SHANE. I have always lived a simple life and kept to myself, not needing or desiring the opinions of a stranger to assist me in understanding life or the complications associated with it. Oddly enough, a simple statement or expressed opinion from an outsider is often the one thing which causes us to veer from the peaceful road we were previously traveling along. One person’s transparent opinion has the ability to lift us from our feet with pride, or crush us into the depths of some God forsaken hell we can’t seem to find a way out of.

From deep inside the fiery pit from in which I was currently living, I looked through the window into the parking lot and shook my head in disbelief as my hand fumbled along the table for my cup of coffee.

Sitting on his motorcycle with one hand resting on the handlebars and the other searching for a cigarette, he stared blankly toward the front of the diner. His hand shaking as he held it to his mouth, he puffed eagerly on the cigarette as he lit it. After a few long drags, slowly his head pivoted 180 degrees, inventoried the empty parking lot, and he exhaled a cloud of smoke. Methodically, he stood from his motorcycle, bent over, and stepped on his cigarette. As he placed the butt into his shirt pocket and began walking toward the door, I turned toward the counter where the old man was seated.

“Bring me another cup of coffee. Black,” I said to the waitress.

She nodded her head and reached for one of the many cups which were hanging behind her from hooks below the bottom shelf. I looked down at the table as she placed the cup down and began pouring coffee into it. Before she filled the cup, I heard the bell attached to the front door jingle.

“Friend or foe?” she asked quietly as she lifted the coffee pot from the cup.

I looked up and grinned, “Right now, probably a little of both.”

“He looks like he might be a handful,” she said as she tilted her head in his direction.

“We’ll be just fine,” I smiled.

The sound of his boot heels echoed through the empty diner as he walked toward the booth I was sitting in. Somewhat embarrassed, I looked down at my plate as if I had no idea he was approaching.

“You might need a lesson or two in how to hide, Dekk,” he said as he lowered himself into the seat across from me.

I shook my head slightly in disbelief as I looked up, “I won’t even ask.”

“In the future, you need to use cash. That debit card of yours is like a flashing beacon of fucking light,” he chuckled.

After a precursory glance over the interior of the diner, he turned to face me.

“I’m going to tell you a story. Say my peace, so to speak. When I’m done I’m going to walk outside and smoke another cigarette then ride out of here. I hate shitty little dusty towns like this. They remind me of places I’m trying to forget about.” he said.

“You know, if God was going to give the world an enema, he’d more than likely stick the tube in this shitty little town,” he hesitated as he stared out the window and slowly shook his head.

He turned toward the table and looked down at the coffee.

“When I leave you can either head out with me or stay here, I don’t care either way,” he smiled as he pointed at the coffee cup in front of him.

I nodded my head.

He picked up the cup, took a slow sip, and held it in front of his face as he began to speak, “During my first tour, we were looking for al-Zawahiri. Hell, we were searching for a lot of al-Qaeda officials, but at this point in time, he was our target. We received intel on where he was and why he was there. It seems he was having a summit meeting of sorts with every other high ranking Islamic militant within a three hundred mile radius. Without a doubt, on this particular night, we were going to bag this shit-bird and bring the war to a screeching halt. At least that’s what we were told.”

“Go ahead and eat, this is going to take a minute,” he said as he tilted his head toward my plate of food.

As I began to cut my now cold steak, he lowered his coffee cup to the table and took his pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. With a shaking hand, he lifted one of the cigarettes to his mouth and bit it between his teeth.  Flipping his cigarette lighter between his fingers, he began to speak through his clenched teeth.

“So, based on this intel, they assembled a handful of us; three Marines, and seven or so SEALS. They indicated al-Zawahiri had gone into some shit-hole home earlier on this particular day, and he hadn’t come out. Hell, from what they said, no one came in or out after he arrived. It seemed his little meeting was underway, and all we had to do was get there before he left,” he pulled the unlit cigarette from his teeth and lowered his chin into his hand.

I chewed the last bite of my steak and pushed my plate to the side.

“Now this being my first tour, I didn’t have much experience – and none in extraction to speak of – only training. All the brass wanted him alive if possible, so they’d preached protocol and rules of engagement to us all fucking day. We all sat around and waited for the cover of darkness while we planned what we were going to do. You know, studying the chicken-shit map they’d given us showing the supposed layout of the home, cleaning our weapons, and talking about how we were going to get this prick,” he paused, shook his head lightly, and took another sip of coffee.

He leaned into the edge of the table and rested the coffee cup beside his pack of cigarettes, still flipping the cigarette lighter between his fingers. Nervously, he released the cup and lifted the unlit cigarette to his lips.

“So, it’s zero dark fucking thirty, and we’re all waiting. About oh two thirty they round us up, take us as close as they can get us, tell us good luck and god fucking speed. We surround the front of this little mud hut and blow the door on this place, toss in a few flash-bangs, and in we go,” he pulled the cigarette from his lips and inhaled a deep breath as if disgusted.

“Needless to say, I’m as nervous as a fucking whore in church service. I’ve got diarrhea, my stomach is all fucked up, my head’s full of all kinds of thoughts on what may happen to me or to someone else, and what I’m gonna do when it does. I’d gone over every possible god damned scenario based on the intel we have and who’s supposedly in this shit-hole,” he paused and shook his head from side to side and looked out into the parking lot.

“You see Dekk, men are just that; men. And men make mistakes. A man will give you an opinion, and portray it as an absolute fact. If you’re either gullible enough or dumb enough to believe him, you then make a life changing decision based on the inaccuracies of his beliefs. And you see, Dekk,” he stopped gazing through the glass into the parking lot and turned to face me.

“It’s just that. It’s an opinion. It’ll never be any more or any less. If I had all of the lives we lost based on one man’s opinion of what was sure not to happen, I could fill this fucking diner with good god damned Marines. But I can’t, because they’re all fucking dead.”

“The opposite happened on this particular night. The shit-hole home was empty. No hidden exit. No tunnels. No way out except the doors which were in full view. And we had eyes on every fucking corner of this place. And after an assurance he and his band of merry men walked in and never came out – we went in after him. I was mad as fuck. Let down, depressed, and I felt kind of betrayed. They were wrong Dekk. They’re wrong more than they’re right. You know why? Because they’re fucking human and they gave their opinion.”

“You see,” he lifted the cigarette to his mouth and bit the filter between his teeth.

“If we’re forced to make a decision that has the potential to have a profound effect on our life, and it’s based on the opinion of one man, we must weigh the legitimacy of the man in question. And in my humble opinion, if the man in question is not God, his opinion is nothing more than an educated guess.”

He slowly stood from his seat and removed the cigarette from his mouth. As if he’d forgotten if it was lit or not, he lifted it, looked at the tip, and grinned, “I’m going to go burn this. I’ve been chewing on it for too damned long. Come out and join me?”

I nodded my head sharply as I reached for my wallet.

And I paid in cash.