A Red Eye from Montevideo
I am a fictional character, in name and spirit. I enjoy fire and necromancy, and making heterosexual adventure stories as queer as physically possible.
It wasn't until they were playing "Taps" that it really hit John. Three hours of hand shakes and condolences, and it was a 19 year old cadet with a bugle that struck home.
General Larson was dead.
He'd taken a ship from McMurdo to Montevideo, a red eye to Mexico City, and then slept in the airport till it was time to board for Los Angeles. They let him skip the security check, let him carry a handgun on a plane full of tourists.
Every other hand shaker had asked him, "What was it like in Antartica?" As if Antartica was an adventure, and not a black mark on his record.
General Larson had known about Cam, had saved John's career, gotten him stationed where he could still fly, even if it was literally at rock bottom. Cam had been dishonorably discharged, was stuck flying tourists around the Badlands. John envied him.
When the funeral ended, John took his rental and drove straight through the night, to South Dakota, to Cameron, heart aching. It was only then, in Cam's kitchen, that he let himself cry.
Prequels
Sequels
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (2 so far!)
Jim Stitzel
Oh, yeah, that reads differently in that context. It would definitely read with more clarity to open that paragraph with "John had..." Otherwise, it's a solid piece.
- #2403 Posted 8 years ago
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Inspired by (sequel to):
He didn't say anything. Really, there wasn't much he could say, not then and certainly not now, stan…
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HSAR
Some confusion as to the subject of the third paragraph, which could do with some clearing up. I initially incorrectly thought it was referring to General Larson, as he was the last named object.