But he didn’t have more time, because the hallway didn’t have an exit; not one that included him living long enough to walk through it at least. Trying to think of a solution he touched Waters’ arm and squeezed the young man’s limp bicep. “Waters!” The dryness of his throat scratched deep causing a choking sensation that made him cough through his mouth and nose while he lied to himself by talking to his unconscious friend.
“Don’t worry, Waters. We got this. We’re in deep but hang on just a little more.” His head fell back and Stephen closed his eyes. “Just gotta figure something out. Then we go. Gotta push beyond this mess… gotta push through… to whatever’s next…” Stephen’s words faded before they left his mouth. Another round penetrated the cove’s wall just past the copy machine and well into a range which exposed his body. The round eliminating any hope of an escape plan which Stephen could have even begun to consider. With alarming clarity, he realized that the shot was intended to test the waters of his resistance. Stephen became vividly aware of the close presence of those who would soon end his life.
Rolling onto his side, Stephen reached an arm over and pulled Waters’ lifeless body tightly against him, gripping both hands around the limp hand of his friend and his responsibility. Letting gravity have its way, Stephen rested his head on the ground and let the uncomfortable helmet connect with the floor while taking a deep breath of dirt and dust. He lay there motionless with his eyes closed, waiting. Waiting for something, anything. While a spark of hope lingering deep within the hall of his soul and dared to imagine that he really waited for that fun-loving, impetuous laugh and the sudden surprise of Hailey’s little body pouncing onto him the same way he used to do with his own father. He loved that despite her hindered body, she loved recklessly. Her love for him was pure and truthful.
Truthful.
The word had meaning to Stephen that he hadn’t previously given it credit for. Maybe laying on the ground, out of ammunition, covered in dust and darkness while awaiting a brutal death was a good way to bring new meaning to words. But his clarity around the word was undeniable. Also undeniable, was the fact that he had not been truthful with his own wife. Was omitting the truth the same as lying? If so, then Stephen had been a liar to the one person he swore to always be truthful to. Resolved, he swore to himself that if he was given the chance to hold Sarah again, he would be truthful with her. And in that moment of truth, he would confess to her that he had lied to her about this second deployment. He would confess that in his fear and frustration with what life at home was becoming, he had run away. He had run away from both Sarah and Hailey by turning down the local desk job which the Army had so generously offered him so that he could stay close to home and his recovering family. Turned it down and instead, he had volunteered for the deployment.
You volunteered. You chose to leave them. Nobody made you do it. You volunteered.
Tears dragged ash and dirt from his eyes as he thought about how he could be home safely by their sides each evening. But instead, he had lied to his wife and chose to deploy. He had lied to his wife and in that lie; he had put himself into the situation which would now be his death.
Through burning tear ducts he whispered, “Sarah, Hailey. I’m so sorry.”
Then it happened. The explosion was stronger than he had anticipated. Stephen grit his jaw and jammed his eyelids closed as the air was forcefully extracted from his lungs and a horrifying burn engulfed his entire body.
Mile 11
Stephen had asked for it, at some level he even wanted it. A grenade was certainly preferred over being left to the creativity of his vicious attackers. They were sure to overwhelm him at some point and it was better to end this nightmare quickly. But when the explosion hit, it concussed him and he suddenly had no idea what was happening. As he grasped for breath his entire body was thrown shoulder first against the wall of the cove. Waters came up with him and Stephen’s body broke some of the impact while also knocking out what little wind was left in him. The side of Stephen’s face smashed against the drywall. Gravity rolled him onto his back and he began to struggle for a breath. He tasted blood pooling inside his mouth and spat, but he couldn’t feel his lips and the result was a messy splattering cough. From an instinctive curiosity he pushed open a sliver of his eyelid. Realizing that his left eye was pasted shut, he stared at the ceiling. There was a roaring cloud of fire surfing across the upper tiles and he watched as it blew out the small and now shattered window above him.
He reached out his legs and searched with his feet in the hope of using the metal cabinet to turn his body over and somehow protect his face. The cabinet was gone. He tilted his head up and saw nothing but dense black smoke. Stephen coughed and began breathing in what looked like snow falling all around him. Instead of the soft refreshing bristle a snowflake brings, the air caused him to choke and he turned his head toward the wall just before everything went black.
Stephen was startled by the distant echo of gunfire. With his head pressed against the wall, he felt Waters’ body blanketing atop him. Only one of his eyes could open and it took some twitching of the lid’s muscles to pry it wide enough to see finally again. Completely dazed, he heard the muffled voices of men shouting. There was a massive ringing echoing within his head and he felt the urge to vomit. Still struggling to take in each breath, he got the signal from every appendage in his body that none of them were up for moving at the moment.
There was too much movement around him to focus. None of it made any sense and the few circuits in his brain which were working told him it was best not to try and understand anything right now. “Whatever.” he grumbled in a drunken voice and willed his eye closed to go back to sleep, still gripping his arm around Waters.
Stephen dreamed about trying to get undressed for bed. He was having a hard time getting his shirt off. He knew he was dreaming but that did nothing to diminish his frustration. Too tight! The shirt was too tight and he had to get it off. Can’t get it off the… No, his mind began to register the struggle; it wasn’t him. Someone else was trying to pull his shirt off. He saw the shadow of a man trying to pull the shirt over Stephen’s head. Then he looked down and saw his bleeding leg. It wasn’t just bleeding; there was another man holding his leg and biting it.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” Stephen started yelling and tried to shake the man off his leg. But no sound emerged from his mouth and the leg wouldn’t even move.
“Sergeant Lantz! Do you hear me?” Stephen was startled, and his heart did a double tap inside of his chest as his eye burst open from a thick layer of dust-filled muck. An inch from his face was a man recognizable to Stephen, though he couldn’t remember the name or where he had seen the man before. The man turned and called out over his shoulder. “Eyes open! Lantz is with us!” His hollering was barely audible over the loud and constant firing of automatic weapons. The man turned away from Stephen and seemed to leave. Stephen decided to close his eye, face the wall again and rest. He was tired, it had been a long day and going back to sleep seemed like the best and only idea his mind could formulate at the moment.