Field of Blackbirds - Clayton Jeppsen & Lindsey Jeppsen (me reader txt) 📗

bottom of the second crate there are two envelopes with money, $20,000 in each. One is for you and the other is for Marko, Kat, Dragan and the Resistance. They’re not expecting it. It is a thank you and a message that we support their cause. You have my direct line. If you get into a jam, call me. I’ll see what I can do. If hope is lost . . . . . well Men, if hope is lost . . . . . . call God.

-Sam


Reed folded up the note and placed it in his jacket. He decided to share it with the men at a later time.

Reed scanned the room and noticed Marcielli wasn’t with them. “Angelo, where’s Marcielli?” asked Reed.
“I don’t think he came down with us.” Angelo replied.
Reed started back up the stairwell. Before he reached the top, he turned around. “Otto, when you get to the bottom of that second crate, let me know.”
Halfway back down the long corridor, Reed noticed pale rays of light intruding into the darkness ahead of him. It looked as though it were coming from an open doorway.
Upon arrival, Reed was taken back. For seven hundred years, the Church had been bombed, set on fire, suffered infestations of small creatures and weathered Mother Nature’s most violent winter storms. If it was still standing for one reason alone, it was this; for a few minutes at the end of every day, it humbly framed the setting sun of Kumanovo. Reed peered through the room and into the light of a large window-type opening. Its only flaw was the breaking of light by the silhouette of a man at the window’s edge.
“I don’t blame you for allowing yourself to get sidetracked. I’ve never seen anything like it.” said Reed.
Marcielli fumbled for a moment, not knowing Reed was there. He folded up a letter he was holding and tucked it back into an envelope.
“I thought beauty like this could only be found in Milan. I was mistaken,” admitted Marcielli.
All four walls of the room remained, while only a small portion of the roof was intact. Surprisingly enough, grass had grown through most of the room. Wild vines had crawled in through the window and gave warmth to the walls. Reed walked over to where Marcielli was. From here he could see the vivid sunset racing through the city and magnifying each of its colors. Reed felt that beauty, wonder and amazement were all being served on a platter right before them.
The light allowed Reed to see the mood Marcielli was really in. Although it was the luminous sunset that called him in, something greater was keeping him there. He looked as though he were on a train to find the love of his life, only to see her passing him on another train going in the opposite direction.
Reed looked away, pretending not to notice.
Marcielli diverted the awkwardness with dialogue. “Did we get our supplies?” he asked.
Reed smiled, seizing the opportunity to make light. “Do you have a McDonalds in Milan?” he asked.
“Come on,” countered Marcielli. “You’re talking about Italy, not China.”
“Good,” said Reed. “Have you ever seen a small child in the play center, dive into all the colored balls? Then that look that forms on their face as their head surfaces and their arms pop out, tossing more balls into the air. Well, that’s what Otto is doing with our supplies.”
Marcielli burst out laughing and for a short moment, Reed caught a glimpse of honesty in his demeanor.
Reed felt that he had cracked the egg. “So Marcielli, what’s on your mind? You seem down lately.”
Marcielli took a breath, thought carefully of what he wanted to say, not wanting to sound weak. He removed the letter from the envelope he was holding, unfolded it.
Reed noted the eloquent handwriting of a woman. Then he saw watermarks where the ink was smeared. Marcielli still hadn’t said anything. He just held tightly to her words. A new watermark was made.
“I am happier than I have ever been, Reed. I’m going to be a Dad.”
Reed understood everything. Marcielli was here and not there. It was true. He was probably happier than he’d ever been. But two-thousand miles were blocking his view. Reed felt for him.
“You’re a strong man Marcielli. A lot stronger than I. Congratulations! I am happy for you too.”
Reed couldn’t help it, his attention drifted back home. He had lived such a simple life in Hinckley. Had he taken it all for granted, he wondered? Did Tom and Anna really know how special they made him feel? He missed the look of his dad, beaming with pride over his family. Did Anna know that he lived to compliment her cooking? Every meal was his favorite meal. Did Reddin know that he was envious of his athletic abilities? Did he know he would rather hangout with him than any of his friends? Did Gracie know he would drop everything just for a chance to protect her from harm? And Lindsey, did she know she had the power to bring everything in his world to a screeching halt, just long enough to plant one timeless kiss on his lips? Did they know these things?
“Marcielli,” Reed asked, “Would you mind if I offered a short prayer?”
“Very timely, Reed, I would appreciate that.”

“Father in Heaven,

Bless Marcielli and Marianna and their new little one. It is great news. He will be a great father. Bring Marcielli home safely to his family. Bring us all home safely. But first Father, let us bless the lives of these people. Let us complete our mission.

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”


“I think everything is going to be okay, Reed.” expressed Marcielli.

Reed and Marcielli sat there for a moment, pondering, as the radiant sunset poured hope through the window and onto the two of them.
Chapter 27 – Blackbirds


Kumanovo, Macedonia and into the Field of Blackbirds 1992

Otto and Dragan were loading the last of the supplies into the van. The morning was cold and brisk. Sleet kissed the earth adding luster to the rolling terrain. Angelo, Florentine and Marcielli were delighting in Kat’s freshly brewed coffee that she heated over a portable butane stove. Reed only drank coffee on occasion, usually while burning the midnight oil at UCLA, cramming for exams. Reed noticed that Europeans could live off coffee and cigarettes alone.
Reed sat across from Marko at a fold-up table. He spent a moment trying to level out his chair and then he laid some maps on the table and began to study them out loud.
“You are here.” Marko pointed. “If you take this road out of Kumanovo you’ll be headed north into Kosovo. Along this highway you will find many villages ravaged and barren. You can take all the pictures you want.”
“Will we run into any troops there?” asked Reed.
“If you do, they will most likely be Albanian. The Serbs moved out as quickly as they came through. But take caution, the Albanians don’t understand why you’re here. You could be taken captive or even attacked. You’re best to stay completely out of sight. Get your pictures from a distance.”
Reed pointed to Pristina on the map. “We meet your friend here, right?”
“The Albanian Officer you were going to meet up with there, is now in Sarajevo, so you have no contacts from here on out. Most of the resistance has moved into Bosnia to help slow the Serb stampede. The Serbs have concentrated their forces there and are killing anyone who’s not a Bosnian Serb; women, children, everybody.”
Reed moved his eyes over toward Bosnia, found the capitol, Sarajevo with his finger. “I don’t understand Marko, what are we doing over here then? We’re five hundred kilometers away.”
“You began planning your mission three months ago Reed. But when life is hanging by a thread, three months is an eternity. In that time, the Serbs have been around the entire country and back. They’re in Bosnia now, but they’re said to be returning. They’re only there to teach the Bosnian Serbs how to take the country and paint it red with innocent blood, how to spread callous and disgust and how to rape.”
Reed stared into the thickness of Marko’s obsession. While Marko was still, the army of trees backing him began to roll like ocean waves. Macedonian winds were remorseless. Reed weighed his own thoughts for a moment. Reed knew there were two sides to every story. He couldn’t take to heart everything Marco said. Reed just wanted to gather a few facts. Sometimes plans needed modification to complete a mission. Sam even told him to be agile and responsive to the changing needs of the operation.
“We will drive north, as far as Pristina. Then we will head east for Bosnia.” said Reed.
“The road will be rocky.” warned Marko. “You might have to fight if you go there.”
“It’s a risk we’ll have to take.” avowed Reed. “I’m not going back without live shots, Marko. Nothing is more compelling. I need to see genocide in action.”