow the shell."

"That's what I was thinking too. Turns out it's a match to the casings we found in the weapons used by the four men who assaulted your school."

"The End Days."

"Now that's an interesting name, but pretty fitting for a Christian Terrorist group. Let me see what I've got on them." Peterson scrolled through some files on his screen. "Here we are. Numbers unknown, but they've got access to some serious firepower via Russians and Iranians. My God."

"What?"

"Says here that they've changed hands as far as who's leading them several times in the past ten years. But speculation now says that a man calling himself Judas is controlling the group."

"The serial killer, right? The same man we believe to have killed my parents, and Elena's too."

"come on, we don't know for sure it was him."

I stood up from my seat, and let the files drop into Peterson's lap. "Corporal Peterson," I said, as I left the room, pausing before closing the door, "you may deal in intelligence. But I...I deal in experience."

I left Peterson in the room, and went to find Elena.

She was sitting in the living room with Albrecht. "Hi, Alphonse," she said, seeing me enter. I sat down next to her, and listened as Albrecht finished up his story.

"But when I looked down, I realized it was actually made of chicken livers, and not album covers like I had thought. Five seconds later, we heard the news about the prime minister, but we weren't paying attention, because it was our turn for the roller coaster."

"No wonder she couldn't play soccer after that," Elena said.

"What were you talking about, Albrecht," I asked.

He responded, "I was telling your girlfriend here about the day I met Gibalev."

"Good story," I responded. Albrecht excused himself, and I turned to Elena. "I can't help but smile every time."

"Every time what?"

"Every time someone calls you my girlfriend; it makes me happy," I said.

"Aww, Alphonse. That's cute."

"Maybe, but it's also true. I love you Elena."

She smiled, and leaned in close. I planted a kiss on the side of her neck, nudging up her chin so I could kiss under it. Elena sighed heavily, and rubbed her hand across my leg, raking her nails across, and rubbing the inside of my thigh.