Love Survives (17 page)

The ground rumbled, but the vehicle didn’t let up.

We were told that they’d recovered the hostages. The ambush wasn’t expected, so they said. It didn’t matter if it was. Lives were lost. I’d killed at least two people, and I’d never be able to forget it.

Since I refused to let anyone see me shaken up, I went over to check on Anderson after being debriefed. She was sitting up when I entered the facility. Her face was so filthy that it made her teeth glow when she saw me coming her way. “You forgot flowers,” she teased.

I stood over her bed, appreciated the humor after something so terrible. “How’s the leg?”

She shrugged. “I’m out of commission for a while. If I’m lucky, I’ll get to go home to recover. They’re going to operate to remove the bullet. It’s stuck in my bone.”

“Ouch.”

“Thanks for covering me out there, Valentine. I know they prepare us for that, but it’s…”

I cut her off. “I killed today.” It was like I needed to confess even though she’d been there to see it.

“Me too,” she sadly replied. “I don’t think I want to do this anymore. I don’t want to die.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed, shocking her. “Neither do I.”

I stared at the far wall, avoiding eye contact with the girl. It had been a long time since I’d interacted with someone of the opposite sex, and I was too messed up to act accordingly. “Thanks for coming by and checking on me. Maybe you could stop by tomorrow and check on me again. I’m bored already.”

I smiled while I stood up. “Yeah, maybe. Keep your chin up, soldier.”

When I left the room I thought about a lot of things, but mostly the fact that I was in another country, fighting for freedom, while Kat was busy hiding from everyone that cared about her. I needed reprieve even if it was an innocent conversation with someone. It sure beat pretending that my heart was made of steel when it was obvious it wasn’t.

The next day I visited Anderson. Due to the severity of her injury, her surgery was going to be done back in the states. She had one more night of hell before getting to go back home safely. “You’ve come twice now without flowers, Valentine. I’m starting to think I’m not your type.”

I shrugged and pulled a deck of cards from my pocket. “I thought you might like these better.”

She smiled and scooted over on the bed to make room for a game. “Hmm, you might be right. Good call.”

We started playing a simple game while the woman in her came out full force. “So, Valentine, what’s your first name?” She reached for my dog tags as I answered anyway. “Brooks.”

“I like that. It’s different. Where are you from?”

“Near D.C., you?”

“Utah.” She laughed. “I know, it’s not as exciting as being neighbors with the president.”

“I’m from the burbs. The city is about thirty minutes away. Traffic sucks, and taxes are higher.” I was attempting to keep her smiling. For the first time in months it brightened my mood.

“How come you transferred to our unit? It’s obvious you know Mullins.”

“We went through boot camp together. He’s one of my closest friends. I don’t know why I got transferred. I either didn’t do something right, or I accomplished more than I should have. Either way I haven’t got a clue. I didn’t know he’d become a ranger until he showed up.”

“I thought when I came here I could do some good. I knew it was bad, but this is like standing in front of a firing squad. I’ve never wanted to be back home so bad. This isn’t what I signed up for. I’m all about defending our country, but why are we even over here fighting? It’s like our country picks fight to keep the military active. I’m done with it. The sooner I get home the better. I don’t even care if people think I failed. I’m just done.”

“You’ll be a hero. You were shot in the line of duty. You were brave.” If she only knew my demons, then she’d think her problems were minimal.

“A hero doesn’t murder people, Brooks. That’s what I feel like I am. A murderer. I killed a child. How can I live with that?” She began to cry, making me reach out and hold her hand.

“I’m struggling too. It sucks. I’ve got to keep telling myself that it was the right decision even if they were forced to be those people. They were prepared to kill us. If we didn’t fight back we’d be in a wooden box right now.”

I started to pull away, but she tightened her hold. “Please don’t let go. It’s fine if you’re not interested in me romantically. I know that’s not what this is. I just don’t want to be alone, not tonight. I didn’t sleep at all last night, and I know tonight’s not going to be any different. Just stay a little while longer. Please, Brooks.”

When she said my first name it touched me. A little spark flashed as if to remind me that somewhere deep inside I still had a longing to feel connected to someone. I reassured her by squeezing her hand. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

People came and went around us, but I remained on that small bed next to her. We held hands and talked about the previous day. She told me about her family, and how they hadn’t had money to send her to college. I talked about my parents, what it was like to be a teenager, but never mentioned being a twin, or Katy Michaels.

Before getting up to head to my bunk, Anderson leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine. It wasn’t sexual, but more about her being appreciative. “Thank you. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.”

Just as I started to get up and walk away, she called out to me. “Hey, Valentine, maybe you could look me up when you get home?”

“Yeah, maybe I can show you around the nation’s capital.”

I didn’t know when I walked out of that medical facility that it would be the last time I saw Anderson. During her transport to the airport her convoy was attacked. All three travelers were slaughtered and left on the road to be discovered at a later time.

We weren’t even notified until two days after it happened, and even then I found it impossible to fathom. She was so close to going home, only to lose her life in such a horrendous way. How cruel life had been to her.

