Excerpt: The Hitman Upstairs

Neil had lost touch with his former comrades since he left the regiment. They’d been through quite a lot, and had assumed that the bonds which had formed would last for the rest of their lives, but once he’d started training to be a chef, he’d focussed entirely on that, and didn’t leave himself time for socialising. He’d missed three reunions, and wasn’t sure if he’d recognise anybody, or if they’d recognise him. Once he arrived at the reunion he realised that he had been right. He didn’t recognise anybody. Everybody who was here must’ve been from before he joined up. Rather than circulate and feel stupid, he found himself a space at the end of the bar, and bought a pint, which he drank slowly He had just realised that he must’ve been leaning against the bar, staring into his drink for ages, when he was brought back to life by a healthy slap on the shoulders.
“Deadeye! Deadeye Neil! Fancy seeing you. We thought you might’ve.. Y’know..” the man finished with a shrug.
“Alive and kicking.” Neil smiled “I just haven’t been able to come to one of these since I left.”
“We were surprised when we found out you’d left. To be honest, I didn’t believe it, not after you’d got that transfer to the Saturdays and Sundays. Someone said you’d left altogether, but I thought that was just a cover, so you could go and be all Secret Squirrel. What made you leave?”
“I’d just had enough. That’s all. It wasn’t fun any more.”

Neil could pinpoint the exact moment when it wasn’t fun any more. They’d been a close unit, and although they’d got into a few “scraps”, it hadn’t been too serious – no casualties on their side – and it had all just been a job that they were good at. Until the Thursday afternoon when a roadside bomb turned a routine patrol into a nightmare. They’d been fortunate in that it hadn’t been triggered properly, so their land-rover was already past it when it went off, but it still blew the vehicle onto its side. The ensuing fire-fight left two injured and one dead, while Neil had dragged an unconscious but otherwise unharmed Pete to the comparative safety of a ditch. The surviving members of the patrol defended themselves from the ditch until help eventually arrived, and they were airlifted to safety.

“I still owe you for getting me out of that wagon.” Pete said, as if he could sense the scene that was replaying in Neil’s mind as they sat down at a table away from the bar.
“Nah, you’ve said thanks enough times.”
“I know, but there’s got to be something I can do.”
“You would’ve done the same for me, that’s enough.”
“You reckon? I wouldn’t have pissed on you if you were on fire.”
They both laughed at that, and after taking a long drink, Pete spoke again.
“Seriously man, if there’s anything I can do. Just ask, ok?”
“Thanks mate, we’re good, but I’ll remember that.”