It was one of those nights that one should be sitting on the front porch and enjoying each moment of. The soft moonlight was pleasing to the eye, casting its white, peaceful glow on the harsh silhouette of terrestrial objects on the horizon. Refreshing. In retrospect, I much would’ve rather been reclining in my couch and watching Saturday Night Live, but I was much too youthful and jumpy for that back then.

I was in Cambria, Arulco. It’s some dot on the world map that they pop quiz you for in World Geography when you least expect it. It was a small dot at that, the country Arulco was almost the size of Massachusetts. But one can be amazed at what things can happen in the smallest of countries. It was a terrible story that was unfolding in that dot on the map we call Arulco – and we were there to stop it from unfolding further.

But that night, we were not focusing stopping evil. We were there on a “public-relations” mission.

The Hick Family was a family that you could call 100% hilly billy. They had authentic accents and authentic teeth. Hell, they even smelled like Hilly Billies, you could tell by the stench billowing downwind from their bodies. My squad visited these folks in the daytime, just asking around, getting to know the family. I learned that there was the head Hick named Darrel. He was a rough person, thick beard, and crooked teeth like he ran into a metal wall. His right hand man was Billy. Another thinner version of Darrel who happened to be his son. Almost everybody there was Darrel’s son or daughter. Like the old saying goes: “If your family tree don’t fork, be careful, you might be a hilly-billy.”

He and his family numbered 30. Quite a family to support and run with a farming business. Darrel felt that he couldn’t quite get all the luxuries a man and family deserves in life, so he took his family and converted it into a mafia-like gang. They would go every week into their town of Cambria, terrorize the townsfolk and rob the stores at gunpoint. What could the town do? The Hick family almost numbered more than the population at Cambria!

My mercenary squad, dispatched by “Templar” (Who oversees all the rebel movements in Arulco) visited Cambria and fraternized with the townsfolk. Upon the second day we camped in Cambria, we were informed of the Hick family and their terrorist-like behavior. The complaint was filed by an arms/supply dealer in Cambria, a valuable resource to mercenaries like us. I took the liberty of taking him in as a client, and negotiated a simple contract deal with him. He offered us these terms: Take out the Hick Family, and I will give you a 30% discount on all my items. I bargained it up to 60% discount on items, and it was agreed. The next day, we left for the Hicks.

It was that day we spent being friendly to the Hicks, finding out habits of theirs and scouting the terrain on their ranch. I sat down and had a beer with Darrel. He easily downed 5 cans, and he was almost unfazed. I stopped at two cans. We chatted, and I got information about a illegal weapons stockpile he had stolen from Cambria. He bragged about how he and his family boldly took the guns, shot the owner and hauled the supplies back to his ranch. All at a cost at one of his daughters who had her chest blown out by buckshot. Darrel offered me a deal: If I could offer somebody to replace his daughter, then he would give me the supplies that he had stolen. Instead, I offered him a handsome amount of cash: $900,000 American. He flinched, but accepted.

The supplies Darrel gave me were bad, really poor condition. I figured he had taken the best weapons out of the stockpile for himself and given me the shit at the bottom of the pile. It was pitiful: A couple of poor Russian-made pistols, a Glock-19 and a M-14 hunting rifle that was in bad condition. I was pissed off. This event made me even more willing to fill that sack of Hilly-Billy mincemeat with lead. Later that day, I had my man Fidel load up on explosives and sent him practicing his craft inside the Hick’s house.

The moon cast down its refreshing light. My squad lay on the west approach to the house, facing the doorway. I had five men. Two fire teams. Gumpy – Steroid. Fidel – Shadow. I had briefed them earlier on the plan. With a single wave of the palm, it would be set into motion like a well-oiled machine. They had leaned to operate with perfection, otherwise they would not be here anymore. This is a job, which leaves no room for error.

I had the two fireteams lay behind me as I crept towards the house. The Hick’s house had a large bedroom where most of the family slept. It was a dump inside, smelling of sweat, excrement and large clumps of waste swept under the beds. The other quarters in the house held Darrel in his own private bedroom. I had plans for him. But right now, there was something I had to do first. I crawled silently up to the nearest window that looked into the Hick’s main bedroom. It looked like a barrack, beds lined up neatly and men and women of all ages snoring inside. There was one pair of men and women laying on top of each other, obviously engaging in recreational activities. I winced and lowered myself to the ground again. Then I made my way back to my fireteams which lay in the brush.

I crawled up to Fidel, “Are you sure that these explosives are ready?”

“Yeah, everything is go, boss. I double checked while you chatted with Darrel.”

“Do you think anybody could of disarmed it?”

“Nah, the Hicks couldn’t tell a bomb from their own dick.”

“Okay, on my mark.”

