by John O'Brien
“Anything in there you can’t possibly do without for a little while?” I ask pointing at the luggage.
“I suppose not,” he answers.
“Okay, cause I’m not sure where we’ll put them unless we want to duct tape them to the sides. We’ll have a team in the area in an hour or so and I’ll have them swing by and get them,” I say.
“Sounds good,” he replies.
The flight back is about the same as before. The Humvees of the teams heading north for the meet up are driving down the entrance road and I radio them to go pick up a set of bags on the McChord ramp. Craig exits as I begin to shut down. Lynn races over and another collision takes place. Lynn looks over as the rotors come to a stop with the most thankful look I think I’ve ever seen on her. She really does carry that expression a lot when we’re together but not like this. Yeah, I might be getting some tonight. She is there as I step out and throws her arms around me.
“Thank you so much!!!” She whispers in my ear as we hug.
“I found them wandering around. I think they’re strays. Can we keep them?”
“Jack Walker!”
“Sorry. I’m really glad they made it,” I say into her ear.
“You have no idea how you’ve made my day,” she says with tears still streaming down.
She then kisses me full on the lips and heads over to where Craig and her mom are standing. Yep, I’m definitely getting some, I think as I watch them walk inside. Lynn calls for Gonzalez to take over her class and instructs her to take them to the shooting range. I’m not sure if the dizzy feeling I have is from the joy of seeing Lynn so happy or from the total body ache I still feel. I practice my sitting maneuver again on the curb lining the parking lot. The headache feels like a dehydration headache or a lack of caffeine but I know it’s not that as I’ve had enough of both water and coffee.
I sit in warm sunlight. It’s a nice day and the breeze blowing across my body feels good. I feel a warm flush in my cheeks and seriously wonder if I don’t have a fever. It’s just a flu bug, I think as I rise to head inside to catch up on Watkins’ progress and hear if the teams find anyone. Gonzalez walks over. I think she should’ve been with the class and look over to see McCafferty standing with the group at the range.
“You should really come see this, sir,” Gonzalez says reaching me.
“What?” I ask feeling very tired and drained.
“You’ll have to see it for yourself,” she says.
With a heavy sigh, I follow her to the range. Robert, Bri, and several others are lying prone in their individual stations shooting at targets downrange. She leads me to Bri lying next to Robert. Handing me a pair of binoculars, she points to the target Bri is taking individual shots at. I bring the binoculars up and focus on the target. This seems to enhance the brilliance of the day and it takes me a second to adjust.
I see a large hole in the middle ring of Bri’s target. She’s placing every shot dead center at the 500 meter target. I hear the muted pop as she squeezes off another round. The target doesn’t move as the round passes through the already formed hole. Bloody impressive. I doubt I could shoot that well. I turn the binoculars to Robert’s target and find much the same result.
“Nice job, you two,” I say handing the binoculars back to Gonzalez.
“Thanks, Dad,” Bri says looking up from her prone position.
She still has a splint on her arm but seems to be able to fire well with it. Okay, that’s an understatement. Robert looks up with a grin. Yeah, firing a gun is fun and they are both enjoying their time on the range. I know I always enjoyed it. A warm flush spreads through my body and the dizziness comes on strongly again. It’s as if everything has lost clarity. I suddenly see dirt filling my vision but without any confusion accompanying it; it just is. I don’t even feel the impact with the ground as everything goes black.
* * *
Bri is out on the firing range again. She smells the dirt beneath her as she lies on the hard packed ground sighting through her scope. The targets are small in the distance but jump closer as she flips the lever on the scope to the 4x setting. She turns the dot intensity knob to a setting where she can see the dot and target without either overshadowing the other. Robert is lying next to her doing much the same. Gonzalez shouts telling everyone to load up and begin firing. She takes the mag and inserts it. Her arm still aches slightly with the maneuver and she pulls the charging handle chambering a round.
