Warrior: A Salvation Society Novel

by A. M. Brooks

  “Eww.” I scrunch my nose just thinking about it.

  “Hey, who’s that?” He nods his head to someone behind me. I turn around just as a huge orange moving truck pulls up to the curb, with a van full of people behind it. They must be excited because their voices can be heard from outside the vehicle.

  “No idea,” I answer my friend, shrugging. A flash of heat sears the back of my neck, and my hand instantly rises to soothe it. My head turns back toward the van where a man, woman, and three kids, two girls and a boy, are now standing and looking at the house. I eye each of them and determine they must be the new family my mom said would be moving in this weekend. One of the girls and the boy look younger than I am. The boy has a blanket clutched in his fist even. The other girl, though, looks like she could be my age. I watch her for longer than I mean to. She’s dressed in a pair of jean overalls and a red tank top. Her long brown hair falls to the middle of her back and is in one of those fancy braids my mom is always trying to do with her hair. A French braid, I think she calls it.

  “Must be new,” I hear Zane mutter next to me, bringing my attention back to him and off the new family.

  “Guess so,” I reply and nod for him to help me bring the plywood into our shed, so I don’t get in trouble for leaving it in the driveway again. Last time Dad threatened to whip my butt, and at ten years old, I do not want to be getting a spanking anymore.

  “Are you guys still heading to Motley tomorrow?” Zane asks. I nod in response, while leaning my bike against the outside of the shed.

  “Yeah, Mom is really excited to see the baby again.” I lift my shoulders, not really understanding her adoration for Alex’s son. He’s two weeks old now and all he did the last time I saw him was cry, poop, and sleep. He’s cute with a full head of hair like his mom’s but that’s about it.

  When Alex left for boot camp, his girlfriend, Caitlyn, cried every day, and became a permanent fixture at our home for the first thirteen weeks he was gone. When he got back, he found out he would be stationed at Camp Pendleton in California. Caitlyn cried again and they left the house to talk. For almost three hours, my parents were in and out of the house, acting nervous and giving each other weird looks. Alex and Caitlyn came back and announced they were engaged and were going to wait to have the wedding until after Alex was home. Caitlyn was in college and wanted to finish school as well. My parents seemed relieved the rest of the night and I was told that Caitlyn was going to be my sister.

  Two years later, Alex finally came home for the first time between his deployments. He’d been to Afghanistan and was going to be heading to Iraq. He and Caitlyn had a huge fight while he was home. Everyone kept saying Alex was different, but I didn’t see it. He wouldn’t listen to his music very loud anymore, said his ears were sensitive, but that was it. He spent more time with me than anyone else, so I wasn’t complaining. We played catch most nights and he taught me how to build the jumps for my bike so that I could get the most air. It was harder when he left after that time. I miss Alex. I miss hanging out with him and listening to him and the guys talk. Even though I never know what they’re talking about. Since they all enlisted, I haven’t seen them around either. Jesse stopped by one year at Christmas to drop off gifts but that was it.

  Even though Alex and Caitlyn had been fighting, they still were together and going forward with planning their wedding. Almost a year ago, Caitlyn came to our home with a gift for my parents. She and Alex surprised them with t-shirts that announced they were going to be grandparents. My mom was happy and cried non-stop while hugging Caitlyn. My dad just patted her shoulder. Now I have a nephew named after my brother. I call him AJ for short, so it’s easier not to get mixed up. Caitlyn and AJ live in a small town called Motley, not too far from where we are. She moved in with her parents, so they could help care for AJ while she finishes school.

  “Is it weird being an uncle when you’re ten?” Zane asks, smirking. “My uncles are all old. I think my mom said Uncle Dan was thirty.”

  My shoulders lift again. “I don’t know. As long as I can teach him to play football someday, it’s fine.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Zane agrees with me. We walk back out to my driveway before he hops on his bike and peddles off down the road.

  I take a few deep breaths. It’s fall and the leaves are scattering all over the ground. I love this time of year, though. Football season is always my favorite. Dad and I watch Sunday Night Football every weekend. Since Alex left, it’s become our tradition.

