“Yeah, it’s not Kansas..it’s LA”“We ain't making no goddamn cornflakes here”COL Charles Beckwith, Founder of Delta Force

Jeffrey Goldman’s arrival in the LA of 2008 wasn’t under the best of circumstances…hell; it downright sucked, if anyone had bothered to ask him. After accepting the mission given by John he was practically bundled off to a small anteroom, and told to leave EVERYTHING but himself behind…and they meant everything. Including his clothes. After that minor indignity, he was bundled off to a platform that looked like something out of a very bad horror flick, and told “this will hurt, but don’t panic.”
Yeah, don’t panic, he mused. When men in white labcoats tell you “don’t panic, panic.” After that, and a short goodbye with John, that was punctuated with the usual male ritual of mutual **********, he was painfully shot through a kaleidoscope of light and sound and unceremoniously dumped in this empty field naked, hurting in a dozen places in what he hoped was the right place and time.
He carefully poked his head up. There was nothing for about miles around except for a nice view of the LA skyline sparkling like so many pearls against the twilight of the setting sun to the west. The air was cool, a bit too cool for Jeff’s current state, but it was clean, not tinged with cordite, ozone, or burnt flesh. The grass, honest-to-god grass, felt great between Jeff’s toes.
It’s perfect, except I’m naked with no clothes, money or wheels..yeah, this is already going well, his mind reminded him. Jeff knew he had to get moving, and fast, the light show of his arrival was going to attract attention. Attention that was going to attract law enforcement..and law enforcement wasn’t going to take well to a naked stranger running around San Bernardino county.
Jeff experimentally levered himself to his feet into a crouch. There was some pain that registered, but nothing worse than what he’d been feeling for the past 10 years or so. The improved vantage position spied something to the northwest..about a half klick away. Lights..Houses…and where there was houses..there was clothes..money and a ride. I hate this, I’m no damn crook, but this wasn’t the time to worry about that. Just get what you need and try not to hurt anybody doing it. Jeff then stood up. His stomach protested, he’d not had a thing to eat for at least 36 hours and change, not a good thing either. So, procuring clothes and wheels was getting to be a priority. So, it was time to be about it….
About a half hour later of discomfort and slow progress later, Jeff came to the first house in the development, it was a split level beige colored rambler with a fenced in yard at the end of a cul-de-sac, it was about 1000 meters to the next house, which was good for Jeff. It was well lit, but there were no lights on in the house…and from the looks of it, no dogs either. And he noticed..an open sliding door off from the basement. Ok, should be a piece of cake to get in and…“GET YOUR DAMN HANDS OFF OF ME!” came a shriek from the house. It was followed by a series of curses and smashing of glassware. Jeff came to a stop and half crouched..this was a complication he DIDN’T need.
“Lovely, of all the damn houses in this neighborhood and I pick one that’s being robbed ALREADY!” Jeff muttered, though, it did present a wonderful opportunity…rob the robbers. Jeff smiled a wolfish grin; it was always fun to **** with predators. And the female’s screams were getting louder. Three from the sound of it, and they’re totally ********* aware, this is going to be easy.
Jeff made his way through the shattered screen door, gingerly making his way through the ripped screen, and saw that the downstairs room was hardwood, and creaked under his weight, a bit too loudly for his taste, but nobody seemed to be paying attention. A pile of boxes marked “Dan’s Stuff” grabbed his attention, one box was open, Jeff made his way, pigeon-toed, towards the open boxes and looked inside, and smiled.There were a set of BDUs, a bit worn, but serviceable, with the tunic bearing US ARMY nametape, as well as the name FRANKS. They looked like they fit, but it really didn’t matter. Any clothes were better than none.
Jeff deftly slipped the pants and issue T-Shirt onto his frame, and paused…no, the screams and yells were still coming from upstairs. Comeon hon, hang on, help’s a coming. Jeff looked around the room for anything that resembled a weapon..His eyes locked on the fireplace..it was a solid black, iron poker about 3 feet in length. Jeff skittered over, and grabbed the poker, hefting it contemplatively. It felt ok, good enough for the intended task. Now armed, Jeff snaked his way to the staircase. He took the stairs two at a time, the carpet on the stairs muffling his steps. He got to the ground floor without trouble and crouched. Still, no sign that they know I am here..God, let this go well. I really don’t wanna die doing a good deed. Not that it’s a bad way to go.