Gonzalez and McCafferty have taken them out for their training again today. Her dad is still lies unconscious on his cot and Lynn hasn’t left his side since yesterday. He had come out to see their shooting and fell to the ground shortly after praising them. One moment she is looking up at her dad smiling down at her with a pair of binoculars in his hand and the next he crumples to the ground. That image is stuck in her mind. Her dad standing with his M-4 shouldered, the suppressed barrel sticking up behind his shoulder, the binoculars in one hand, his ammo-laden vest over black fatigues, his tired eyes looking down and the smile on his face. And then watching as his eyes roll back and he falls limply to the ground with a thud.
She remembers the panic she felt watching his ungraceful slide to the ground. Gonzalez had shouted for McCafferty to go get Lynn as she knelt beside her dad. Soon Bri and Robert were kneeling beside him as well. His face looked red and his breathing came in gasps. Gonzalez checked his pulse and Lynn showed up. They retrieved a cot and carried him inside. They all sat with him for most of the night and Bri feels the tiredness of staying up so late. He didn’t wake up or move the whole night.
Those memories flash through her mind as she sights downrange and squeezes off the first round. She feels the small kick against her shoulder as her M-4 talks to her. She feels it become just another part of her as it responds to her wishes. The weapon against her shoulder is just another extension of herself. She feels a comfort with it in her hands. With each pull of the trigger, she feels an anger build within. She is like her dad in that manner; that fear will turn to anger. She has heard him mention that before but never really realized what he meant until now. It was one of those things she’d just shrugged off thinking it was just her dad talking.
She thinks of Nic and the anger builds. She is incredibly sad that Nic isn’t here and misses her so much. Tears well in her eyes blurring the target in her scope. She blinks them away but the feeling remains. She is oblivious to all around her except her thoughts and the target. The M-4 locks as she runs through her ammo. She inserts another mag lying beside her, flips the release and continues firing. Each round that exits increases the feeling inside; feelings of both sorrow and anger.
She centers the dot on the target again after recovering from the barrel raising a small amount. The sadness of remembering Nic folds into anger as she realizes that she won’t ever see Nic again. She has known that of course but locked it down for too long. The feelings she stowed away now surface. She is angry and fearful for her dad lying sick on his cot. She thinks it has something to do with the scratch he received on his neck some time ago that hasn’t completely healed. She knows several soldiers died from such scratches, well, really bites, they had received. Nic is gone and her dad is sick and who knows if he’ll recover. Both are a result of confrontations with night runners and her anger is directed towards them.
She resolves to see every night runner dead. They took her sister away and now possibly her dad and she’ll see every single one of them dead. The target in the distance becomes another night runner and her eyes narrow as she puts her dot square on it. She replaces another mag and continues firing. She feels an inner toughness build. The pain in her arm vanishes. There is only the night runner (target) in front of her, the red dot, and the trigger. A voice intrudes on the bubble she has created. “Cease fire, I said,” she hears Gonzalez shout.
Bri removes her finger from the trigger and looks up to see Gonzalez standing over her. Bri had become so focused on her feelings and the target — yes, they are only targets now �
� that she lost everything else. Even Robert is looking over at her from his position with a quizzical look. She feels the burning in her eyes from the tears and feels slightly ashamed of having them. She wipes her eyes and Gonzalez kneels down beside her.
* * *
Gonzalez calls for a cease fire but one gun still rings out with single shots one right after the other. She looks over to see Bri still sending rounds across the firing range.
“Cease fire, I said,” Gonzalez shouts standing over Bri.
Bri looks up and Gonzalez sees her red eyes with streaks of dirt trailing down her cheeks. Behind those red eyes though, she sees an inner toughness that she always knew Bri had inside but is now shining clearly through. She knows that look and what is running through Bri’s mind. She remembers a time when that came over her and what it could lead to. She’s seen it happen enough times to others; they can become so hardened they begin to shut out other forms of humanity. Any other feelings are overshadowed by that hardness that they become close to non-existent. Looking into Bri’s eyes, she remembers when that hardness came upon her.
