Page 87 of Rev

He lets out a breath. “A’ight, then. I beat motherfuckers to death with my bare hands. Pipes, chains, whatever. Never anyone, like,innocent. Fuckers who brought that shit to me as much as I brought it to them. But still. I did it.”

“Were you forced into it? Like, if you didn’t, they’d do something to you?”

“Sweet of you to think so, but no. I did it cause it was how shit was.”

“So how’d you end up in the military?”

“That was a choice we were forced to make, Chance and me. Our gang was expanding. Going from petty shit, slinging dimes and jacking liquor stores to running drugs for a cartel. They got into prostitution, pimping, finding girls to put to work, enforcing territory. We didn’t like that. The girls, especially. The turning point was when we were sent to transport a shipment of girls from off a boat to a warehouse. When we got to the boat, it was me, Chance, and three other dudes. Bad dudes. New recruits who really didn’t mind doing seriously dirty shit. These dudes decided they’d take what they wanted from the girls on the boat before doing the job. I don’t imagine I have to spell that out. Chance and I wanted no part of it.

“At first, we just…” He shrugs, eyes closed, features shut down. “Looked the other way. Let ‘em do their thing while we moved the rest to the van. But it started to get ugly. Not just rapin’ them anymore, these guys were…it wasbad. When one of the girls finally fuckin’ died, we knew we had to step in. So we did. We…Chance and I killed them. Those dudes. Only way to stop them. But they were tight with the leader of the gang, and tight with the cartel the gang was mixed up with. Which put us in a bad position. Like, dead within days, bad. We’d turned on our own. Make matters worse, we’d set the girls free. That was much worse, but killing recruits just meant finding new recruits—freeing the girls meant we’d fucked with their money.”

I can only hold my breath. Ache for him. Feel the tears in my eyes, and try to hold them back.

“It was my idea. I’d met a recruiter. Talked to him. Had the idea that if I ever wanted out of the gang, that was the way to go. So I kept that recruiter’s card in my wallet, just in case. Issue was, Chance and me, we never finished school. Like, not even elementary.”

I gasp at this. “What?”

“Yeah. I went as a little kid because it was an escape from the fosters, and I’d get food. But I was always so beaten up that it always meant I got transferred. And then I hit the streets and obviously quit going. My point is that you need a GED at least to join the military. Plus a bunch of ID stuff I didn’t have. But the recruiter, he knew Chance and I had a certain…potential. And this recruiter knew some people. I don’t know how, but somehow he got us in. Got us a tutor to catch us up on basic literacy in my case, so by the time we were ready to ship out to basic, I could pass for something like normal. That recruiter saved our lives. Put us on a different path. Gunnery Sergeant Luke Bingham.”

“Thank God for him.”

“Yeah, no joke. Chance and I joined together, went through basic together. Through sheer dumb luck, got assigned to the same infantry squad. Shipped out to Iraq together. Fought through two tours together. Then, after our second tour, we got recruited for spec ops. We got the attention of an officer who invited us to try out. We both made it, easily, and that was that. We ended up in the Recons.”

“You were Special Forces?”

He nods. “Yeah. Fought in Iraq, Afghanistan, did some shit I can’t talk about in South America, Africa, other places. We joined the Marines at eighteen, nineteen for Chance. Hit the Recons at twenty for me. Fought in the Recons for six years.”

“And you’re how old now?”

“I figure I’m twenty-eight. Could be closer to thirty, but I’m going with twenty-eight.”

“Why’d you leave the military?”

He doesn’t answer for a very long time. “Not ready to share that. Plus, it ain’t just my story to tell. It’s Chance’s, too, and I won’t tell his for him. Not without him knowing I’m gonna tell you. Not to mention, what happened is highly classified.”

“For real?”

A nod. “For real. We were part of an elite team. Did a lot of ultra-black ops stuff. Off-book. So off-book I shouldn’t even tell you it was off-book.”

“I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

He actually laughs, genuinely amused. “I know. But that’s not the point.”

“It’s not?”

“No. Classified means you don’t talk about it, ever, with anyone not cleared to know. I may be out, but that still applies. And besides, it’s better if you don’t know. You’ll sleep better.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what that means, but I’m thinking with what he’s told me so far, it’s probably better I trust his judgment on that.

“So.” He twists to look at me. “That’s most of my shit.”

“I don’t know what to say, Rev.” I feel my heart aching for him, and I simply don’t know how to put it into words. “I’m sorry you went through all that.”

He snorts. “Yeah.”

“I’m still not afraid of you.”

He holds up his hand, twists it this way and that. “Got a lot of blood on these.”