Читать книгу The Hip Hop Murderer - Dwayne Bowen - Страница 8

The dark sky is clear and the night is calm as the moon shines down on Bruce as he sits on the bench outside his living quarters. He is on the phone with Lisa, sobbing about how much he misses her and their son, Bryson.

"This is killing me, Lise, I'm so sorry I can't be there with you right now. You're my world and I don't want you to ever forget that. I'll be home soon, I promise!"

"It's getting harder and harder every day for me to cope with this, Bruce. I need you here to hold me and comfort me...please. I don't think I can do this alone. Do you think you can leave early?" Lisa says, crying.

Joe is sitting on the opposite side of the window inside the living quarters, listening to Bruce on the phone with Lisa.

Bruce responds sincerely, "Fifteen more days, babe, please hold on. I'll be there."

Joe shakes his head and massages his temples in agony because he can only imagine what Bruce is going through right now. He walks away from the window to give Bruce some privacy and calls Leslie to see how she's doing with the boys.

In a sleepy voice, Leslie picks up the phone. "Hi, sweetheart, is everything okay?"

"I'm sorry to wake you, my love; I was just calling to tell you that I love you and that I can't wait to see you and the boys again. I know things are going to be different when I get home so please just bear with me."

"I know, baby, but we'll talk in the morning, okay? I'm meeting your mother first thing tomorrow morning to go for a walk. Try to get some sleep, sweetie," Leslie says.

"I will, I love you," Joe replies.

"Love you, too." Leslie hangs up.

Bruce walks back into the barrack, wiping the tears from his face and shaking his head and mumbling. "I can't take this anymore; why, God, why?!"

He slowly walks over to his bed, bible in hand, and plops down. In less than two minutes he falls asleep in the middle of praying to God, seeking answers and understanding.

Joe silently walks over to check on Bruce and pulls his covers over him and pats him on the arm, saying in a low voice, "Hang in there...we got two more weeks to go, buddy."

Joe's emotions are flying too high to sleep so he decides to take a walk around the barrack. Thunder and lightning starts to strike across the black sky without a cloud in sight. As the raindrops start to hit the ground, Joe drops down and does a set of 100 push-ups. The rain starts to come down harder as he finishes his last set. He then springs up and begins violently throwing punches and kicks.

"Don't worry, Bryson." He throws two more jabs.

"Someone is going to pay!" he says, doing a forward kick and then a side-kick.

He throws a jab combination. "Even if it's by my own two hands."

He finishes with a roundhouse kick. "Someone is going to pay, you have my word!"

* * *

That Sunday morning, Bruce and Joe sit in the front row of the local Baptist church, listening to the preacher talk about life and death.

"For every life taken, there's another one given. Please excuse my French, but that is the harsh truth of this dry-ass reality! Can I get an Amen?!"

Bruce and Joe look at each other and smile as they both see the point the pastor is making. With that statement alone, Bruce seems to have a clearer understanding that Bryson's death is just a part of life. After church lets out, Joe and Bruce walk down the street. "I think I can now accept Bryson's death knowing that, as a result, another child was given life. So, in essence, his death was not in vain," Bruce says to Joe.

Joe replies, "Yeah, I could see that the sermon this morning really hit home for you, man."

"I feel like a weight has been lifted off me with that one service. I think we should go more often...what do you think?" Bruce asks.

"We can surely go next week on account of it being our last weekend here."

"Damn already, huh? We're going to be two old, retired, honorably discharged soldiers!" Bruce marvels.

"Hey...who you calling old? Speak for yourself, man!" Joe says, punching Bruce in the shoulder.