Quantum Theorem Read online

  Quantum Theorem

  A Dan Welko book

  Written by James Wallace

  Dedication

  To Sherry and Adam. And as always to my children Max and Bubba, you are my guiding light in the darkness of life. All my love…

  James Wallace

  Copyright © 2019 James Wallace

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:

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  Thank you for reading!

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to the following, whom without I would never have published any of my awesome books. Tanay Williams, my best friend, I can’t live without her (No really!). Sarah and Oliver Kamasz, David Wallace (Fabulous Editor and advisor), The Allen brother’s Will and M.C., Mike “The Machine” Evans, Ricky Fleet (My Daisy). To my Beta Readers; Leslie Bryant (Momma), Maly (Peach) Copeland, Brian (Fluffy) Coomey, Karen (Call me Dianne) Dziegiel, Kim (Aim High) Kelly, Tracey (Dolphin) McCall, and James (Fords rock) Nydegger. Thank you for all your help, support, kicks in the ass when needed, and kind words. A special thanks to Lieutenant Colonel Tasha Lowery. She truly is a warrior and I was lucky to meet her.

  CONTENTS

  Day 1

  Day 2

  Day 3

  Day 4

  Day 5

  Day 6

  Day 7

  Epilogue

  Day 1

  Just my luck, the whole world went to shit on my first day off in almost a month. Since coming home maimed and mangled from that shitty hot as the Devil’s sweaty tainted hell of a desert in Afghanistan. And then almost as bad, my long ass tortured recuperation in the VA, learning how to walk again. I have been working with a small security company, who sends men and women, who have a certain set of skills, back to the desert or other faraway places to protect important rich people and politicians. Well that is what I do, I protect other people. I now carry a lot of guns and run a team of men and women to “interesting” places. Yes, I shoot people for a paycheck, a way better paycheck than I ever got from the military.

  When people meet me, and I am wearing shorts, they always apologize for what happened to my right leg. I have a really cool titanium one with a piston and cushions that basically looks like a leg from one of those terminators you see in the movies. I stepped on an IED in that desert I mentioned. That’s okay, the two owners of Malleus Protection Services, Craig, or as he calls himself, M.C. and Will, are really cool guys. During my interview I wore shorts to show off my leg. M.C. never batted an eye, he threw a 300 Win Mag at me and took me out back to their shooting range. He had me shooting targets in close and out to five hundred yards. I hit every shot, so the bastard then runs me through pistol and shotgun drills, which I of course, blew them away, pun intended. He then held his hand out and offered me the job right there and then. The pay was amazing for a returning injured vet, I don’t want to brag, but it was more than most people make in years. The medical benefits are amazing, but it was the gun allowance that made me wet my pants. As a bonus they upgraded my shitty prosthesis to the Cadillac one I wear now. They have a friend in the medical custom prosthesis business which was a great bonus.

  I have traveled the world, many times over in the time I have been with them. I haven’t really had to shoot too many people, and even then they were really bad, and deserving of their fate, but I had to deal with a couple of scary times. My team and I got ambushed in Columbia when the CEO we were protecting tried to scam a drug lord. I brought my team home with a couple of holes, along with the CEO. The same cannot be said for the drug lord’s men. The other time was in Beirut; this time we were providing back up security for a politician and his security team. We got stuck in a compound while some ass holes tried to break their way in. The politician’s team got wiped out in the first ten minutes of that attack, my team got him and his people into a safe room and locked their asses in. As we waited for back up, my team helped some people off to see Allah and get their seventy-two virgins. I am not a racist; that was what they believed they would get in death and we just facilitated their travel to the promised land. I lost two people that awful night, but everyone else on our side walked out with just minor injuries. We got a huge bonus on that contract.

  Okay, I get it, I’m rambling. I woke up this morning nice and early, as I always do. Kell, my wife of fifteen years, we married at eighteen straight out of high school, sat up in bed and stretched her arms out and yawned. I admired her tight little body and thought about jumping her bones. She threw me a sideways look and shook her head.

  “Don’t even think about it soldier boy. I have early rounds and a surgery on my schedule.” She rolled over and pinned me down, as her light red hair fell around my head cocooning us in a little tunnel. She scrunched her nose and stuck her tongue out at me. “Too bad though because I would love to spend some time home with my wayward man, but alas I must be a good little doctor.” She moved her head in quickly and kissed me hard on the lips. Just as I was enjoying the kiss, she broke it and rolled off the bed.

  I watched her butt sway as she moved toward our bathroom. “I hate it when you leave girl, but I love to watch you walk away.” It was a little saying I had been using since the night we got married.

  “You getting up today and doing something or enjoying your day off?” she called from the bathroom as the toilet flushed and the water in the shower turned on.

