Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
In the locker room, he stripped out of his T-shirt and jeans, having already showered at home before coming in. He slid the lightweight Kevlar vest over his undershirt and fastened the Velcro. He caught Randolph, a ten-year vet, smirking at him, undoubtedly thinking that Caleb, who had only a few years under his belt by comparison, was twitchy about getting shot on the job. Most rookies wore a vest their first year, but eventually their nerves settled and they stopped wearing. Caleb had a bit of a reputation for cowardice due to the fact that he’d still not ditched the vest. He had no partner, either, having opted for solo duty.
He was a bit of an anomaly, a chicken shit loner by all accounts, which didn’t bother Caleb in the least. So long as no one got together and compared accounts, he was under the radar. He slipped his blue uniform shirt on, the fabric covering the US Army Ranger tattoo on his forearm. He laced up his heavy, steel-toed boots, not department issue but either brass had never noticed or they didn’t much care. He closed his locker, spun the dial, and headed back out to the line of waiting cruisers. He slid into the front seat, adjusted it to accommodate his 6'4" frame, and lined up the mirrors. Before he pulled out, he turned on the dispatch radio and adjusted the sound. When he was satisfied he was ready for active duty, he slid out of the space and nosed the cruiser onto the street to do his own version of hunting.
Rapid City was mostly a blue collar town and Caleb preferred patrolling its most blue collar area. Not that he didn’t get the occasional call to one of Rapid City’s few gated communities, but unless the calls were of the type he was interested in, he really didn’t want to waste his shift getting Fluffy out of a tree or taking pictures of a sideswiped, parked Lexus. He preferred calls (of the right kind) in upscale communities, though. There was an added sense of satisfaction in pulling the mask off the assholes who hid their true natures behind thousand-dollar suits and hundred-dollar haircuts. The feeling was hard to come by, though, as people in expensive glass houses often went to great lengths to keep stones at bay. On the rare occasion he did get a call, the feeling—as hard as it was to come by—was also short-lived because rich assholes had smug lawyers, and no one in a Stepford community ever did any real time. Not unless they robbed some other rich asshole of his hedge fund, but Caleb didn’t give a shit about that.
Growing up dirt poor himself, he found it hard to drum up much sympathy for people who appeared to have too much for their own damn good. When he turned 18, he had been more than ready to strike out on his own. The problem was, foster care didn’t dole out much cash to kids who’d survived the system long enough to collect. The day after his birthday, he’d moved out of Barb and Henry Dupree’s home, his fourth and final home after being shuffled around from the age of 10. Henry had never been a bad sort as far as people who often collected stray children for extra cash went. He’d driven Caleb to the local recruitment office right there in Bakersfield, California. Henry had been an ex-grunt himself, though he’d never risen very high in rank.
Caleb had been a good student, but couldn’t afford college. The Army had seemed like as good a choice as any. He’d joined, made some good friends in basic, and when Hawk and Tex basically dared each other to sign up for Ranger school, Caleb, Easy, and Shooter had tagged along for the ride. Before he’d even consciously realized it, Caleb had turned a brief stint in the Army into an actual career—that is until a roadside bomb in Iraq had crippled his unit. In the space of a few moments, half their number had been lost, dead or dying, as Caleb, with his medic training, had tried and failed to save them.
When the dust had settled and the cavalry had finally arrived, only Caleb, Shooter, Tex, Hawk, and Easy (such as was left of him) had remained. Caleb couldn’t remember the exact moment at which they’d all decided to stay together. In fact, he wasn’t entirely certain there’d ever really been anything like a discussion. Shooter had simply announced his intention to head to his hometown of Rapid City and open a garage. He was their lieutenant and unit leader, so Caleb and the others had naturally fallen in line. Caleb had nothing back in California except a pair of foster parents who’d only sporadically written to him over the years. Rapid City had seemed as good a place as any since the only real family he had left he’d vowed never to see or speak to again.