Long Live the Rebel

by E L Irwin

  Ryler’s hands trembled as he remembered the day that had changed everything. He took a long, deep drink from the bottle in front of him. It shouldn’t have happened. It was just supposed to have been a recon mission. Moose shouldn’t have died. None of them should have…

  Despite it being August, the mountain air held a bite of the coming fall. Especially in the shadows. Most people imagine Afghanistan to be a hot, dry, desert climate. And some parts can be. With dust storms out of a movie, the sand fine, like flour, tearing through, and getting into everything. But Paktia was in the mountains of Eastern Afghanistan, and while it could still get miserably hot, it could also become bitterly cold.

  Snow would fill these passes in just three months, which was why Ryler and his small company were covering these mountains now. Intel had indicated an insurgent stronghold somewhere along here, and attempts had been made to smoke them out with airstrikes, but to no avail. Tension was high in the unit. They could feel the enemy, knew they were close. The Rangers just needed to pinpoint their exact location for the airstrike.

  They were out on patrol. Their mission, to conduct zone reconnaissance and report enemy movement and location to the rest of the unit. Ryler and Moose were on point, scouting the narrow trail in front. Casey, Colby, Jamison, Mitchell, and Simpson brought up the rear. The rest of their platoon were many yards behind them, waiting back at the rally point for the go-ahead. Ryler held his M4 close, loose, and ready. They all did.

  The morning had started off normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. They’d followed a barely noticeable trail into a deep ravine, through several switchbacks. It was slow-going; they were almost in single-file formation. Each step well thought out and calculated, as they tried getting closer, trying to avoid detection.

  The cicadas were singing, and the Rangers moved silently so as not to disturb them. A mild breeze drifted through the trees, bringing with it a small relief from the heat and a fleeting pungent scent, like burning rubber. Always there seemed to be the smell of burning rubber, at least when close to base or civilization. That, and the ever-present smell of refuse and septic. The Afghan water treatment method left much to be desired.

  But once you were away, out in the open, the air tended to be much cleaner. So, getting that burnt-rubber smell immediately put them all on edge.

  Moose glanced over his shoulder, back toward Ryler, warning him to be cautious. The two had become best friends at Basic, and that friendship had only deepened as they’d gone through Ranger training. It was an unspoken, deep-rooted knowledge the two of them shared, far above the closeness that comes simply from training together. Ryler and Moose had always had each other’s backs. It was instinctive. In any and every situation. And today was no different.

  The sun was sitting warmly at two o’clock. The dust was barely stirring, despite the light breeze. The cedar and pine teased his nostrils, offering a somewhat familiar and comforting scent. Birds chirped from the branches somewhere overhead. A normal day. And then Moose did that thing he always did — that knowing or sensing something just before it happened.

  The sound — the very air — seemed to have been sucked directly from the atmosphere. Ryler watched Moose, watched his mouth move, watched as he’d yelled Ryler’s name, screaming for him to get down, get back. He’d seen, but hadn’t understood. The explosion shook the ground, the rock walls, upending trees, strewing bodies and debris everywhere. Sound returned in spurts. There were pops. Then silence. Then more popping sounds, some sharp, some dull. The birds had stopped their chatter. In their place were the sounds of yelling and screaming.

  The smoke was thick, trees were on fire. Someone was on the radio calling for support. The rest of A Company had caught up by then and were fully engaged. The insurgents had been in well-prepared fighting positions, and they were putting up one heck of a fight.

  Ryler couldn’t remember how long that engagement had lasted. He’d been in and out of consciousness. Never heard the helicopters. Hadn’t known he’d been in the hospital. Hadn’t remembered what had happened until he’d asked for Moose.

  Two days later, through the effects of the morphine, he’d learned what had happened. Who’d survived. Who hadn’t. The Brass were calling it a success despite the six lives lost. Ryler understood warfare. Understood that those six lives, when weighed against the nearly four hundred enemy fighters that had been taken out — not to mention the training camp they’d demolished — were considered, if not acceptable, then at least not a complete loss.

