will.”
“Good. Now, get the hell out of here.”
Desmond’s voice was rough, but the trembling of it betrayed his fear. Who wouldn’t be afraid to die? If it happened unexpectedly, that was one thing. It was what they’d signed up for. This way however, it was worse. The knowledge that as soon as you moved that you’d be dead was enough to rattle the bravest of men and Desmond was one.
“Get out of here!”
Ryan made up his mind that he would run back to camp. There had to be someway to help him. Someone would know. He turned, ran. As he trudged through the sand, he threw a glance over his shoulder. Desmond was winking into the distance, his back tall as he looked up into the sky. Ryan could only pray that he’d hold on a while longer. That he wouldn’t take that step.
Pushing, his lungs burning in protest from the smoke and sand, Ryan knew it wouldn’t be long. Camp wasn’t too far. The sun blinded him, made him sweat in sheets of salt. All the while the silent mantra ran through his mind. Just hold on. Just hold on. Just hold on. He heard it.
Boom!
Ryan turned, mouth open as a plume of sand shot into the air. The sound was deafening. From where he stood, Desmond’s spot was empty. He wanted to run back to him, but men were pouring out of the camp, surrounding him.
Hands held him in place. Ryan fought through the crowd. He was running back, the heat of the afternoon almost suffocating. He hadn’t heard the noise, didn’t see the men with their guns. Something struck his leg, made him crumble into the dirt. He was still moving, crawling towards Desmond when his vision began to fade. I’m going to die.
~
Ryan tossed his gym bag on the floor. He could hear Stacey in the kitchen, singing her heart out in time with the radio. He grinned. In a life that was overwhelming, Stacey was a constant. He walked into the kitchen.
She stood at the stove, a spatula in her hand as she flipped an egg. He watched her move. Stacey's curves were one of the things that always drew his eyes. Round hips, ample breasts, thick thighs and a plump belly. She grinned when she noticed him staring.
“Hi, honey. How was the gym?”
“Sweaty,” he mumbled as he wrapped his arms around her.
“Ew, take a shower then!”
Stacey squealed as he kissed her cheek. She waved him off to the shower making him laugh. His hands ran through her black hair before he finally gave in and headed to the bathroom.
“Lunch will be ready in two minutes. Shower fast!” She called as he rounded the corner.
Ryan turned on the water, let it steam up quickly from the Arizona heat. He knew she was serious, lunch would be ready in two minutes and she'd wait patiently for five. As he stepped into the water, he pushed blond hair out of his face. The water should have been relaxing, but it wasn’t.
As he squeezed shampoo into his hair, the memories flooded him. Heat. Desert heat. The threat of a land mine at every step. Ryan's throat tightened. Thinking about Iraq was always enough to send him into a panic. His hand curled around the soap. To keep from thinking about it, he washed quickly before he hopped out of the shower and dried off with a thick, green towel. After slipping into a blue tank top and jeans, he headed back to the kitchen.
Stacey was sitting at the table, his plate in its usual spot. He kissed the top of her head. The smell of rosemary and mint from her shampoo filled his nose. When he set down, he sighed.
“That's for lunch, honey.”
At the age of thirty-two, Ryan was still hard muscle from his days in the army. Tanned skin, blue eyes, blond hair, made him easy on the eyes. Stacey gazed at him as she popped a piece of fried egg between her plump, pink lips.
“Don't start,” he said before she even began.
“You don't even know what I'm about to say.”
“You're going to start in on that future and baby stuff.”
“Am
“Good. Now, get the hell out of here.”
Desmond’s voice was rough, but the trembling of it betrayed his fear. Who wouldn’t be afraid to die? If it happened unexpectedly, that was one thing. It was what they’d signed up for. This way however, it was worse. The knowledge that as soon as you moved that you’d be dead was enough to rattle the bravest of men and Desmond was one.
“Get out of here!”
Ryan made up his mind that he would run back to camp. There had to be someway to help him. Someone would know. He turned, ran. As he trudged through the sand, he threw a glance over his shoulder. Desmond was winking into the distance, his back tall as he looked up into the sky. Ryan could only pray that he’d hold on a while longer. That he wouldn’t take that step.
Pushing, his lungs burning in protest from the smoke and sand, Ryan knew it wouldn’t be long. Camp wasn’t too far. The sun blinded him, made him sweat in sheets of salt. All the while the silent mantra ran through his mind. Just hold on. Just hold on. Just hold on. He heard it.
Boom!
Ryan turned, mouth open as a plume of sand shot into the air. The sound was deafening. From where he stood, Desmond’s spot was empty. He wanted to run back to him, but men were pouring out of the camp, surrounding him.
Hands held him in place. Ryan fought through the crowd. He was running back, the heat of the afternoon almost suffocating. He hadn’t heard the noise, didn’t see the men with their guns. Something struck his leg, made him crumble into the dirt. He was still moving, crawling towards Desmond when his vision began to fade. I’m going to die.
~
Ryan tossed his gym bag on the floor. He could hear Stacey in the kitchen, singing her heart out in time with the radio. He grinned. In a life that was overwhelming, Stacey was a constant. He walked into the kitchen.
She stood at the stove, a spatula in her hand as she flipped an egg. He watched her move. Stacey's curves were one of the things that always drew his eyes. Round hips, ample breasts, thick thighs and a plump belly. She grinned when she noticed him staring.
“Hi, honey. How was the gym?”
“Sweaty,” he mumbled as he wrapped his arms around her.
“Ew, take a shower then!”
Stacey squealed as he kissed her cheek. She waved him off to the shower making him laugh. His hands ran through her black hair before he finally gave in and headed to the bathroom.
“Lunch will be ready in two minutes. Shower fast!” She called as he rounded the corner.
Ryan turned on the water, let it steam up quickly from the Arizona heat. He knew she was serious, lunch would be ready in two minutes and she'd wait patiently for five. As he stepped into the water, he pushed blond hair out of his face. The water should have been relaxing, but it wasn’t.
As he squeezed shampoo into his hair, the memories flooded him. Heat. Desert heat. The threat of a land mine at every step. Ryan's throat tightened. Thinking about Iraq was always enough to send him into a panic. His hand curled around the soap. To keep from thinking about it, he washed quickly before he hopped out of the shower and dried off with a thick, green towel. After slipping into a blue tank top and jeans, he headed back to the kitchen.
Stacey was sitting at the table, his plate in its usual spot. He kissed the top of her head. The smell of rosemary and mint from her shampoo filled his nose. When he set down, he sighed.
“That's for lunch, honey.”
At the age of thirty-two, Ryan was still hard muscle from his days in the army. Tanned skin, blue eyes, blond hair, made him easy on the eyes. Stacey gazed at him as she popped a piece of fried egg between her plump, pink lips.
“Don't start,” he said before she even began.
“You don't even know what I'm about to say.”
“You're going to start in on that future and baby stuff.”
“Am
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