She always had a certain strength growing up in the streets of the small town of Clovis, New Mexico. But that was made into something else during her tour in the sandbox. Her squad had been patrolling through the streets of Tikrit, as they had been for some time, when they were ambushed. Not wanting to relive the entire experience again, Gonzalez just focuses on the loss of her friends and the feeling of that steel settle within her. Yes, she knows the look in Bri’s eye. She had a Sergeant that took her aside and told her the same thing she is about to tell Bri. It made the difference for her and she has so far been able to keep the toughness and humanity in balance.
She kneels next to Bri. “Look,” she starts off quietly so only Bri can hear her, “believe it or not, I know what’s going through your mind. You want to kill everything and everyone that took away those you care about. I understand that. But don’t let it overwhelm your other senses. Hold onto the toughness but don’t let it dominate you. You don’t have to act like a guy or carry bravado to be tough. You don’t have to carry only that anger inside or be angry all of the time to be tough. Constant anger will eat away your soul. Be tough yes, but not to the extent of everything else. Keep your feminine side. Hold it close and wrap yourself in it but keep that inner steel too. Let them complement each other rather than choose one or the other.”
Gonzalez sees her words settle into Bri. With a nod, she rises. “Okay everyone. Mags and chambers clear. Let’s get these weapons cleaned and then we’re going for a nice jog around the compound.”
* * *
The shame Bri felt because of her tears vanishes with Gonzalez’ words. She feels the essence of what Gonzalez said sink in. The anger retreats to an extent. The fear and worry for her dad remains as does the sadness she feels for Nic but there is a settling within her that she feels to her core. That the night runners will die doesn’t leave but the deep-set anger is replaced by an inner calm. The anger doesn’t fade altogether and she can feel the fiery furnace just below but it blends. That’s what it feels like. Tempered steel comes to her mind. That’s what she’ll be. But she remembers the part about keeping her soft side. She feels a deep connection with Gonzalez and relishes Gonzalez’ ability to be tough yet still jokes around. Yes, tempered steel.
She rises and picks up her empty mags after checking that her chamber is clear. “Are you okay, Bri?” Robert asks rising with her.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just worried for dad,” Bri answers.
“What did Gonzalez say?” Robert asks.
“Nothing. Just for me to listen better next time,” she replies.
“Yeah, okay, whatever,” he says.
They clean their weapons and then drain buckets of sweat on Gonzalez’ “trot” around the compound. There isn’t enough air in the entire Northwest to fill their lungs yet Gonzalez runs beside them asking if they all have lead in their asses. Bri feels good with the exercise and delights in the feel of the hard run. If not for the lack of air, she would like to run more. She will build herself and she sends a thought out to the area as they finish — “Watch out night runners. I’m coming.”
Little does she realize Robert is having the same thoughts.
* * *
I feel awareness come back like after being under after an operation. It’s a sudden awareness as if the brain just turns on. There’s no dreaming or waking from a dream and the thought that you’ve woken up. It’s complete emptiness, nothingness, and darkness followed by awareness. It’s so sudden it’s startling. However, unlike the anesthesia, there is no slowness to the senses. I’m in a space of emptiness one moment and aware the next. I open my eyes and see Lynn sitting beside me looking to the side. I feel her hand holding mine.
“Wow! I must have been seriously tired,” I say reliving the last memory I have of becoming dizzy and falling.
“Jack?! Oh my God!” Lynn says turning her head quickly toward me. I see tears run down her face which startles me for a second. I mean, I’ve only been out for a short bit and only passed out. It’s not like I fell off the roof or something.
I start to rise but Lynn’s hand pushes me back. “Oh no you don’t. You just lie there,” she says.
“I’m fine, seriously,” I say trying to rise against her hand. I notice the IV in my arm and see the faces of Robert and Bri appear.
“Jack, you are not okay. You just lay back and rest,” Lynn says.