“Yeah, boss.”

I lay back into the grass. Inside myself, I felt incredibly uneasy. In a flick of a switch, 20 or so people will die, just like that. And it’ll all be my fault. Damn shit, sometimes I wish I never took this job. Hell, most people wish they didn’t take this job, but that’s why I’m here. Clean up those messes that most people wouldn’t have the stomach to eat. But them Hicks are bastards anyway. Shit. Fuck this, they’re thirty men and women. Ah well, who said life was fair, flick the damn thing and get it over with. I can cope with this mushy shit later. I rose to a crouch and got ready to run. I motioned for the fireteams to ready.

Then I nodded at Fidel.

He looked down at his remote and flicked a switch, nice and easy.

Then the whole house erupted into a brilliant red, rumbling the ground. The house became splinters in the backdrop of orange flames rocketing upwards. The plume of smoke bloomed like a flower over the disintegrating house, towering over the earth like a giant tombstone. I hesitated at the sight of the explosion, the beauty and terror striking me down – making my feet feel like butter. I

snapped out of it, and waved my palm forward. The fireteams leapt out in front of me like two prongs striking towards the totaled house. I followed after.

Gumpy-Steroid deployed to Darrel’s room to check if he was still alive. Shadow-Fidel went to the barnyard behind the house to take out any stragglers. It was a cold, brutal plan that was not going to fail. The enemy would not be taking shots at us. I headed into the burning remains of the barrack-like quarters. Nothing remained. The walls were blown down, and charred. The room itself was a mess of fires and lumps of ash like substances. Noxious gases entered my nose, but I forced myself to walk deeper into the burning mess.

I forced myself to endure the pain and the burning at my feet. The burning debris were once humans, sleeping, unaware, not even expectant of this doom that suddenly descend upon them. They were undeserving of this, I told myself. I walked into the center of the burning mass, breathing in the gases, letting my ankles and legs sting with pain as burns crept up my body. I endured the torture.

All of a sudden, up from the mass, I saw a figure moving. The body was still alive, yet charred with ashes. The figure was bent over on the ground, as if weeping. But it was weeping! I could hear the noise of wheezing sobbing from its lungs. Pitiful creature.

It looked up at me, and I saw its white eyes looking into mine. They were human eyes – alike mine. I saw myself and all humanity in its eyes. Then I focused on his face. It was Darrel!

How could he make it through this inferno! He must’ve stumbled out of his bedroom right after the explosion. Look how he grieves! Darrel looked deeper at me and pointed.

“How could you take this away from me!” He sneered, baring his teeth, “They were my family! Each and every one of them!” He rose out of the fire alike a demon from hell that would reap me down and take me where I belong.

He pulled out a switchblade and advanced on me.

I stood my ground, my rifle lowered. I waited for his blow of revenge. I deserved death.

His snarling face came closer and his raised switchblade gleamed in the fire. Without warning, several shots came out, and Darrel convulsed. His eyes went glossy and his face contorted. His chest opened up with blood and flesh, splattering over my own chest and my face. Darrel fell, his switchblade dropping, his body thumping. Over his fallen body I saw Gumpy and Steroid, rifles aimed at me. I was dazed. I looked down at my chest and noticed Darrel’s blood. I felt my body intact, and felt a surge of relief along with it. Then I felt anger and hatred at myself. I stood my ground, with the fires burning at my feet. Hell is coming to consume me. Before I knew it, I was pulled out of the room by Gumpy and Steroid, who set me on the meadow outside of Hick’s house. The starry sky relaxed me again. I ran my palms along the cold blades of grass. Then I fell back, enjoying the moon and soaking its soft rays that cooled me down.

Then I heard the sharp stacatto of rifle shots in the distance. Moments later, Shadow, Fidel, Gumpy and Steroid returned to me, staring at me just lying there in the grass. I looked at them one by one. Then I noticed the blood splatter all over Shadow’s camo uniform. My eyes watered, and for no reason, I became a blubbering mess under the cold comforting light of the moon again.

I had never cracked like this before. Maybe the mercenary stuff was finally getting to me. I couldn’t take this job anymore. It just wasn’t the stuff I was made to do. My contract with “Templar” extended for another week and a half. By then, I either can hope to be dead or finally leaving this forsaken country. This is no place for a holiday resort vacation. Fuck everything. Mercenary work was for iron-cast killers like my squad and me. Leave what happened behind – move the fuck on, I told myself. My squad looked at me funny from that day on. They were a little questioning about my abilities to lead them in combat now. But I would never come to fail them.

We spent the morning fumbling through the wreckage, salvaging as many supplies as possible. I closed all my emotional wounds and walked over to Darrel’s rotting body where flies had already begun congregating. I kicked the corpse to flip his body face up.

