Halo

by R. C. Stephens

  Another SEAL calls out with a large smile, “That’s how you get em’ motherfuckers!” In the moment he loses focus, a shot is fired and blood splatters.

  “Fuck no…” I crash into him and pull him down to the ground to keep him away from any more shots. Our sniper still has his M107 in position. “Fuck! He’s bleeding out,” I call out, feeling like my insides are being torn apart. Tears well in my eyes. I call for assistance on the walkie but it’s going to be fucking hard getting a jeep in here with all the insurgents hiding in their damn holes. “I’m getting him out of here, watch my back,” I say to the sniper and I don’t know if I’m yelling or not because my ears are still ringing.

  “I got you,” he answers, holding onto his rifle while packing the ammo. I flip Rover on my shoulder. He’s been shot in the left shoulder but who knows how close the fucking bullet is to his heart. We’ve been a team since fucking boot camp. There are six of us but only three of us were sent on this particular mission. I can’t believe he lost his focus. I always told myself that I can’t lose focus, not even for one second. That one second can cost you your life.

  “Fuck, Rover. You hold on man. We’re with you,” I tell him as I make my way down three flights of stairs with an extra 200 pounds on my shoulders. He begins to mutter and I’m glad he isn’t dead. My lungs are pinching for air. I need to get him back to base. He needs help fast. The sniper follows closely behind, aiming his gun. This is our second deployment together. These men are my brothers. If I had to, I would give my fucking life for either one of them.

  As we walk down the deserted street, I know I’m in more danger now of getting shot with Rover on my back. We walk for about five minutes and then more shots are fired. I feel the impact but not the shot.

  “Motherfuckers,” the sniper shouts and begins shooting every fucking insurgent he sees. I keep walking and don’t turn my head. I try to stay focused on getting back to camp. Besides, he has the best fucking aim on our team. When the area quiets down, I hear his voice again, but it’s muffled. With the sun beating down on me, I feel like melting.

  “He’s fucking gone,” he mutters and swipes tears from his eyes.

  “What the fuck! Don’t say that,” I say angrily.

  “He has two fucking bullet holes in his back,” he says, his voice filled with sorrow. “Don’t fucking stop walking. We need to get back to base. We need more men with us. You stop now and we are all fucking dead.”

  I continue to walk, my muscles screaming. Holding onto Rover in this heat is fucking debilitating. Sweat is running down my face and I crave water, but I know I can’t stop and it’s important we get his body back to base. I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. It’s all I can do. This war is fucked up. We finally get back to base and Rover’s body is prepped to be shipped home. His wife is going to flip the fuck out. I can’t stop thinking of my own wife back home. I want to get back to her. This fucking war is far from over. I can’t leave my friends behind and lead a happy life. I’ve been sucked into this hellhole, deep.

  My eyes flip open. My body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. I sit up, holding onto my head. I feel like I’m fucking losing it. Memories of the dream are on constant replay in my head. I remember saying I have to get back to my own wife. I wonder where she is and what happened to us. It felt like I loved her deeply in the dream and I was hanging on for her. A part of me wants to grab Halo’s car keys and head over to the hospital for answers, but it’s the middle of the night. I have to know if those men existed. Is there a Rover? Am I losing it?

  I close my eyes and ease back onto the pillows. My heart is thudding loudly in my ears and I can still hear the shrill sound of gunfire.

  ***

  Through the fog of sleep I can hear knocking. Whoever it is can wait because sleep feels good.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  I want to holler out and swear, but then I get my wits about me and realize where I am. Shit! I’m in Halo’s garage. That must be Halo knocking on the door. I quickly get out of bed. I’m only wearing boxers so I slide on the jeans I left on the floor last night. I must have whipped off the shirt and hoodie I put on after I woke up from that nightmare.

  “Hey,” I say, opening the door.

  Halo tilts her head to the side. “Are you okay?”

  I feel like shit, so I am assuming I look like shit. “Yeah, I guess…” My bandages are itching like hell and I want to rip them off and scratch. I can’t wait to get them off later.

