Antebellum (57 page)

When the GPS system in the cockpit shows that the plane has reached its destination, one of the pilots gets up from his seat and walks toward the back. He tells the three men that it's time, but they've anticipated it, and have already re-checked their equipment to ensure that everything is in order. As if on cue, all three of the men stand together, and when the pilot remaining in the cockpit is given the word, he presses the flashing, bright red button in front of him, and the back hatch to the plane opens, revealing a night sky that now seems as though it's out of a horror movie. The wind, obviously angry, charges through the compartment with incredible force, but the three men withstand it. They have been trained to. After going through the necessary preparation procedures, each of the men mechanically walk to the edge of the hatch, and one after the other, jump from the plane.

Their stomachs rise into their throats as they fall rapidly toward the earth. They put their bodies in the right aerial position to slow their descent, and after reaching the correct altitude, they pull a string attached to their clothing and deploy their parachutes. They are now low enough to get a good view of their target. The bunker is well-lit, and although they are still airborne, with the night vision equipment they can make out security personnel on patrol around the building. They land softly, expertly, in the brush on the outskirts of the bunker, and it is only after removing the equipment that is no longer necessary that one could make out the differences between the three men. Two of them stand out, their skin tone contrasting with the darkness. The other blends in perfectly.

They move through the brush with stealth, weapons drawn, and faces tight. They walk low enough to avoid being seen by any of the security, but high enough to keep aware of their surroundings. When they come into close proximity of the first guard, the first of the three signals to the other two to stop and wait. Then he sneaks up behind the guard,
who has been daydreaming for the past hour, and quickly snaps his neck. After lying the guard down silently on the ground, he signals for the other two to continue following him. They are now at the target building, and each of them covers a particular direction, so as to make sure that all of their sides are covered. They make their way up the stairs and along the makeshift balcony. This is the entrance route with the least resistance, as they have already determined, and the door on the far side of the walkway is where they plan to enter. Everything is going according to plan, but just as they reach the ladder that marks the halfway point between the steps and the entrance, two guards unexpectedly emerge out of the door.

Initially the guards had been laughing, lightening the mood of the night, but as soon as they see the three men, they immediately open fire. The three operatives take cover positions and fire back, dropping the two guards quickly, surmising that the gunfire is sure to draw more guards to their location. They run for the door, knowing they must complete the mission as quickly as possible now or the remaining guards will kill them. After entering the door, they make their way down the stone stairs and stop at the corner. They can all hear footsteps approaching, and again, as if by cue, they each peek around the corner and take out the approaching guards. They then start making their way down the hallway, toward the metal door that should have been at the end of it, but before they can get there, a dozen guards seem to come out of nowhere and begin to open fire. They each duck around the corner, narrowly avoiding the bullets aimed at them. The guards, after they stop firing, begin screaming something in a language the men don't understand, and slowly make their way up to the corner. Two of the three men keep their backs against the wall and hold on tightly to their guns, but the third one, the one that could fade into the night, throws his gun on the ground.

“X, what the hell are you doing?”

Xavier doesn't answer; he just waits for the right moment. And when the guards are close enough, he comes from around the corner and strikes the first one in the throat, crushing his larynx. Then he begins attacking the rest of them, rendering most of them dead with one blow. Xavier kicks one in the knee, popping it out of place, then
punches one in the ribcage, puncturing the heart, then back-fists one on the side of the head. For a reason foreign to the combatant, none of the guards are shooting at him. They're all trying to attack him, and he's flooring them one after another. He's not tired, he's not fatigued; he's just doing as he was trained. And he sidekicks one of the guards in the nose, then turns around and grabs another guard's arm, maneuvers around, and breaks it. Then he pops out another one's elbow, turns around and breaks his neck. More guards are coming out from everywhere now, but Xavier could go on fighting forever. He smiles, knowing he is perfect in his combat, and there is no way he can be beaten. But as he reaches the peak of his pride, he realizes something, and everything stops in its tracks. The guards stop attacking, and he stands there, as if time itself stops to pay homage to his revelation.

Xavier realizes that he doesn't know what he's fighting for.

He knows what the mission is, he knows what he's supposed to do, but he doesn't know why he's doing it. Horrified, he stands there and wracks his brain, trying to figure out the question thudding at his head. He drops to his knees and strikes his head against the floor, hoping to trigger some thought; some memory of inspiration or reason or purpose, but nothing comes. And when he looks up again, he realizes, with the deepest feeling of despair, that there is no reason. And that there never was.

And at that exact second, each one of the guards surrounding him pulls out a gun, and fires into him at the same time.

Soaked in sweat, Xavier jerks awake.

As his eyes adjust to being open, the first thing Xavier notices is the sunlight racing in through the window. It illuminates the entire room, but the beautiful dresser that faces the curtains gets most of its attention. The pictures on top of the dresser are illuminated as well, and Xavier stares for a while at the pictures of him smiling, embracing his family. The room smells of pleasant scents that attach themselves to marriage; potpourri, baby powder, perfume, and fresh laundry. The bed sheets, which have absorbed most of Xavier's sweat, are adorned with flower prints. The colors match the carpet, which has been very
well kept, and matches the paint on the walls. The entire scene is like a freeze frame from a cliché made-for-TV movie. There are two or three pictures on the wall, all depicting some form of nature at its most complacent, and all matching the color scheme. The books placed at the head of the bed give the room an air of intellect; while the tulips, placed in a vase to the side, give it an air of romance. There are children's toys strewn around the carpet as well. A little Barbie doll lays facedown beside a toy truck in the middle of the room, and an open children's book sits beside the mirror, waiting to be resumed. The toys fit in the room, as if they sprouted themselves up from the carpet. In fact, everything in the room seems to fit into place.