  I rolled over to the window and reveled in the light from the dawning sun as it shone in from our big walk out sliding doors. A bunch of buddies from my unit helped me build this ranch house. It is all on one floor, the rooms are extra-long and wide. The windows were designed to bring in the greatest amount of sunlight possible. I also installed solar panels, a windmill, and a generator. We could easily go off grid with a throw of a switch. Heck, I even have two extremely huge tanks of propane, three tanks of diesel for the generators, and a water well with a backup manual pump. Kell liked to jar fruits and veggies which she filled our basement with. I was also an avid hunter and made sure we saved half our kills by drying them out and making Jerky. We dined on the other half or donated the extra to the local soup kitchens. We were all set for any kind of collapse of the economy or the downfall of society. I shook myself out of my little world and turned my head back to the restroom to find Kell standing in the doorway with nothing on, but a small towel wrapped around her. Her head was cocked to the side and a look of worry and patience written on it.

  “Off in Danny’s little world again?” she said in her husky voice tinged with a slight English accent. She didn’t recognize that she did that occasionally. I loved it.

  “Sorry, was admiring the sun, that’s all.”

  “Hmm, if you say so. What are you planning for today?”

  “Let’s see, I am positive my wife has a “honey do” list in the kitchen. So, I will probably forget about it as I go outside and check on the generators, tanks, and animals. I might even pull out the farm truck and play mechanic on her. And who knows, maybe get an hour of fishing in,” I rolled over and stared up at the ceiling, watching the ceiling fan go in slow lazy circles.

  “If nothing on that list is done by the time, I get home, I know of a hot man who ain’t getting any loving. And I know who will get a bigger list for tomorrow to do,” she threw a pair of socks
at my face.

  I reached up and caught them without even thinking. My reflexes were scary good and kept me alive on most missions. I also have what I call my “Spidey-senses” that helped me bring my people home alive, including my ass. The one time I ignored them I stepped on that IED and now I have a leg that ends at the knee.

  “Yes, my Queen, I will take care of the list.”

  “Then, my King, you will get some loving tonight,” she turned and slid on her scrubs.

  I moved to the edge of the bed and swung my one leg over. I sat there massaging the stump, like I did every morning. I never told anyone but my therapist, but this damn thing hurt all the time. I just got used to the pain. And let it fuel my resolve to be better without it than I was with it. With my new leg, I could do anything I used to do, even swim, ride a motorcycle, and run like the devil was after me. Kell came over and stood in front of me as she swept her hair back and put it into a ponytail tying it off with a piece of ripped camouflage cloth. It was an ode to her husband’s injury and support to all troops in active or retired service. Kell was a doctor who went out of her way to fill half of her clients with Vets. She was known as the “Medic Chick” by the town and the Vets who came in from a hundred miles and more to see her.

  “Need some help this morning?” she turned to the folded-up wheelchair in the corner.

  I shook my head and rolled my eyes at her. “No Doc, I got this.” I stretched to my side to reach behind the bed side table. I pulled out my “Combat” leg and slid it onto the stub of my knee. I cinched the straps and belted it up. Kell held her hand out to help me get up. I didn’t need her hand and she knew it, but it was an old habit from when I had come home injured. I took her hand and stood up. I felt fine, finding my balance quickly and shaking my leg out to get used to the weight of it. And just like that I was ready. I slipped into a pair of shorts, a light hoodie, and my combat boots. I always wore my combat boots on my runs, I was used to them from my real job already.

  We walked hand in hand to the kitchen and I poured Kell, her cup of coffee, as I did every morning, I was home. I wouldn’t have my first cup till after my morning run. I used the coffee as a motivator to push through the miles I ran every morning, rain, heat, or snow, I ran. I watched Kell eat her two scrambled eggs and raw spinach, her morning ritual. We made small talk as I read through the to-do list. When she was done, I walked her out to the vehicles. We had a couple of cars, I am somewhat a hoarder, We, had her silver Audi Q3 small crossover SUV, our beast, a black Ford F-350 dually, my 1967 Ford Mustang, the 1972 Harley Ironhead motorcycle, and a collection of old cars I played with when I had the time. Not to mention “Old Bess” our farm truck, an old 1955 flat black Ford F100.

  Kell headed to her Audi, but something bugged me about it. I reached out and grabbed her sleeve, stopping her. “Hun don’t take the Audi.”

  She turned her head as she took in the other cars scattered on our driveway. She finished surveying and stopped on my face. She had a curious look on her face. “Knee hurting?”

  That was her code phrase for my “Spidey-Senses”. I flicked my eyes past her and saw the clouds gathering behind the Mountains thirty miles away. “Nope, knee feels great. I need to do some preventive maintenance on your car, the honey do-list had that one on the top,” I gave her one of my re-assuring smiles and kissed her forehead.

  She stepped back and looked up at me, she’s only five feet tall. She searched my eyes and face for something but didn’t find it. Sometimes my training takes over and I can go blank, completely unreadable. Finding nothing she blew out her breath and put her hands out with the Audi keys in them. “So dear husband, what do you want me to drive to work?”

  I reached into my pocket and brought out the keys for the Beast. “Why dear wife, I think you should take the Beast.”

  “I will never find a place to park that thing at the hospital!” she exclaimed red faced.

  “I would give you the keys to the Mustang or Harley. But you can’t drive stick, so the Mustang is out, and you can’t handle the bike.”