  “Oh! It’s noon and Brandon has his pediatrician appointment today at one. You mentioned you would take us and….” She trails off, biting her lip. Her forehead is creased. “Are you sure you’re okay? Because I can just ask Jenny to pick us up. I mean, she offered anyway.” She looks a little flustered. I don’t want her thinking I’m irresponsible.

  “No. I’m…uh, okay. I just—I don’t know.”

  “What happened? Did you remember something?” She takes a step inside the apartment. I move away from the door, locate my shirt on the end of the bed and put it on.

  “I’m not sure. I had a dream and it felt real. The soldier in my dream had a name. They were people I cared about. A SEAL was killed…. my friend…his wife…” Anxiety builds in my chest.

  “You really don’t have to take us. It’s obvious you’re having a bad day…”

  She is so understanding. I assume it’s from years of being married to a SEAL.

  I place my hand on her arm gently to stop her from turning away. She looks up at me with her beautiful round brown eyes. Her lashes are long and full. She’s so pretty. “I want to take you two. Can you give me ten minutes to shower and get ready and I’ll knock?”

  She smiles sadly at me. I don’t like that she feels sorry for me. “Okay sure, thanks. I’ll hit the Keurig and make you some coffee.”

  “Thanks. Coffee is perfect.” I grin.

  She leaves and I exhale a long breath. When I go to the VA later to take care of the bandages, I’m going to try to get in to see my therapist. I need help processing this dream.

  I take a quick shower, throw on some clothes and find the heavy winter coat I bought. I knock and she meets me at the door with a travel mug of coffee. I thank her and watch her carefully, checking for signs of awkwardness after that kiss I gave her last night. I know it was just a brief peck on the cheek. But the reality is I wanted more. I don’t know where her head is at, especially now that I know how her husband left her.

  “We’re ready to go,” she says and I notice she’s already in her coat. Brandon is in his infant carrier on the floor beside her.

  “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” I say. I try on a smile, but it isn’t happening for me. I feel heavy today, like I’m carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.

  “No worries. We still have lots of time,” she says, leaning down to pick up the carrier. She’s already got a diaper bag slung over her shoulder. I’m no genius when it comes to baby things or giving birth, but that carrier with the weight of the baby inside must be heavy for her.

  “Why don’t you take the coffee and I’ll get him?” I suggest.

  She nods and takes the mug. I pick up the carrier. As I lean close, my arm brushes hers and I can’t help notice how her breathing falters slightly. I don’t know if this is wishful thinking, but I’m happy to see some reaction out of her where I’m concerned.

  The little guy looks up to me with his dark blue eyes. “Hey, Brandon. How are you today, buddy?” I smile down at him. The smile comes naturally and I no longer feel like I’m trying to hide my somber mood. I lean in to put the little guy in the back seat of the truck and Halo hands me the keys.

  We climb into the front seat and, as the truck starts up with a rattle, I ask, “Is this truck safe enough? It seems like there are a few mechanical problems.”

  “The doctor isn’t too far, but, yeah, I’m pretty sure it needs a mechanic. I meant to take care of a bunch of things before I gave birth, but little Brandon here too
k me by surprise.” She’s shivering and so I turn up the heat. “At least there’s heat.” She smiles as her lips chatter.

  “I can take a look at the engine when we get back,” I offer.

  “Do you know about cars, Ryder?” she asks turning her head toward me.

  As usual, I don’t know how to answer. I’m not sure if my offer came from wanting to do something good for her, or because I actually know something about engine repair.

  “I think I can take a look. It can’t do any harm.” I shrug. Good enough answer, I reassure myself.

  “Thanks,” she says, and looks back to check on Brandon. She gives me the directions to the doctor’s office and we arrive ten minutes later. We get out of the truck and I help her with the infant carrier and the diaper bag.

  When we get inside, we pause in the clinic’s entryway. “Is it okay if I borrow the truck later? I’m getting the bandages off and I also want to see if I can get in to see my therapist.”

