Duplicity

Hey guys!

So here is chapter 8... I gotta say I got sucked into this one. I was researching away and found the most moving images and it kinda just moved me to write. If you're interested in seeing those images, let me know and I'll post a link in a comment. And chapter 8 got to be so long that I decided to break it up into 2 chapters. So I'm finishing up chapter 9 and will post as soon as that's sorted out.

Thank you SOOO much for the continued support. Please leave a comment, good or bad I wanna hear from you. And without further ado... here's chapter 8.

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Sean stood in front of the bathroom mirror quietly assessing his freshly showered reflection. His piercing green eyes seemed dull this morning.

The gentle hum of the air conditioner cooled his still glistening skin. It was morning. And the new day inevitably brought on new thoughts. And yet he wore a blank expression as he started his ritual. The foamy lather coated his scalp like a sudsy cloud. With a flick of the wrist, the black straight razor opened. With long precise strokes he slowly and carefully shaved from front to back.

It seemed like a lifetime ago when he started shaving his head. The ritual would be forever engrained in his mind.

When he was done, he eyed the small pill bottle on the counter. He quickly gulped down a couple of pills without any water. He inwardly sighed, he felt better already. And yet his thoughts inevitably went to that time in his life when this all started.

April 2007, Wiesbaden Army Airfield; Wiesbaden, Germany

"Atten-tion!"

The captain stood in the hangar entrance while the armed soldiers quickly lined up in perfect formation on the airfield tarmac. All except one, that is.

"Something wrong with you Johnson?"

Silence.

"Johnson! Front and center... Now!"

Silence.

From the line, Dominic threw a small rock at his friend; knowing full well why he didn't respond. In turn Sean let out a snort followed by a "Fuck!!" He rubbed his temples, groaning from the pain.

"Oh shit." He huffed. Suddenly he was aware of the pairs of eyes on him. But it was all too late. He knew he got caught.

"Sir yes, sir!" Sean scrambled to join his unit in the front of the formation.

He had perfected the art of sleeping with his eyes open while standing. They were set to fly out to their new assignment in Kandahar that morning. But to Sean, 0500 hours meant he'd only slept 30 minutes. While the others in his platoon opted to get a good night's sleep; Sean decided to sneak out of the barracks to party all night long. They were currently stationed in Germany. And the local German women couldn't get enough of him. The corners of his mouth twitched a smile as he relished those wicked memories.... very naughty women indeed.

"Wipe that smile off your face! The time for-"

The man had moved closer to Sean and stopped talking. He leaned over and sniffed Sean's shirt. The strong stench of alcohol burned his nostrils. He wondered how the boy was even standing. It smelled like he swam in the stuff.

"What is that smell soldier??!!" He roared; making sure to get right in Sean's face.

"Don't know sir."

"You don't know? So you haven't been drinking until early this morning?!" Captain Brown's nostrils flared in anger.

"Drinking what sir?" Sean let out a cheeky grin.

"I honest-to-God-do-not-know-how-the-hell... you've lasted this long Johnson. Can you explain it?" The captain's voice boomed.

"I'm a lucky son a bitch, sir!"

The men in his unit although holding their perfect posture, couldn't help but suppress a chuckle. From the back of the line, Dominic pursed his lips and shook his head. He had to give it to his friend Sean... he had some balls on him.

"Lucky-son-of-a-bitch, indeed." The brown skinned man cynically chuckled.

The tall man towered over Sean's 6' 3" frame. And although Capt. Damion Brown was in his fifties; his muscled arms and cunning eyes brokered no argument. He wore his fatigues as if he'd been wearing them his whole life. He was a patriot that bled red, white and blue. A true leader. He could've retired but continued his service for the love of his country.

Capt. Brown stepped closer to Sean. Invading his space, he tested him out to see if he would dare to say something else. He was so close their noses were almost touching. It was as if he was searching his very soul... figuring him out. The captain was always in control. Commanding such strong willed men forced him to be. He could react and lay into him but in this case that wouldn't solve the problem.

"Now... what to do with you?" He said, contemplating his own question. Capt. Brown's intense glare bore into the young private. But Sean vacantly looked ahead not meeting his eyes. Even Sean knew when to pull back.