  “If you hadn’t sold my Honda, I would take my own motorcycle in. Argh, okay fine I will take the Beast. You are so gonna pay for this!” She took the keys from my hand and marched over to the Beast. She reached up and pulled on the door handle swinging it open. She jumped up onto the step I welded onto the truck to help her get in. She pulled herself partially into the truck and adjusted the seat all the way forward, so she could reach the pedals. I stood in the way of her closing the door until she huffed at me and blew out her cheeks with the breath, she had been holding in. Our rule was, no one went away angry. We dealt with our issues when they crept up. I waited till she bent over and grabbed my face in both hands. She kissed me passionately on the lips and then rubbed the fuzz of hair on top of my head.

  “Love you husband,” she smiled down at me.

  “I love you wife. Now be careful cause this bad boy can pretty much go anywhere and turn any car into a little puddle of oil and debris.” I reached behind my back and brought out a small Glock 26. “Did you forget something?”

  She rolled her eyes and hunched her shoulders. “I am not a fan of carrying that thing, plus the hospital doesn’t like me having it on site,” she whined.

  “You are one of the best shots I have ever seen with that little thing. Plus, you have your conceal carry permit. So, make your husband happy, and at least put it in your purse.” I gave her my puppy dog eyes. She could never say no to those.

  “I am going to be late for work,” she tried one last tactic to go without the gun. I am one patient man though and continued to hold out the gun until she finally relented. “Fine,” she reached out and took the Glock sliding it into her custom holster in the purse. She tried to shut the door, but I held out two additional loaded magazines. She growled and grabbed the magazines, throwing them into her purse. “There husband. Now I need to go.”

  I stepped up onto the sidestep and took her head in both of my hands. I looked deep into her eyes. “I know you hate carrying it, but it makes me happy. If anything, ever happened to you I would fall to pieces. You are my glue, the one who makes my life worth living. I love you baby.”

  She closed her eyes and sighed softly. “I will carry it to make you happy. But I know if I needed you, you would tear half of Heaven down and destroy Hell to protect me. I gotta go, when I see you tonight you are going to get some extra loving. Bye,” she kissed me again and started the truck. The big diesel engine roared to life and settled down to a contented purr.

  I stepped back and closed the door. “Baby, nothing would stop me from getting to you. Not Heaven nor Hell. Drive careful.”

  She waved at me as pulled away down our half mile driveway to the interstate where she would turn South for her forty-five-minute drive to town and the hospital. She hated her commute but loved the quietness and serenity of the ranch. I watched her till she turned on the first curve and was out of sight. I went through some quick stretches and checked to make sure my Glock 19 was secured in my waist holster. I took off east through our back field and out into the hills that went through our property. I would push through this run and get home as fast as I could. I opened my stride and breathed in deep as I pushed myself down the well-worn trail. I could make this run with my eyes closed, I had run it at least a thousand times before. I slipped into memories of the past and for some reason started reliving the day I lost my leg.

  It was a hot fucking day in the desert, I know it’s always hot in the desert. But this day was like the heat that had to be coming from the devil’s anus after he ate a whole bushel of ghost peppers. I was leading a small fire team up through an old abandoned village north of a city called Bum. And no, I am not making that city name up. So, we had just climbed up the mountains when we came across this little village. Our lieutenant, some snot nosed punk fresh out of West Point, thought he knew our job better than his seasoned team and led us right into a fucking firefight with a local Taliban group. The Lieutenant was the
first to go down, he took a bullet in the hip and one in the buttocks. I pulled him back and took command of the team. I set up a tight focused skirmish line and we returned fire. We were much better shots than those guys and wasted them pretty quick. The problem was they had reinforcements coming down the mountain side and they looked pissed off. I ordered the team to move back and try to get into an area we could defend better while I called in for air support. I grabbed the Lieutenant, throwing him onto my shoulders like a fireman’s carry. I triggered off an entire magazine to cover our retreat and started moving away. A buzzing in the back of my head went off, alerting me of danger. Usually I would give it my full attention. But this time I was not thinking straight as the Lieutenant started squirming on my shoulders, knocking my balance off. I took a step into the soft sand and then my world went bright white.

  I woke up on a medivac helicopter. My first visual was an IV bag hanging on a small pole and a line leading down to me. I turned my head and looked around. A black body bag laid next to me, the zipper down. The face of the young lieutenant turned in my direction, his features slack. I had seen plenty of dead bodies and knew he was a goner. I looked in the other direction and found a female, with Korean features, wearing a white flight helmet smiling down at me.

  “Sarge!” she yelled down at me trying to force her voice over the sound of the whirling rotor blades overhead.

  “I reached up with my free arm and took her hand. “How are my men?” I yelled back.

  She gave me an awkward smile and winked down at me. “Kicking ass! Those boys can fight. When we dropped off the QRF, your boys were already pushing back those cowards. We should have you back to camp in no time.”

  “They are trained well, they will do their job. What happened to the Lieutenant?”

  “He didn’t make it.” She looked up to the pilots and waved at them. The co-pilot turned his head and showed five fingers. “We will be down in five minutes.”