Beyond Borders

Josh Brock

Sierra Vista, AZ

October 17, 2011

6:35 A.M.

The rain fell hard that morning, but never so hard as the tears that hammered Dan Brock’s soul. Dan still lay on his stomach with his face buried in a pillow, one hand clutching the still bleeding wound on his arm while the other clutched the Glock 19 pistol under his pillow. “Carus dues, indulgeo…”

Dan began to recite the Latin prayer that he had made up and forced himself to memorize, the combination of the tremors shooting through his body and the tears in his eyes soon forced him to abandon his feeble attempt at salvation and reach for the bottle of vodka on his bedside table. As he pulled the bottle to his mouth a voice slammed into his head “every time this happens you just go back to that bottle…how can you change who you are if you can’t even give that up for me...”

Dan swore and threw the bottle against his bedroom wall, where it shattered apon the large American flag that hung there. “Fuck…” he muttered as he rolled out of bed and picked up the first discarded shirt he could find. As he feverishly scrubbed the flag with the shirt, desperately trying to rid it of the impurities he had bestowed upon it, his hands began to shake more severely. He shot a glare to the small black case tucked securely into his bookshelf, the effects of a receding heroin addiction still very much tormenting his life. Just then his cell phone began to vibrate somewhere underneath the cloths heaped around his room. Dan, after frantically began tossing things aside until he finally spotted the small silver phone underneath a pair of khakis, flipped the phone open and pressed it to his ear.

“Hello?” Dan half yelled into the cellular phone.

“Hey bro thought I’d never get a hold of you…”

Dan recognized his friend Steven’s voice on the other end of the phone. “Ah yeah sorry man rough night…what’s up?”

There was a pause and a shuffling of papers on the Steven’s end of the phone, then; “Just wanted to check if you’re still on for the patrol has it there’s gonna be some heavy traffic in the Khyber Pass area…”

Aside from serving four years in the Marines before being discharged for health reasons, Dan was a member of the Arizona Civil Defense Patrol, a local “vigilante” group dedicated to protecting America against drug smugglers and the increasingly bold Mexican military. “Khyber Pass” was a region in the Coronado National Forest in south western Arizona. In actuality Khyber Pass is an area between Pakistan and Afghanistan known to for its very inhospitable terrain, but for identification purposes it is the most heavily trafficked area for criminal aliens in the Coronado National Forest area.

“Yeah man I’m down…” Dan said as he flicked on the light switch “I’ll pack up my shit and be out there by twelve,”

“Alright bro I’ll see you then…” there was a click as the line disconnected.

Another hour passed as Dan showered and ate breakfast, the dreams of the previous night still flickering in mind. Dan was one of the unfortunates who suffered from “night terrors” or sever nightmares brought on by stress. As Dan sat down on his couch to catch the morning edition of Fox News, someone rang his doorbell. “Just a sec!” Dan yelled as he tucked his Glock into his back pocket. In a few seconds Dan had walked to the next room and peered through the peephole.

“What the…” he muttered to himself as he reluctantly opened the hard wood door.

In front of him, soaked in rain, stood the world-shattering image of his ex-lover. She smiled at him through the glass door. He felt a pain in his chest as memories assaulted his psyche.

“What do you want?” he managed to grunt.

She motioned to her ears and then to the door. Dan sighed and pushed the door slightly ajar. “What do you want?” he seethed.

She placed her hand on the inside of the door “Hey…I need someone to talk to…just for a little…”

He sneered before he could stop himself. “If you want to talk then go bitch to your fucking-”

The woman killed the thought with a glare. “Joshua...please, you know you’re the last person on earth I’d come to…please”

Dan cringed, it had been a long time since anyone had used his first name, and even longer since he had heard it come from those lips.

“You’ve got five minutes…five fucking minutes.”

Dan pushed the door open, making his way past the large plasma screen TV in the den. He threw himself on the sofa and, as an after thought, pulled the Glock from his back pocket and placed it on coffee table. The ravishing young woman joined Dan on the couch, nervously eyeing the firearm.
“What do you want?” Dan demanded. “I know you didn’t come all the way over here just to insult my way of life…God knows you’ve already done enough of that.”

She stole his thunder by placing her hand on his cheek and turning his cold blue eyes towards her entrancing brown orbs.

“Josh…hun…I’m pregnant…”

His eyes went neutral as he processed the information, then were set ablaze. He shot to his feet and stood over her.

“You fucking slut!” he roared. “You came here to tell me that? Of all people, me?!” He’d sworn to himself that he would throw her out, disown her like she had done to him. But when he looked back into her eyes and saw the tears slowly making their way down her face, he couldn’t stomach fanning the fire.

