“My back’s broken.” Turner looked up at Casey while holding the gun at his side, hidden from sight.

The sergeant kneeled next to Turner and looked grimly at his boss. “That figures.”

“What the hell hit us?”

“I think they shot down the UFO and we got in its way.” Casey sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. “This is a hell of a mess. Like Honduras.”

“We’ve been together a long time?” Turner watched Casey with rapt attention as the helicopters came closer to the house.

“Long enough to know when you’re lying.” Pulling the knife from its sheath, Casey spun the weapon over his fingers like a magician, a twirl of light reflecting from the spinning metal. When it stopped, the knife hung over Turner’s leg. “Do I need to do this?”

With a smile, Turner brought the gun up and aimed it at the sergeant. “Do I?”

With a humorless laugh, Casey looked at the gun, then at Turner. “A standoff. Why are you so eager to stay here and die?”

“It’s my responsibility.”

“You do not remember any of it. It is not your fault.”

Turner cocked the gun with his thumb, the click ominous when added to the rotor noise. “In an hour or a few days, I will remember who I was. That man might take you up on the offer, but I will not. Think it through. Who will they be looking for when the actors escape? Me, I am the one who started all of this. I am the one who has operational knowledge. I am the one who is dangerous to them.”

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Casey shook his head and set the knife on the floor. He looked out the window, searching for the first sign of a ground response force and seeing nothing but dark sky.

“You’re not dying.”

“Maybe I exaggerated that a little.” Casey admitted wryly.

“I don’t know what I did to earn your loyalty, but I am ordering you to get the hell out of here and help those people survive.” Turner still held the gun up and cocked. The sergeant was a dangerous man capable of surprise; a man who had done enough for his country and deserved to live in peace.

“Did you really break your back?”

“Close enough.”

Casey looked at Turner and saw the steel in the man’s eyes, a semblance of the man he had once been, a directed anger compared to the mayhem he had once been capable of. He deserved a chance to redeem himself.

“I don’t really want to die,” Casey admitted and placed his hand on Turner’s shoulder. “When the bad guys come in, they will probably use the front and back doors, and maybe the windows. They will use live rounds. They might use a flash grenade to disorient you, so you should get in a corner and cover yourself with cushions from the couch. I can leave a few guns, the silenced weapons, so you can confuse them for a few seconds.”

“Thanks,” Turner sighed and lowered the gun.

“You’re going to die.”

“I know.”

Casey reached out and claimed the gun before Turner could react. The Sergeant lowered the hammer and set the safety on the gun. With a smile, he set the weapon on Turner’s chest.

The look on Turner’s face was the reward Casey had been hoping for. The man who had once seemed to command the world could not keep the resignation from his face. Casey knew Turner was thinking he had lost the test of wills. “Come on, let’s get you to a corner.”

Casey stood and placed his hand under Turner’s arms and dragged his officer to a corner near the fireplace.

“I have some extra grenades for you to use,” Casey added as he worked. Now that he was not staying in the house, he thought of ideas to spring on the ground force when it arrived.

“Thank you,” Turner said without looking at Casey.

“I still think we’re all going to die.”