Funny the choices life and war sometimes force you to make.
Twelve Steps: The life and Death of
by Elle Pepper
The Life and death of "Tank Jensen"
Twelve steps, Jason's footfalls rang hollowly on the old boat landing.
_Jason_, _yes_. They had called him Tank so long he had almost forgotten
his own name. He remembered watching as the nearly unbreakable training
harness shattered at his approach. That was when he had known, no, before
that; when he had woken to find his angel had fallen off his jacket. That
was when he had known.
He fumbled for the board, almost going down as he turned his ankle.
Finally he managed to unclip the board from its holster. Out and down,
like a Frisbee, he tossed the glide board as hard as he could, hoping not
to hear it skip off the metal. Ten steps, nine. He fumbled to plug the
remote into his gloves so that he could control the board. Eight steps
He remembered green eyes looking at him, someone shouting, he remembered
firing, and then searing heat, light, and then darkness. Nothing but
darkness. His memory, because of his computer was good, as was his
spatial awareness, but the second shot, probably a reflex of a dying man,
had slammed into his system. His right arm was all but useless, and he
was bleeding badly.
He clapped twice, bringing the board online. Each clap brought needles of
pain through his arm. But it looked like his diagnostic was offline too.
The only thing he knew was that he couldn't stay where he was. He paused
only long enough to listen for his pursuers. He could hear them climbing
around in the debris of what had been the ship. Now he just had to race
them to the water.
Copyright © by Elle Pepper
All rights reserved unless specified otherwise above.
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