“I’m sorry, Kayla,” he whispered. Kayla gave him a sorrowful smile as she pushed her long brown hair from her eyes.

“I haven’t…I haven’t told him yet but…I don’t know what he’s gonna do when he finds out…”

He turned his back on her, against his gut instinct.
“Kayla…I don’t know him that well…but I’m sure if he loves you as much as…”

“As much as you did?” She interjected. Kayla interpreted his silence, then said, “Sorry…go on…”

“As much as you love him,” Dan continued, “…I’m sure he’ll stay with you.”

Kayla placed a hand on his shoulder and gently pulled. Dan turned a little more eagerly than he meant too.

“Thanks Josh…” she muttered. “You’re the first one I’ve actually told…I guess I just needed to hear something like that before I could tell him…”

Dan only nodded, his eyes focused on a spot past her. She smiled for a moment, her hands running up his arms. She stopped and looked down at the healing wound on his forearm and the scars that climbed beyond that. She shed a tear for Dan’s turbulent past.

“I heard…I just…I don’t know…” she stammered. It was her turn to look at the floor. He spared her a bittersweet smile.

“I guess I never wanted to accept that you hurt…after what you did…I’m sorry for causing you to…”

Dan placed a finger on her lips and shook his head. “The drugs, the drinking, and everything else…all my decision,” he whispered. “Besides…” He reached inside his shirt and pulled out a gold Celtic cross suspended from a chain around his neck. “Not all the things I turned to were bad.”

A knowing smile danced on her lips. Their eyes met again, and before he could control himself, he’d grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her forward and pressing his lips against hers. Dan’s hands went to Kayla’s waist and her arms rested on his shoulders. Tongues danced, and emotions took flight.

After a moment, Dan managed to pull away, gently stroking her face. “Kayla…” he whispered.

All she did was smile, letting a slender finger brush over his lips, then pulled him close for another lip lock, more intense than the last. Finally, she tore herself from the kiss.

“Josh…its over, remember? It’s been over for a long, long time.”

Dan nodded. “I think it’s time you left…” he muttered, as he turned and picked up his Glock. Kayla only nodded as she retrieved her purse and began to walk to the door. At the last moment, she turned to face him.

“Josh…happy birthday.” She smiled and continued out the door.

Dan chuckled, despite the situation. He had almost forgotten about his twenty-second birthday.

“Thank you God,” he whispered as he brushed the tears from his eyes and sat back down to listen to the rain.

The rain ceased four hours later, and Dan had packed his tent and camping gear in the back of his old ‘88 Jeep Cherokee. Dan searched around his garage for anything else he might need as he put his spare rain jacket in the back seat. Once he was sure that he had all the essentials, Dan pulled out a black Gortex bag from a plastic stack of shelves against the wall and threw in a small tactical strobe light, several sets of plastic hand ties, a satellite phone, a pair of military surplus AN/PVS-7B night vision goggles, a black balaclava, and a few other items. He zipped the bag and tossed it next to rain jacket.

Last but not least was one of the most important mission tools. Dan turned to face the large Fort Knox gun safe that was set against the wall. He spun in the three-number combination and the steel door of the vault swung open, revealing a staggering amount of firepower. From shotguns to assault rifles, the weapons stood in the upright position, gleaming in the light cast by the small fluorescent bulbs built into the safe walls.

Dan marveled at the weapons as he did every time he saw them, heirlooms of his family. He’d only bought a handful of the thirty weapons in the safe. The beautifully crafted hunting rifles, shotguns, and target pistols were all passed down from his grandfather to his father. Before leaving for his retirement in Africa, his father had turned over to him all but three of the weapons, leaving Dan with an exuberant amount of firepower. However, even without the weapons left by his father, he still had plenty to choose from. While the back rows of the safe were filled up with the more practical weapons, the front was clogged by an assortment of AR’s, Ak-47’s and tactical scoped rifles.

Instead of taking one of the assault rifles, he reached for his weapon of choice for the patrols, a ROMAK III 7.62x54mm rifle, the Romanian civilian variant of the SVD Druganov sniper rifle. Dan pulled the rifle from the safe by its leather sling and cradled it. He made sure the scope caps on the 8x tactical scope were secure as he gingerly loaded it into the black rifle case.

Next he pulled an ammo can marked “.50CAL” from the bottom of the safe and hefted it onto a large cooler. He released the latch and opened the lid to reveal several boxes of 7.62x54mm ammo. Dan removed four of the twenty round boxes and eight ten-round magazines from the can before closing it and replacing it inside the safe.

