Death is only the Beginning (EDITING)

The Beginning of the End

Hanscom Air Force Base
Saturday, Mid-August
5 miles from Boston

"So, what exactly are we doing here?" Rebecca asks as I park my Jeep at the large parking lot of a three-story brick building. A sign stood by the entrance reading: Hanscom AFB Armory.

"I told you I had plans today. I gotta do some training with my mates. Then, if there's still time, I'll give you a few driving lessons and maybe we can continue that series we started watching or grab a bite to eat. Sound good?"

She nods in excitement as we approach the armory. Lying at the center of the base, we see soldiers step in and out of the building. Some were in their ACUs, others carrying ammo or weapon crates, one small group leaving the building in full combat gear with their M4s slung behind their shoulders. Each soldier had an insignia patch on their left shoulder. Rebecca looked at awe as we step in. This is the first time I've taken her to the armory and the base itself. Usually, I'm at Mikes when the two of us hang out or out in Boston. 

The armory itself is divided into six sections with a certain unit having access to their designated section where they can pick up their gear and ammo. A long hallway passed by each unit's entrance. Each section, which was basically a large open area with a gated security point at the back and a bunch of tables and chair, had various groups of soldiers either turning in their gear or picking it up. On the walls were various framed pictures of officer men and women standing expressionless back at us. A billboard stood by the entrance of each section, plastered with various rules and instructions for the unit that owns that section. We passed section three, the section meant for the military police, and I notice Rebecca curiously peak in. Inside were a bunch of soldiers with the same black patch that Scarlett has. Some were putting on their pistol belt and ACU pattern combat vest while others were grouped up and talking. Some began to notice Rebecca looking back at them but then quickly turned back to what they were doing.

"Am I allowed to be here?" Rebecca asks, turning to me who stood patiently beside her.

"Of course. You are allowed to be in this hallway and just before that red line," I said pointing at a long red line that was a foot away from the doorway. 

"Ah. Where is your section?" She asks as we turn from section three and continue down the hall.

"The last one. You'll get to meet my squad mates," I say, realizing just now that I'm about to show her what exactly that I do for a living.

"Uncle John?" I hear Rebecca ask while feeling a faint tug on my sleeve.

"Yeah?" I ask, looking over at Rebecca. I notice she had her hoodie pulled up over her head, something she does when she gets shy.

"What exactly do you do? I noticed you're not like the other soldiers nor have I ever seen you wear that uniform," she points out, her hands in her hoodie pocket and her head down.

I stop and so does she. I turn to her and kneel down to her eye level as I am almost 2 feet taller than her, and she reaches only 52 inches in height.

"I get sent all over the world and deal with very dangerous people. People who have committed terrible things. That is what I and my squad do," I say looking right into her eyes. Her expression was not shy anymore but alert, looking back at me with her mouth just slightly hung open. Her hair poking out from underneath her hood.

"You kill them?" She asks, her expression remaining the same.

I nod. 

"But only bad people, right?" she asks. I'm not sure if she's terrified of me and very good at hiding it or honestly very curious and observant.

"Yes. Very bad people who hurt and even kill innocent people. My job is to stop them so that the people who live beneath them can live peaceful and cruel free lives," I said as I place my hand on her shoulder.