Filthy Memories

By Hank Selby

I was only six when it happened. It was the scariest day of my life… well, so far. Explosions, bullets, and fire were everywhere. The terribly repulsive scent of gasoline and burnt flesh was not a pleasant odor. Surprisingly though, neither the gunfire, nor the explosions was the thing that frightened me the most. It was the screaming; the horrifying screams of young children helplessly calling for their mothers and fathers to save them. Oh, if only their parents could have been quicker. No soap will be able to cleanse the memories I have kept from that day, seventeen years ago.

We were living in Chicago, Illinois at that terrible time. My parents had taken me into the heart of the city to do some Christmas shopping. We parked in a high-rise parking garage. Who would have thought terrorists would have struck in a parking garage? The parking garage, though, was the center of their attack on the city.

Years later we learned that the terrorists came from Venezuela, a country that hates the United States. They believe that we have been cheating them out of their country’s oil. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I’m sure that they didn’t need to kill so many of us to prove their point. The attack on Chicago was the only one they ever made. It was enough to change me for life.

My memories of that day are probably what caused me to enter the professional world of the Central Intelligence Agency. As a spy, I travel the world gathering intelligence to use against terrorists. As of today I haven’t had to kill anyone. On the other hand, I have been trained to defend my country by any means necessary.

The memory of dying children, collapsing concrete and steel, and burning flesh, is something that I will never forget. My work as a spy for my country is patriotic. Terrorism is bad. No matter what reason terrorists claim to have, it is bad. My work may never be done, but I intend to work as hard as I can to try to end it all.