“No,” McCullers shook his head hard. “Stick together. Let’s find him. We’re dark and I don’t like not having coms on.”
We moved deeper into the woods, our guns raised and our eyes darting. I strained my ears for any sounds that may help us find Young, but there was nothing. Everything was silent except for our soft footsteps as we inched through the woods.
Finally, we heard a scuffle a few yards to our right. I raised my gun higher and crept forward with McCullers and Hansen on either side of me. I was sure the noise meant Young was close by, but we had to move slowly. We had to be careful in case it wasn’t him.
The closer we got, the quieter everything became. We couldn’t hear the scuffling anymore. We couldn’t hear anything at all.
When I saw the blood at my feet I knew the worst had happened. I raised my eyes and saw him lying with his back against a tree trunk. McCullers sucked in a ragged breath and Hansen turned around aiming, I ran to him. My whole body lurched forward and I threw my gun to the ground. All of my training was forgotten in that one moment. All I could think about was reaching him.
I grabbed him and pulled him against my chest. My fingers searched frantically for a pulse, but it was too late. He was already gone…
…I sat up quickly, my heart racing and sweat pouring down my face. I tried to slow my breathing, but I couldn’t shake the image of Young lying dead against that tree.
It had been four months since our mission failed, but not a day went by where I didn’t think about Young and wish I had done more. After weeks of counseling and conversations with my superiors, I knew there was nothing I could have done. I acted perfectly. I followed every protocol. I did everything I was supposed to.
Still, Young was dead and I couldn’t help but think I should have saved him. If I had moved faster, run harder, listened more intently, maybe he would still be alive.
Four
Logan
I shook my head and tried to clear the images from my mind, but they were burned inside my brain forever. No amount of therapy, sleep, or time would ever erase them. They were mine to hold onto. Forever.
I checked the clock and saw that it was two in the morning. I knew I should try to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t bring myself to close my eyes. I didn’t want to see his face again…his bloody body…
Without hesitating, I jumped from my bed and pulled on my sweatshirt. Sleep was no longer an option and I knew the only thing that might help was to move. I hurried down the stairs and out the front door. The second my feet hit the sidewalk I started running.
I let the breeze shake me awake and the cool air clear my senses. I took a few deep breaths and closed my eyes while my feet beat a path beneath me. It wasn’t long before my body went into autopilot and I was able to run without any thought. The peaceful nothingness was more inviting than anything had been for a long time.
My legs tightened and my abs clenched, but I kept moving. My breathing was s
low and steady. Even after months away, I was still trained for this. I could run at this pace for hours without breaking a sweat. My breathing would never falter. My sides would never begin to ache. I had the body of a Navy SEAL and right then, as I ran through town, it was the only thing holding me together.
With my arms pumping beside me, I turned sharply down Peach street. I ran quietly through the center of town, my eyes scanning the shop windows. Angie’s café wouldn’t open for a few more hours and the bank after that. The Prewitt’s flower shop was always closed until noon on Sundays and Margie’s new stationary store wouldn’t open at all until Monday morning. Only the diner was open at this hour. I thought about stopping in for a milkshake, but I ran past without slowing down. It wasn’t the night for a diner trip.
I kept my pace as I put the town square behind me and moved further into the surrounding neighborhoods. All the houses were dark, not a single light was on anywhere. Only the street lights lit my path as I ran silently. I knew if anyone was awake they wouldn’t come outside to greet me. Everyone was nervous around me since I returned to Bradberry. I was that hardened Navy SEAL with war wounds. No one wanted anything to do with me.
When I ran into people on the street they were always nice. Everyone made polite chit chat, but no one asked me anything real.
“How’s the weather?”
“Seen your mom lately?”
“Have you checked out Margie’s new store?”
The questions were always the same. I answered them with a reassuring smile that told people it was okay, they could talk to me, I wasn’t going to snap. Still, no one hung around longer than a few minutes. I pretended not to notice when people crossed to the other side of the street as I passed by. Mothers would shield their children from me and I would turn a blind eye. They thought of me as dangerous and, in a way, I was.
Since that night, I’d changed. My one true purpose in life was to be a Navy SEAL. Once that happened I felt whole. Complete. After Young died, everything changed. Nothing about my life as a SEAL felt real anymore. I changed. I hardened. I really did become dangerous, but only to myself.
I started questioning who I was, who I was meant to be. I doubted whether I was ever really meant to be a SEAL. I questioned everything.
That’s why I was discharged. They didn’t discharge me with negative marks. It didn’t feel like a dismissal or a rejection. I spent almost five years with my team. We had successfully completed over a hundred missions. We were indestructible. Until we weren’t.
When we lost Young, everything fell apart. Our team stopped being a team. We lost our connection, our bond. We all drifted apart and, slowly, we all retired. It didn’t make sense to a lot of our fellow SEALs, but they weren’t there that night. To them, when you lose a guy you grieve and move on. You keep fighting. You keep working. You let the loss fuel the fire in your gut. Your job does not end. But to us, everything ended.
Our job no longer felt like ours. It felt as if we were playing dress-up in someone else’s clothes. We weren’t really us anymore. We were just shadows of our former selves and nothing anyone said could change that.
I kept running, past house after house, without knowing where I was going. It wasn’t until I was turning onto her street that I realized where I’d been headed all along. The Prewitt’s house was at the very end of Tuckerton Court. I’d been there a thousand times, but not for years. When I saw Mr. and Mrs. Prewitt in town they always waved politely. They never spoke to me. I don’t blame them. They didn’t like me back then and I was certain their feelings hadn’t changed.