His face was locked in a moment of fire and anger. His eyes had gone pale and his mouth was chapped like the Sahara Desert. He still had his plaid shirt on. I put on a latex glove, and reached into the pocket on his plaid shirt. And what came out? My check for $900,000. I tore it up and scattered it all over his body.

“Greedy little fuck,” I spat, “I should fuckin’ piss on your grave.” His face seemed to glance at me in a furious manner. I kicked his head so that he faced another direction. Deep in myself, I felt something snap. I would find out what it was soon enough.

We headed back into Cambria and brought confirmation of the Hick’s demise. A Hick’s family banner. The arms dealer instantaneously lit up and invited us all to the bar in Cambria for a celebration.

My squad had too many beers and they were wasted out on the bar table, I had a few more to go before I gave way too. The arms dealer just wouldn’t stop celebrating and buying us drinks to thank us. But it happened to be that a Hick’s family friend (Who would be a friend to the Hicks?) was sitting next to us. He apparently overheard us celebrating and came over to our table to ask us if it was really true.

“You killed all thirty of them?” He asked with wide eyes.

“All thirty, I made sure myself! I’ve never seen more backwards-assed country-fucks in my life. I enjoyed fucking them up.” I answered drunkily. The guy was another hilly-billy type, weird teeth, messed beard and hair.

He sneered at me, “You rotten bastard!”

“Ha! Look who’s talking! Country-fuck!” I referred to his messy hair and face.

He was extremely pissed, and he grabbed me off the table by my collar. If my squad were awake, they would kick this guy’s ass all the way to next week. But they only laughed – they were wasted anyway.

“You listen here, you twit! I can squeal to the Hick’s cousin’s and they’ll come running after your ass and hunt you down like a dog.” He spoke so close to my face, I could feel moisture and saliva.

“Oh really? You tell them to come, I’ll send them home to ole’ grandma in a plastic grocery bag!” I said half-drowsily.

“You know what?” He snarled, curling his lips back into a upside-down U, (I never knew people could do it that well) “I kind of like you, so I won’t squeal if you give me five-hundred in gold bars.”

“How’d you hear that we have gold bars?”

“You the mercenaries, you too goddamn rich. It’s time you gave back to the people!”

At the mention of that sentence, I got pretty fucking mad. Were we not giving enough already? Risking our lives for a people that we don’t even care about? Granting them freedom?

“Hey, you know what? Fuckin’ piss off before I fucking waste you.”

“You wouldn’t do that, you’re too good for that.” He snarled, “Them Hick cousins are dangerous. You give me five-hundred, I shutup.”

Something crossed my mind, “I’m not giving you five-hundred.”

“Two-hundred.”

“Fuck you, fucking nert sucker.”

“One hundred.”

“What the fuck. Here, why don’t you take this $100 American bill?”

His eyes went even wider. He almost drooled, “I’ll take it.”

“You know what,” I said as he let me from his grip, “You’re a fucking cheap bargaining cowardly blackmailer.”

“Yeah? At least I just made money!” He chuckled as he put the bill into his pants trouser and wiped some snot on his sleeve. He turned to leave the bar. I wasn’t about to let the bastard go so easily. He fucking blackmailed me! Nobody blackmails a mercenary without getting beaten down for it.

I called out to him, “Hey country-fuck, know what?” He turned around to face me across the room, “What?” My Desert Eagle was already drawn and in my hand and it was trained on his head.

“Fuck you.”

BLAM

Like that, his head disintegrated before my eyes and sprayed all over the window. His body stood there dumbly absent of a brain. It stood their unsure of whether to collapse or stand its ground – and then it toppled over like a fallen building. Blood began to drain like a spilled jar from his cross sectioned neck. It ran along the floor of bar and drained through the open doorway.

By now, the whole bar was taking cover behind small tables, chairs and the bar itself. They were finally afraid. They wouldn’t dare try to threaten us mercenaries again.

I walked over to the hilly-billy’s fallen body and reached into his pocket and retrieved my money. I felt a sense of déjà vu, except this time – nothing snapped within me. Whatever it is that broke the first time was broken forever.

I took the money and put it back in my wallet.

“Anybody else want to fuck with me?” I yelled at the villagers in the bar, who were cowering behind cover. My voice registered hysteria. “Maybe that’ll teach you fucking ungrateful bastards a lesson. If you’re freedom just ain’t enough for you, then fuck you. Fucking ignorant bastards. Fucking apes.”

The whole bar was silent, except for some snickering by a drunk man sitting in corner of the bar. He was jiggling all over, rolling all over his seat trying to contain his laughter. His teeth shown through as he smiled drunkenly at what I said.

I took aim and fired at him.

The bullet missed and struck the table he was sitting near. He shut up.