The Survivor of the 27

Chapter Elevan

As Tom and I make our way down stairs, we head outside to where everyone is. Everyone is standing around John and Addison.

"We would like to announce that our wedding will be held in four months on the fourteenth of September. On your way out please take a card. We'd love to see you all there!" John says.

Everyone claps and cheers out of excitement. I look at my watch reading 01:59. I start to hear whispers which sound louder than all of the people clapping and cheering. I check my back and my sides but I don't see anything out of the ordinary. I shake it off and head back inside of the house. I go to the front door and grab the keys to Addisons white convertible Corvette.

I hop in and put the top down. I start the engine and start my drive to who knows where. As I'm driving I'm going sixty five miles ad hour. The cold night Texas air hits my face. My hair whips in the breeze and I can't help but smile.

This brings me back to one great memory. The memory of sky diving out of a plane with my team. It was our first mission together in Vietnam. I smile at the thought. I end up driving to a nearby bar. It was a normal looking bar on the outside.

As I walk in it's just a normal sports bar. There's a bunch of guys hanging out watching the news. There are at least thirty tv's in here. I go over to the bar and take a seat away from all the people. I look up and see that the news is on. Just a normal cop talking about something.

"What can I getcha miss?" He asks. He's about 6'1, 215lb, brown hair and brown eyes. He has a thick beard that is lighter than his dark brunette hair. He's wearing a black shirt with blue jeans. As he puts his hands on the counter he swings the white rag over his shoulder.

"I'll have a whiskey, thanks," I tell him. He finger shoots a gun and clicks his tongue.

"You got it miss."

I look back up to the news, it's a lady talking about a car crash in the next town over. It seems pretty bad. The bartender comes back, drink in hand.

"Jack Daniels whiskey, on the house." I take the drink from him and thank him. "It's a shame really, the crash. Both passengers died on impact. The car flipped over. Had a little girl and an infant. No survivors," he tells me.

"It was no accident," the guy two chairs down from me says.

"What do you mean?" I ask him with a perplexed look.

"Ever since about eight weeks ago there have been more and more 'accidents'. People crashing their cars, houses burning down, theft," the man explains. This peaks my interest.

"When did you say that this started happening?" I ask him.

"About eight weeks ago," the man answers.

"And you think that there on purpose?" I question him.

"There's a good possibility. This was a quiet town until eight weeks ago," the man tells us.

"Look Lary, why would anyone want to do that though?" The bartender asks. It was clear that he was a relevant customer.

"Have you heard everything going on in Pakistan and Iran? About thirteen months ago twenty-seven soldiers went missing. Supposedly one survived. But that was about nine weeks ago. Look, apparently the person that escaped had some hidden information. And the person who held them captive, didn't want the person to leave," Lary explains.

"Yeah but why here in Texas? I get that there are a lot of rich folks but come on. Look I love conspiracies like you do but that's just far fetched," the bartender comments.