Dark Sky (The Misadventures of Max Bowman Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

been seen in public in years. There were rumors of health problems – and the man standing before me in his solid black silk pajamas and matching bathrobe was in fact a shadow of what I remembered him looking like. He used to look like Clint Eastwood in his older Dirty Harry days – now he seemed closer to Barney Fife on Weight Watchers. He was bone thin and looked older than dirt.
    He thrust out his hand, which demanded to be shook. I complied with orders.
    “An honor to meet you, sir. I’m Max Bowman.”
    “You’re older than I thought you would be,” his sandpaper voice let me know.
    “That’s a common reaction these days, sir.”
    He didn’t smile, but his eyes indicated he appreciated my comeback. He sat back in his chair, where I saw he had his own customized control panel for the room built into its arm. I had the feeling he spent a lot of time in here. He glanced back at the now-darkened screen.
    “I love that movie.”
    “ She Wore a Yellow Ribbon . The middle leg of John Ford’s cavalry trilogy. And the only one in color.”
    This time he did smile. I was finally doing well in the principal’s office.
    “I love ‘em all. Well, the first two, anyway.”
    “Ford only did the third one for the money, sir.”
    “Is that right?”
    “ Rio Grande . Yessir.” I was winning at Trivia Night too.
    “Explains a lot.”
    “My father worked with Ford, so I’ve seen them all. He saw to it when I was a kid.”
    “Your father worked in movies?”
    “No, sir, he worked in the O.S.S. during the war – Ford did some documentaries with that group during the war.”
    “He did The Battle of Midway , correct?”
    “Yes sir. My father said he was the greatest artist who ever lived. When he wasn’t drunk.”
    Suddenly, he looked angry, but not at me. “Ford understood the military better than any other director. All of his service movies…they reflect military purity. Do you understand military purity, Mr. Bowman?”
    “I think so, sir.”
    “Tell me what you consider it to be, Bowman.” A command. I knew, because he was this close to throwing a “Private” in front of my last name and that almost made me chuckle, an impulse that quickly vanished once I realized I had been given an assignment by a beloved American hero.
    I took a breath.
    “Well…these are men entrusted with a sacred duty that forces them to take others’ lives as well as put their own at risk. And that duty should not be compromised by political schemes, lies or a simple thirst for blood. The military should be entrusted with a mission, a justified and moral mission, and the military should be given the responsibility to carry it out according to its finest traditions.”
    Wait – did I really just fucking say all that?  I thought I must have – because, judging by the old man’s face, I had just transformed into John Wayne myself.
    “You think about things, don’t you, Bowman?”
    “Yessir. A lot more than I realized, apparently.”
    “Then you probably know this country hasn’t experienced military purity since 1945. Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan…there wasn’t much of a reason for any of that.”
    That explained why he didn’t work out at Fox News.
    “Sit down,” he commanded again. “We have some things to go through.”
    I did as he requested and left a seat in between him and me. That’s what guys alone in a theatre do unless they’re looking for a dance partner. He stared straight ahead, I leaned towards him and eyed the side of his withered face.
    “Do you have children, Bowman?”
    “Yessir.”
    “Drop the ‘sir.”
    “Yes…”
    “Do you ever have misunderstandings with your children?”
    “No. They don’t talk to me so there’s nothing to be misunderstood.”
    He turned to me. I was another step closer to being in his club, whatever it was all about.
    “So you understand it. You saw for yourself how conflicts can develop. You know how a family can start out with the best intentions and lose its