Jeff made his way up the stairs leading up to the second floor. The screams had become crying, savage sobs that most people would not have believed would have come from a human throat. Jeff stopped halfway, and went flat against the steps. He peered above the last step..There was one outside the room, two more were probably inside, as he’d heard three sets of heavy footsteps…and one slightly lighter. The person outside was a light skinned African American teen, probably not much older than fifteen, with clothes that practically hung off of him in varying shades of blue. His attention was on his cell-phone, watching some music video, if one could charitably call the amount of throbbing base “music”. Resembles artillery fire to me.
Jeff made a quick plan. Ok, we take junior down quick, and quiet, get him to open the door for his friends….then take them down. Fast, violent and with the advantage of surprise. They’ll all have raging hardons, so they won’t be thinking. Ok, let’s do this. Jeff kept watching the young ganger; he was still watching the cell phone. Jeff gripped the poker tighter and crept up the stair well, his heart was pounding, his blood rushing loud enough to deafen, and his vision narrowing like gunsights. Three steps and Jeff was on him.
His first swing smashed the cell phone, and his second knocked the banger down with a loud thump. But, as with all plans..this too went awry. Just as he was about to grab the kid by his sports jersey, the door jangled open with a shout.
“Hey, T-Dog, what the-“
Jeff didn’t hesitate. He’d seen combat in too many places to ever hesitate again. He savagely stuck the poker into the face of the man opening the door. He was a heavy set Hispanic make, with no shirt, and a goatee. His chest was covered in gang tattoos. Jeff’s blow sent him sprawling back into the room with a loud crash.
A rustle to Jeff’s left announced the teen was getting back up. His eyes were filled with hate, and the butterfly knife left no dispute as to his intentions. Dammit kid! I really don’t wanna do this, but if you give me no choice….
The kid ran right at Jeff, Jeff swung his body to the left like a matador with his cape dueling a bull. He swung the poker, and connected with the kid’s back. The teen screamed and fell down the stairs a tangle of limbs and a scream.
Jeff turned back to the door. Subtlety was out the window now. Jeff violently shouldered in the door. The scene was like a war zone. The bed was shredded, the dressers were ransacked, the TV was unplugged and on the floor. To complete the scene, a woman was on the ruins of the bed in the remains of her night garments was sobbing face down on the bed. The man Jeff had poked was out cold against the wall nearest the window. The remaining man was nude except for a pair of boxers…which Jeff had obviously interrupted their removal. He was a lanky white kid who looked like he was in his early 20s, and had a rat like face. His teeth were crooked and yellowing and he had an ugly lustful sneer. He lunged for a shiny metal object on the dresser. Jeff noticed it at the same time, and swung the poker desperately at the rat-man’s hand. Jeff was rewarded with a loud CRUNCH. The gangbanger screamed like a banshee, cradling his shattered arm. Jeff circled the ganger, and scooped up the shiny object.
He snuck a look. It was a nickel plated .25 caliber pistol. Jesus, all the gangbangers I interrupt, and these ******** pack a joke for a gun. Well, it’s good enough for this.
“Greetings, *******. My name is unimportant, and frankly I don’t care to tell you because I really don’t care for the displeasure of your company. Now, down on the floor, hands on your head.” The gangbanger slowly and painfully complied.
Jeff found a nearby roll of duct tape and yanked rat-man’s arms behind his back and taped his hands. The pain for rat-man sounded excruciating, with all the yelling he was doing. “Oh shut the **** up” Jeff dismissed, and stuck a dirty sock into the banger’s mouth and then duct taped it into place. He repeated the process with the other banger in the room, then made his way downstairs to check on the third ganger, who was at the landing, his head at an unnatural angle and his eyes looked on in shock, the knife was nowhere to be seen. Jeff checked for a pulse. There was none. Congrats, another living thing I’ve snuffed out. Goldman shook his head in disgust.
Jeff levered himself to his feet and made his way upstairs. The woman was still sobbing, but softly. He tapped her gently on the shoulder; she turned over with a start, her green eyes burning bright with fear set against her alabaster features and dark red hair.
“Please, take what you want, I’m-“
“Shh, I’m the cavalry lady. Look, you need to get dressed, and call 911. Did these morons have a car?”“Yes, out front, some dark blue low thing, it’s big, and you can’t miss it!”
“I’m sorry lady, I wish I got here sooner. One of them’s dead downstairs…he fell down the stairs and broke his neck”.