"Permission to speak freely sir." Sean respectfully asked.

"Permission granted."

"My behavior is inexcusable. I would completely understand if I were to be reprimanded and made to serve out my punishment here."

"Really now?" Captain Brown let out a crooked grin as if he anticipated those very words.

"Well that's a very helpful suggestion. But you wouldn't be telling me how to do my job, would you soldier?" He dangerously whispered.

"No sir!"

"Request denied."

Sean's expression didn't hide his disappointment.

Captain Brown let out a sarcastic chuckle. "You really didn't think this little charade you have going on would work, did you? Do you think I can't tell the difference between someone with a real hangover and someone who just sprayed themselves with the stuff?"

Busted.

Sean furrowed his eyebrows. Apparently he'd underestimated the captain. Last night Sean drank like a fish, but it wore off with the... physical exertion he laid on the German women. So this morning, he dabbed some whisky around his neck and shoulders as if it were cologne.

He could hear Dominic snicker from the back of the formation. Asshole. Instead of helping him this morning, Dominic told him he was crazy and it would never work. Some friend he was.

Fuck. He did not want to go to no godforsaken Afghanistan. Iraq was one thing but Afghanistan... that was a whole other story. Contrary to popular belief, he was not built to be a soldier.

"Now, I don't know what the hell is wrong with you but you will learn. You WILL deploy with your unit and you WILL complete your duties without any interruptions. Do I make myself clear??!!" The captain's deep voice echoed throughout the hangar.

Silence.

"Sir yes sir!"

Finally the captain sighed. He knew all about Johnson and his antics. This young man would never learn. Johnson continually defied every superior he could. Just for fun. He was as hard-headed as a mule and had been reprimanded on numerous occasions. But each time, he took his punishment in stride and went on doing what he did perfectly.

Being the best pain in the ass he could be.

He was an excellent soldier. An excellent soldier with a bad attitude that is. He barely scrapped by to earn his promotion to private first class because his superiors hated his guts. In the end, they couldn't even try to deny him his promotion. That was the least they could do.

On his last assignment, Sean single-handedly engaged 300 enemies, led the troops to a safe haven and rescued 8 fellow soldiers from a burning Bradley. The tank had been unexpectedly ambushed by an IED. In the captain's opinion, he should have been nominated for the Distinguished Service Cross medal.

For fuck's sake, 8 of his men owed Sean their lives. One by one, Sean carried the wounded to safety. Ignoring his own flesh wound, he sheltered them in the midst of a firefight. And he didn't stop until the last one was safe and sound.

But both the major general and the colonel blew the whole thing off; downplaying his actions. Blinded by the fact Sean didn't fall over himself and drool over the major general when he'd visit them on base. There was so much bureaucracy; the captain understood Sean's frustration.

Some people in positions of power let it go to their heads. They expected their asses thoroughly kissed for a soldier to be successful. But the captain didn't give a damn about their opinions and all the fucking bureaucracy. As soon as they returned from this assignment, he would write Sean's recommendation. Bravery is bravery... even if it's wrapped in a stubborn insubordinate. Even assholes can make their country proud.

It would help if Sean at least acted as if he gave a shit. But it was like he didn't care about anything. It was like he accidently stumbled into boot camp and ended up here.

But through it all, Capt. Brown actually liked him. He reminded him of himself 30 years earlier; young, angry and wild. Couple that with a severe problem with authority and you got yourself someone that none of the commanders wanted. But he did.

The captain saw Sean's potential and knew that his problem with male authority probably stemmed from his life at home. It might be something like an absentee father or maybe being the only male child. One thing was for sure... he was angry about something. But he had to learn to put all that shit in its proper place. With his help, the 19 year-old would straighten out in no time.

"Well private first class Johnson, since it's such a beautiful day... and you seem so up for the task. Drop down and give me 100." Capt. Brown started off at an easy number, knowing Sean's cocky attitude would lead him to much worse.

Sean defiantly met his gaze.

"With pleasure, sir." Although his head pounded from the lack of sleep; he confidently dropped to the floor. He smiled as he used his right arm while the other was tucked behind his back. He mentally started his count. The Captain pissed him off so he thought he'd give him a little more of a show. He could do 100 one-armed pushups in his sleep.