July 9
^th

There are no words to express how I feel tonight. It seems that my path of destruction has claimed the life of another innocent victim. I’ve relinquished all hope on humanity. Death is eminent. I can’t avoid the road that I’m on, nor can I understand how I got to this point voluntarily. I’ve killed. I’ve taken someone’s child, ending their life. I aimed my weapon at them and pulled the trigger. I’ll never forgive myself, just like I don’t think the image will ever leave my mind. At this point I don’t think I deserve to return home. There’s nothing there for someone like me.

I’ve been trained to kill people.

I just found out that a new friend lost her life tragically. Given my luck, it’s probably all my fault. She was on her way back to the states. She had hope. I wondered what she felt in her last few minutes on this earth. Did she suffer?

I don’t know who I can talk to about this. It’s too hard imagining that this could also be my fate. I just want to go back to a time when life was carefree, and the biggest thing I had to worry about was making Katy Michaels smile. God, I miss her so much. I miss everything about the life I used to live.

Chapter 20

September 11
^th

I wish I
could talk to her. I know, of all days, she was thinking about her parents, wishing there was some way to change the past. I wished she could because I know I wouldn’t let her slip away from me if I got a second chance to do it all again. I would have told her after our first kiss that she was going to be my future. I would have held her hands that night when she pressed her lips against mine, and when we pulled away she’d know that I was already in love with her. I would have reminded her every morning when she woke, and then before she closed her eyes at night. I would have made her so happy. I hope wherever she is she knows that’s the truth.

That next week I took it upon myself to write to Kat, hoping that eventually my parents would find her, or at least an address I could send it to. Until then, it would stay in my journal.

Dear Kat,

There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think about you. All my life I’ve been waiting for us to be together. I know it’s not possible anymore, but that doesn’t mean that I love you less. Being away from you, even though it was my choice, is the worst mistake I’ve ever made. I should have fought harder, proving to you that I was the right choice all along. I guess it doesn’t matter now. You’ve left everything behind, in some ways taking my same route. If I’d known this would happen, I could have warned you about how lonely it would be without the love of your family. I struggle daily with my choices. It pains me that you’re out there somewhere doing the same thing. I wonder if you’re okay. I hope you are. God, I pray for it every night.

I’m finding it hard to write to you tonight after so many nights of trying to convince myself that it’s time to let go. For some reason I
’
m unable to do that. You have a hold on me that I’ve never been able to explain. It’s not just about the love I hold for you, but more the way we’re connected, maybe in some sort of spiritual way. Perhaps it’s your parents sending me reasons to always look out for you. I’d like to think that they’re watching you while I’m away, making sure you’re not biting your nails, or forgetting to eat.

I keep wondering if you’d want me to apologize. Would it make you feel like I didn’t want to be with you, or that I regretted it? For the record I don’t, and I never will. My heart will forever belong to you even if you don’t want it. I’ve come to realize that I have no control of that. It’s always been yours.

I wish I could scream across the ocean and let you know how much you mean to me. As I’m writing this, I know it’s unlikely you’ll ever see it. I can’t give up hope because it’s the only thing keeping me sane. The truth is that I need you. I’m losing myself over here, Kat. I feel like it’s ripping my soul away, day by day. This world we live in is so messed up. What keeps me strong is knowing that you’ll never have to see what I’ve experienced. It wouldn’t just break your heart. It would destroy your livelihood.

I’m going to keep writing you. It’s what lets me have hope. Someday we’ll meet again, and when that happens, I know I’ll never let you slip away. I’ll make you mine forever even if I have to put you over my shoulder and carry you all the way to Vegas.

Until then know I love you, with every part of me.

Brooks

My unit was called to do another ground sweeping that following month. We’d set out through a small village. Children were running around together as we delivered resources to the people that had survived the most recent attacks. I was carrying some bottled water into a house that could be compared to a shed back at home. Inside I found a small women sitting on a bed in the far corner. She was running a soiled rag across a child’s face. As soon as she saw me she stood up. Even with most of her face hidden behind fabric I could see that she’d been crying. It was obvious the child was sick. I sat down the carton and pulled out a fresh bottle of water, offering it to her. She snatched it up, rushing over to the child. While tilting his head  upward she helped the boy take a few sips.

As I began to leave she ran toward me. Grabbing my hands and thanking me the best she could without knowing English. The simple gesture left me with a glimmer of hope.

After running back to the vehicle, I was able to scrounge up some Tylenol and other medications. They wouldn’t heal the child’s illness, but certainly break his fever and manage any other pain symptoms. Once again the woman was thankful. She started offering me bread, insisting that I take it with me. Since I didn’t want to offend her I nodded and walked back out to keep moving with my group.

All day long I thought about that woman, and her sick child.

A week later we were traveling to another area, passing through that one. After seeking permission from my superior, we stopped so that I could check on the mother and child. This time the father was home as well. The boy was sitting up in bed and managed to smile. I could tell he was feeling better. The father walked up and shook my hand, saying something I couldn’t make out. He kept repeating it, like it was important I understood. I pretended to, feeling as if whatever he was saying meant they were grateful.

I was far from being a saint, but somehow this family made me feel better about my life’s choices. I couldn’t know for sure if the water or medicine had helped to start healing their sick son, but I felt like it was important. Helping people made me want to be a better man.