The Void (4 page)

I
am!
I am!

"I
don't think I can handle seeing you like this anymore, Max. It's too
much... It's just too much. This isn't you... You wouldn't have
wanted to be like this..."

I
don't
want to be like this!

"I
think I have to let you go, Max."

My
breath would be stolen were I in control of my own breath; what does
she mean, let me go? Is she going to stop seeing me? Will I lose her
voice forever? I don't think I can handle that, I need her to see me,
to talk to me; her voice is everything to me now. It's my only
connection to the stolen life long past, my only relic of a life near
forgotten!

"I'm
so sorry," and I hear her kiss me, wet and noisy, and then
footsteps, growing dim, "so sorry," and then gone, leaving me in
the most deadly silence, so strong and thick that I have no room for
anything but it; no thoughts, no feelings.

Utterly
alone...

The
void is my only companion.

If I
could, I would collapse in despair.

"Hello,"
says the desperate voice of Sarah. The whole day, gone to misery...

Hello,
Sarah.

"Seems
it's been a rough day for you, huh?"

You
have no idea...

"Your
vitals still look strong, though."

I
don't care.

"And
I'll be here with you through it all, Max."

It
all? Is there more to come?

More
misery?

What
hell is awaiting me?

"I
suppose you can't really care, can you?"

I
care... Goddamn it,
I care!

"I'll
miss you, though."

Wait,
miss me?

Where
am I going? Why will you miss me?

"I
wonder where you're going?"

No
where.

I
can never go anywhere!

I am
chained to this sack of meat...

I am
lost.

I am
often the most informed person in the room, able only to listen and
consider what I gather. Nothing said around me is missed, and I
remember everything; I spend too much time dwelling on it all to be
able to forget, sometimes for the worse.

But
now, surely missing much, I am lost...

"Get
in line!"

A
man shouts at me.

He
is tall- too tall- and thick, completely devoid of what one might
call compassion. His hands are wrapped around his back, tightly
gripping the other at the wrist as he walks along a row of men,
standing stiff and tall in the hot, brutal sunshine.

"Can
you hear me?"

"Yes,
sir!"

A
chorus of gruff, well trained voices, perfectly and expertly
synchronized, echo in the dry air, eyes fierce and staring into
nothing, fixed to the horizon and cautious to never look our
oppressor in the eyes, lest he single out and humiliate one of us,
either out of a need for rigid discipline or spite, and none of us
ever sure which it was and unwilling to ask.

"Five
miles, up the hill, down the backside and back to camp. Everyone
arrives in under an hour, or we run it all again. Understood?"

"Yes,
sir!"

A
symphony of aggression.

Without
another word, the man makes a dash for the horizon, and one by one
each of us fall into line behind him, struggling to keep up with his
frantic pace. The swirling dust from our pounding steps consumes the
air around us, we struggling to breath as sweat falls in rivers down
our cheeks.

"Keep
it up!"

That
is Frank.

Corporal
Frank Todd.

I
like Frank.

He
is a native of New York, a man who fancies himself the dedicated
group supporter. I rely on his encouragement to manage myself through
the day. We had bonded first through our mutual passion for baseball,
and then further on account of both of us having a wife and child
back home waiting for our safe return. His daughter, Hailey, is five.

She
is gorgeous.

The
photo is always with him, ready to share.

"How
are you holdin' up?" He asks me.

"I'm
okay," I grunt. He grins.

"You
don't seem okay."

I
hate that he is in better shape than me.

"I'm
okay," I grunt, again.

"Just
keep talking to me, Max."

"I
can't," and I spit. My tongue feels like it is made of sandpaper in
the baking heat and fierce dry.

"You
have to, or you'll focus on the pain. Don't focus on the pain, focus
on me." He gestures to his face with his hands, his eyes locked to
the side of my head.

"Shut
up," I grunt.

He
smiles.

"Go
fuck yourself," he spits.

"I'm
hungry."

I
have no filter when I'm in pain.

"One
hour, man, one hour."

"It's
too fucking hot," I grumble as I wipe sweat from my forehead and
fling it on the lapel of my thick green uniform. It's useless; more
spills down my face and runs down my neck as quickly as I wipe.

"No
shit," Frank agrees. "Who the fuck would live in this shit hole?"

"Frank,
you live in Brooklyn."

"Fuck
you!"

He
smacks my elbow, throwing me off my rhythm; I lean and stutter step,
nearly crashing into the man in front of me. He gives me a furious
look, and I nod an apology and continue silently for several awkward
seconds, focusing on my breathing and the rhythmic thumping of feet.

"You
heard from the wife and kid this week?"

He
always fell back to talking about family.

"No,
not since last Thursday. You?"

"Saturday."

Seconds
of silent running, grunting.

"Hailey
sent me a drawing she made."

"She
any good?"

"It
was good enough for me."

"That's
all that matters, isn't it?"

"Someday,"
he grunts out, "I'm gonna watch that girl graduate from a big,
fancy college and get a great job and start a family, and never have
to set foot in a place like this. She'll buy a house and I can move
in above their garage and live the bachelor life until I finally kick
it. She's gonna be my salvation."

I
laugh, grunt.

"Pinning
your hopes and dreams on the kid?"

"What
else can I pin them on?"

He
smiles.

I
miss my son...

"There's
some paperwork you'll need to fill out to get this process started,
Mrs. Aaron."

"I
hate this," she mumbles.

There
are several people in the room right now. Who are they? Where did
they all come from? How had I not noticed them arrive? I must be
loosing a grip of my faculties; I used to notice everything, and now
I seem to miss so much, the world stumbling into me rather than I
discovering it...

"I
understand, Mrs. Aaron, but it is for the best. You have to
understand that."

