Free Conjuring Darkness by Melanie James Page B

experience in a traditional military setting. I would have to look up how to make a regulation style bunk, or spit polish boots, or even get a regulation haircut. Hell most of the time we all wore civilian clothes, because we went to areas where the government didn’t want to admit to having any military personnel present. You would be surprised at how often that happens. Well anyway, if you live and work in an atmosphere like I did the unconventional becomes your new normal. Your so called game face isn’t just a charade it does become a part of your personality. So to answer your question the real Ryan Kidd is a little of both.”
    “Hmm. Pretty interesting. But why the nickname. I’m guessing that you didn’t have to wear some silly cowboy hat or something to get that name, did you?” Lexi asked.
    “Many of the specialized military groups use nicknames for Special Warfare Operators. Unfortunately those nicknames aren’t something you get to pick. They’re sort of given to you and they have a way of sticking with you for life. They become your nom de guerre.”
    Lexi had her turn to interrupt Ryan “Really? Nom de guerre? I thought that was just for terrorists, French Foreign Legion, and characters from poorly written action stories.”
    “Ha! In that case I must be the ill-conceived and cliché action hero! The way that name got stuck on me is actually a pretty funny story. Back when I was about twenty, I was with a team working in Togo a small country in Western Africa. One day three of us went out into the field with a few of the guys from the Togolese army. Kurt was there as a rep from the CIA. The Togolese had asked for our help in disposing of some old ordnance like landmines, grenades, and that sort of thing.” He leaned further back in his chair as he recalled the scene.
    “One of the local soldiers pulled an old pistol out of a large crate. A very old nickel plated Colt revolver with ivory grips. It even had a box of ammo with it. I knew that pistol was probably worth at least a few thousand dollars. One of guys asked me if I wanted to buy it for fifty dollars! I told him I would like to shoot it first. While I was loading the pistol the guys left their truck unattended for a bit. In the back of the truck was another open crate with some old German hand grenades that we were supposed to destroy. Someone heard a noise and when we turned around, we noticed that a monkey had come down from the trees and it was digging around in the grenades. We were all yelling and trying to scare it away before something bad happened. Well it ran off alright. The bad part was that it was carrying a very old and unstable German hand grenade. What could be more dangerous than an unpredictable wild monkey with a hand grenade? It could throw it at us or it could run into a village, a house, a school, and who knows how easily that old grenade could explode.”
    “You have got to be joking. That didn’t really happen! Did it?” Is this really how the mysterious ‘The Kid’ came to be? She thought.
    “Boy Scouts honor.” He said, before holding up two fingers in a mock salute. “The monkey bolted across the grassy field in front of us. I had that old pistol loaded and ready so I quickly raised it and fired at it. Well I missed. In order to fire it faster I took the heel of my free hand and fanned it across the hammer just like you see on those old westerns. Rapid fire just like it was a semi-automatic handgun. That monkey was hopping around and dodging away as dirt and grass kicked up around it. The guys were all yelling. Some were cussing and some were cheering me on. One of my teammates, Martinez, grabbed an M-16 with a grenade launcher. I had counted my shots so I knew I only had one round left in the cylinder. I knew that I would have to wait until he stood still. The monkey ran and climbed up into a tree that was so dense with leaves we couldn’t see him at all. Suddenly we hear this loud excited chatter of dozens