  Learning about Moose and the others overshadowed the news about his leg. Ryler could accept that more than he’d been able to swallow those deaths. And now he wore the reminder on his body and in his heart.

  He took another swig from the bottle and inhaled slow and deep. His jaw clenched, waiting for the pain to strike. And it did. It always did. But this time, there was something different. The pain had changed. It was more subdued, there was less of a bite. Ryler considered the difference, wondering about the cause. And in the midst of his ponderings, his cellphone vibrated with an incoming text.

  Exhaling in a rush, Ryler checked the message. AJ. Of course it was AJ. Rather than texting her back, needing to hear her voice, he just called her.

  “Ryler?” my breath rushed his name.

  “What’s up?”

  He sounded off somehow, and I briefly wondered about it before returning to my reason for calling him. “There’s something huge… some kind of… I don’t know… huge deer… or something in my back yard. You need to see this. Like, it’s as big as an elephant. It’s HUGE.”

  “All right, calm down, AJ,” Ryler said. And I could hear the humor in his voice.

  “Don’t you dare laugh at me, Ryler James Dean.” I growled at him as I stared out my window at the monstrosity eating away at my trees. At that, my use of his full name as if he was some small child, he burst out laughing.

  “I’m not.” He laughed. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing with you, AJ.”

  “Funny, but I’m not laughing.”

  “Ah, c’mon. What are you freaked about? So, there’s a deer in your yard. We have tons of those here.”

  “Yeah, but this one is on steroids or something! What if it breaks into my house? What then, huh?”

  Ryler laughed again. “Why would it do that?”

  “Because… because I don’t know, Ryler. It’s an animal. Why do animals do anything?”

  He chuckled again. “Tell you what, I’ll come down there and see about saving you from this Godzilla deer. How’s that sound?”

  “Yes, please. Just hurry. It’s moving closer to the house.”

  “Just stay inside. I’ll be there shortly.”

  Hanging up, I watched in slowly dawning horror as the large, antlered beast meandered in my direction. Quickly, I locked the back door, the concept that the animal had literally zero percent capability of opening the door not even registering. Then I raced up the stairs to my bedroom and, silently as possible, opened the balcony door. At first, I couldn’t see it any longer and wondered if it had run off. Afraid to breathe a breath of relief just yet, I stepped quietly outside to see if I could spot it. And as I reached the railing, movement directly beneath me caught my eye and my breath in my throat.

  The animal was right there. If I stretched, I was sure I could have touched it. And it was… eating my wisteria. “No!” I screeched, slapping my hand against the wooden railing. The deer jerked violently, like it had been shot, before trotting off several feet, pieces of my plant still in its maw. “Get away!” I yelled at it, forgetting my fear for myself as I now feared for the vine.

  The animal stared at me with black eyes, then snorted. It shook its large head and stomped a foot before gingerly stepping toward my bush once more. Desperately, I looked around, trying to find some kind of weapon, something with which to drive the beast off. The deer had already begun nibbling at the wisteria again. And my heart clenched tightly with each munch, munch sound that came from it. Racing
away from the balcony, I darted into my closet, hoping for something, anything, a baseball bat even, to materialize for my usage. But there was nothing. At all.

  A cry of sheer frustration came from my throat as I headed back toward the balcony, and my now shredded plant. Just then, I heard the door slam and my name called from down the stairs.

  “I’m up here! Hurry!” I called.

  Ryler appeared beside me, just a tad short of breath, seconds later. “Look!” I grabbed his hand, practically jerking him out the door to the scene of the crime. “Look what it’s doing! Ryler, you have to stop it!”

  He took one look at the deer and began laughing. He laughed until tears poured from his eyes, until his breath hitched in his chest. Laughed until his knees became weak, and he had to hold the railing to keep from falling.

  “This is not funny, Ryler!” I shoved at him, trying to get him to stop. Panic was taking a firmer grip as the deer ate more of my favored vine.