Everything except the gun, hidden under a stack of magazines, in the small drawer on Xavier's side of the bed. It has never fit.

Xavier feels a hand caressing his arm, and turns to face the beautiful woman lying in the bed next to him. The concern on her face asks Xavier what is wrong before she even opens her mouth. He just shakes his head and breathes deeply, trying to forget about the dream that woke him so violently. She leans forward and lightly kisses him on his cheek, and then on his arm, where her hand had just been. She speaks softly.

“Was it another nightmare?”

“I don't know, Theresa. I don't know. Everything was fine, and then... and then it got all screwed up.”

“It was about your days in the military again?”

“Yeah.”

Theresa sighs deeply.

“You keep having these dreams about what you used to do, baby. I know you don't like talking about the military, but maybe we should. I want to be able to help you.”

“It's nothing.”

Theresa stays silent for a few moments, then speaks again, hesitantly.

“I know you miss it. I know it's a part of you; what you used to do. I know you loved it...”

“I love you all more.” Xavier cuts her off quickly, looking into her eyes. “I love you all more.”

Theresa drops her head, not knowing what to believe.

“Listen,” Xavier says as he gently lifts her head back up. “I got out for a reason. I married you for a reason. We had kids for a reason. That time in my life is over. I'm a husband and a father now. Nothing is going to change that.”

Xavier leans forward and kisses Theresa, but she draws back slightly after a moment.

“I just want you to be happy,” she says regretfully.

Before Xavier can respond, there are two sets of light knocks at the door. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Xavier smiles. He knows that, for the tiny hands doing the knocking, they had mustered about as much strength as they could to give those cute little knocks. He looks at Theresa to make sure that she is okay with ending the conversation for the time being, and when she nods her head, he yells to come in. The two children burst into the room and start running around screaming with such joy in their voices that Xavier and Theresa can't help but to laugh. They pick up the children and play around with them on the bed, tickling them and rolling them around until everyone is tired. Then they all lay down, with Theresa holding their son, Xavier, Jr., and Xavier holding their daughter, Felicia.

“Daddy.” XJ looks over to him. “Can I get a tattoo?”

“What? Heck no, you can't get a tattoo!”

“Why not, Daddy?”

“Well, first of all, you're too young. What would you look like going into kindergarten with a tattoo?”

“But you have tattoos!!!”

“Yes, that's because I'm an adult.”

“But my friend Dante, at school, his brother has a tattoo and he's not an adult.”

“Well, that's Dante's family; not mine.”

“And,” interjects Felicia, “If he can get a tattoo, then Mommy can buy me some makeup.”

Theresa rolls her eyes. “I'm not buying you any makeup. Who wears makeup in the second grade, Felicia? Where did this whole makeup thing come from, anyway?”

“Tasha's mom lets her wear makeup some days.”

“Tasha's mom is a hoe.”

Xavier immediately looks over at Theresa, who has realized that she's just made a mistake.

“You know what's coming next.” Xavier laughs, and Felicia is the first to inquire the inevitable.

“What's a hoe, Mommy?”

XJ follows up quickly. “Yeah, Daddy, what's a hoe?”

“Alright, it's time for you two to get ready for school.” Xavier starts pushing his daughter off of the bed and toward the door. Theresa does the same thing to their son. “Go wash up and put your clothes on.”

“But...”

“But nothing. Go wash up, put your clothes on, and get ready for school. I'm not going to say it again.”

The two children, after hearing the warning, quickly get up and run out of the room.

“Thanks for the save.” Theresa laughs when the kids are out of earshot.

“Don't thank me.” Xavier laughs. “You still have to worry about little Tasha's mom calling you about that hoe comment. You know Felicia's going to tell her when she gets to school.”

“Ugh, you're right.” Theresa curses herself as she starts getting dressed. “I guess I'll figure out some way to apologize later.”

“Apologize for what? We all know she's a hoe. It's no secret.”

“Still, apologizing is the right thing to do,” Theresa says as she starts to make her way out the door. “I'm going to fix breakfast. Are you going to eat?”

“Yeah, I'll be down in a minute.”

As Xavier hears his wife's footsteps echoing off the walls, he lies back in bed and tries to relax. Memories of his dream come to him as soon as he closes his eyes, though, and he decides to keep them open. Slowly, he gets out of bed, stretches, and makes his way to the bathroom for a shower.

Fifteen minutes later, Xavier begins to walk down the stairs. He can smell the eggs, bacon, pancakes, and potatoes cooking in the kitchen, and congratulates himself for marrying a woman that can cook. His children are already sitting at the table, eating their eggs and waiting for their pancakes to be served. They smile at him as he walks into the
room, and he begins to think, as he so often does, that he doesn't deserve what he has. He walks up and kisses Theresa on the cheek, then takes his seat at the table. When he hears his children laughing, he looks up and sees that his wife has made smiley faces with the syrup on their pancakes. When she gives Xavier his plate, his pancakes have “I love you” written just big enough to fit. He laughs along with his children, then gets up and kisses Theresa again, this time on the lips.

“Ewwwww!” The children react as if a jar full of bugs have entered the kitchen.