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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1394887-Dead-by-Tomorrow---Part-One
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Rated: GC · Novella · Action/Adventure · #1394887
A veteran tries to move on with his life and gets far more than he expected.
Part One

         Brady uncomfortably fingered the pencil he was holding as he filled out his application. He felt a bit conspicuous as he sat in the reception area of the local GM Dealership. Everybody that came in, from the people that worked there to those coming in to get there cars fixed, gave him a querying look.
         This was the third place he had been to today. Getting fired by Dave last week had taken it's toll. By the time Brady had gotten home he had already stopped at the bank and cashed his check, made a visit to the liquor store. The next few days were spent in a drunken stupor, a blurred nightmare of twisted faces and relentless headaches. He vaguely remembered the Landlord coming to the door and demanding money for rent. Brady remembered grabbing some of the cash that was strewn about the kitchen table and thrusting it in the Landlords face and slamming the door. He shook his head now realizing that he had a problem but was willing to do little about it.
         He finished the application, stood and walked it over to the guy manning the counter.
         “OK, we'll look it over and let you know.” said the guy as he took the clip board without looking and stuffed it under the counter. Brady looked at him for a second, wanting to say something, but that was how things were going today. He turned on his heel and moved to the door. He would go into some of the smaller shops down the street and keep trying. He knew eventually somebody would hire him.
         He got to the door and looked up. Coming towards it was a cute little brunette, probably dropping her car off for routine maintenance. Brady reached the door first and pulling it open held it for her. She stopped momentarily as the door opened the started inside looking to see who had opened it for her. She gave him a quick smile and a Thank-you as she passed him. He nodded his 'your welcome' gave her a quick up and down glance noting her business apparel and went out the door. Brady  absentmindedly felt around for his cigarettes as he walked through the parking lot towards the street.
         “Excuse me.” called a voice from behind him. Brady turned and with a mild surprise found the woman whom he had opened the door coming towards him. He said nothing, but watched her approach. She stepped up to him, “Don't I know you?” She asked.
         Brady studied her face for a moment and found it a little familiar. “Maybe. You look a little familiar.”
         “What's your name?” she asked looking past his scruffy beard trying to see what lie beneath.
         “Brady Ellerman.” he answered after a moments hesitation. What could it hurt if one more person in this world knew his name.
         “Ellerman.” she said almost to herself, her eyes wandering as she searched her memory.
         “Well you know my name,” he said, “how about you tell me yours.”
         “Oh, sorry” she said her thoughts coming back to the present. “I'm Rebbecca Webster, pleased to meet you.” She stuck out her hand, which Brady took and shook gently.
         “Ringing any bells” he asked. He was sure he had never met her before, maybe crossed paths once without consequence.
         Suddenly her eyes widened. “I know where I know you from” Brady watched with guarded interest as she spoke. “You were in Iraq a few years back, Afghanistan before that!” Brady was taken aback by that little piece of revelation. “Delta Company, 1st Ranger Battalion, right?”
         Brady's eyes widened in surprise. “How do you know that?” he asked with growing suspicion.
         “I was with the 315th Military Intelligence, do you remember?”
         Brady, his lips tightening spoke through clenched teeth. “I try not to.” He shifted uncomfortably looking around to see if anyone had overheard them. “You do look familiar, but if you were M.I.,like you say, you'd know we can't talk about it.” He looked around some more.
         “No one is talking about it.” she said suddenly on the defensive.
         “Look, I'm just going to go” he said and started to turn.
         “I just want to know what you are doing these days.” she said starting to follow him. Brady kept walking wondering if he should even acknowledge her question. “Were you in there looking for a job.”
         Brady stopped short. “What makes you think I'm unemployed?”
         Rebbecca stepped up next to him. “For one thing, your demeanor and disposition tell me that you have seen better days, but not recently. You look like you slept in your clothes and you haven't shaved for at least a week. Plus you need a haircut.”
         “Thanks for the critique.” he sneered. “Not that's it's any of your business, I'm currently looking for a job and as for my better days, I don't care to talk about that either.”
         Rebbecca, ignoring is insolent attitude, continued, “If you found a job worth your while, would you take it?”
         “Is this an interrogation? Fucking M.I.” Brady turned and started walking again. Rebbecca suddenly had a card in her hand and pushed it into his.
         “Call me” She said looking him straight in the eye. “I think I can help you.”
© Copyright 2008 Gerald Hanover (bandengor at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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