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Aftermath 06 – His Name Was John

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  The cliff faced the serene ocean.

  A soft breeze blew them by.

  The soft rustling of the leaves.

  Pristine blue water stretched to the horizon, wind combing its surface into white seams that rose and fell in rhythmic breathing.

  The tide moved in and out like breath.

  Seagulls still coasted upon the ocean updraft.

  Pristine. Unspoiled.

  They landed the Black Mamba in a natural clearing.

  They disembarked.

  They had chosen the place because no one have jurisdiction here.

  No flags. No markers. No nation.

  Just stone. Wind. Salt.

  Cobra built the cairn himself.

  He stacked the rocks slowly, with meticulous care.

  Choosing each one as though the shape and balance mattered.

  As though if he got it right, he and something else might find a small measure of peace.

  Python was uncharacteristically silent, saying little while he worked.

  Boa had gathered the smaller stones. Her hands were raw from the climb and more recently from gripping too hard onto things that would not hold.

  Cobra nodded as he stood up.

  The cairn stood knee-high.

  Uneven. Makeshift.

  It would have to do.

  It would have to be enough.

  There was no body.

  There never would be.

  Whe Boa was finished, she turned towards the commander.

  Cobra took a cigarette and offered the pack to both Python and Boa.

  He marched up to the cairn and lit it up.

  Python did the same. Emily fumbled with hers until Scott stepped in and shielded the flame.

  Cobra drew once, held the smoke, then exhaled into the wind.

  The three of them stood in silence.

  The ocean roared below.

  James stepped forward first.

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  He crouched by the cairn and laid the cigarette upon the stones.

  For a heartbeat it flared as the wind brushed the tip.

  It burned quietly, smoke trailing sideways.

  “John,” he said.

  John.

  “You were always the sensible one.”

  The wind tugged at his jacket. He ignored it.

  “You said if I said stop, we stop.”

  He let out a short breath, he couldn’t go on.

  “I should have listened.”

  He looked at the ocean.

  “I kept going.”

  Silence.

  “You didn’t argue.”

  He swallowed once.

  “You never argued.”

  James reached out and steadied one of the stones that didn’t need steadying.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The wind rustled softly.

  “I didn’t listen.”

  He stood.

  “I will take care of her.”

  James stepped back.

  Scott moved forward.

  He clasped James on the shoulder as they passed.

  He knelt beside the cairn.

  The wind.

  “John,” he said.

  He scratched the back of his neck like he always did when he didn’t know how to start.

  “You remember Johannesburg?”

  He smiled faintly.

  A gentle rustle.

  “Of course you do. You were the one dragging me out of that alley. Said I’d make a mess of the pavement if I bled out there.”

  Scott shifted his weight.

  “I told you I had plans back home. Said I was going to retire after that job. Buy a little place somewhere dry. Maybe open a bar. Something stupid and manly.”

  He laughed under his breath.

  “You told me I’d hate retirement. Said I’d last a week before I went looking for trouble.”

  A pause.

  The wind picked up.

  “You were right.”

  The wind gusted. The ocean answered.

  “You were right about most things.”

  Scott’s jaw tightened.

  “I wished I listened to you more.”

  He looked at the cairn like it might answer.

  “You are a good man, John. I’m glad we met.”

  He took one last drag from his cigarette and set his beside the first and let the ash fall freely.

  “I’ll see you again,” he said softly.

  Scott stepped back.

  Boa hadn’t moved.

  Cobra looked at her.

  “It’s ok, go on.”

  Boa nodded.

  The wind lifted her hair and shoved it across her face.

  She didn’t brush it away.

  “Hey it’s ok,” Scott said softly, “he’s waiting for you.”

  You were his favorite.

  She walked forward slowly.

  The wind died down.

  James and Scott watched her every step.

  The cairn looked too small.

  Too simple.

  She hated that.

  She hated that it wasn’t enough.

  She knelt.

  Her cigarette trembled between her fingers as she tried to place it upright. It toppled once.

  She tried again.

  It stayed.

  She didn’t look at the ocean.

  She looked at the stones.

  “I knew you went out of your way to get us that whole roast. I knew you did it because I was whining that I was tired of stale ration bars.”

  She smiled.

  “I just wanted donuts, or bagels, or something you can bring back in a lunchbag.”

  The winds rustled.

  “You said,” she began, then stopped.

  Her throat tightened.

  She tried again.

  “You said big snakes have big responsibilities.”

  Her voice was smaller than the wind.

  “You said that when I was four.”

  She swallowed hard.

  “You let me deal the cards wrong and you still said I won.”

  Her hands pressed into the rock until her knuckles whitened.

  “You always let me win. In cards, in basketball.”

  Silence.

  “You stitched Scott up in Johannesburg when he caught that round in his side. You taught me how to shoot without flinching. You made sure we ate even when you didn’t.”

  Her shoulders shook once, violently, then stilled.

  “I didn’t want to jump,” she admitted.

  Her voice cracked.

  “I didn’t want to be brave.”

  She closed her eyes.

  “I was scared.”

  The ocean crashed below.

  “You called me Big Snake.”

  Her lips trembled.

  “I heard you say ‘stay with me.’”

  “I heard you.”

  The wind tore at her jacket. She leaned into it.

  Her breath hitched.

  “I jump because I knew you were there to catch me.”

  A long pause.

  “I’m still here.”

  Her hand hovered over the cairn but did not touch it.

  “You didn’t let go because you were tired.”

  She shook her head.

  “You let go because I’m not strong enough to lift you.”

  A broken laugh escaped her.

  “You always said I was the Biggest Snake in the World.”

  The wind swallowed the sound.

  “That a boa has the strong grip.”

  She inhaled sharply.

  A tear came then.

  She wiped it away angrily.

  “I’m going to make you proud.”

  The words were barely there.

  Her voice hoarse.

  “I’m going to be the biggest snake in the world.”

  Her hand rested against the stone.

  Behind her, James and Scott turned away.

  They did not interrupt.

  They did not rush her.

  They walked back toward the narrow trail that led down from the cliff.

  Emily stayed kneeling.

  The cigarettes burned lower.

  The wind carried the smoke out over the sea.

  She leaned closer to the cairn, voice no louder than breath.

  “His name was John.”

  She pressed her forehead to the cold stone.

  The wind picked up then.

  It enwrapped her in an embrace.

  It never let her go.

  She stayed three cigarettes burned until there was nothing left but ash.

  She rose at last.

  And walked away.

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