Who
is that man?

I
don't know him...

"I
don't have to understand anything."

Jenny
sounds angry.

Why
is she angry?

"You're
doing the right thing."

"Am
I?
Am I?
"

"You
are, Jenny, you have to know that." That sounds like Mary, but it
is difficult to know for sure; she is speaking softly, and the room
is now swirling with conflicting noise that I can't seem to sort.

It's
irritating...

"I
don't know that!"

"You
do!"

"I
don't know anything."

And
then more silence...

Where
did everybody go? Why will no one address me? Jenny always speaks
with me, always, but this time she says nothing, not a hello, not a
goodbye; she doesn't say she loves me; she doesn't address me at
all... What is wrong?

What is happening?

"
Get
down!
"

The
air is thick with smoke and dust and death, and I am squat behind an
obstruction of some kind. My mind tells me, faintly, that it is a
car, but I am in no condition to care. Gunfire is ripping through the
air above me, and I hear men shouting.

"Move
right, go! Go! Go! Go!"

On
command, I shuffle across an open stretch toward another car, in the
distance somewhere, unable to see much of anything. I cough, but keep
my hands clutching to the metal encased in my hands.

"Go,
goddamnit, Max,
go! Now!
"

I
try to speed up with the command, but nearly stumble. A moment later,
and I'm behind the other car, putting my back to the metal door and
turning to face Frank, who is squatting beside me.

"Where
is Jeff?" I utter, head swiveling.

"Dead."

I
blink, unable to comprehend what he just told me... Jeff is dead? How
is he dead?
Why
is he dead? What the hell happened?

"What?"
It was all I could express.

"Jeff
is dead!"

"You
mean injured?"

"No,
he's fucking dead!"

"How
do you know that?"

"Jesus
Christ!"

Was
that an acceptable answer?

The
ground shakes underfoot, and vaguely I now understand a change in my
position. My head is against the ground, I think, or against
something, and the car I was once behind seems not to be there any
longer, wherever that was...

Where
was that?

Where
is Frank?

I
don't see Frank...

I
try to stand, but I can't. My muscles have left me, abandoned me in
my time of most pressing need, as they always seem to do. My eyes are
red with fury and agony and confusion, and I wonder if they are even
working at all. I can see nothing, discern nothing from the shapeless
backdrop of yellow and red.

I
don't see Frank...

Where
is Frank?

"Frank?"
I manage... I think...

No
one answers me.

"I'll
always love you," softly in my ears, back in the void once again.
And for the first time-

Jenny?

Is
that you, Jenny?

"I'll
always love you," she repeats.

I
love you, too, Jenny...

She
sounds like she is crying, but very softly, barely audible, like the
whimper of a puppy who was left home for the day as the beloved owner
left for work. It breaks my heart to hear such palpable sadness. I
need to comfort her, to help her...

What
is wrong?

"I'm
so sorry, Max."

What
for?

Why
are you sorry?

"I'm
so, so sorry."

Why
are you sorry?

"It's
going to be okay," Mary reassures.

"No,"
Jenny mumbles. "It's not."

Why
is it not okay?

What
is happen-

And,
all at once, I know what's happening...

"I'm
so sorry," she keeps repeating.

Oh
no...

"I
don't... I don't..."

Oh,
Jesus...

"I
love you," she whispers.

No,
Jenny!

"I
love you," she repeats.

No!
Don't let me go!

"I
love you!"

Don't
kill me!

"I
love you so much..."

I
need to move...

Footsteps...

Move,
goddamn it!

And
silence..
.

Move!

Footsteps and dust...

She
has left me; she has left me here alone...

Move!

Oh,
God, please, move!

I
plead with my muscles, begging them to prove that I am, that I am
here, that I am alive, that I am worth keeping, that I should be
saved...

Fucking move!

I
would cry, scream, had I the ability...

Move!
Move!

"Move!"

Suddenly
my head is breaking, searing, burning in furious agony. My hand
thrusts to my skull as a sudden burst of dust and ringing bells
behind me lifts me to my feet and throws me back to the dirt. My body
feels utterly broken as it tries to stand once again, against the
better judgment of my mind.

"Max,
get on you feet!
"

That
sounds like Frank...

...is
that Frank?

"Right
now! We have to move!"

Something
grips the back of my jacket and pulls me up, onto my feet, and then
bends me forward, seemingly unsure of where they want me. When my
head comes back up, I see not Frank, but Staff Sergent Jason Mierez.
We graduated boot together...

But
where's Frank?

"Where's
Frank?"

"Let's
go!"

Jason
takes off without another word, his hand firmly gripped onto his
weapon, sprinting toward a building that I notice is suddenly before
me. Had that building always been there?

Where
the hell am I?

I am
following Jason...

"Where
is Frank?" I repeat.

My
mind is returning. The ringing bells are fading, the shouting of men
and clamoring of boots are now dominant, penetrating and thumping in
my chest like an excited radio broadcast extolling a victory.

"Where
is Corporal Todd?"

"Frank's
gone," he finally manages.

"
What?
"

"I
don't know where he is!"

"What
the fuck is going on?"

"IED."

"Where?"

"One
car up, north-northwest. Cover and wait."

"ETA?"

"Two
minutes."

I
hear shouting, and then a whizzing sound.

Bullets...

"Who
else is out there?"

"The
rest took shelter across the road."

"How
many?"

More
whizzing, flying dust and sweat.

"Five,
maybe more."

Breaking
glass and my shoulder is set aflame.

"Jesus!"

I
collapse back;

I'm
on the floor.

I
didn't even feel the floor. I can't feel much quite suddenly. Have I
been thrown to the floor? How did I end up on the floor?

"Jesus!"

I
clutch my shoulder and feel it squish.