  “Uh yeah, sure, what’s going on? Is it the dream you had?” Her warm brown eyes are kind and caring and my heart swells.

  “Yeah, it’s the dream. There were people in it I cared about. Someone died. I need to know if it was something I imagined or if my memory is coming back.”

  She gives my back a gentle rub. I like the soothing contact, but it also makes me feel like she sees me as incompetent and I don’t like that at all. I’m guessing my former self liked to take charge. She glances at the door leading to the pediatrician’s office. “Thanks so much for helping us out, Ryder. My stomach is still sore and I really would’ve had trouble with that car seat on my own.”

  “It’s really no problem,” I answer. I take a step toward the door, thinking I’ll head out to the truck and give them privacy for the appointment.

  “Why don’t you wait for us here inside?” she suggests, tipping her head toward the office.

  I nod and follow her into the clinic’s waiting room. It’s much more lively and comfortable than the waiting rooms I’m used to and when she’s called back to see the doctor with Brandon, I settle back in the seat and try to relax. I’m nervous about what my own doctor will be able to help me with later. And I’m glad for the distraction that Halo and Brandon provide.

  The visit doesn't take very long and Halo is pleased with the doctor’s report on Brandon. We're all quiet on the way home. I make sure they’re both settled in the house and ask, “So is it okay if I head over?”

  “Yeah, go. It’ll be good for you to talk with your doctors if possible.”

  “Thanks. See you two soon.” I smile at her and walk out the door. Something about her makes me feel lighter.

  At the hospital I’m told my regular therapist is unavailable but that if it’s an emergency they can get me in to see someone else. Fine with me. I can’t stop thinking of my dream. How it felt to be over there.

  I’m nervous as hell when they call my name and guide me back to a therapist’s office. He introduces himself—his name is Bob Daniels, he’s a therapist and he served in Viet Nam—and, after I’m seated in a comfortable chair, he takes a few minutes to review my information on his computer.

  “Okay. What brings you in today?” he asks, looking at me over his glasses.

  I explain my dream then ask, “I need to know, does that man exist or did he die?” My heart is beating fast and my palms begin to sweat. I wipe them on my jeans, feeling like I can’t get the answer fast enough.

  Bob nods and taps his chin. “Interesting. Let’s see what I can find.” He taps at the computer some more, frowning as he reads the screen.

  “Please,” I say. “I just want to know if Rover existed at all or if my mind is playing tricks on me. My dream was so intense.”

  “I can tell you that you did serve with Rover. He was killed in combat. So that might indeed indicate your dream contained elements of reality. And it might also indicate that some of your memories are coming back.” His eyes are kind and his voice is concerned. “But you need to continue with your therapy. It’s important not to push yourself. Take things slow.”

  My stomach churns. The dream was real. The pain I felt over his death was real. I feel like I’m going to be sick. “I don’t know the name of the other man who was with us. He was a sniper.”

  “You’re awfully anxious right now. Try to relax.” Bob removes his glasses and eyes me warily. “I didn’t suffer from amnesia after I was injured in Nam, but I had bad dreams. Woke me up at night. Cold sweats, unable to sleep.”

  I can completely relate. “Yes,” I murmur. “It’s so hard.”

  “I know, son. It’s hard. This road you’re on is a hard road. Give yourself time to heal. Be patient,” he says and it seems like he really understands.

  When I don’t respond he asks, “What are you feeling?”

  “What am I feeling?” I repeat. “I’m feeling like I can’t breathe. I’m feeling like I just lost my best friend.” The low timbre of my voice rises and I want to scream and shout at the top of my lungs. “Why can’t I remember anything else?” I look at Bob helplessly.

