Read Better to Die a Hero for Free Online Page B

gradually that the grip he had on his arm was compressing muscle clear to the bone. A few blinks cleared his dreamy vision; it was not his own hand clenching his arm, but that of another. He recognized the long dark fingers squeezing so desperately. It was Bryan's hand.
    I can’t... I can't take it... I give up. Steve turned away and the dream faded.
     
    *          *          *
     
    Daylight tickled Steve’s senses awake and the sound of chirping birds filtered through the window. Thoughts of being late for school triggered a panic—he sprang up.
    No, this is Saturday morning, Steve thought.
    He fell back into bed amused at himself. It wasn’t the first time he’d made the mistake. No problem. It was all the better when he realized it would be a day of leisure. Lying there, hands behind his head, memories of the dream surfaced. He liked dreaming about his Aunt. Seeing her face so clearly, much clearer than any daytime musing, soothed an ache in his heart. He had stopped dreaming about his mother a few years ago and he knew in a few years the dreams of his Aunt would stop. They were already becoming fewer.
    Bryan said it was the dearly departed paying their loved ones a visit. According to his friend, in heaven the dead knew the sorrow of the people who meant the most to them and entered their dreams to help ease the pain. Steve thought this to be a beautiful and comforting idea, but he didn't believe it. More likely, it was the brain's way of taking care of itself.
    The door flew open. “Wake up bone head,” Bryan said, sliding in on his socks.
    “Hey Buddy, how’d you sleep?”
    “Just fine, except for this.” Bryan held up his arm revealing five purple bruises that matched the shape of four fingers and a thumb. “See what you did last night fighting over that bottle.  It throbbed for half the night.” He picked up the cavalry sword. “You're lucky it doesn't hurt anymore, or else I'd have to cut your dick off.” He unsheathed the sword. “This thing is real all right. It weighs a ton, sharp too. I have a scenario for you. Let’s say this sword was used to kill American Indians, women and children, but was worth a lot of money, would you keep it? Would you sell it?”
    “I saw a movie were the cavalry rode up on this village, chasing down women and children, just hacking the hell out of them. Any sword used to do that would be a murder weapon.” Steve stroked his chin . “It would be immoral to gain from it. I would have no choice but to destroy it.”
    “Good answer my friend,” Bryan said, raising the weapon high. “Waaaaaaa.” This signaled the beginning of Bryan's Jerry Lewis impersonation. “Waaaaaa.” Sword held out, the nutty professor charged his opponent. The invisible opponent moved aside and the professor slid into the wall.
    The day Bryan discovered Jerry Lewis, now that was a good day. Steve ignored the mark cut into the wall and the impersonation continued. It was his job to name Bryan’s skits. Drunken samurai professor sounded good.
    The bucktooth professor bounced off a second wall, stopped and looking dumb struck, pushed his pretend glasses up on his nose. “Waaaaaaaa.” He slid across the room making clumsy swings at his invisible adversary.
    Steve drew his legs to his chest and hoped for the best. Enjoying the show immensely, he decided against cautioning his friend and the impersonation lasted several more minutes before Bryan's arms gave out.
    “Crap, this thing is heavy.” Bryan wiped sweat from his face.
    “You better be careful pal. You look like you’ve been exercising.”
    “Not likely Mr. Runner Boy.” Bryan sheathed the sword and placed it on the crate. “If you were any kind of a man you'd get your ass out of bed and go do your precious jogging.”
    “You mean actually run two days in a row. I think I might just do that.”
     
    *          *          *
     
    Steve had jogged out the front door five minutes earlier. After