It’s a sea of black faces. The Soldiers of my detail are the only white faces here. I’m the darkest one of us, and that’s mostly sun blasted tan.Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the Widow. Despite her family, despite Captain Parrish, she is as alone as it is possible to get. Even the family seems to unconsciously lean away from her, as if they are afraid to catch something.I study the pictures of the Soldier to either side of the casket. I don’t know him, I’ve never seen him. Neither has any of my detail. But then, that’s why we’re here. That’s why the family shrinks from the Widow. That’s why the pall over this funeral is even darker.He was a Sergeant First Class on his second tour in Iraq, unexpectedly extended with no notice. Stationed up by Mosul. A real hellhole.I learned the rest from Captain Parrish, it had all spilled from the Widow in a horrible instant in her living room. Keisha wasn’t supposed to talk about it with anyone, but some burdens are too heavy to bear alone,. Jimmy continued to jump up and down beside him but his stupid chant was drowned out by the shrill warning whistle from the train. It was going to be close, very close but he expected that. The arm was coming down and the ground began to tremble as the train neared the intersection. He stole a quick glance in his rear view mirror and saw that the cop was right behind him but so concerned about tangling with the freight train, he was slowing down.Mark flashed his brakes for an instant to make it look as if he too was going to be stopped by the train, then suddenly, with only seconds to spare, he put his foot to the floor and his car shot forward in a cloud of dust and gravel. It crashed through the arm with the train almost upon them but managed to roar across the tracks unscathed.Mark breathed a heavy sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from the forehead. He slowed the car down and looked back. All he could see was the train but between gaps in the box cars he caught glimpses of the cop.
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