The Fear That Haunts Me

CHAPTER 7

He sat down on a large mushroom, and now there was a quiver in his voice. "Smee," he said huskily, "that crocodile would have had me before this, but by a lucky chance, it swallowed a clock which goes tick inside it, and so before it can reach me, I hear the tick and bolt." He laughed, but in a hollow way.

"Some day," said Smee, "the clock will run down, and then he'll get you."

Hook wetted his dry lips. "Ay," he said, "that's the fear that haunts me."

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Death Rattle

I heard her. The banshee wail. But this shriek wore a different face. One that was masked with black veils and rubands. There were many, actually. Women whose high-pitched screams made me tremble.

I was overwhelmed, my mind racing on the verge of panic. I walked among the sixteen Taliban bodies, watching them bleed out, their bodies covered by the settled dust. They looked ancient, stiff as they lay there—some with their eyes wide open, terror frozen on their faces.

Stay frosty, Kelly, unscrew yourself and stay in the fight.

I had to get my mind under control. Observe everything and admire nothing. Situational Awareness.

The stench of the carnage we inflicted—the smell of opened bowels and those released after death—the entrails on the ground—blown out shemaghs and pieces of gray matter splattered on the stones.

I couldn't help but admire—and not in a good way. I was in shock and absorbed, lost in my surroundings.

Stay Frosty, Kelly —Know that He is God—Wake the fuck up!

I shook my head and slapped my Kevlar. Finally, I came out of my daze.

Chief bit his lip, his face pale and dirty. He was staring at the corpses we would no doubt leave to rot. I stood beside him, spit on the ground, and grabbed his arm. He didn't react, so I bumped him to get his attention.

"Chief, hey, look at me," I said. My voice was stern. "Listen to me. You observe everything and admire nothing. Do you understand me? Private—Look at me—are you okay?"

He nodded, taking a breath that brought color back to his face. "Roger that, Kelly."

I tapped him on the arm. "Alright, good. Stay frosty, Chief. We're going to need you." An extra pat on his back showed my confidence in him—at least, that's what I hoped for.

Looking over the dead bodies, the women on their knees—covering themselves in the dirt, I tapped Chief on the back of his kevlar. "Don't admire Marine. Just do your job."

"Make no mistake about it, gentlemen," Theo announced as he moved towards the pit. "We are now in harm's way." He pulled down on his plate carrier and rolled his shoulders backward. "Always cheat, always win. The only unfair fight is the one you lose."

Chief and I moved closer to the pit before Theo shouted my name and walked over. The three of us now stood not five feet from the girl.

Turning away from Chief, Theo took my arm and led me a few steps away and into his confidence. The noise of the women was deafening. So much so we could barely hear each other. "We need to ensure no other combatants or squirters are in the area. And we have to find weapons. Without them, we're screwed."

Doc approached. He was sweating, his face red, anxious. He stared at the girl in the pit, grimacing, waiting for the order to care for her. If it were given, that meant we were one hundred percent engaged.

"Go," I said to Doc. "Take Viking."

Doc and Viking hurried past us, and the women still kneeled. At the pit, they found her body already slumped forward, propped by the T-Man who fell dead into it during the assault. Her knees were bent, pushing against his side, as her head leaned against the wall. The T-Man's chin tucked into his chest, his eyes open. He was bent at the waist, forming a V, his legs stiff against the dirt wall.

Doc ran to the other side of the pit. Viking looked at the contorted body of the T-Man soldier. He looked me dead in the eye with that comedic grin of his.

"He's screwed," he said. "Goat humper's bleeding out." He winced and pinched his nose. "He shit himself too, man—Now that's screwed up." He smiled again and then screamed at the body, "That's why you don't wear white into combat! You've got shit stains all over you, asshole!"

Oh, my God. I grinned.

Doc, however, was focused on the girl. He called Chief over. With gentleness, he took hold of her armpits. Chief squatted to brace her head as Doc put a C-collar on her. Viking stepped across the mouth of the pit and knelt down to face Doc at eye level.

"Okay, we need to be careful—On three." On Doc's count, they moved her from the pit. Chief took an inline stabilization of her head, Viking holding her legs and feet, and Doc holding her pelvis.

She moaned.

Doc shushed her as he tried to soothe her. He seemed heartbroken. His face was blotchy, and his eyes began to swell. He maneuvered around Chief and brushed passed me.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he said, his voice cracking. "Try not to talk. I know it hurts—I know, baby." He hushed her each time she tried to speak.

The damage was incredible, irreversible, it seemed. She was bloodied, her face swollen and covered with welts and bruises—her eyes shut by thick dark circles. She was almost beyond recognition. A slight squeal was all she could manage.

I heard the death rattle. It was a sign of impending doom, a sign that we were too late. My stomach turned as she gasped for air.

"This is completely fucked up," Doc murmured as he treated her. "Fucking animals. They need to die—every last one of 'em!" Doc had taken a notepad from his bag and began scribbling furiously after every vital was taken.

I found myself a bystander, unsure of what to do. Theo, however, was waiting for Doc's report. He didn't seem phased by any of it, not in the least. Throwing the Copenhagen from his mouth, he rinsed from his Camelback hydration system. He didn't move. He didn't say anything. He simply leaned towards the pit, spitting a stream of water and tobacco onto the head of the dead T-Man.

I was overwhelmed, and the fear of death crept in.