AFTER: The Battle Has Just Begun by Belle R.J

Author:Belle, R.J. [Belle, R.J.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: R.J. Belle Books
Published: 2016-03-06T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

What Level Are You?

The dull click-clack sound of metal hitting asphalt mixed with something mimicking that of a semi-violent struggle caused me to turn my head slightly in its direction. I noticed a black BMW had backed into a handicap parking space directly in front of the entrance to Freedom Station. I stood there to the right of the code secured entry gate moving nervously back and forth from one foot to the other while staring at the screen on my phone, hoping the director would return my call and let me inside the gates for our scheduled meeting. I watched him walk toward the gated entrance from behind the cover of my dark sunglasses, and I knew he had to be one of Freedom Station’s warriors. He never looked in my direction focused on the seemingly difficult task at hand. Walking.

Beads of sweat covered his slick, bald, head and as Toran walked through the gate I could see the back of his shirt was wet with perspiration from the fifty-step workout he had just endured. Having the opportunity to keep my gaze on him from the back, I realized that I had no idea where I was or what Freedom Station was all about. I also realized I had just witnessed my first glimpse of what the human side of war looked like. Completely caught up in the moment I almost missed her call.

“Hello, dear. Are you here?” Sandy asked.

“Yes, I am right in front of the gate.”

“Wonderful. I will send one of my guys down to let you in.”

I stared down at the phone in my hand, praying it wouldn’t be him that she sent. But, a few minutes later he reappeared, this time in a wheelchair. He stared at me as the gate opened, an angry expression on his face, and his broad shoulders slumped forward.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were waiting to get in?” he asked in a sharp tone.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” I answered, feeling like an idiot as the words left my mouth.

“It was more of a bother to come back down here and let your ass in.”

He turned his chair and quickly wheeled away. I felt like a jerk. I’m uncertain as to why I didn’t tell him I was waiting to get in the gate. I still don’t know. I felt an odd mixture of fear, embarrassment and nervousness. I didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t want him to think I was staring at him – even though I was. Not wanting to treat him differently than I would anyone else, I feared that upon opening my mouth, I might do just that. So I had pretended he wasn’t there. That was my first introduction to Toran Gaal.

By all accounts, Toran Gaal had a rough start in life. Adopted as an infant from India, he was brought to the United States before his first birthday and raised primarily by his adoptive grandparents. He grew up in a small town outside of Yosemite National Park in California.

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