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Bob looks startled at my bluntness, then nods. “Yeah. This isn’t going to be easy, but you deserve to know the truth.”
My stomach twists into a knot. Something tells me this isn’t just plain old gossip. “Just tell me, whatever it is.”
“It’s about Bennett. He’s…he’s dead, Brian.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. “What? How?”
“His landlord found him in his apartment. No obvious signs of foul play or suicide. The coroner thinks there’s a chance that there could be something suspicious going on, but they’re still running tests.” Bob swallows hard. “I didn’t want to tell you until I had all the details, but keeping this from you…I couldn’t do it anymore. I’m so sorry.”
Bennett. My friend, my brother in arms. Gone. A tidal wave of grief and disbelief washes over me as memories flood my mind. Memories of our time serving together, the horrors we witnessed, and the unbreakable bond we formed. He saved my life more than once. How could he be dead?
“This can’t be real,” I choke out. “There has to be some mistake.”
“I wish there was,” Bob says softly. “I’m here for you, whatever you need. And I wanted to tell you in person that Bennett’s wife and daughter are going to need help. Financial, and otherwise.”
The thought of Bennett’s wife mourning him, his little girl growing up without her father, unleashes a fresh wave of anguish. They were his whole world. He’d been struggling with PTSD and depression, unable to hold down a steady job, relying on the goodwill of others to get by. They have nothing and no one now that he’s gone.
Except me. They’re my family too, and I won’t fail them. Not the way I failed Bennett.
“I’ll take care of them,” I vow. “Whatever they need, for as long as they need it. Bennett would do the same for me, if…” I trail off, gripped by emotion.
Bob clasps my shoulder, a grounding warmth and strength. “I know he would. You’re a good man, Brian Russo. Bennett was lucky to call you a friend.”
“I just wish I’d been there for him when he needed me most.” My voice cracks on the last word, and finally, the tears come. Bob pulls me into an embrace, and we grieve the loss of a brother and fellow soldier, a man whose life ended too soon.
The tears have dried, but a heaviness lingers in my chest. I signal the bartender for another round, and, given the news he’s just shared, Bob doesn’t try and stop me. There are limits to limits too. I face Bob again. “Tell me everything. About the loan sharks, the threats, the harassment. I need to know what Bennett’s family has been dealing with, so I can put a stop to it.”
Bob sighs. “It started a couple months ago. Bennett borrowed fifty grand from a guy named Zane to pay for his ma’s medical bills. The interest rate was outrageous, like thirty percent a month, but Bennett was desperate. Before he knew it, the debt had doubled. Zane and his boys began calling night and day, threatening violence if Bennett didn’t pay up.”
My blood boils at the thought of these scumbags preying on a vulnerable man’s misery. “Go on.”
“Bennett was terrified for his family’s safety. He knew Zane meant business, but he had no way to come up with that kind of money. The harassment and threats never stopped. Eventually, the stress of it all got to be too much. That’s why I think he turned to drugs—to numb himself and escape…” Bob trails off, his eyes glassy with tears. “If I’d known how bad things were, I could have helped him. Instead, I didn’t find out until it was too late.”
I grip his shoulder, a futile attempt at comfort. “This isn’t your fault. Bennett should have told us, but he was too proud. And those creeps—they’ll pay for what they’ve done.”
Bob looks at me, eyes burning with vengeance to match my own. “What are you thinking, Brian?”
“It’s time for Zane and his crew to face the wrath of The Reaper.” The nickname, an old military call sign, slips out unbidden. I haven’t used it in over a decade, but some things you never forget. Things like the promise to defend your brothers, no matter the cost. And this time, I won’t fail. “I’m not sure what I’ll do, but I’m going to hire private investigators to help me get started.”
Bob nods. “Just tell me what you need.”
Now, the beer has been swapped for something harder. The whiskey burns a trail of fire down my throat as Bob and I trade war stories, our laughter becoming increasingly bitter. We reminisce about the good times. The times between the long stretches of bone-deep exhaustion in which, among the sand and grit that permeated every pore, we witnessed horrors that haunt us still.
Bob’s face clouds over as he sets down his glass. “Remember when Bennett stepped on that landmine? Christ, we were sure he was a goner. If you hadn’t dragged him out of there…” He trails off, his gaze distant.
“Yeah, he suffered for years after that. Couldn’t walk right, couldn’t work. The government barely gave him enough to scrape by.” Anger boils in my gut, directed at the system that failed brothers-in-arms like us. Like Bennett. “He deserved so much better. We all did.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Bob’s mouth twists as he speaks, his eyes bleak. “They chewed us up and spat us out. Never cared about the damage. And now look where we are, self-medicating to dull the pain.”
I slam my fist on the bar, barely noticing the spike of pain that shoots up my forearm. “It’s not right. None of it. We sacrificed everything for our country, and this is how they repay us?”
Bob clasps my shoulder, his expression grim. “Some wounds never heal. But at least we have each other. We survived hell once, and we’ll do it again.”
His steadfast loyalty only makes the rage burn hotter. They failed Bennett, just like they failed all of us.
“How did it come to this?” I demand, fury simmering in my veins. “Bennett deserved so much better. After everything he sacrificed, they tossed him aside like yesterday’s trash!”
Bob’s face is carved from stone, grief, and anger warring behind his eyes. “You know how it is. Once we were discharged, we were no longer their problem. Didn’t matter what we’d been through, or how it scarred us. As long as we did our duty, that’s all they cared about.”