  I peek at our new neighbors again. This time, the girl is riding her bike in circles in her driveway, a huge smile plastered on her face. The younger girl is trailing behind her and shrieking with laughter. I fight a smile that is threatening to tug at my lips, watching them. I notice her bike is turquois and glittery with band stickers covering the frame.

  My feet start to move toward the house. I have a crazy idea to say hi and introduce myself. We live in a small town and I’m eventually going to see her at school anyway. My body stops abruptly when a black town car pulls up in front of the house. The windows are tinted black and I can’t see who’s inside. My feet shuffle back instinctively. The collar on my faded baseball t-shirt feels too tight.

  Two guys dressed in their Marine blues step out and walk around the front of the car. I instantly recognize Jesse, Alex’s best friend. The minute our gazes meet, I see the tears swimming in his eyes. He looks to the other guy, nodding, before getting down on one knee in front of me, so we’re eye level.

  “Hey, Colt,” he says, his voice scratchy.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, peering around his shoulder looking back to the car. “Is Alex with you?”

  “I’m so sorry, buddy,” he answers, his head lowering, while his whole body visibly shakes. I want to run into the house, but instead, I reach out my hand and rest it on his shoulder, right as a sob escapes his mouth.

  “Jess,” I say his name, my own eyes threatening tears just watching him breakdown in front of me.

  “No!” I hear my mom yell behind me. My head whips around in time to see her collapse against my dad’s chest. She’s crying hysterically, clutching her worn dishrag in her fingers. My dad holds her, his head bowed, while the other Marine talks to them in low voices.

  “What’s wrong?” My voice catches in my throat. It burns. A pain in my chest starts, as if an invisible hand has reached through my skin to grip my heart and squeezes.

  “Colt,” Jess’s hands rise up to hold my shoulders. Tears flow down his cheeks and he makes no move to hide them. “Alex was on a mission to help some of our friends. They were ambushed. Alex didn’t make it. He’s gone.”

  “No.” I shake my head. My eyes sting and my nose turns warm. “He’s a good soldier, he wouldn’t die.”

  “I’m sorry, buddy,” Jesse keeps saying even while I shake my head. “He was the best soldier, he’s a hero.”

  Hero. Alex is my hero. He can’t leave me. He has a son. What about my mom? What about my dad? How are we supposed to move past this? All he wanted was to save people who couldn’t save themselves. He was so sure every time he left that he knew what he was doing. He had a cause he believed in. He did a job not many would volunteer to take, knowing he could pay the ultimate price. My ten-year-old mind can’t put into words the anger and aggression that rises inside my body. Jesse understands it, though. He tugs me to him, holding on with both arms, while I shake and sob into his shoulder. My tears bleed into the blue material of his jacket and over the patches that cover his chest. He never stops holding me. He never stops telling me that my brother was a hero, a good man, and that he fought until his last breath to save innocent lives. That he loved me. That I was his best friend, too.

  My eyes flick up briefly, over Jesse’s shoulder, and clash with the bluest pair of eyes I’ve ever seen. Her bottom lip trembles while she watches the scene in front of her. In that moment, tears slide down her cheeks as if she’s silently mourning with me. I don’t know what it is about her. I should be
mad. She’s a stranger and watching one of the most painful experiences of my life. Something about the way her eyes hold mine, though, makes that painful grip on my heart ease a little.

  A month passes before we are able to have Alex’s funeral. His body was returned stateside and brought home to Tennessee. Another week passed while everyone was notified when his service would be. ‘Honoring Those Who Served’ is the running theme around our house and town today. Mom bought me an all-black suit to wear; it itches my neck like crazy. Dad tells me not to argue with her today, so I keep out of the house and out of her way. A car picks us up to drive us to the church where the closed casket sits at the front of the pews. An American flag is draped over it and a few of Alex’s friends stand off to the side, all dressed in their blues.