"Fucker." Sean silently muttered.

"Did you say something soldier?!"

"No sir!"

"That's what I thought. " The commander barked.

Sean easily pumped himself up and down on his right hand. Straight back and legs... he could do this shit all day. He'd be done in a couple of minutes.

"Oh that's nice. Real nice." The captain touted.

Sean didn't say anything but arrogantly continued his count.

"Let's see how you do with a little extra weight. Ramirez! Get over here and sit on private first class Johnson's back."

Ramirez looked uncertain at first but silently came over, disengaged his weapon and tentatively sat on Sean's back while he continued his pushups. Sean now grunted and clenched his teeth from the added weight. His body softly vibrated but his strong muscled arms endured. The veins in his neck bulged in the most distracting way. But he stubbornly continued.

"And since you're doing such a damn good job... how about 100 more? Also you will carry Ramirez on your back and do 200 squats. That's right... you're going to do "fireman's carry" squats. By then maybe you've sweated the shit you wanted to convince me you drank last night." Capt. Brown let out a sparkling smile. "Staff Sergeant Roman, make sure he finishes his sets. The rest of you company, at ease. Follow me."

As soon as the Captain was out of hearing distance, Sean cursed and let out a muffled groan. This would be an impossible task. But SSgt. Roman was keeping count and would definitely not let him off the hook.

After a long stretch of strained silence, "Why do you insist on getting on every superior's bad side?" Ramirez quietly asked Sean. His coffee colored eyes looked down toward Sean with compassion. The brown haired Puerto Rican was shy and mild mannered. He was the same age as Sean and although they were total opposites; they became instant friends. He was sitting on Sean very still and holding his weight on his legs as to not add too much extra on him.

"Because he's a fuckin' asshole." Sean groaned as he pushed himself up.

"He's not that bad."

"You would say that, wouldn't you? Kiss ass."

Ramirez let his weight drop a little making Sean groan. Ramirez chuckled. "You can call me kiss ass all you want but I'm not the one that has... 162 pushups and 200 squats to go."

Sean groaned at the number but continued without complaints. Fuck his life.

____

Southern province; Kandahar, Afghanistan

"Pay attention and stay sharp! That goes for all of you. Remember the drills. Always alert, always engaged!" The Captain loudly screamed above the sound of the roaring Humvee.

Sean stirred with the Captain's voice. Fuck, he'd fallen asleep again. Somehow he'd gotten stuck in the same Humvee as the captain. It seemed he was going out of his way to have him by his side. Sean rolled his eyes. He hated this shit. He'd been able to clock in 3 hours of sleep on the plane. His body ached in all sorts of places from those fucking "Ramirez pushups and squats". Fucking captain.

He looked out of the window and took in his surroundings. They drove through the mountains. They were driving fast, plowing over the dirt roads. The soft sand whipped around the row of Humvees as if they were creating their own sand storm. Sean caught his reflection in the mirror, his desert camouflage uniform meshed right into the landscape.

Finally after driving for a couple hours, the scenery started to change. Although far apart there were glimpses of residences. It was midday when they arrived. The Humvees were strategically parked to ensure maximum security. They were told they would spend 2 hours setting up camp and then be shown their posts.

When they unloaded their gear at the bottom of a small hill they could already tell this place was different. Sean didn't know what to expect when they arrived. But it sure as hell wasn't this.

The cloudless sky was so clear; it was the bluest he'd ever seen it. They were in a valley with large white capped mountains surrounding them. Impossibly high concrete walls protected the farm from outsiders. The well-groomed green shrubs lined the dirt road perfectly. It was like an oasis in the middle of desert.

It was dry and hot. The gentle breeze felt like God's hot breath upon their skin. Sean just stood for a minute and inhaled the pure air. It was so peaceful... so quiet.

For a moment he thought maybe they'd gotten the destination wrong. This was war-ravaged Afghanistan, wasn't it? A blind man couldn't deny its natural beauty.

Sean remembered reading somewhere that it took Alexander the Great almost three years to conquer this land; unable to fight its allure. He'd been so obsessed... he insisted it be named after him as Alexandria in Arachosia.

