Chapter Nine: Covering Their Tracks

Dempsey's eyes slowly cracked open as he heard the plane touchdown. He rubbed at the crust, which had cemented them shut, away and grabbed his bag. After getting shot a little too close to the knee cap and risking being "honorably discharged", he couldn't wait to get a chance to relax in his home. He slowly stepped off the plane and breathed in deeply, that fresh air would do him good. He tipped his cap to the pilot and was quickly in his car starting the engine for the long trip home.

The windows were rolled down, the mirrors reflecting the orange, red and brown colors passing him by; a pure sign of autumn washing over Nevada. The smell of maple and pecan trees filled him with the remedies of home and good fuzzy memories. There was no one of the road to honk his horn or curse at, no side-road jerks to flip the bird to, and it was a good old surprise to find that he made an astonishing record of no-red-lights-hit. So far, aside from being put on break from camp, his papers being stamped as "Inactive" and so on for a couple of weeks, everything today had been working out great. Although it did sort of bum him out that he was off-duty for almost a month, and for him not holding a gun of some sort and not being able to shoot at something was painfully excruciating, but then again it would be nice to get some time off to relax and have a minute to yourself without someone shooting at you. He just couldn't wait to get back to his little girl Anna.

After an hour or so of nothing but road and colorful trees Tank finally arrived at his home. It was a small home, humble and true with a white picket fence that stretched around it, vines and weeds at its base showing its age. Oak trees surrounded the sides while the front was blanketed with bright green grass, with maybe a few bushes or shrubbery here and there. The backyard consisted with a much larger oak tree resting directly in the middle; an old rope knotted and coiled around its largest branch with a worn out tire dangling at the end. A barn resided around the backside west of its front, only containing five or so chickens, two goats and a trusty steed nick-named WarHawk.

The house itself wasn't the mansion every man wants but it was a comfortable little home for just the two of them. The outside was painted a lightly blue with a dark grey roof to cover it. The porch both front and back was cloud fluff white with a few stains from years of wear and tear damage and heavy rainfall during the spring season. The windows were slick-clean with the view of white cotton drapes hanging and moving softly against the breeze. The front door was a dark chocolate brown with the number 122 stapled into the front of it, painted a shining silver to match the black mailbox out front by the road. It was a small but magnificent house fit for a king and his lovely princess.

Dempsey parked his bright red Mercedes out front, grabbed his bag out from the trunk, and headed towards the front door. Before he could even set foot upon his porch he was greeted with the happy barks of his faithful German Shepherd companion, Tojo. "Hey there buddy, did you miss me? Huh, did ya'? Aw, who's a good boy?" He bent down and exchanged kisses of both love and doggy spit as he opened the screen door and walked inside. He sat his bag down and heard that very familiar pitter-patter of little feet that seemed to mold a smile across his features, "Daddy your home!" Anna ran as fast as she could and jumped into his arms spreading kisses all across his cheeks, "Hey baby, I've missed you so much! Did you get daddy's letters?" She shook her head proudly and jumped out of his arms to salute, "Yes sir!" He chuckled to himself, She'd make a fine soldier. "Where's your Grammy?" A small finger pointed to the kitchen as she grabbed his index finger and pulled him along, Tojo following closely behind wagging his tail happily. Dempsey's mother looked up from her cup of warm tea, eyes worn out and stained red with exhaustion and tears, and she smiled, sniffing, "I've missed you a lot Dempsey." He walked over and gave her a hug, his much taller and larger build pulling her in closer and closer until there was no gap in between them. "I've missed you too ma'. Thanks for watching Anna while I was gone, I know you'll probably hit me for saying this but, I'm kinda' glad I got capped in the knee." As predicted she proceeded to slap his shoulder and give a scolding look, but she knew his morals were in the right place. They locked bodies again for a second embrace when Anna tugged at his trousers, "Daddy, I've been practicing my shootin' with Grammy. She says I'm too young to be shootin' but she let me practice anyways cuz' it's what you wanted. I shot a squirrel in the backyard once!" He released his dear mother and gave her a sympathetic smile before turning to Anna, "That's great baby! Maybe you can show me how well you've gotten and take me outside to shoot some tin cans for me huh?" She gave a big smile and showed her pearly whites to everyone in the room. "Come on, come on, I wanna' show you my shootin' daddy!" Pulling his hand with both of her own, she yanked him towards the backyard where worn tin cans with bullet holes resided along with her beebee gun.

There was almost complete silence as the mockingbirds chirped and the wind whistled through the wind chimes atop the back porch. Her dirty blonde pigtails gently dancing in the wind as she narrowed her eyes to aim down the sights of what she imagined an M14 semi-automatic rifle. She did everything her daddy told her to, she turned the safety off, checked her ammo twice, and even kept her steady breathing at a good pace. All that was left now was to finally show him what she was made of. Unlike the girls at her school, she wanted to be a marine just like him, not some waitress or stay-at-home mom, that wasn't good enough for her. She slowly closed her eyes and let out one final breath, keeping her pace in order before quickly opening them and firing on sight. Unfortunately the ringing of the front doorbell startled her, making her jump and slightly miss her perceived target. "Aw shoot daddy, I missed!" He chuckled, "It's alright baby, lemme' go get the door and see who that is, then we can try again ok?" She mumbled ok and reloaded her weapon while Dempsey headed for the front door, curious as to who would be at his door when he hadn't even unpacked yet.