  Ryler coughed as he stood upright finally and wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. “AJ.” He chuckled a bit more. “AJ, that ain’t a deer. That’s a moose.”

  “A… a moose?”

  “Yeah, that’s why it’s so huge. We don’t get too many of them around here, but every so often, one or two will pop up.”

  “Well, can you stop it? Ryler, it’s eating my wisteria!”

  Still chuckling over my mistake, Ryler reached under his shirt and pulled out a handgun. “No!” I cried. “Don’t shoot it!”

  “Relax, I’m not going to shoot it. Just scare it off and hopefully save your plant.”

  “Oh. Okay. Just… just don’t hurt it.”

  “A second ago you were considering going to war with it. Now you don’t want me to hurt it?”

  “Yeah.” I shrugged.

  Ryler chuckled under his breath again then said, “You might want to plug your ears.” Taking careful aim, he fired his gun twice in rapid succession into the ground near the moose. The sound spooked the animal, causing it to run off and into the trees at the back of the property. Ryler holstered his weapon and turned to me, a chuckle once more forming on lips.

  Glaring at him, at his audacity to laugh at my mistake, at the situation, I ground my teeth and swung at him.

  Ryler easily, darn him anyway, avoided my poor aim. He quickly stepped inside my reach, his left arm coming above my right and bringing it down, trapping mine against his side. Ryler then closed on me, chest to chest.

  Struggling, I tried to free myself, only to be held tighter. After a brief moment of holding me in place like that, Ryler changed tactics and swung me up into his arms. He kicked the door shut behind him, moved toward the bed, and deposited me unceremoniously on it.

  Had he left me like that, I might have stood a chance of getting away by swinging toward the other half of the bed, rolling away, or something. As it was, he, still chuckling at me, followed me down onto the mattress, pinning me beneath him. He took a firm grip on my wrists, holding them easily in place above my head.

  “This isn’t the least bit funny, Ryler,” I seethed. “Now get off me.”

  I’d known he was strong, but just how strong he was had somehow eluded me. Until now. Ryler was like a brick wall, like a fortress. There was no moving him. And maybe it was all muscle, or maybe it was will, or maybe it was some combination of both. Whatever it was, the result was lethal. Because as I struggled against that strength, finding it to be immovable, I became aware that he had become still, motionless, except for the rise and fall of his chest.

  He didn’t strain trying to hold me. That seemed effortless. No, the strain was from holding himself. Ryler was locked down, locked tight. A storm was brewing in his eyes. Where they’d been more of a blueish-gray before, now they seemed just gray. Like angry clouds. Those eyes flickered down to my mouth, lingering there for a moment, warming them with his gaze, before returning to mine. He shifted his body just a little, making the breath catch in my throat. Ryler leaned down, his nose, his mouth touching lightly, trailing across the skin at my temple. Down past my ear, to my neck, my throat. And there, against my skin, he growled low. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, AJ.” He nipped gently where his lips had been, before once more kissing the skin there. “None of this was supposed to happen. And now, what do I do?”

  I wasn’t sure if he was speaking of me personally, or this situation, or what. But as my brain tried to reconcile his comments with his actions, my mind eventually gave up and just let my body take over. Ryler loosed my hands, which had been demanding to be released. His hands buried themselves in my hair — what he could reach of it anyway. Fingers scraped my scalp, sending a rush of pleasure through me. Then they scalded me as they traveled down my side, over my hips, pulling me closer to him.

  My arms clung to him, demanding to be closer, needing to be closer. Ryler’s mouth found mine then, and I tasted him. Tasted the strong drink on his breath. Tasted his desire. And this, this was consuming. Body and soul, I was consumed by him. And I regretted nothing.

  Ryler was dying. She was killing him. Slowly, exquisitely, AJ was killing him. Her scent, that coconut and cream, ocean-air scent of her, drove him insane. Her mouth, her taste… the feel of her hands as she raked her nails on his back, as she dragged him closer, demanded more. Those sounds she was making… that hitch in her breath… All of it. Everything. This was heaven. This was hell. He wanted more. He wanted all of it. He wanted her, and he wanted her right now.