  I pick Jesse out first. The minute he notices me, I glance away, unsure if I’ll ever be able to face him again. I cried into his shoulder like a baby instead of the ten-year-old I am. I’m embarrassed. Much to my relief, he nods at our family as we make our way to the front where the reserved seats are. A low murmur of voices chatter in the crowd. Occasionally a small sob breaks out. A baby whimpering causes my head to turn. Caitlyn is holding AJ in his carrier and sits next to my mom. I notice the way my mom’s body goes stiff and my brow rises. It’s not like her to not immediately reach for AJ anytime he’s in her proximity. I turn to my dad who has his eyes locked on the casket. He’s sitting stiff, his expression the same as the past month. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t frown or laugh or cry. The minute he heard about Alex, it’s as if a mask slipped into place, and all emotion left his body.

  I try to keep focused on the service. Jesse speaks, Caitlyn speaks, and a man I never met before addresses us all about the type of soldier Alex was. Silent tears stream down my mom’s face the entire time. I fight to keep my own tears from spilling over. They play “Knockin on Heaven’s Door,” and I struggle to picture my brother smiling and laughing with me. I don’t want to think about him closed up in that box. My eyes dart around the room, taking in the ladies patting their eyes with Kleenex and handkerchiefs, and the men with their heads bowed. Almost everyone in town who ever knew Alex and my family is here today. All of our distant relatives, people I haven’t met before, came as well. It’s the most packed I’ve ever seen this church. Caitlyn asked them to play “Leaving On A Jet Plane,” her and Alex’s song since he left for his first deployment, and she sobs uncontrollably. My dad moves for the first time to sit between her and my mom, and Caitlyn collapses into his side. How AJ sleeps through all of this, I have no idea. But I’m relieved that he’ll never remember this.

  After the service, we exit the church and line up at the top of the stairs to shake hands with people as they pass. Sorry for your loss. He was a great kid. Let us know if you need anything. I’ll bring a pie by later. Everyone has something to say in hopes that they’re making my parents feel better. After the last pew is emptied, Alex is carried out the doors and placed into a black hearse. We get in the next car and are driven to Knoxville National Cemetery. Our car never goes over 20mph as we are led through the streets of town by our local police officers. At the highway, they pull off and we pass under a bridge where the fire department has a flag hung as well. I glance out the back window and see a parade of vehicles following ours. My chest tightens from all the emotions I feel but can’t name.

  Seven shots crack the air through the silence. My heart leaps in my chest with each shot. Taps is played by a lone bugler after. As tears continue to slide down my cheeks, they start to feel chapped from the cold air. Everything around us is quiet. The man I didn’t know, who spoke about Alex at the church, stands in front of my mom and hands her a folded flag. He says a few words, but I can’t hear them. Her shoulders shake with every sob she tries to hold in. Then everyone bows their head in prayer for my brother’s soul.

  I barely remember leaving the cemetery. A black sludge fills my chest, shutting down any flicker of happiness inside me. He’s really gone. My best friend, the guy I hoped to be like someday isn’t coming home again. My breath stutters when I try to inhale and my fists clench. I want to hit something. Anger courses through my veins. It’s not fair. I pull away from the arm that’s slung over my shoulder and run to the car. I can’t hold onto the sob in my throat. I want to be alone and away from the hole in the ground where my brother’s casket is being lowered.

  We beat the traffic home, and my mom darts inside to pull out the trays of food that a catering service dropped off earlier. My dad walks slower to the house. As if he can feel my resistance to enter our home, he turns over his shoulder to look back at me.

  “Colt?” he says my name as a question, and I read everything he’s trying to ask. Am I okay?

  “Fine, Dad,” I mumble, kicking a rock with my shoe.

  “Okay,” he mumbles, his hand rubbing over his jaw. He leaves me standing in the middle of our driveway and heads inside the house.

  Chills reach my skin through the material of my suit and I shiver. The sun is already sitting lower in the sky, meaning it will be dark soon. A yellow ribbon wrapped around the tree in our yard blows in the slight breeze. I wrap my arms across my chest and look at the house. I don’t want to go in. It’s not going to be the same. Death and heartbreak are now present. A grief so suffocating that even as a kid, I can feel my throat choking on it.

  “Hey,” I hear a small voice behind me and I turn to look. My eyes widen when they land on hers. I haven’t seen much of her in the past few weeks with everything going on. I found out our first day back that she doesn’t go to my school. I can see now she’s wearing a light blue sweater with the private school’s crest on it.