“I’m sorry, you save my life and my manners have gone to hell, I can get dressed in the bathroom, can you get my cell phone, it’s on the dresser.”
“Sure, um-“
“Jennifer, Jennifer Franks” the woman smiled, extending a bruised hand.
“How’d they get in?”
“Smashed in the back door while one of them tried to jimmy the front…I distracted them by running in here..Oh God! My daughter, Melissa!”
“Where did you leave her?”
“The crawlspace in the attic above her room, I told her to hide up there. She likes to play up there, she’s not supposed to, but I know about it..We’ve got to make sure she’s ok, she’s only nine.”
Jeff held out his arms..”Don’t worry ma’am. I’ll find her.”
Jennifer’s eyes began to focus a bit better, and they went wide. “My husband’s BDUs, why did you take them? Who are you?” Jennifer grabbed the poker from the floor”
“That’s not important right now. Look, if I wanted to hurt you, would I have taken these three idiots out? No, I’d have helped myself and let these dolts commit robbery, rape and a double homicide. Let’s go find your daughter, then we’ll call 911 and I’ll be on my way, ok?”
Jennifer nodded, her features were drawn and her skin glistened with the sheen of a veritable sheet of tears. She slipped off of the bed and grabbed a pair of jeans and a light green blouse from a shattered dresser and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
“Ma’am, I am going to move these folks downstairs…Ok?”
A muffled “Alright” was all Jeff needed to get started. He leaned over to Rat-Man and put his mouth to his ear. “Ok, *******. I am in charge here. Your friend has a broken rib, and your other buddy, T-Dog? He’s dead. I killed him, and just so you know, I have killed many people in Iraq. So, do not think doing you would be that hard, get me? Nod if you understand.”
Rat-Man nodded, his eyes wide with fear.
Goldman smiled a cruel smile. “Ok, on your feet, **** with me, and I give you a trip down the stairs.”
He yanked Rat-Man to his feet, the pain became excruciating for him and the yelps of pain became whimpering. “Shut up, like you weren’t going to kill the woman, and then anyone else you found. Count your ass lucky I just broke your damn arm.”
Jeff frog-marched Rat-Man down the stairs and threw him to the floor of the hardwood in the living room, next to the body of his confederate. “See what breaking into houses gets you? Stupid…real stupid..now, let’s get something straight…and I am going to have the same chat with your friend. The woman kicked your ass. That is what you will tell the police..if you don’t..I will find you. I will kill you…and I won’t make it quick…or dignified. Get me?”
Rat-Man nodded vigorously. Ah, nothing like a motivated bad guy. Jeff then went upstairs and grabbed the unconscious Lardo, as Jeff was referring to him.

He’d hit his head on the wall and went out like a light. Probably be out for hours and by then, in LAPD custody. Probably wouldn’t remember a thing. Hopefully.Jeff then produced the duct tape again and taped his ankles to his hands, effectively hog tying Rat-Man. He repeated the process with Lardo.
When Jeff finishned tying the two men up, he fished around in Lardo’s pockets…and was soon rewarded with the jangle of car keys. Jeff smiled. “My day just got better”.
“Mister, can you help me get Melissa out of the crawl space?”
Jeff rose and came up the stairs, pocketing the pistol. “Sure, where’s her room?”
“Second door on the left.”
“Ok, and the crawlspace?”
“Above her bed.”
“Oh, I wanted to thank you...you reminded me for a moment of my husband, Dan. He was killed in Afghanistan five years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” Jeff intoned
Jeff made his way inside and gingerly entered her room, it was the room of a typical nine year old, full of posters of Hannah Montana and the Jonas Brothers..with a huge white armoire with a mirror. A picture of the family, including Dan, rested upon it. Sorry pal that it happened to your family, I hope you guided me tonight, I hope someone did.
“Melissa, honey, it’s mommy. One of the neighbors helped us make the burglars go away, you can come down now.
A little voice squeaked “I’m scared mommy, I can’t move.”
Jennifer looked to Jeff, “Would you mind?”
“Nah, can you spot me?”
“Sure”
Jeff gingerly got onto the bed and hefted himself halfway into the crawlspace. It was tight, and there was Melissa wearing a pink nightshirt with Hanna Montana on it...She was a miniature version of her mother, her face white with fear curled up into a tight ball Her eyes were closed shut tightly.
“Melissa, honey..I’m not gonna hurt you..But your mommy needs you. You can’t stay up here all day..it’s filthy.”