After transferring these to another empty can, Dan opened a second, less secure gun safe at the back of his garage. This safe was full of ammunition, rather than rifles. Dan reached to the top shelf and withdrew two boxes of 7.62x54mm ammo with the letters “API” stamped on the front.

He placed the ammunition and magazines in the back of the Jeep. Before he locked the safe up, he withdrew one last item: a Colt 1911 Gunsite .45cal handgun. He placed the .45 in a tactical hip holster and grabbed five loaded eight-round magazines. Dan sealed the safes, closed the garage, and entered his jeep. He tossed the .45 and its ammo into the glove compartment. As he pulled of the driveway, he allowed his first actual smile in five years.

You know, he mused, Today just might turn out okay

15 minutes later…

Dan might have been able to forgive himself for not screaming out every obscenity he could manage as his ex-lover, but he doubted if he would ever live down the moment that had just occurred.

Not only had he opened up an old wound that he had vowed to stitch up, he had actually kissed a taken woman. Now the latter might not seem so much, but one of the few things Dan prided himself on these days was his sense of honor.

Pushing these thoughts from his mind he turned his attention back to the traffic signal overheard.

“Come on…come on…” he muttered as the red light overhead continued to stay just that, red.

No sooner had the light turned green than Dan’s cell phone buzzed to life in his pocket. Dan thrust his hand into his pocket desperately trying to force the phone out of his pocket while navigating down the busy street. After three rings Dan finally managed to open his phone and press it to his ear.

“Speak!” Dan demanded as he glared into his rear view mirror.

“You sound like you’re in a good mood” Steven chimed in.

“Oh yeah sorry bro, traffics a bitch-and-a-half out here today” Dan lied.

“Right…so…you almost here?” Steven cautiously.

“Yeah, sorry for the delay some stuff came up…I’m about to pull onto seventh now” Dan replied as he turned right off of Fry Boulevard onto 7th street.

“Alright man see-ya in a few” With that that line went dead.

Dan tossed his phone into the glove compartment and returned his focus to the road. 7th Street was a shit-hole of a neighborhood compared to the suburbia hell where Dan resided, why Steven lived there was a mystery to him. He guessed that Steven thought it made sense that a member of the Sierra Vista Police Department’s S.W.A.T team ought to surround himself with as many drug dealers as he could. Of course it also helped that many of the more sexually inclined females lived in the area.

Dan pulled up into the driveway of Steven’s three bedroom house and honked the horn twice, not wanting to leave his vehicle unattended. Moments later Steven emerged from his house carrying a black bag over his shoulder and a rifle case in his left hand.

Now Steven was an intimidating man to say the least, coming in at a little over 6’ and enough visible muscle mass to give to local skin heads a headache, he was definitely not someone you wanted to kick in your door one lazy Sunday morning.

Dan had met Steven in his freshman year of High School. By chance, the pair had wound up sharing the same Physical Education class, even though Steven was a junior at the time.

Dan couldn’t remember exactly how he started speaking to Steven, but the latter’s friendly personality and militarily inclined views made sure that they would always stick together during the class.

After a few months Steven moved away to San Antonio, Texas. In the ensuing months they had lost contact for a while, only to start talking again later on. Dan recalled the days after Kayla had left him, how Steven was one of the main factors in keeping him alive. That event along with many others formed a very strong bond between the pair, and his emotional support when he decided to try a second relationship with Kayla.

At the age of eighteen Dan enlisted in the Marines to fulfill his life long goal. After spending a year as an infantryman, he attended scout/sniper school where he graduated third in his class. Shortly after his graduation, Kayla left him for another man, causing him to fall into a deep bout of alcoholism. Noticing the sudden deterioration and not wanting to make the young Marines life anymore difficult, his commanding officer arranged an honorable discharge for Dan.

Afterwards, Dan managed to land a mediocre job at the local gun store, Steve had resigned his commission as a Ranger in the U.S. Army to come take up a job as a member of the Sierra Vista Police Department’s SWAT team.

A firm knock on the passenger side door snapped Dan from his journey into the past. Dan leaned over and unlocked the door to let Steven in.

“Alright man let’s get out of here, I want to be set up before Johnston’s dumb ass gets there…”

Steven nodded, buckling his seat belt and rolled his window down as Dan backed out of the drive way.

“So…are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Steven remarked as they pulled back onto Fry.

Dan tilted his head to the side a bit in silent contemplation before replying

“Nothing…just another mistake”

“You’re so full of shit I can smell it on your breath” Steven jeered, however once no reply came from his introverted companion he let the subject drop.