“How’d you know Brunello was my favorite?” Kip asked as he clinked glasses with Jackie and took another sip.
“Just a hunch. I’m so glad you could come by. Sorry it was so busy earlier.”
“Hey, no problem. I enjoyed the chance to watch you work. You really have a passion for it.”
“I do,” Jackie said as she sipped her wine. “Now, tell me about you. How long are you back for?”
“Well, my return ticket is scheduled in a few weeks, but I may change it. I really want to spend some time with Bennett and you, if you can find some time.”
“Absolutely. Sunday nights are slow, and I close on Mondays. Maybe I can sneak out early Sunday night and we can catch a movie for old time’s sake.”
“Only if it’s subtitled,” Kip laughed as he raised his glass in a toast. For the next hour, the two spent time catching up and reminiscing about the old days as the restaurant staff readied the place for closing. Jackie howled in laughter as Kip replayed the events of the bingo hall earlier that evening.
“She actually fired her gun?” Jackie laughed as Kip finished his story.
“Swear to God. Man, I hope they put that little hellcat in solitary for everyone’s safety.”
“So you came with Polly? Can I give you a lift home later?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind.”
“No problem. In fact, I insist. Let me go check with the staff and make sure everything is ready for close, and maybe we can pop over to Sixth Street and grab a nightcap first.”
“I’d love that.”
After Jackie assured herself that everything was in order with the staff, she grabbed her purse and headed down the block with Kip to the still bustling Sixth Street. They made their way into a small jazz club and continued laughing about old memories over another glass of wine. After a while, they both decided they’d had a long day and should head home.
“I always loved your old home,” Jackie said as she navigated through the streets of Austin. “I’m so glad your father didn’t sell it when your mother passed away.”
“Never any risk of that. Bennett will die in that house before he sells it. The only thing he loves more is his dog.”
“How’s Avery? I haven’t met him, but when Bennett comes by the restaurant he’s usually grumbling about him.”
“Oh, he’s pretty weird, but mostly harmless, I think. He and Bennett fight like an old married couple. They make an unlikely pair, but Bennett swore to his second wife that he’d take care of her son after she died, and the one thing you can count on Bennett for is to keep his word. You’ll have to meet him sometime. It’ll crack you up.”
“So, we’re on for a movie Sunday?” Jackie asked as she pulled to the curb in front of the big white house.
“You bet. I’ll swing by the restaurant, and whenever you can sneak out, we’ll go,” Kip answered as he wondered if he should kiss Jackie goodnight.
“Can’t wait,” said Jackie as she leaned over gave Kip a quick kiss on the lips. “See you then,” she said with a smile. Kip watched Jackie pull away in her car as he mentally kicked himself for leaving Austin in the first place.
Back along the Mexican border, the Southwest Texas Revolutionary Armed Confederate Border Operations Militia was locked and loaded and ready for Operation Land Shark to officially commence, albeit a few hours later than the General would have liked. The men had regained their confidence and swagger after the disaster of the ATV training exercise earlier that evening. Private Zulu had painted the bright orange ATVs with ribbons and stripes of black shoe polish. It didn’t exactly make them blend into the desert terrain like General X-Ray had hoped.
“But at least it makes ’em look meaner,” the private had noted.
The men of STRAC-BOM had loaded their gear and weapons onto their vehicles, and with a flourish of his riding crop, the General ordered his men to start their engines. The General pulled his leather goggles down from the top of his tanker’s helmet and secured them firmly in place over his eyes. After kick-starting the heavy dirt bike to life, he led the convoy of vehicles into the desert, only to return to base a few minutes later because Private Foxtrot had forgotten to lock the door to the HQ. Once the base was secured, they moved out again.
Progress was slow and bumpy. General X-Ray’s stubby legs stretched as far as they could in order to reach the ground from his seat on the motorcycle, but they just wouldn’t make it. He had to ride straddling the dirt bike’s gas tank. His legs looked like a set of children’s training wheels as the General tippy-toed along while he struggled with great effort to keep from tipping over while navigating the broken and rocky terrain. The first phase of Operation Land Shark was for the men to make their way several miles north to Rally Point Uno and establish their first camp. The General shouted encouragement to his troops, but they couldn’t hear a word he said over the noise of the ATVs. Slowly, the convoy of vehicles began to separate. After an hour of slow progress, the General, noticing his men were scattered, brought his dirt bike to a halt and waived his riding crop in a circle above his head in an attempt to rally his troops to his position. Realizing that they couldn’t spot his position in the dark, the General grabbed the small handheld flashlight attached to his belt and clicked the light on and off several times in their direction. One by one, the ATVs arrived at his position and killed their engines.
“I want Fire Team Leader Status reports starting with Alpha Team,” the General instructed.
“Alpha, present and accounted for.”
“Bravo, ditto.”
“Charlie, ditto, ditto.”
“Excellent,” the General replied as he consulted his marked- up topographical map and flip-top compass with his flashlight. “Rally Point Uno is on top of this ridge and to the east, about four hundred meters. Follow me and we’ll pitch tonight’s base camp and begin surveillance for illegal aliens.”
The men fired their machines back to life and gingerly made their way along the ridgeline, passing a cut in the ridge with a sloping path to the valley below. Just to the east of the cut they parked their vehicles and began setting up Rally Point Uno base camp.
“Fire Team Alpha!” the General barked. “I want you to assemble the tents over there. Fire Team Bravo, set up the dining fly, mess hall, and command center here. Fire Team Charlie, take your entrenching tools and begin constructing the surveillance foxholes over there about twenty-five meters. Dig them right on the edge of the ridgeline, and I want them at least three feet deep.”
“Dang, general,” Private Zulu replied dejectedly. “How come we got to dig the foxholes? This dry ground is an s.o.b. to hack through.”
“Stop your whining, private,” the General reprimanded him, “or I’ll have you dig the latrine, too. Once the other Fire Teams are finished, they’ll help you with the perimeter defenses.”
The men went to their assigned tasks, and in short order the olive drab canvas pup tents were erected and the command center was in place. Fire Teams Alpha and Bravo joined the effort to finish the three foxholes on the edge of the ridge.
“Okay, men,” the General began, “take your positions in the foxholes and watch for movement. If you see anything, radio me in the command center, but no loose chatter on your walkie-talkies. And don’t forget to check your weapons and ammo.”
For the next four hours, the Fire Teams scanned the valley below, hardly able to see a thing in the darkness. The sounds of the desert played tricks with their minds, particularly the occasional flutter of bats wings over their heads as the nocturnal creatures chased their nightly prey of insects.
“You see anything out there?” whispered Private Zulu.