“It’s safe. It’s the only place that’s safe since my daddy died!” Oh god little one, how I wish that were true. Jeff winced.
“Listen, sweetie. I don’t know what I can say, other than I know your daddy would want to be here, but your mommy needs you. She’s hurting too, and she needs hugs from you to make the pain go away.”
Melissa’s eyes opened “She does?”
“Yea sweetie..Jennifer? Let her know you’re ok.”
“Hi sweetie, it’s mommy, everything’s ok, you did good.”
Melissa looked back at Jeff..”You’re not a bad man?”
“No” Jeff lied. Oh sweetheart, I have the blackest of souls..but you know what George Orwell once said….
Jeff wordlessly extended his right arm and Melissa took it. He then slowly snaked out of the crawlspace and onto the bed, with Jennifer steadying him. He then gently levered Melissa out and into the arms of her grateful mother.
Both began to cry softly, hanging onto each other like flotsam after a shipwreck. Jennifer’s stare haunted Jeff. He’d seen the look of loss and pain before. Why my husband or son? Why not you? the look said.
“Can we do anything for you?” Jennifer asked
“Two things, one, I could so use a pair of sneakers..and two..when the cops come. I wasn’t here. It’s a long story. But Jen, promise me something? Promise me that on April 21st, 2011, you’re going to take a long camping trip somewhere out of the way. Trust me. It’ll save your life.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you, suffice it to say, it’ll save you and your daughter.”
“I don’t know you, I know I may never see you again, and you’re borrowing my dead husband’s uniform, but for some strange reason, I trust you. You remind me of him. Were you military?”
“Yes. Still am. It’s a long story. Now go lock this door and call 911. Wait till I leave, ok?”
Jen smiled, and gave Jeff a peck on the cheek “For luck, and for saving my life. The sneakers are on the left side of my bed. They were his lucky running shoes. He..he proposed to me in them.”
“You’ll get them back.”
“Thank you.”
Jeff nodded and made his way back to Jennifer’s bedroom. He saw the beige and white running shoes, they were beat up and had familiar wear patterns..and they were a size too big..but beggars couldn’t be choosy.
He made his way downstairs, and closed and locked the door behind him, Jeff found the black Bonneville immediately. It had seen better days, as the rust had simply been painted over and he didn’t want to think about how badly it ran…but as he put the key in the ignition..it turned over on the first try…BINGO! First damn thing that’s gone right since I got here. He put the car into gear, and pulled out into the lonely Los Angeles night, sirens pealing in the distance.
**010101101101101101101**
It was not long after midnight when Jeff found the Connor safehouse. It was in a slightly out of the way neighborhood on the edge of Torrance. It hadn’t been easy to find, relying on half remembered directions from John Connor’s briefing. But, as Jeff parked the car and made his way up the walk, it was beginning to look better. No more hitches, right? Teach General Connor to be-
The sound of the slide on a shotgun chambering a round broke the stillness of the night.
Jeff slowly raised his hands and smiled..”Captain Phillips…you’re slipping. The Cameron I knew wouldn’t have let me near the house.”
“Turn around, keep your hands in plain view.”
Jeff did as he was told. He’d seen Cameron work, and knew what she was, and wasn’t. “Can I put them down now? It’s been a long night.”
Cameron’s aim didn’t waiver, her shotgun was pointed right at Jeff’s midsection and her tiny finger rested lightly on the trigger of the shotgun. Her eyes were empty and her angelic face only served to mark the incongruity of her nature.
FACIAL RECOGNITION MODE ENGAGEDMATCHING 12 POINT PROFILE AGAINST VISUAL DATABASE “RESISTANCE OFFICERS 24NOV2019”MATCH PERCENTILE: 99.95IDENTITY CONFIRMEDTARGET IS LTC GOLDMAN, JEFFEREY L.
Cameron’s HUD then swam with the information on Jeff’s service record and decorations, but then a strange thing happened…when her CPU tried to call up her own personal interactions with Colonel Goldman, she received the following message.
***FIREWALL ENGAGED. ACCESS TO FILE BLOCKED UNDER MISSION DIRECTIVE 21-ZULU. BY ORDER GEN CONNOR, 05DEC2019***
“Your identity is confirmed, Colonel Goldman, what is your mission?”
Jeff slowly put down his arms. “I’m your new teacher it seems, you and John..”
What the hell is with Cameron? Jeff’s mind swam..She was never this..this..robotic? What the **** have I gotten myself into?