He didn’t ask why, “You bet. We’ll get on it right now. Overnight?”
“If you can.”
“We can, long as you want. Touch base with me later. And Ronny, I don’t know what you and Hondo are getting ready to do, but be careful, and call us if we can help. Two of us are vets.”
“I will, thanks.”
Hondo nudged me and said, “Let’s head that way.”
We returned to the street, with Juan climbing in the rear seat and Hondo pulling the gate closed before hopping into the passenger’s side.
It’s not a long drive to Forest Lawn, but the afternoon traffic was a bear, and it seemed we crept along as wrecker after wrecker cleared accidents every half-mile.
I checked the sky a couple of times. Low, turbulent clouds flowed across it like a gigantic gray river. I thought we might be getting a front blowing in, but wasn’t sure. We could use the rain because things had become tinder dry, with every bit of grass and brush brown and brittle. The only green in the hills are scattered oak trees and other evergreens.
We reached Forest Lawn and parked the pickup in an area not easily seen. We took our time, going on foot. Juan stayed with us, not talking, but looking around. Forest Lawn is a beautiful, serene place, and many celebrities are buried there, including Sylvia and Derek. Hondo picked up a map at the information kiosk so we could find our way to the place on the note, then we began our walk.
The location we looked for appeared to be a little beyond where actor Paul Walker’s ashes are buried. The name, WALKER displayed on a small plaque mounted on the wall behind a verdant rectangle of grass that marked his resting place. A dozen flowers, both singly and in small vases had been placed on the grass, along with notes and small trinkets. I also knew the graves of Sylvia and Derek weren’t far.
When we reached the place indicated on the note, I felt the hair stand up on my neck. Hondo took off his sunglasses and looked at it for a long moment.
The marker read: Jordan S. Hammond, USMC KIA Afghanistan – Beloved Son and Brother. The last line showed his date of birth and death.
The Marine I left on the mountain above Shok Valley, and I never knew he was here.
Hondo said, “Make sure we’re at the right location.”
I reached into my pocket, pulled out the note and read it again, “This is it.”
Hondo pointed twenty feet further down the walkway where flowers were also on a plot and said, “Sylvia and Derek are there. I don’t like this. Check your weapon and let’s get out of sight.”
We checked our pistols and moved to another area that offered concealment, but allowed us to see the graves. We lowered to our knees, leaving only our eyes and foreheads exposed if we wanted to look. Juan stayed close beside me, swallowing every few seconds. I said, “It’s ok, if anything happens, stay behind me.” He nodded and swallowed again.
Two hours passed. The few visitors to the cemetery became less and less. By the time the sun went down, we were the only ones in the cemetery.
>
Another twenty minutes passed as a full moon rose early. It cast an orange light among the long strings of clouds overhead.
Hondo said, “Think we missed them, that they came early?”
I shook my head, “I don’t think so. They might have changed it, and we wouldn’t know if they did, so let’s wait one more hour.”
Forty long, quiet minutes passed, then I noticed movement. The subdued lighting in the cemetery didn’t show much, but I could tell that people walked our way. I checked Hondo and he nodded. He saw them, too.
We recognized the first two as they came closer. Troy and Bodhi walked side by side, with a third man close behind them. Bodhi sobbed, and Troy looked ghostly pale. The third man moved slightly to the side and I saw him: A man with broad shoulders and a thick chest. His arms looked long, almost apelike, with large, ropy muscles. He had short, slightly bowed legs that looked powerful. That build reminded me of Mike Tyson in his prime.
He wore a hoodie with cut off sleeves over a black tee shirt, and military style pants with the large extra pockets. He had something bulky under the hoodie under his right arm, and he held a long bladed knife in his right hand. The hoodie cover was off his head and bunched behind his neck so we saw the man’s face. Broad cheekbones in a wide, bronze face and black eyes, but not as black as his short hair, which looked dark as ink.
Though Hondo or I had never met or seen him, we knew we looked at the Kiowa. He gave an impression of raw physical power.
Troy had Bodhi’s arm locked with his, and I didn’t know if he hoped to reassure her or to keep her from running. They walked by Sylvia’s and Derek’s graves and Bodhi made a small keening sound.
The Kiowa said, “When we’re finished, we’ll put you there.”
I thought Troy almost passed out when he heard it. They reached Jordan Hammond’s grave and stopped.
The Kiowa said, “The boss will be here soon, so don’t try anything.”