Sentry - Part I

prologue

Keith was built for a world with a different kind of strife. Or at least that’s what he tells himself now that he’s old.

                For the majority of Keith’s life he was used to seeing everything in black and white. Russians; black, patriotism; white. Nazi’s; black, service; white. Iran; black, duty; white. He saw a lot more grey these days, all over it seemed.

                When age crept upon him, placing its withered hand upon his brow, he didn’t know how else to view the world.

                Physically he felt fine; his doctors assured him he was in grand shape for a 48 year old. That would’ve been excited news to any other 48 year old.

                However, Keith saw differences; he could still train but noticed his peak mileage had dipped off steadily. Lifting wasn’t a problem, but making up for missed workouts made him sore for days at a time. At the time the younger men hadn’t given Keith any ill words about any of this. They still treated him with respect. To his face they remarked about how seasoned he was and asked him to retell the tall tales of yesterday. Keith obliged, but at the same time he wondered how far they considered him to be from his prime.

                Keith wasn’t the type to get depression, or at least show depression, but when his supervisor came to him and asked him if he’d take a new assignment, Keith knew what that meant. The move would largely be a demotion, perhaps not in theory, but certainly in practice. They were putting him somewhere he couldn’t hurt himself or others. To his superiors, Keith was a time bomb. A clock ticking down to a mistake, a mistake that would end in either him or a colleague losing their life. They were going to file him away, case closed.

                His mornings used to be exciting. Waking up in a foreign country, objectives to meet. The day was a flirtatious stranger. She was mysterious, unknowing he would take her hand to see where she led.

                Now the morning was bland. It was sitting down for a breakfast of bran flakes and orange juice. The same god damned meal he ingested every morning for the past 10 months.

                He used to meet people; comrades, enemies, exotic women. Sometimes all three were in the same wrapper.

                Now he walked his dog in the park a few blocks away. Rarely talked to anyone, because no one looked worth talking to.

                Maybe today will be different.

                Keith halted at the front door of his home, grasping a leash off a nearby hook he let out a quick whistle. A small Scottie came tearing from a back bedroom, meeting Keith at the door. Looking up expectantly, the dog pranced in a small circle.

                “Honey Badger, sit.” The dog ceased its prance and settled on its back legs. “Good boy.” Keith knelt; ignoring the creak of various joints and fastened the leash to the dog’s collar.   

                Outside, the threat of winter whispered amidst the cool fall air, though the presence of a stubborn sun makes the day tolerable. Keith strolled down a nearly empty sidewalk dotted with trees encircled in stout wrought iron fences. Their leaves have turned a contrasting combination of bright yellow and dull orange. Keith doesn’t find this odd; perhaps more importantly he failed to notice the beauty of their contrast.

                He glanced around noticing few neighbors outside on front stoops; they are all engaged in tedium. Some sweeping leaves back from their porch, one smoking casually, as another man wrangles two toddlers into a car. None of them speak to him, and only the man with the children nodded in his direction. Keith nodded in return, the gesture nearly imperceptible. The only one less interested is Honey Badger who barely turned his nose from a nearby tree to acknowledge the man and his kids.

                Arriving at the park Keith has high hopes. Maybe they’ll be a mugging.

                Keith shook the notion from his head and begins down the path. He crested a hill, his head swiveled, scanning carefully to take in everything. Far off hills dotted with joggers in gaudy bright clothing, several mothers pushed strollers big enough to fit a Volkswagen, and a few other dog walkers such as himself. These are the folks that bring out a sense of melancholy in Keith.

                No mugging, nothing out of the ordinary. The park was the same as it ever was, same as it likely would always be. Keith sighed, You spend your whole life being extraordinary, excelling…only to wind up like everyone else. Talk about a letdown.

                Keith let his attention drift to Honey Badger who was relieving himself on the grass just where the sidewalk ended. “Ya buddy, I feel the same way…piss on this place.”