  “Hi,” I tell her, nodding my head.

  “I’m Lyric,” she says, holding her hand out for me to take. I slide mine into hers, thinking she has to be the most well-mannered ten-year-old I know.

  “Colt,” I say my name, clearing my throat the best I can.

  “It’s sad about your brother.” She looks past me to the yellow ribbon on the tree. “I bet he was a great guy.”

  “He was,” I confirm, my words strong. I like that she isn’t telling me how sorry she is for us.

  She holds my gaze with hers, and I feel heat creep over my cheeks. “So,” I say, breaking her gaze to look away, “you go to the private school? I haven’t seen you in the hallways of mine.”

  Her nose scrunches slightly. “Yup,” she answers, drawing the word out slowly, “I hate it, but my parents say I need to finish middle school there. My mom is a new teacher there, too. My dad teaches at the public high school, though.”

  I nod my head at what she’s saying. I have no idea what to say to her. I’ve never been tongue-tied around anyone, let alone a girl. I usually don’t hang out with girls unless we’re forced to for gym class. Lyric seems cool, though, so I stay where I am.

  “Maybe we can hang out sometime. I saw you jumping bikes. I like to build them for my bike too,” she says, taking me completely off guard. I shift my feet, not sure how Zane would react if Lyric comes rolling up to jump bikes with us tomorrow. I end up nodding my head yes anyway and her smile gives me butterflies. Zane will just have to get over it, I guess.

  “Well, I better head home,” Lyric tells me, her head tilting back toward her house.

  “Yeah,” I agree. “Thanks for coming over.” She smiles again and walks over to her yard. I turn toward my house, noticing people have started to arrive for the meal. I take a mouthful of cold air in my lungs and steel myself before heading inside.

  “Hey Colt!” Lyric calls suddenly, and I turn back to look at her.

  “Yeah?”

  “You know, the Lakota have a saying that a warrior isn’t someone who fights. A warrior is someone who sacrifices himself for the good of others. I didn’t know your brother, but I heard he died protecting innocent people. He was a warrior and a good person. Don’t forget that,” she tells me, before spinning back around and disappearing from my view.

  My mind spins
over her words, and I conjure up everything good I can remember about Alex. It’s not likely I’ll ever forget him, but it does make me happy to know everyone else remembers him as not just a soldier who died in battle. He was also a brother, a son, a father, and a fiancé. He was a baseball champion and ate chips on his sandwiches, liked pickles in peanut butter, would only drink the blue Gatorades, and he excelled in English class while he struggled through science. He laughed at everything and he liked my dad’s old rock records. He always looked out for me. I can’t help but think that maybe Lyric being here today is just another way Alex is still watching over me.

  Chapter Two

  Lyric

  Age 16…

  “Lyric Taylor!” My dad’s voice calls from his usual chair in the living room. I put my eyeshadow down, eyeing my mom warily, waiting for the argument I knew was coming. His feet stomp up the stairs until he’s standing in my doorway, his gaze fleeting from Momma to me.

  “Hey Daddy.” I smile, giving him as innocent of an expression as I can muster.

  “Why is Colt Street at my front door saying he’s here to pick you up for a date?”

  “Sam.” My momma’s voice calmly breaks through the tension. We’ve been preparing him for this all week, since Colt first asked me out on Sunday.

  “Don’t Sam, me, Haley,” he huffs, his arms crossing over his chest, “you girls are the ones who plotted this even when I said she isn’t ready. She just turned sixteen a month ago. I don’t think that means she’s just ready to start dating.”

  “And when will she be ready, Sam? When she’s thirty?” My momma’s eyebrow quirks, and I notice a smile tugging at her lips.

  “Preferably when she’s not living under my roof and I don’t have to know about it,” he answers, his gaze sliding to me. I hunch my shoulders and try to hold my own smile in. I love my dad to death, but ever since I’ve hit puberty, it’s as if I have a whole new set of rules I never knew existed. He’s definitely stricter with me than Kyler, my fourteen-year-old brother. I feel horrible for Posey when she starts dating. Good thing she’s only ten!