Eight Inches Lower
by: Sasha Cartwright
Franklin Fairchild Bean ran as fast as he could towards his friend "Sweetbread".
Sergeant McKinney had lost his mind and was trying to take the life of one of the only real friends Bean had ever had no matter what, black or white, he couldn't allow that.
Bullets flew past him as he came closer and closer to "Sweet".
Bean didn't really have any idea what he was going to do, but he had to do something.
The last two months had drawn him very close to this group of people that he had been imprisoned with for his ninety day sentence.
Ninety days. Two months.
None of those numbers mattered now.
The only thing that mattered was that McKinney ran out of bullets before he hit "Sweet".
Running at top speed, Private Bean collided with "Sweetbread" and as he did.
It was then that he heard a shot behind him as McKinney fired another shot.
Then that shot was followed by a 'click'.
Now McKinney was out of ammunition.
'That's a relief," Franklin thought, glad that there were no more bullets to worry about.
There was just that one.
As if in slow motion, the bullet moved through the air towards him and "Sweet".
In one last effort, Bean pushed up off the ground, raising himself almost eight inches from the ground and completely covering "Sweet".
Now, with its target changed, the bullet had no choice but to follow its new path.
Instead of hitting "Sweet" in the temple, McKinney's bullet spun through the air and plowed into Bean's back, leaving "Sweet" completely unharmed.
Bean fell to the ground, blood now splattered on his clean white shirt while his friends rushed to help him.
"Bean, are you okay?" Stokes asked, giving Franklin a gently shake while the others look kneeling positions around their injured friend, "Bean, come on Bean."
But Franklin didn't get up.
The five looked at each other, almost sure of what had happened.
"Oh no," said Lawrence, mourning the loss of his friend.
With careful hands, Bryce and "Sweet" turned Bean over so that his face was up, only to find his eyes open, the gently rise and fall of his thin chest very evident.
He was very much alive.
"Damn it boy," exclaimed Webb, clearly relieved. "We thought we'd lost you."
"Not quite," Bean breathed with a small chuckle even through the pain was noticeable in his voice.
"Well you're not going to be for long if we don't get you to a medic," noted Lawrence, looking around as if hoping to see one appear.
"I think I can help with that," stated a voice from behind them.
The six of them looked up to see Gessner emerging from the trees.
"Corporal Gessner, my main man," said Stokes laughingly.
"You didn't think I'd just leave you here with him acting like that did you?" he asked.
"Well we could sure use your help right now," Webb said, giving a little nod towards Bean.
"I'll go get the truck," stated Gessner, turning back and heading for the truck, returning a few minutes later.
"All right," said Stokes, "let's go."
Looping their arms behind Bean's back, Bryce and "Sweet" lifted his top half off the muddy ground while Lawrence and Webb grabbed his feet.
Stokes opened the truck's back hatch and with that, all six climbed in the back of the truck and headed back to camp.
No one really spoke on the way back to the camp, Bean mostly concentrating on staying conscious while everyone else simply didn't know what to say.
Everything that had happened tonight just seemed to tap the group out.
Then a thought passed through Private Bean's head: what had happened to McKinney.
Just as the truck rolled over the slick wet grass, he got his answer.
With his head raised just high enough to see out the truck's open back, Franklin saw McKinney lying face down in the mud and slopped and squished beneath their tires.
Even in the rain and the pale moon light, anyone of the members of their motley crew could tell that he was dead.
Sickened by the sight and weakened from his wound, Franklin closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall of the truck.
In the blackness, he could hear Bryce talking to him, or more so, to everyone.
"His heart must have given out," Spoons stated matter-of-factly, breaking the awkward silence.
"Not real surprised," Webb said apathetically. "He was one crazy son of a bitch."
"Amen to that Brother man," agreed Stokes, just as disgusted as everyone else with what had just happened.
"You ought not talk of your fellow man like that," Lawrence warned, "but I for one, won't miss him."
Before they continue their conversation, the truck came to a stop in the center of the compound.
All of the sudden, Gessner jumped from the cab of the truck and started barking orders for medics and a gurney.
Bean and the rest could hear him shouting, "We've got a wounded man in here! I want a core man here on the double! Move, move, move!"
An EMT filed from the hospital and over to the truck in what held like just a few seconds.
Climbing in the back, they lifted Bean from the floor of the truck and on to the awaiting gurney.
As he was wheeled away, his friends followed right at his side.
"Hang in there Bean," Stokes instructed. "Hang in there."
"You can't die yet boy," Lawrence promised. "It's not your time."
"That's right White Boy," Webb stated. "I ain't even beat you in b-ball yet."
"Don't worry," Franklin replied weakly. "I'm not done yet."
**************************
It was nearly four days before Bean woke up after his surgery.
The doctor said it was a miracle that he didn't bleed to death on the way back to the compound.
When he finally blinked awake, Franklin saw that he was surrounded by Strokes, Lawrence, Bryce, Webb, and Sweets, along with Gessner.
"Damn boy," stated Bryce. "We thought we'd lost you."
"Not hardly," laughed Bean quietly.
"I swear," Stokes said. "The things that you'll do to yet out of working."
Franklin chuckled, but then got very serious.
"What happened with McKinney?" he asked Gessner.
"They buried him yesterday," Gessner explained. "There would have been a trial, but with no one to try…"
Bean nodded.
It all felt like a nightmare now, and he was glad that it was over.
"I hate to break up this party, but our patient needs his breakfast," one of the nurses stated, coming around with trays of food for Franklin and the other bedridden.
"We'll catch you later Bean," Webb said as he and the others filed from the room.
"All right," Franklin answered, taking a bite of his breakfast.
Bean was in the hospital for nearly a month.
The day he was released was his last day in the prison, and because of the extent of his injuries, he had been honorably discharged and sent back home.
Before his plane left, Franklin went back to say goodbye to the only real friends he had ever had.
"You watch yourself out there," Stokes bid , as Bean said his final goodbyes.
"All right," Franklin promised.
"Don't let me ever see you in a place like this ever again," threatened Webb, "or I will kick your ass personally."
"You got it Webb," Bean smiled.
"Keep the faith with you my brother," Lawrence blessed, "and don't let those bastards get you down."
"I won't," stated Franklin.
"Just stick with the brothers and you'll be all right," Bryce promised with a parting handshake.
Bean answered with a nod.
Last, but not least, was "Sweets".
A giant, bone crushing hug was enough of a thank you and a goodbye.
"Bye guys," Franklin stated, "I'll never forget this."
Just as he turned to leave, he heard a, "Hey Bean."
Franklin turn around just in time to see the tiny, shiny piece of metal that was flying across the air at his face
Catching it in his hands, Bean realized, with a sigh of relief, that it was his father's lighter.
He quickly looked up to see who had thrown it, but all of his friends were already making their ways back to the barracks.
"Thanks guys," Bean whispered with misty eyes.
As he climbed into his jeep, he repeated his promise.
"I'll never forget this."