the Body in the Truck Bed

a little birdie told me so

I finished my apple and turned back toward the compound.

As I did,
I saw the glint-reflection of a pair of binoculars.
Off in the trees, to the right, near the camp.

Then,
a second flash off to the left of the camp. Further down the slope.

I swear,
whoever it was – this 2nd pair of eyes,
saw me looking back at them. Cause it didn’t happen again.

Was probably my imagination.

But,
I knew,
he, or she, knew,
I saw him.
I could feel it.

The “eyes” to the right didn’t know I saw him.
They flashed a few more times.
Then they were gone.

I wasn’t worried about getting more info.
Yes, I was intrigued to the max.
And wanted to know what the h___ was goin’ on.

This whole operation was so slick, so smooth,
I knew I’d be contacted again.

No need for further dialogue by the body in the truck bed.

I tossed the apple over and behind my head.
Real carefree.
I didn’t have a care in the world.
For those who were watching.

As I strode back my mind raced . . .

A) – who was it that wanted to leave?

B) – who wanted to stay?

C) – who knew about who, and the plan? – – whatever it was.

D) – I assume Wilson knew, but then again, maybe not.

E) – obviously, the fewer who knew, the better.
        – I mean, this was a very close-knit Army,
                   with history out the wazoo.

G) – and loyalty the number one theme.

H) – yet, things weren’t the same,
          some wanted to leave. And were going to leave.

I) – so, what was the plan?

J) – and most of all, who was my “unknown ‘PSSST’ buddy”?

          – – Master Sergeant said it once. But, he was out in the open.
                   And denied he was the “voice”.

K) – here’s a thought, just came to me –
what if the enemy knew about the plan.
And were pretending to be part of the “leavers”.
Just to get info out of me.
Like counter-intelligence and misinformation.
A ruse.

– WHOA, wait a minute, I think I’m getting carried away here.

But still,
with all the covert stuff that’s gone on,
from the Fibonacci sign, the 144 sign, all the TARDISes, etc. etc..
SOMETHING, . . . something was afoot.

Best I keep my wits about me. My eyes and ears and senses frosty.

By the time I reached the end of the orchard,
and damn,
what a beautiful meadow it was really,

I saw El Segundo coming to greet me.

My mind went from a bazillion questions and thoughts and schemes
to one of fraud.

While I didn’t want to overdo it,
I definitely wanted to put on a mask of “devil-may-care”.
But, I couldn’t totally let go.

Was El Segundo part of the party that was leaving.
Or part of the party that was staying.
Did he know anything?

Maybe he was behind one of the binoculars.
Did he know I saw him looking at me?

If I thought I was an Oscar-winning actor
with a mask on so as to not give anything away,
I didn’t hold a candle to El Segundo.

There was no way I could read anything from his face.
Or his body language.

He just had the nicest, warmest, most honest smile on his face.
Maybe.

“Out for a morning walk eh?”
The orchard has the most delicious apples!”

’Apples? Did he know?’

We’re in a game now!

reflections

BSOT
Ian

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Published by Ian

writer, neo-Impressionist photo-artist, Elliott Wave analyst & trader, existentialist

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