Day Zero
“Two gallon jugs of milk and six flimsy plastic grocery bags hung from his massive left hand. The brim of his utility cover pulled low over his forehead, he clutched a stack of bills and credit card offers between his teeth. A black patch covered one eye, the wound courtesy of a gun battle in a Bolivian jungle alongside his friend Jericho Quinn. He was a big man with shoulders as wide as his own front porch and muscles that strained the seams of his MARPAT camo uniform. The black nylon rigger’s ...belt with a single red stripe signified he was a certified instructor trainer of Marine Corps Martial Arts.
The door swung open before he could get the key.
“Hey, Boo,” Thibodaux said to his wife. Her name was Camille, but he’d called her Cornmeal or Boo from the first time he’d met her when she was tending bar outside Camp Lejeune. She was a short thing, and at six-feet-four he had to lean down some to meet her. Snatching the mail out of his mouth with the hand that held the grocery bags, he winked his good eye and tilted his head so she could give him their customary welcome-home kiss without bumping the brim of his cover.MoreLess
The door swung open before he could get the key.
“Hey, Boo,” Thibodaux said to his wife. Her name was Camille, but he’d called her Cornmeal or Boo from the first time he’d met her when she was tending bar outside Camp Lejeune. She was a short thing, and at six-feet-four he had to lean down some to meet her. Snatching the mail out of his mouth with the hand that held the grocery bags, he winked his good eye and tilted his head so she could give him their customary welcome-home kiss without bumping the brim of his cover.MoreLess
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