Continued from Part Two

Snyder stared at the thirty marks on the wall of his cell in the brig. He looked at his watch. It’d been another minute. He made another mark. Thirty-one minutes. He’d go crazy if he didn’t hang first.

The door at the end of the hall opened. A Native American woman dressed in a captain’s uniform with a bandaged hand walked down the aisle with a guard. “Sergeant, unlock the door,” said the captain.

The sergeant unlocked the door and the captain entered the cell.

Snyder saluted, but suspected he still looked more like a sullen, dissed gangsta. Something about being in a jail cell made him feel more like the Commanders’ President Snyder than Private Snyder.

The captain returned his salute with her good hand. “At ease, Private. Sorry about the arrest. That was Lieutenant Peterman’s natural instinct, and I was too ticked off at the time to contradict him. I don’t know if you’ve ever been shot, but I assure you it’s quite painful. Now that I’ve got some healing balm, I feel much better.”

Lady, I’m a gang leader playing soldier to dodge a hate crime rap. Of course I’ve taken a bullet, and a knife or three, too. But they got what they gave out and then some. “I can handle it.”

The captain looked over at the marks on the wall. “One mark for every minute. Nice way of handling it, Private.”

Snyder glared. Don’t tease me, lady.

The captain stared at his face. “I do have a question, Private. The service revolver is not part of your uniform as a tech. Do you always carry your weapon with you?”

If my homeboys and I had been carrying the day the 5-O nabbed me for sentencing a child molester to hang, I might not be in this cell or this stupid army.

He would have been carrying, except Mama Borden found his piece and seized it. That woman’s crying had landed him defending his turf with pea shooters. A mistake he wouldn’t make again. “When I sleep, I put the safety on and keep the Colt underneath my pillow.”

“Well, then.” The captain extending his Colt to him. “I wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

Snyder grabbed the gun and put it in his holster.

“You’re free to go and you have a thirty-six hour pass.”

Snyder suppressed a grin, stood at attention, and saluted. “Thank you, ma’am.”

The captain started to walk away, but turned around. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Captain Amanda Greywolf.”

“Private A. L. Snyder.”

“Snyder?” she said. “That’s German, you know.”

Thanks for rubbing that in. “My grandmother never missed Oktoberfest.”

“I’ll see you around, Private.”

Continued next Thursday

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