Monday Night Jihad by Jason Elam & Steve Yohn

Author:Jason Elam & Steve Yohn
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4143-2134-9
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.

* * *

Riley ran upstairs and hurriedly turned the locks on the front door. “Grandpa, I am so sorry. I fell asleep in the basement and didn’t hear a thing.”

His grandpa didn’t answer at first. Then with a wry look he nodded toward Riley’s left side. “You being a little overcautious there, son?”

Riley looked down and gave an embarrassed grin. Without thinking about it, he had slung the M4 over his shoulder before running to open the door. “You know those media types. Gotta find ways to discourage them.” He slid the rifle off and set it by the doorway, then gave his grandpa a huge hug. He ushered him into the great room, which was now well heated from the fire that Riley had left on all night, and settled him into his recliner. “Coffee?”

“You gotta ask an air force man if he wants coffee?”

Riley laughed as he went into the kitchen to put on a pot of Costa Rican Tarrazu. “So, what are you doing here, Gramps?”

“Well, your dad and I talked, and we figured that after what happened, you’d have revenge on your mind. We thought it best that one of us come out to talk with you. I drew the assignment—him being a navy guy and all.”

Riley stood in the kitchen and leaned on the cold granite of his center island. “You looking to talk . . . or to talk me out of it?”

“Just talk, son; just talk. I learned long ago that I couldn’t talk you or your dad out of anything. So, your wandering around strapped with an M4 makes me think that we weren’t too far off in our assessment.”

“Grandpa, I’ve never seen anything like it—not in Afghanistan, not anywhere. I had my hands inside a guy’s body trying to stop the bleeding as he died. And the worst part? I know somewhere people are dancing and celebrating what happened last night. What would you do? I mean, if you still had a chance to make these murderers pay, could you stay home?”

Grandpa took a few moments to sort through what he was going to say. Finally he looked Riley in the eye. “Can’t say as I could, Riley. I’ve told you before that I’m much less concerned about what you do than I am with what’s in your heart. If you go after these guys out of hatred or revenge, it’ll eventually tear you up inside.”

Riley walked over with two cups of thick, black coffee—no time to dainty up your joe in the field.

“Mmmm, strong stuff,” Grandpa said appreciatively.

“I remember what you always said: ‘It’s not coffee unless you can stand a spoon in it.’” Together they chuckled softly. “Listen, I know that what’s in my heart is not good right now. But if hate is what it takes to get me motivated to get back in the game, then so be it.”

They both sat silently, looking at the floor and sipping their coffee.

Finally, Riley broke the silence. “I know, I know.

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