Leaving, a short story

Leaving

Mike had been working on the road for most of his nine months in Bosnia. The training in Sarajevo was rushed, crammed into long days, and similar to drinking from a fire hose. Still, it had been a great time. Working in Bajna Luka (it sounded like Banya Loo ka) had been nice, but it didn't sit well with Mike. Things got fun for him when he got assigned to Drvar.

He stood at a scenic overlook at the edge of the road overlooking the valley that Drvar was nestled comfortably in. At this early hour all that Mike could see from his vantage point was the morning mist that had blanketed the valley in cold and wet. A cigarette in one hand and a coffee in the other, Mike stood there and let his mind drift back through the months that had passed and the changes that had been wrought.

There had been many people who were just as dirty, and as lethal, as the next thug in line. But, there had also been a few gems in that dung heap of humanity. Rade, the Secret Police Intelligence officer who, in spite of being on the other side of the table, seemed to be fond of Mike. He even gave Mike some valuable lessons in trade craft that had served him well during his tour.

There were the plethora of lovely women at every turn here. Tall, lean, curvacious was not even fitting to describe the ladies he had seen about, talked with, flirted with, and that he had been able to work with here.

The sun was higher in the sky and burning away the fog that obscured the valley below. Mike looked over it as he sipped his hot coffee. The cigarette tasted like every other one that he had enjoyed before. He inhaled deeply and felt the heaviness of the smoke in his lungs. Staying in this country would, like smoking, eventually kill him. Some of his own sources had dried up after threats. There were more than a few that had been disappeared.

“Hey, Mike.” The voice behind him was Match Stick, his fiery red haired Norwegian partner on this job for the last six months. “We gotta get going. You gotta turn in all your gear and check out.”

Mike sighed deeply, “Yeah, I know.” Mike pinched out the cigarette, pocketed the stub, and climbed into the Rover.

By the end of the week Mike would be in Italy, then back in Florida to detox and decompress. While he should be thrilled about going home, he felt more like he was leaving home. Still, it had been far too fun to last. The accomplishments, the glory, would never leave. The people he helped would never forget.