Michael and Michelle have returned…almost
Chapter 9 Part 1
Fugitives of love
Part 1
The sterile walls blanket the young soldier as if being spun in an ever tightening cocoon. His crisp starched new uniform does not help the claustrophobic feeling.
"These creases are sharp enough to slice my finger."
He refers to the starched set of jungle fatigues. Running his palm across the stiff crease of the pants brings a slight smile.
"Damn, at least my First Sargent at Bragg would be happy. He'd say I was full of paratrooper pride."
Michael lets out a disgusted blast of air.
"Not if he saw this.." He lifts an eyebrow at his bare feet.
The sound of a key turning is a prelude to the entrance of two civilians.
Navy blue suits adorn both of them. White shirts under navy blue ties highlight the drab outfits. Patten leather shoes shine as white socks are visible under their cuffs.
As the two almost identical men sit across the table from Michael, green eyes travel along their forms.
One guy is black the other looks like some shit kicker from the boonies.
Oblivious to the blond headed visitors introduction, he continues his hidden, almost humorous mental observations.
They could pass for twins…except the white guy is heavier than the black dude.
His thoughts pause as the other man decides to add something, "it's a matter of national security."
The tone of their words during this interview does not sit well with the young man.
He has survived adrift in the Pacific, an encounter with a shark, and was a member of what has to be called a Black Operation against the Russians.
His Brooklyn-Jersey-second generation Italian background has had enough.
"You finished!" His voice is loud and direct.
Waiting for the two startled government agents to ease back into their metal chairs.
"I have questions." He barks.
"Sergeant Torello, we will be happy to answer any questions. You need not be so annoyed." The African-American agent speaks in a calm manner. His slight grin sits well on his relaxed ebony skin. Though his partner waits, exhaling through his nose under glaring eyes.
"Question number one…" Michael pauses. "Where is Michelle?"
The query brings a broad smile from the heavier agent.
The silence causes Michael to grit his teeth.
"Question two," His tanned face darkens. "Who dah hell are you guys? Agents from where?"
The young man's words bring no response, verbal or physical from the duo.
Disgusted, Michael blurts out what they believe will be his last question.
"Where are my boots?"
The two men sport grins, the direct opposite of Michael's expression.
The agents get up to leave, as the young soldier sits back in his seat.
"Oh, by the way." He suppresses a giggle. "Whoever sold you those suits sure had a good sense of humor?"
Ending this impromptu interview with a smile, Michael hides his true thoughts.
These bastards are going to do something bad to Michelle. I gotta get the hell outta here.
Note to reader:
I purposely split this chapter in two. You must realize, Michelle is somewhere thinking of Michael.
Chapter 8 was a plea for reviews or at least a message telling me what you think.
If you want to know what is going on with Michelle, please…review…review…review.
I guarantee, these star-crossed lovers will cause some real fireworks in Chapter 10…and after.
Thanks GJ
PS: Can you guess who her sister is?
If you can, I'll listen to your request on how the story plays out.