Stephen Zimmer - Crown of Vengeance

Antonio settled into the bucket seat on his side, as Logan got in, set the key and turned the ignition, and gunned the engine to thundering life.

“I just love the sound of that,” Logan remarked, sitting still for few moments as he listened to the steady, throaty rumble of his idling car.

Reaching down, he picked up his disc case and pulled out a release by a heavy rock act that was one of his favorites. Popping it in, he cranked up the stereo as the first drumbeats and guitar chords sounded, lowering his windows all the way down.

“Alright, let’s go!” Logan said, backing the car out of the driveway.

Once oriented on the street, the car lurched into motion, as if it had a life of its own. In Logan’s eyes, the car was a war horse. Behind the wheel, Logan often likened himself to a jousting knight, sitting proud and self-confident upon his very capable steed, a metal beast that could barely be reined in from exploding into a full-tilt, all-out charge.

They drove down to the end of the street and took a right, finally emerging out of the neighborhood as they turned onto one of the city’s main roads. They proceeded through more several lights as they drove towards the south end of town, amid a sporadic amount of traffic out at the later hour.

Finally, they turned right at a junction by the largest city mall. The road ahead of them ran adjacent to a large public park that contained a long and winding creek. The other side primarily consisted of an extensive swathe of undeveloped, open fields.

The road itself was barely visible just a short distance away, enveloped within a dense fog.

“Time to click on the brights,” Logan commented, as he flicked the lever that unleashed the car’s high beams.

“That looks really thick,” Antonio observed with a hint of curiosity, as they entered the fog’s outer edges.

The words were an understatement, as the fog increased in density as they moved through it. The effect was highly unsettling to Logan. In just moments, the headlights of the car could only cut through a few feet, barely enough to keep the road beneath them in view.

Though it was a Saturday, and no formal work was in the offing, Derek was up and out of bed well before dawn.

Following a brisk jog in the damp coolness of the early morning, he had proceeded through a series of calisthenics and a few of the martial arts routines that he had picked up during his four years of service in the military.

Regular workouts had chiseled his body into excellent condition, as well as giving him a way to clear his mind from any burdens besetting it.

Following the previous day, with his heart weighed down in the presence of Janus’ great sorrows, it was much more difficult than usual to regain any clarity of thought.

Fortunately, he had succeeded in arranging for a substitute for his late afternoon shift, and the next day’s as well, managing the produce section at the grocery superstore down the street. He had been compelled to barter off some favors for the late notice, which would result in his taking on some very inconvenient shifts over the next week, but he had agreed to the terms without any regret. The call of friendship had taken precedence.

Finished with the morning exercise and back in his house again, he had quickly discarded his sweat-saturated t-shirt into his laundry basket. Moving into the kitchen, he poured and imbibed a tall, cold glass of orange juice before picking up his satellite phone.

Clicking on Kent McNeeley’s name, he rang the number repeatedly, clicking off the phone when it reached the voice mail, and redialing until his sluggish friend grudgingly answered.

Kent was not pleased at the hour of the phone call, especially given the fact that it was a Saturday morning. He proceeded to utter some extremely descriptive language from the other end that would have reddened most listeners’ ears.

Knowing Kent well enough, Derek suffered the rant patiently as he stifled some amused laughter. Derek had inadvertently cost Kent his final hour of sleep before he had to go to work, which evidently was quite a major transgression in Kent’s eyes.

Yet once the situation was explained, it did not take long at all for Kent to agree and his mood to change. He had even apologized for addressing Derek with such numerous expletives for having gotten him up so early.

Plans for Derek’s jaunt were then set between the two of them, to be executed in the later afternoon.

Once off the phone, Derek treated himself to an extended, warm shower. The early morning workout and the massage of the pattering water from the shower left him feeling fully refreshed and ready for the day.

Janus was still asleep when Derek had finished with everything, as Derek had taken great care not to disturb his deeply grieving friend.

First turning the volume off on his speakers, he turned his personal computer system on. He indulged himself for a little while by catching up on several online sports articles, some current news, and the promotional sites for a few upcoming movies that he had been looking forward to.

He read over a few reports on the ongoing turmoil in the Middle East with some considerable interest, curious about some of the tactical approaches, the analysis of which appealed to his military background.

The motives behind the war, and the specific persons loudly championing it, though, had long filled his mouth with great distaste. To him, the conflict was about little more than power, made painfully obvious as the justifications offered to the public for the war had changed time and time again.

The nation under attack, with its decrepit, obsolete military, decayed under extensive previous sanctions, could not muster any threat to the USA, not in a hundred years. Even worse, a fragile lid kept on long simmering ethnic, religious, and tribal tensions within the area was about to be blown apart in the process of destroying the fully constrained regime that had been in power.

His heart went out to his brothers and sisters in the armed forces, many of whom who were undergoing their second, third, and even fourth tours of duty in the cauldron of Middle East conflicts. He would not hesitate to go overseas if his services were required, though he was grateful that he had not been recalled yet. Derek knew that his number would come up soon enough, though, as the military reserves and the National Guard regiments were now being used as frontline combat units.

His thoughts regarding the full situation were becoming very troubling, and for the first time he found that he had a nascent conflict building between his loyalty to the serving soldiers and the ideology of the war itself. While he would still serve if the call came, he knew that he could not condemn anyone who actively protested or opposed it. He had changed enough in the past year that he no longer held any animosity toward a fellow soldier that refused deployment.

In fact, some of the soldiers that had served multiple tours in the Middle East were now leaders in the opposition to the war. Derek did not see how anyone could question their integrity, for they certainly were no cowards and obviously cared for their country.

After perusing through some images of some of the latest hardware and technology being employed in the conflict, Derek heard Janus finally rustling behind him.

Turning around, he saw that Janus was slowly pulling himself up into a sitting position on the edge of the couch. Derek logged off his account, shut his system down, and rotated about to face his awakening friend.

“Get some rest, I hope?” Derek inquired.

Janus nodded, as he pulled aside the crumpled coverlet that he had borrowed for the night. Clothed in a t-shirt and sweats, Janus looked a little on the disheveled side.