Marx Girl

She slides the ring onto my finger and I kiss her again. She giggles and shakes her head.

“Repeat after me.”

“I, Bridget Marx, take thee, Benjamin Statham, to be my wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. According to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I pledge thee my faith.

She slides the ring onto my finger.

“I now pronounce you man and wife, and I now give you permission to kiss your bride.”

The crowd cheer and I take her in my arms, kissing her softly. “I don’t need his permission to kiss you” I whisper in her ear.

She laughs and whispers back, “Will you behave?”

“Never.”

Eighteen months later.

“Thank you all for joining me today,” says The President to the crowd.

“Today we come together to celebrate the bravery of one of the army’s finest soldiers from our Elite Delta force. Benjamin Statham.”

I stand before him in full uniform. Today I’m receiving a medal of honour, the army’s highest award.

He continues to talk, but my eyes fall to the front row to where Bridget and our two beautiful daughters are sitting. Rosie and Meika are twelve months old and they are the light in our lives. Meika sits on her mother’s lap while Rosie is climbing all over Adrian as he tries to control her. Joshua, Natasha, Cameron, Brock, Abbie, Victoria, and all of my friends are here. I’m very grateful for the family I married into, that the one I now call my own.

The twins are beautiful. It was tough in the beginning, but we’ve settled into a routine now and we can’t imagine life without them. Rosie is strong willed, walking, and refusing to eat anything other than bananas. She’s a handful already. Meika is smaller, easy going and placid. She’s not walking yet, although it won’t be long. She is clingy and never far from her mother’s side. Both girls are olive-skinned and pretty with dark hair, just like Didge. We live by the ocean, about an hour out of Sydney in a beautiful house, high in the mountains and surrounded by trees.

The view out over the water is majestic.

“This soldier single-handedly brought down one of the army’s biggest dthreats to date, and he saved thousands of lives in the process,” The President continues.

My mind goes to that night in Syria, and how different it could have ended.

The mist fills the air as I exhale. The temperature is cold, just one degree.

The landscape is unforgiving, hard and dry. It’s 2:00 a.m. and we are lying in long grass outside a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, but it’s the location of the missing nuclear weapon.

We gained intelligence that the farm owners have been killed and their house taken over. The two dogs that were shot dead and left on the driveway support that theory.

There are five of us left on this mission. Two nights ago we were ambushed in a bar, unprepared, and one of our men was stabbed. The fight turned ugly and somehow my dog chains were torn from my neck. Thankfully, our fellow soldier is all right and recovering in camp.

I put my hand up and signal that we are going in. We begin to creep closer to the property, remaining stealth.

Four men walk out of the front door and we all duck low. They are talking and smoking as they lean against a car. We can’t understand what they are saying but they are very animated, as if reacting to something that has just happened.

Two of them walk one way around the house, while the other two walk off towards the barn.

I put my fingers up to the two that are going around the side of the house and point to two soldiers to follow them to the barn. I symbol to my eyes to the other two to tell them to stay and watch the front of the house.

The two soldiers turn and begin to crawl through the grass, back towards the barn, leaving me to crawl towards the house.

I make it and lean up against the wall I can hear men talking inside.

Many voices. I concentrate to count how many.

Seven.

Eleven men in total.

I sneak around the side of the house, my heart beating hard in my chest, and I peer through a window.

A woman, a man, and three small children are tied up and gagged, sitting on the floor. The children are asleep sitting upright.

They’re still alive, but for how long?

The fire ignites inside of me and I grip the gun in my hand.

We can’t use guns…yet.

The guards have to be taken out by hand so the others aren’t notified.

One walks around the corner and I jump him, twisting our bodies until my hands are around his throat. I hear the swift, sharp crack as his neck breaks. His body falls to the ground.