Air Force None

A General Atomics MQ-9 Reaper drone dropped off a sizable rectangular box. On the side read “USAF” in blue letters against the gray body. It was like a stork leaving a giant baby at my doorstep. Well, actually my driveway in Wilmington, Delaware. I fetched my hand truck and moved the monstrosity in my garage.

It was in the middle of the night so most of my neighbors had retired in the autumn evening. Except for Hap Mille, my neighbor down the block walking his dog, no one was around.

“Hey, Jackman. What is that?”

“It’s nothing for you to be concerned with, Hap,” I announced.

”Have a good evening, colonel!”

“Enjoy your night,” I said.

The gurgling sound of the garage alarmed Hap's dog which kept barking like a little firecracker. Hap shrugged and pulled his dog along.

I applied my boxcutter to the box. The cardboard sides fell like ancient armor from centuries ago. I lifted off the top panel to discover a casket. In elaborate detail of the Lockheed Martin F-35 Lightning II in all its grayness streaking against a blue sky styled the lid. USAF was on the side and the lyrics to “The U.S. Air Force” in white cursive markings.

Kanowla awoke holding our crying son. She was in her twenties with brown skin, green eyes and round cheeks that spread when she bore her teeth. Kalo was light like me and looked like a little warrior.

“I was just about to—” she started. Then I looked at the casket.

“What the h-e-l-l?” She asked in a hushed tone and shielded Kalo’s ears.

“It’s a gift.”

“A gift? From whom?”

“I don’t know yet. But I can expect it’s from…let me just check.” I turned to the side of it which actually featured a sunset with a pilot saluting a superior on the flight deck with a setting sun. I then found a QR code on the bottom after turning it. I used my smartphone to capture the image. A video played. The sound of waves crashing against the beach and seagulls screeching and flapping overhead turned to my buddy. United States Air Force Brigadier General Boslow Westington sat with his sunglasses on his face and a beaming toothpaste smile.

“Hey, Jack! I did it. I lost the bet and there’s your reward for being so astute. But you still have to call me sir! I’m kidding. No I’m not!” The video ended.

“A bet. All of this over a bet. He could have sent you a gift card. Now you’ve got to stash this thing in the shed until it’s time,” Kanowla whispered.

“It’s alright, babe. He’s a man of his word. And don’t worry. That time could be later than sooner.”

“Why do you say that?” she whispered, her eyes narrowing.

“It’s nothing. Forget I said it.”

Knowla exited the garage with Kalo who was now asleep. She put him down upstairs and returned with her arms folded.

“What’s going on?”

“We had a bet on who would be given a diagnosis of cancer. Whoever lost would have to buy the other a custom made casket,” I said.

“Oh my God!”

“Shh…shh…the baby,” I said.

“It’s a tumor in my neck that’s malignant.”

She brought a hand to her mouth and whispered again. “And this is how you let me know? What is going on here?”

“It’s no worry. I’m supposed to get radiation next week,” I assured her.

“Boy, I’m so relieved,” she said in a huff, arms still folded. I took her by her shoulders. I pointed to the casket.

“I won’t be in that thing until a long time from now.”

“I sure hope not,” She wrapped her hand around my waist and brushed away a tear.

We entered the house and went into the kitchen. We sat at the table and we watched the rest of the video.

“As you can see I’m in paradise already. I’m glad I lost that bet. You’ll be out of here decades from now so that casket will be of good use far from now. I hope you like the design,” Westington gloated.