I feel fine. As a matter of fact, I feel great. The joint and muscle aches that have plagued me are gone and I notice the drum team in my head is silent. I realize the concern she has over anyone passing out and that they have to take it easy but I honestly feel fine and want to get up. It’s then that I notice the tears welling in Robert’s eyes and streaming down Bri’s cheeks. Yeah, now I’m really confused. People have passed out before without having these theatrics played out.
“Hon, I feel fine. Really. I just passed out from exhaustion or maybe dehydration but I feel fine. There’s a lot to do and I want to find out how many people the teams found,” I say trying to rise again. Lynn pushes firmly back.
“Just passed out, Jack?” Lynn says with a sniffle. “How long do you think you ‘passed out’ for?”
I think about it and how refreshed I feel. It’s that feeling like rising from a well-deserved nap and energy abounds. “Well, most of the afternoon I’d guess,” I answer.
“Jack, you’ve been unconscious for the better part of two weeks,” Lynn says.
I can’t even begin to describe the shock. There is no more trying to rise against her hand. I feel her hand squeeze mine as I try to comprehend what she just said. Two weeks? I think as my mind spins. I don’t even want to think of how they’ve fed me. Her words and my reality just don’t mix. I can’t fathom being out for that long and not being able to realize it. It truly feels like the same day. I mean, I do feel so much better and that’s one point lending favor to her words.
Thoughts race through my mind seemingly at random. Every once in a while, one will stick but not for long as another forms crowding the previous one out. What has happened since I’ve been out? How could I be out for so long? What was it? How are Lynn’s mom and Craig? What have the kids been up to? Did they complete training? Is my neck healed? Did Watkins make it back? What the fuck happened?!
Lynn apparently sees the thoughts flit through my mind. “Jack, don’t worry about a thing. Everything is fine around here. It’s just good to have you back,” she says leaning over to give me a big hug. The kids join her and I’m suddenly engulfed in a sea of bodies. And it’s a good thing.
“You just lay there and rest. We’ll catch you up on what’s going on later,” Lynn adds after the dog pile on Jack ends.
Yeah, there’s no way I could get up with the news that is still so surreal to my mind. On the other hand, I feel restless and want to get up. I was never very good at just lying down when I had energy to burn. Still, I think I’ll lie here and
mull things over in my head.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Dad,” Bri says rising.
“Me too, sweetheart,” I reply.
“Yeah, I’m glad you’re okay too, Dad,” Robert says. I nod my thanks to him. I hear footsteps and watch as Gonzalez comes into my vision and kneels beside me.
“Good to see you’re okay, sir,” she says and reaches down to my arm. I watch as she removes the tape holding the needle in my arm and slides it out.
“Thanks,” I say. My mind is still reeling too much to say anything else.
A couple of hours pass and I can’t lie down any longer. I am feeling very restless and want to be up. This time, Lynn allows me to rise but is watchful. I’m sure at the slightest stumble, although that is something I do during the normal course of my day, she will have me back in the cot. I pay careful attention not to trip, falter, or even breathe for that matter because, as much as I like to think so, I don’t have the final say. As weird as the thought is that flies through, I think about having missed getting some — however long ago that might have been. I’m still not completely convinced that almost two weeks have passed.
One thing I am certain of is that I’m hungry. No, strike that. I’m ravenous. After assuring herself that I can still tie my shoes on my own, Lynn walks with me to the dining room. I can’t get enough to eat; however, I do get to the point where I don’t have a bottomless pit in my stomach. I see from the light streaming in the open doors that it’s still daytime and I want to go out. Not much is said between Lynn and me as she is still ascertaining whether I can walk on my own two feet. I get several pats on the shoulder as I pass others on our way out.
If I doubted that time had passed before, looking outside erases any and all doubt. They’ve been extremely busy. Where large fields of only grass once grew, there now stands several barns in various stages of completion. Looking north, large greenhouses stand in the fields. Near the walls and close to our sanctuary are lines of shipping containers with a dirt road in front of them. A mobile crane is situated next to them. As startling as the other sights are, the sight of a giant wind turbine next to the building is even more so.