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Goat Herder and the Valkyries
Outside, the goats bleated.
It was colder up here than we had expected.
Inside, the herder sat trembling on a rickety thatch-back chair, talking to Charlie Troxel while Charlie's twin sister, Charlene, translated. All of it got written down and put on digital recorder. All of it emblazoned with the Valkyrie Logo by Abrams.
When the two soldiers were finished, Charlie vigorously shook the hand of the goat herder, which was probably a gross contravention of custom around these parts, but who could keep track?
"Thank you for your help," Abrams said to the goat herder. "The Task Force appreciates your efforts. The United States Government owes you a great debt."
Charlene translated as Abrams looked at the paper.
"This is where the Beast is holed up?" he asked the twins. I did not have a say in the matter for I was assigned as security.
"Another damn cave," Charlene muttered through teeth clenched in a dangerous smile.
Abrams gave the faintest nod to the twin soldiers. The two Troxels moved fast. Charlie had the goat herder's head in his hands, and he pulled the man's terrified face back, exposing the neck.
Charlene clambered atop the herder, syringe in hand. Bam. She plunged the needle deep into the herder's neck, between two corded tendons. Damn needle looked as big as a drinking straw.
It didn't take long. The man's eyes spun wildly in his head, and an expectorated froth swiftly formed, cascading down into his black beard. Charlie gently set him down on the ground, where the herder vomited and, blessedly, fell asleep.
"Done and done," Charlie barked, wiping hands on his fatigues. "Nicely handled."
"Not done yet," Abrams said. He gestured toward the only other room in this ramshackle house: the bedroom. "The herder has a son. Or a boyish daughter. Maybe six, seven years old. Hiding under the bed in there. You've got another dose in that needle, yes?"
Charlene paled, and nodded. "But, we're not supposed to use it on-"
"Just do the work and earn your paycheck, if not, I'll get him to do it." Abrams said to the woman, gesturing to me as I stand by the only entrance to this hovel. "Estimate a lesser dose. The child needs to forget, same as the father. The alternative is less appealing, I assure you." he continued.
The two soldiers disappeared into the bedroom. Abrams turned away, and as we heard a child squall, Abrams wondered just how long he could handle this way-off-the-books stuff. I, myself, begin to question his motives in silence.
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