Wendy Shanahan's 19 year-old son is killed in Baghdad by a road-side
bomb, Wendy doesn't blame the White House; she doesn't blame Big Oil;
and she doesn't blame God. She blames the cowards who are really
responsible... and she's going to do something about it.
Wendy's Sleeper Cell...
night, she got the
fireplace roaring. Took her most of the night, but she got rid of most
of the things she had saved for nineteen years. Baby pictures, school
pictures, team pictures, Christmas pictures, birthday pictures,
vacation pictures, prom pictures, graduation, all that. Only picture
she didn’t burn was the one of Wendell in his uniform sent home from
Basic Training. She left it sitting on the coffee table.
She fell asleep on the couch
about two o’clock in the morning.
When she woke up, she was
shaking with anger. Bit her cheek so hard her mouth was awash in blood.
She took it for an omen. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand
and looked out at the sun beginning to glimmer through the cottonwood
trees. The trees looked strangely melancholy, hanging their limbs in
sorrow. She appreciated the gesture. But it wasn’t enough. Somebody was
gonna pay for this shit.
Book 2 - Last
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