Holding Their Own IV: The Ascent Read Online Free PDF

exponentially greater violence.
     
    Erik King   
     
    Bishop replaced the paper on the corpse at his feet, minus the dagger-pin. He had read the headlines about the attack at the firebase a few days before. The civilian contractors had been training Afghan policemen when someone tossed a bomb into their barracks. Such atrocities were becoming common.
    Darkwater was also a well-known entity. Famous for their security and contract operations in Iraq, the press often referred to Mr. King’s contractors as everything from “mercenaries” to “the president’s private army.”
    The rest of the afternoon was spent carrying their fallen teammates back to the SUVs.
    Two days of flight time home provided Bishop with opportunity to reflect on the events of the past few months. The colonel was right; Tri-Borders and the loss of life experienced there had eroded a foundational value that he had built his life upon. Perhaps it was being raised in West Texas – maybe all Americans felt the same way. Regardless, some life-experience had instilled the concept that good eventually triumphed over evil.
    Bishop wasn’t naïve. He didn’t view life as if it was a super-hero comic book where all villains eventually met a harsh demise at the hands of those fighting for truth, justice and the American way. Bishop’s outlook was rooted in the fact that the species had survived…no, thrived. Evil was destructive, good was constructive. Since society had continued to advance, the constructive side had to be winning – right?
    For a while during the flight, Bishop thought time was the component of the equation he was missing. Maybe the destructive energies flowing through mankind won a few battles here and there, but lost the war. Maybe Tri-Borders had simply been the rare example of victory for the dark-side. Even that logic didn’t seem to comfort him.
    Glancing down at the newspaper sitting on his lap, he re-read the article detailing the attack on the Darkwater person nel. The reporter provided some details about the contractors killed in the incident that had led to Mr. King’s revenge. The commentary wasn’t in-depth but did include a brief obituary of both employees. They were both family men – decorated veterans with good military records.
    Bishop kept circling back to the ambush by the Darkwater team. He had been so furious with the summary execution of the wounded. Watching the act had sickened him, and he had immediately condemned the contractors as war criminals. Reading the names of the deceased changed those feelings. The newspaper’s account of the incident somehow managed to inject a human element into Bishop’s thought process. It wasn’t what it appeared to be , thought Bishop. It wasn’t a robbery or act of greed, it was a message intended to stop an escalation of death.
    Folding the paper on his lap, Bishop sighed and looked out the plane’s tiny window. Was anything on this earth what it appeared to be? Was there any way for a man to know? Bishop leaned his seat back, deciding on a half-hearted attempt at sleep. His racing mind slowed its pace, and exhaustion finally took over.
    Six days later, Bishop was back in the States, standing in front of the colonel’s desk. “I feel 100% fit as a fiddle, sir. I wish to officially report for duty.”
    The colonel was skeptical, “So you feel like you’re squared away, Bishop? No more unresolved issues floating around inside that thick skull of yours?”
    “That statement, sir, would be an exaggeration. What I did resolve was that there’s no clear line separating good and evil. It’s not black and white, it never has been, and it probably never will be. I believe that’s about the best I’m going to do with the issue, sir.”
    The colonel digested Bishop’s words, his intense gaze never leaving Bishop’s face. Finally, he responded. “Okay, son. So be it. Let’s get you back in the saddle and see if your little vacation to the Far East did the