It seemed that many of the men in his company wore the same awestruck expression. Some of them had served their tours out in a very different part of this mysterious country. The burnt sienna soil looked surprisingly untouched and fertile there.

Happy little goats trotted towards them in greeting; as if welcoming them to their homeland.

They filed out and made their way towards their campsite. They would need to guard the post around the clock.

They walked about a mile down; their gear rumbling on their backs as they walked in unison. Their heavy boots crunched the dirt road.

They passed a large clay building on their left. The stubborn ruins stood the test of time. As if it refused to be destroyed. But someone lived there. A random plastic water jug hung on the side of the wall; as if to remind you it is possible to live among the ruins.

After they unpacked and set up camp; they were given their orders. They would be shown the main house and the fields. It was April and the poppies were in full bloom. Their first assignment was to destroy the existing crop. The owners had already started on a couple of acres but the field covered at least 500 acres. They needed all the help they could get. A team would help eliminate the poppy while the other teams would secure the perimeter.

As they approached the main house, Sean wondered what kind of people lived there. The huge brick house seemed out of place as it was styled in the Victorian era with intricate designs. It was tall; it looked to be several stories high with a large porch that wrapped around the front. There were bay windows and balconies that seemed to curve with the house.

The house was bustling with activity. An older woman ran around back; she carried a large plastic basin full of water and a towel flung over her shoulders. Small half naked children ran around her laughing. The kids seemed to enjoy terrorizing her as the frustrated woman fussed at them. But when the kids caught sight of the approaching soldiers; they immediately stopped. Their large brown eyes widened and cried out in joy. They ran toward the approaching men as fast as their sandal covered feet could carry them.

Sean and the men smiled at the excited chatter of the 3 boys. They were so enthralled with them and full of curiosity. They kept touching their uniforms and asking them a million questions.

Sean looked back at the house and noticed a girl with her head covered tending to house chores. She seemed to be around his age. Interesting. Maybe his time here wouldn't be so bad after all. His view was interrupted with what must have been the man of house; he came out and greeted the captain. After the man shot the children a quick stern glance, they scattered back to their caretakers.

"Please excuse my children; they have never seen American soldiers other than on TV."

His voice was deep and smooth with a British accent. The man was tall and handsome. His inky black hair sprinkled with grays sat in waves on his head. His kind eyes were covered by modern black-framed glasses. He smiled and his pearly white straight teeth sparkled. Without a doubt he was a wealthy educated man. He wore a fine white cotton Kurta pajama with a geometric design along the collar and sleeves. He didn't look like a farmer. His nails were perfectly groomed and his hands wore no calluses. He seemed relieved to see them.

"Captain, it's nice to finally meet you. My family and I have been anticipating your arrival. My name is Farzin Khan and all of you are welcome to the Insha'Allah farm. My father has recently passed so my family and I decided to move back home and make sure we settled things here before returning to London. But I should hope that although your time here will be short; you will all feel at home. Please come, I will show you the fields and then we will enjoy refreshments and afternoon tea."

Afternoon tea, what the fuck? Sean's eyebrows furrowed at his words. He sounded as if the troops had just arrived for summer camp; ready for marshmallows over a camp fire and to sing Kumbaya. Didn't this guy know they were at war? Fucking idiot. But then, Sean caught sight of it. It was hard to tell but under Farzin's perfectly pressed shirt; he had a 9mm safely tucked away. Maybe there was more to this fruit loop than he thought.

Farzin Khan caught the snickering from the young soldier but he didn't care. He would try to make his time here as normal as possible, even if it was bullshit.

Now that the soldiers had arrived, he would immediately send his children and wife away just in case something happened. He didn't want them caught in the crossfire. They were ok now, but as soon as they would destroy the crop, they would be under threat. This would be the most dangerous thing he's ever done.

He had settled back in his native Afghanistan for a couple of months now. For years he had tried to convince his father to get out of the poppy business. But he was so stubborn. That had been the catalyst of him permanently staying in London to pursue his career. He was a history professor at Oxford and was proud of his hard earned tenure. There wasn't much he could do from London.

Farzin vowed never to come back until things changed. Years passed and things remained the same. Looking back, he guessed both father and son shared the stubborn gene.