The Choices We Make
"The choice we made to protect something bigger than ourselves is the right choice."
Alexander Coburn had a choice.
Life.
Or death.
It wasn't meant to be literal, but in a sense, it was.
Coburn needed to clear his head.
He drove aimlessly. Driving for miles, and miles, until he found himself on a stretch of road in the middle of nowhere. It was a long, and paved, road. Grass littered either side in sparse patches, but the remainder of the ground was a golden brown. The wheels of his military-issue vehicle kicked up dust, which clung to the sides of the truck and stuck to the windshield, obstructing his view momentarily. When he managed to activate the windshield wipers, and smear the now muddy water all across the window, he slammed on his brakes and grunted.
There was a fork in the road.
There was also a sign, a tall piece of dinged and grimy, yellow metal, wavering in what appeared to be a slight wind.
Coburn opened the car door and stepped out. His fatigues did nothing to stop the sun from scorching his Irish pale skin, but the dark sunglasses he wore shielded his eyes, providing some semblance of comfort in the heat.
The sign had two arrows: Left. Right.
Such a simple object, yet it held all the meaning in the world for the young Marine.
It was his life, at this moment.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Or right.
He hung his head, toeing the pebbles at his feet, watching as they scattered across, like leaves in the wind.
He knew he had two choices.
He knew he had one chance.
This was it.
This was the time to decide.
Left.
Right.
Coburn.
Casey.
With an odd feeling in his chest, Coburn pushed his glasses up his nose and glance skyward.
The time was now.
He climbed into his truck, shifted to drive, his boot-clad foot resting heavily on the brake.
His phone rang.
"You in, marine?"
A deep sigh.
Left.
Right.
"I'm in," he finally replied.
"Right. Smart choice, kid." There was a chuckle. "Be back at base by 0600 tomorrow...Casey."
He nodded, and hung up.
Foot off the brake.
Turn signal on.
The middle of nowhere, on a lonely road.
Making a right turn.
End.