Dead by Tomorrow - Prologue

        Do you ever have one of those days when nothing seems to go your way? First, Brady woke up late cause they shut the power off. Being late for work was not something he needed. He'd already been late more times that he could count, and Dave, his boss, was sympathetic to his situation but lately his patience was wearing thin. Divorce or not, he had a job to do, obligations to meet.
         Brady had to Bus it to work cause his car quit, funny with him being a mechanic and all, and that just added to him being late. So he got to work an hour and a half late and Dave was waiting for him. After being stared down, Brady was invited, not so nicely, into Dave's office. Minutes later Brady was on his way back out with his walking papers and a two week severance, Dave calling after him that he was sorry but he had a business to run and the other guys to think about.
         Brady just swore under his breath and walked over to collect his tools. He took what he could and told Grant, one of the other mechanics, that he would be back for the tool chest. It was to large to take home on the bus.
         Brady slung the bag of tools over his shoulder, and waving goodbye to the guys amid calls of 'Good luck' and 'Keep in touch' though he doubted any of them meant it, he walked out the door. He paused momentarily to look back at Dave, who stood at the door of his office watching with a sad face. Brady decided that it was only his own fault and Dave had to do what was best for himself. Brady gave a quick half smile and a nod and walked out into the morning sun.

         He stood at the Bus Stop that he had gotten off at only half an hour before and read the schedule to see when the next bus would be along. Every half hour at this time of day, he checked his watch. Must have just missed it, he thought. He had a craving for a cigarette but he had given those up years before during his 6 year stint in the Army. Now he just stood there feeling and probably looking like a fool, so he decided to walk home, along the waterfront maybe. Try to work out a plan, look for another job...whatever, anything to keep from thinking about her.
         Had it really been six months since Sara left? By the way he felt it seemed more like yesterday that he had been sitting in on the couch watching the game when she announced that she was leaving and filing for divorce. He looked at her in awe for a moment, then reached over and hit the remote to turn the TV off.
         “Can we talk about this?” he asked. She stood there with tears in her eyes, arms folded wanting to look at him but she couldn't.
         “You've had years to talk to me, Brady!” she blurted out as the water works erupted. “How many times have I tried to get you to open up, damn it!” Brady lowered his head staring at the carpet, not sure what to say. They had been to this point before but she had never said she was leaving. “You've been back nearly 4 years! You can't tell me any longer that the Army didn't change you! You sit there and don't say anything, don't talk to me! You act like nothing is going on, but I can see you're hurting!” Brady continued to stare at the floor trying to block the images, the faces, trying to forget the things he had done, the lives he had taken for his Country.
         “Don't leave.” He said raising his head. “Please.”
         Sara just looked at him slowly shaking his head. “Talk to me.”
         Brady, feeling the sudden rush of pain again quickly lowered his head. Sara let out an exasperated sigh and turned to walk back to the bedroom.
         “John's coming over to help you move out.” she called back over her shoulder. “I'll pack a suitcase for you.”

         Brady stood at the waterfront overlooking the wharf as he went over the events of that day in his head. He hadn't been eating well since and the Doctor had given him pills to help him sleep. Lot of good those were. When they did work, he only slept of a couple hours then woke drenched in a sweat, heart beating rapidly. It would take him up to and hour to calm down after that afterwhich he would just lie in bed staring at the ceiling. Sometimes he would fall into a fitful sleep full of nightmares and dreams about Sara, often sleeping through the alarm and being late for work. After a few months he turned to alcohol to help him deal, but that only made things worse. He had to give most of his paycheck to Sara and the kids and the rest he blew on Jack Daniels and Budweiser. He was behind on all his bills and the rent for the roach infested urine smelling apartment in the seedy part of town. Now he had lost his job. Things couldn't get any worse than this, could they?