  But Ryler held himself back, and that was what was killing him. That was what was gutting him. His frame of mind was not the right one, not for this. He didn’t want to take her out of a need to dispel the pain he was feeling. He didn’t want her to be just another drug to numb the past. When they came together, if they came together, he wanted it to be because they were mutually ready for it. Because they both wanted it. And AJ didn’t know where his head had been before he’d come here. She had no way of knowing, and he wouldn’t use her like this.

  Ryler took her hands again, raising them above her head, holding them there. Holding her there. He kissed her slowly before pulling back. AJ tried reaching for him again, and at the sound of her frustration, he almost relented. Instead, he held himself still, held himself in place, and waited for her to see him. When AJ finally opened her eyes, when she took him in, he leaned down and whispered against her forehead, “I want you, AJ.”

  She growled in frustrated agreement and tried freeing herself once more, but he held her and continued. “But, not like this. Not for the reasons in my head right now. I want you, and soon. I promise you — soon. Then I’ll have you. But not yet.”

  Ryler waited for her to acknowledge his words, to show that she understood. At her slight nod, he said, “I’m going to let you go, just… just behave.”

  And then he released his grip and rolled away, coming to a stop on his back beside her. AJ took several deep breaths, trying to get control of herself, whether of her desire, or her temper, Ryler wasn’t sure. Both, he figured. He lay still, letting himself settle, letting her simmer down. When AJ finally moved, she sat up with her back to him. Slowly, she scooted to the edge of the bed and then stood up.

  The late morning sun dappled the floor where she stood, and with her back still to him, she said in a low tone, “I understand that you’re fighting demons, Ryler. But I hate it when you do this. I hate the way you push me away.”

  And with those words, she walked to her bathroom, closed the door quietly, locking it behind her. Had she slapped him, it couldn’t have burned worse. Couldn’t have left a deeper mark.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Coming Storm

  I took my time in the bathroom running the bath water, pouring in the fragranced Epsom salts, and soaking for well over half an hour. Giving Ryler enough time to gather himself and leave. He was silent when he left, because I never heard a sound. Thoughts and fears ran rampant through my mind, bringing with it a throbbing inside my skull. Would we ever align correctly? Would every enc
ounter with him end like this? The pulling closer, the pushing away, and never really together.

  After my bath, I continued my slow process, toweling off, rubbing on my favorite body lotion, and running a brush through my short hair. Wrapped in a towel, I opened my bathroom door, fully expecting to be alone. My body jerked to a stop, even as my heart lurched into motion, at the sight of Ryler reclining on my bed, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were calm, and focused on mine.

  “I couldn’t leave,” he intoned quietly; his shoulders lifted slightly, stiffly before settling once more.

  “I can see that.” I tried to calm my heart, which was still racing, as I made my way to my dresser. I reached inside and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Be right back,” I told him.

  Ryler had fought with himself as AJ left. Wanting to go to her, wanting to bring her back. But he knew if he did, they’d continue where they’d left off. Continue until they were finished.

  He’d made a snap decision before, when he’d pushed her away. But the purpose behind that decision had begun to firm up in his head now. He was turning over a new leaf so to speak. He wasn’t too old to make changes, nor too young to ignore the need for them.

  They’d both been hurt in the past. And maybe a part of that hurt was from rushing in too soon. Giving everything too fast. Treating something that should have held deep meaning casually, as if it didn’t matter. Lying to themselves, each time, that it was unimportant, maybe even meaningless and no big deal. Refusing to acknowledge the bruises inflicted on their own souls.

  So, despite the fact that AJ had misunderstood his intentions and had been hurt by them, he let her go. Ryler needed to think. Think about what to say to her. How to say it when she came back out. He needed to not think about what she was doing, just a few feet away behind that closed door.