  “I don’t know, son. It’s likely that it’s your body’s defense mechanism. This is your mind’s way of protecting you from the pain you experienced. The amnesia seems to be a direct result of your trauma. I think you’ll slowly begin to remember things.” He stands and I realize that, with his frizzy hair and intelligent eyes, he looks a little like Albert Einstein. “Look I know you’ve been through a lot. I know what it’s like to lose your close friends to war, but running away from those memories and running away from yourself won’t solve the problem. You need to face the truth, you need to find yourself and you need to make yourself a life. It’s not an easy road but it can be done,” he says, patting me on the shoulder. “I’ve lost and I’ve loved and I’m still here helping shitheads like you.” He grins. “You’ll be meeting Dr. Wembley for regular appointments. I’m here for those in between moments when you panic and need a place to run to.” He gives me another pat on the shoulder.

  “Well, thanks then, Bob.” I extend my hand to shake his. He shakes my hand in return. I’m still trying to register my panic and his words.

  “You take care,” he says, turning back to his desk. He takes a seat and begins to write notes.

  “Bye then,” I call out as I walk through the door.

  I need to find a life. I need to make myself a life. I need to remember my own life. I repeat the doc’s words in my head not sure what happens next. Be patient, I repeat as I head on over to the wound clinic. I might not be able to make huge progress with mental therapy but at least today I know I’ll do one thing productive—see the end result of the skin grafts. Who knew? It could be that seeing my face today will jog more memories.

  When I arrive at the clinic, they’re able to see me right away. As I sit on a table in an exam room, a nurse slowly unwraps the bandages. I breathe deeply as air hits my skin. It feels good. She gently washes my face with a cloth and gives me instructions for care. Then she passes me a mirror. I stare at my reflection for a long while. My skin isn’t completely smooth and there are a couple jagged scars, but I think maybe it’s a handsome face staring back at me.

  “You should be pleased with the results,” the nurse says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  “Ah, yeah. Thanks.”

  I zone out on the way back to Rogers Park. When I get inside the garage apartment, I take off my jacket and unload. Then I take a few deep breaths. I’m not sure why it’s important for me to show Halo my face but it is important. We get along well and I like her and I sense she may like me too, but it’s important for her to know what I actually look like.

  I knock on her door and she answers. Her jaw drops and she places her palms on her cheeks. “Wow.” She looks almost confused, maybe disappointed, but then the emotion passes and she smiles.

  “Say something else,” I say, feeling very self-conscious. “I need more than ‘wow’. I’m not sure what ‘wow’ really means.”

  “You l
ook great. I mean…I didn’t fully see your face before, but, um, I think they did a great job.” She lifts her hand and caresses my cheek. “The skin is smooth.”

  I’ve grown a bit of a beard. I’m not sure I like it but I can’t shave for a few more days just in case I cut myself. I love that she’s touching me. It feels so damn good. I know she’s missing her husband and I have so many questions left unanswered in my own life, but a part of me wants to live in the moment. A part of me wants to feel good now. Is it so much to ask? I just spent four months of hell in a hospital. Can’t I enjoy life? Enjoy Halo just a little bit before reality sinks in. Before I need to leave, maybe go find my ex-wife…

  “Thank you, I think.”

  “Really, you look great. You’re a handsome man.” She smiles and her cheeks flush.

  Bingo! That’s what I needed to hear. I relax now. She finds me handsome. Now the real work begins is my first thought, but I want to punch myself out for thinking it. Seeing her pine over her ex-husband should be enough to deter me away from her but it isn’t. I more than like her. I’m more than attracted to her. Maybe the old me would have done the respectable thing and walked away. The me of today can’t. I may not remember the explosion, but my body has sure felt the impact. Life is short and I want to at least enjoy some of it. Even if it means taking something that isn’t mine.

  Chapter Sixteen

  February 20, 2008

  Halo

  Time is flying by quickly. It’s been three weeks since Brandon and I came home from the hospital. I’m definitely feeling more like myself. I can move around easier and my cute son has filled out and grown quite a bit. Ryder has been renovating the house these last couple weeks.

  He’s become a good friend. He shows up in the morning, works on the house and I make him lunch. Usually PB&J sandwiches because they’re convenient and I like them too. When he’s done working on the house in the early evening, we all get cleaned up, have dinner and meet on the couch to watch a movie.