He opened the screen door to be greeted with the suspicious smile of a stranger. He was a tall man for an American, his pasty white skin seemed to shimmer against the sunset, and his musky brown hair just stated the obvious: boring. His long overcoat and sunglasses seemed to be a tad off, but the strangest thing would have to be his nametag and briefcase, Tank could tell he was either selling or buying something and he wasn't interested. The stranger tipped his hat solemnly, "Good afternoon—" "Look buddy whatever it is your sellin' I ain't buyin', so just take your little briefcase and—" "I apologize if you took me for a simple salesmen but, I assure you I am far from it. May I come in please? There is a very private matter I wish to discuss with you and being outside doesn't seem the most secure." Dempsey just seemed to be utterly disgusted and annoyed that he'd basically just invited himself inside his own home but, whatever this private matter was had to be important enough to disrupt him.

They walked inside and sat down in the kitchen, Grammy had gone to give company to his waiting little marine still practicing her shooting. Dempsey shifted in his seat; he'd always been uncomfortable around these types: serious business kind of men, boring but straight to the point. "So you wanna' tell me what sort of 'secret information' you got for me and why the hell you thought it was so important you had to barge right in and just make yourself at home bub?" The strange man was sure glad he brought his taser, this one was going to be trouble if not in the least bit irritating. "My name is Calvin Douglass and I work for a rather large cooperation known as Group 935, have you heard of them?" He nodded no. "Well our main station is in Berlin, Germany, and we only choose the best of the best to get the honor to come down and join our main cause." He squinted, "And exactly what is this 'main cause'?" "To better Germany and all of mankind. You see, Group 935 is a research group dedicated to the betterment of the world. Once this ridiculous war is over and Germany has won, we'll see to it that the first mission is to rebuild all countries affected and harmed during the war." Dempsey narrowed his eyes obviously insulted at the very idea of joining some Nazi pride parade. He'd rather pull his eyes slanted and join the Imperials over in Japan. "Look buddy I don't think you've noticed but I'm a marine, you know, the good guy? And you're some traitor American on the Nazi side, the bad guy. So why don't you just take your lying sorry ass carcass outta' my house before I kick it out!" He jumped out of his seat, scaring the strange man into grabbing his taser. "No, no, no you misunderstand me! You won't be working for us you'll be, eh, volunteering." His eyebrow rose, "What the hell do you mean by 'volunteering'?"

Time seemed to slow down for those few seconds as the stranger reached for his taser and aimed directly at his neck, knowing the shock would stun him long enough to take him back to their base hidden in the United States. But not knowing Tank Dempsey was a mistake from minute one. Dempsey knew there was something up with this guy from the moment he knocked on his door. One: no one in Nevada dresses in a large overcoat, two: he saw his car parked behind the bushes across the street meaning he had been waiting for him, and three: the moment he said "when Germany wins", he knew right then and there that his side was with the axis powers, no doubt about it. This man may have had papers on him and files with all his info but, what he didn't know is that he was messing with the one and only Tank Dempsey, and things were about to get real ugly real fast. Dempsey dodged his attack and slammed his head against the table, nearly splitting his skull open, and grabbed him by the crook of his collar, dragging and sliding him across the counter. He landed with a harsh thud with his taser already sliding out of reach. He rolled over on his stomach and quickly pushed up to run knowing that this battle had already been lost. Dempsey whistled, "Tojo rip his balls off!" The canine instinctively ran and tackled him through the screen door, his strong jaws digging his teeth into his unprotected arm. He yelled in pain as Dempsey went and grabbed his pistol running outside to catch him. If he thought he had the heart to let him just run away he was highly mistaken.

Dempsey knew that if he didn't get there in time this guy would already be dead. If there's one thing he knew about Tojo, it's that he never knows when to quit, especially when it comes to situations like these. He ran through the broken screen door just in time to see Tojo clamp his jaws down upon his bare throat. "Tojo no, down now!" He shot a warning shot in the air and scared him back inside the house, blood dripping down his muzzle and onto the floor. He holstered his gun and approached the battered up stranger who had tried to attack him. His throat had some stylish new piercings that gushed and oozed with the thick iron smelling liquid, his eyes flickering open and shut, the light seemed to be leaving him faster than he hoped. Even if he did call for an ambulance they'd arrive a bit too late. He may have been a stranger but, there was nothing he could do for him now. Dempsey bent down to one knee beside him, "You shouldn't have done that pal. I don't know what you wanted from me, but was it really worth risking your life?" The stranger coughed and gurgled in an attempt to speak, "… Peter is dead… *wheeze*, don't… *cough, cough* go after… it's a trap…" He began to gurgle and choke on his own blood, and before Dempsey could question who the hell he was talking about, his eyes fluttered shut and his heart ceased to move. He put two fingers against his neck, No pulse… he's dead. Tojo had finally gained the courage to slump outside, tail between his legs as if he'd down something wrong. He'd only done what his master taught him to, and Dempsey knew this. He patted him gently on the head as all the commotion brought Anna and Grammy out front. "Dempsey did I hear a gun—oh my! Who is that, Dempsey? What happened?!" Anna hid behind her Grammy as Dempsey turned towards her, "Go grab the phone and call the police, now." She hurried inside while Anna stayed behind trying to gaze over her father's shoulder, "Who is that daddy?" "Just get back inside Anna." She considered staying, but after reading her father's face she decided it wasn't worth her backside. As she ran inside, all Dempsey could think about was one thing: who the hell is Peter?