Chapter 5

Sandy asked me to drive for the next several hours. She, Justin and Jessica slept most of that time. It was about dinnertime so I pulled off the road to a small restaurant. I woke everyone and we went into the restaurant.

The food wasn't very good but we were hungry. I sat next to Sandy, our thighs touching. Several times she reached down and rubbed my thigh, trying to be discrete but not fooling Jessica who watched with a mixture of contempt and what might have been envy.

When Sandy went to the ladies room, Jessica looked over at me and said, "You're leaving in the morning right?"

I sighed and looked back saying, "If that's what you want."

"Yes," she answered, her voice less convincing than before.

"Don't you think that's going to hurt your sister?"

"No more than when you leave her when we get to California."

"Maybe I won't leave. I hear San Francisco is a very nice place to live," I said half serious.

"You'll leave, I know your type."

"What is my 'type'?" I asked with some anger in my voice. For someone that acted so liberal, she had a very closed mind I thought.

Before Jessica could answer, Sandy came back and sat down next to me. "You guys getting to know one another?" she asked facetiously when she saw our faces.

"Yea, Jessica thinks she knows me really well now," I said sarcastically, looking at her with more sadness than anger.

I saw Jessica's face turn red with either anger or embarrassment.

When we walked out of the restaurant I saw several motorcycles and a couple of unsavory looking guys leaning up against them. Unfortunately we had to walk past them to get to the car. Sandy was carrying Justin as we walked past.

There were three guys. One appeared to be the leader. He was fat with long hair, a beard and tattoos up and down his arms. The other two were skinny and had teeth missing. They had their own tattoos and their clothes looked like they had never seen the laundry.

"Wow, baby that's one hot piece," the fat guy said as Sandy walked by. "And this must be her baby sister," he added looking at Jessica.

"Kiss my ass, slob," Jessica said to the fat guy.

I had to give it to Jessica she had guts I thought.

"We got us a feisty one here Vern," the skinny guy said then stepped in front of Jessica.

"Come on guys," I said, starting to get concerned.

"Oh the punk wants us to 'come on'," the fat one said standing up from his motorcycle. "I think he might be one of them there baby killers Lucas. Look at that Army field jacket. You a baby killer punk?"

I knew that we were in trouble at that point. Unfortunately, I had made the mistake of wearing my field jacket into the restaurant.

"Come on guys, we don't want any trouble," I said.

"Looks like we got one of them baby killers and a coward guys too," the fat guy said with a sneer.

Then I felt rage begin to grow in the pit of my stomach. Settle down, I told myself.

"Get out of my way asshole!" Jessica said.

I saw the guy in front of Jessica reach out and grab her arm. Suddenly I was back in the jungle. My instincts began to take over. There was no fear; I had long ago stopped worrying about being wounded or dying.

The three punks thought that they were in control, however, they had no idea of the danger they were in. Even today, I shudder at the thought of what might have happened. I learned in combat that once you could kill one person, you could kill anyone; the only difference was your justification.

Many people couldn't understand how soldiers could kill women, children, or even their own men. The Army trains soldiers to kill, and then they put them in a position to use that training. Once one gets over the initial shock of taking a life, then, if your perception is that a person is a threat to you, it no longer matters who they are.

These three were a threat.

I wasn't trained in martial arts but my instincts were honed to such a point that I could sense what someone was going to do before they knew it themselves.

I saw the skinny guy in front of Jessica reach over and touch her breast. She froze in shock.

Suddenly, my anger turned to rage. The three Caucasian men turned into Vietnamese soldiers. It was what I feared most about being on the streets of America again.

"Get your fucking hands off her," I screamed.

I saw the guy to my right move quickly toward me, his hand rose in a fist. I ducked and rammed my shoulder into his lower half, flipping him into the air, causing him to land on his face in the gravel of the parking lot. The second skinny guy had to jump back to avoid being hit by his friends flying feet. I took that opportunity to extend my right foot and catch the fat guy in the groin. He bellowed and bent forward in pain. Then I saw that he had a baseball bat in his hand. I reached out and grabbed the bat as he went to his knees. I swung it at the other guy, hitting him in the upper arm. There was a loud snap, followed by his scream of pain. I turned back to the fat guy, now on his knees in front of me and raised the bat over my head intending to bring it down on his scull.