Who doesn’t love fall?
My favorite time of year. Even in hotter than hell east Texas. Little known fact about Texas. It takes 24 hours to drive from the northern to southern point and 24 hours to drive from east to west. 24 hours. Good grief. That’s why I picked here. I am “dead”, but no one would be finding me if they even thought otherwise.
I’m on my daily late afternoon walk with the dogs listening to Pink’s U + Ur Hand on my headphones …I was fine before you walked into my life…
My favorite part of my day. The temperature dropped and is holding at 80 versus the normal 90+ in October. Must be result of all the hurricanes, or global warming. Who cares, I’ll take it. Big live and red oak trees covering the streets, forming a majestic arch way for those to follow. Shades of green, yellow, red and gold popping out all over. The builders put in curved sidewalks to give it a more serene setting for this private affluent community. How nice of them.
I listen to music on the lowest setting, always on alert, one earpiece out. I wave at the few neighbors with a friendly smile, but rarely engage in conversation with pretense that I’m talking on the phone. I left everyone, there’s no one for me to call. The neighbors think I moved here after my husband’s death and it’s a family lot that I inherited. East Texas money. Either oil or farming. My direct neighbor owns land to farm watermelons. Must supply the whole state as he’s not hurting. Four homes and this one is the smallest at 7,000 square feet on 10 perfectly manicured acres. Fucking watermelons. Who knew, must keep that in mind for my next life.
My dogs, Bruiser and Koda are German shepherds and they walk obediently beside me. They appear friendly, but trust me they take badass to the next level. They are gorgeous and I selected them from an elite K9 military training facility. They were gifted to me for all that I did. I deserve a lot more. The dogs are my only family right now. They are gentle and fierce, graceful and deadly. They are committed and determined. They only need to know 3 commands. Play. Alert. Attack. They are precision. I could probably have them shit in the bag if I wanted to, but put on the appearance they are your normal every day playful puppies when we stroll through the hood. People see what they want to see. Fools. God, I love these dogs. (Why do people have Chihuahuas or Dachshunds? Really, any dog under 25 pounds is just a damn rat.)
Every day for 12 months, I have done the same thing—waiting, watching, observing and listening. After what I will call “FUBAR”, I spent the first 6 months recovering in a military hospital in Germany, or hell spa Landstuhl as I called it. My head, liver and spleen lacerated. A hundred stitches in the head. All my ribs on left side broken, lung collapsed, both rotator cuffs torn, road rash on whole left side from where I was dragged, broken femur, broken wrist, chin obliterated. I may be leaving some things out. I really don’t recall the first two months.
I had my own private doctors and nurses attend to me. This was a dream assignment for them. They wouldn’t have to work again after this rehab stint as they were paid enough to never return. They weren’t given a choice on that either. They wouldn’t be returning. Period. They took this rebuilding to the next level. Think bionic women times 10. I was deceptively strong at 5’7. Slender frame, long legs. Strong enough to choke grown men out begging for mercy. Let God have mercy on them, that was not my job. The new titanium implants ensured I could use other body parts to do it now too. Not only did they mend the broken body parts, they transformed my physical looks too. I was always a looker, but hell, I must admit, I was damn model looking perfect after they were done. New teeth, (oh yeah, some of those were gone again after FUBAR), new nose and chin line, 34 full C breast lifted. Bonus. Hell yeah. My hair color was now a crisp deep auburn vs. dirty blonde, which made blue eyes pop even more. I have a dark blue rim around my irises, with flakes of yellow and translucent blue in the middle. They are mesmerizing and penetrating. I had worn brown contacts before so was able to go back to my true color. Thank God for that, those contacts were a pain. IPL on any freckles and my skin was a glistening and flawless Cherokee tan. I was unrecognizable from before, and utterly drop dead gorgeous, if I say so myself. What a waste too since I was alone, utterly alone.
Twelve months. Lots can happen in a year. You don’t even notice. I didn’t think I’d ever get out of Landstuhl, but I did. I rarely sleep, and luckily have the pooches to take turns with me so I can. Each day, I follow a simple routine that I mix up so it’s never the same. I do hard cardio with an online Peleton class, and try not to kick everyone’s ass, including the male man-tight wearing instructors pedaling to a remix of Come Sail Away (who knew the remix would be so good). When they start on a 25 resistance, I’m on 60. Take that skinny bitches. I change my online profile constantly to keep anonymity while allowing me to feel included during my self-inflicted exclusion. I do another hour of hot yoga to stretch out what still needs to mend, and then 90 minutes of Kenpo, a martial art, combat sport that combines multiple martial arts to finish off opponents with strikes and kicks. This isn’t any Kung Fu Panda crap. My online instructor is amazed at how I started at a white belt and moved up so quickly. If only he knew I was a certified double black before. I should be an actress in my next life…or selling watermelons.
After spending hours grueling on my body each day to ensure it is in top form, I walk the dogs and then actually spend more time in my secluded back yard on drills with them to keep them sharp. When I’m not giving myself a break with a little music, I’m listening to all the latest intelligence reports that I’ve hacked into. My custom Patek Phillippe watch gives me alerts, making an Apple watch look like a Timex from Walmart, while giving me a female version of a James Bond prototype. That was a gift I got myself. I deserve it. I’m worth it.
And on this glorious fall day with a little wind blowing, the sun shining, the cool crisp of autumn in the air, my head tilting to the sky to absorb all the sunshine…for a moment, I almost let go of my senses. George Winston’s Thanksgiving is playing, a bit of a change in pace from Pink. Hypnotic, soothing, relaxing while inspiring. A sixth sense had me look down the street at the car coming towards me—a car I never seen before in this town. This small town is littered with Mercedes, Range Rovers, BMWs, Bentleys, so when a yellow tricked out taxi cab came strolling through I knew it was not picking someone up to take to private airport. F’ me. I needed just a little more time. The bait took quicker than I expected. I leaned down to Bruiser and Koda, took off their leashes while whispering into their ear. Just like that, they were gone.
I selected this little sleepy community so I could have time to rest and prepare. Alanis Morisette, You Oughta Know, shuffles on taking serene to anger just in time…And I’m here to remind you… It’s not fair to deny me…
To quote Kurt Russell from Tombstone:
“You tell ‘em I’m coming…and hell’s coming with me, you hear? Hell’s coming with me!
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