What Comes Next

by Desni Dantone

  There was a beat of silence, then, “I don’t hear shit, man.”

  I shifted closer to the door and held my breath as I listened. It was never good when they came at night, and I prayed that Kansas was imagining hearing something. But he wasn’t. I heard what he heard. Instead of the dreaded sound of incoming footsteps, I heard the steady whir of something in the distance. Multiple somethings . . . getting closer.

  “What is it, Kansas?” I asked.

  He was silent for several long seconds as the sounds grew louder. Closer. My pulse accelerated when I recognized the unmistakable chud, chud, chud of helicopter blades.

  “Dig in, boys,” Kansas ordered. “It’s about to get messy.”

  I scrambled away from the door as the scream of a fired missile rose in the distance. Buried underground, the sound of the strike was muffled, but the collapse of dirt and heavy clumps of mud around us confirmed that the missile had hit its mark.

  The ground vibrated from an endless stream of explosions above us. We collected near the door—our only avenue of escape in the event of cave-in. Though we’d attempted to break through the door over the course of the year, a few of the guys tried harder now—ramming it with heavy blows that would not draw attention to us now. Not with an airstrike distracting the enemy on the surface.

  Between the thuds of their shoulders striking the only obstacle between us and freedom, my ears picked up the telltale pop-pop-pop of automatic gunfire. A lot of it.

  “Sounds like we got troops on the ground,” Kansas announced.

  My pulse skyrocketed at the celebratory tone of his voice. I didn’t want to get my hopes up—not yet—but it was hard not to. After a year stuck in this hole, I’d nearly given up on freedom. Now, I basked in the optimism that I might finally get out.

  Our attack on the door ceased when voices drifted toward us from outside. We waited as the seconds ticked by, and the men behind the voices drew closer—close enough for us to recognize them as Americans.

  With a collective shout, we called out to them, drawing them toward us. Amidst the chaos came an order to back away from the door. The explosion that followed caused a mountain of heavy earth to rain down on us in large chunks. I could barely see, barely breathe, as I crawled through it. Through the haze of dust and smoke, beams of artificial light showed three faces I would never forget—the faces of my saviors.

  I drifted in and out of consciousness for days. From what I heard the voices around me saying, I had inhaled a considerable amount of dirt in the collapse. I heard confusing phrases like “collapsed lung,” “chest tube,” and “ventilator” as I floated in and out of awareness.

  Once I woke with some rigid tube in my mouth, and got tackled by an army of doctors until a nurse came along with a needle aimed at my neck. Another time, I blinked my eyes open long enough to hear a nurse tell me I was lucky to be alive.

  After what felt like years, I woke with no tube down my throat, a severe case of cotton mouth, and alone. As I turned my head side to side, my gaze rolled over the rows of white beds occupied by other soldiers with a wide range of injuries. Some missing a limb. Some covered in blood-saturated bandages. Most unconscious.

  At the bed beside mine, a nurse finished checking the bandages covering another soldier’s neck. She turned to find my eyes on her, and smiled brightly.

  My mouth opened, but she knew what I wanted before I asked. I wasn’t sure I could ask. Not until she lifted a cup of water to my mouth, and the cool liquid extinguished the fire in my throat.

  “That better?” she asked tenderly, and I nodded as she moved on to checking my pulse. She chatted away as she moved through a checklist of vitals. “You gave us all quite a scare. The doctors weren’t too sure about you when they first brought you in. I must say, you’ve really improved in the weeks you’ve been here.”

  Weeks? That was how long I had been laid up here—wherever here was. Somehow the nurse seemed to know the questions I wanted to ask. Maybe every injured soldier woke up with the same questions?

  “You’re in a U.S. military hospital in DaNang,” she explained slowly. “They’ve made arrangements to have you transported back to the States once you’re stable enough for the trip. All seven of the other soldiers you were with made it out of the camp alive. We weren’t able to keep you all together, since space is tight, but you’re all going to be okay. I heard two of them have already been transported . . .”

  At her mention of the soldiers that had been with me, I started to panic. I pushed the sheet covering me to the side, and my throat tightened when I saw the thin hospital gown covering me. Where were my clothes? My jacket? I had important things in that jacket. Things I couldn’t lose.

  “Where is . . .” I rasped.

  The nurse put a comforting hand on my shoulder, like I wasn’t the first soldier to freak over the thought of losing something. “All your belongings are safe, sweetie. We collected everything you had, and you won’t leave here without them. I promise.”

  I nodded my understanding, and relaxed into the cot. “My family?”

  She beamed down at me. “They’ve been notified, and they’ll meet you when you’re transferred home. But first, we need to get your strength up before they risk transporting you.”

  The empty IV bag beside my bed was promptly replaced, and the nurse left with a promise to bring me something to eat. Despite my feeble stomach, I handled real food surprisingly well.

  Well enough to impress the doctors, and convince them into transferring me back to the States a week later. Though I didn’t see much more than a brief flash of blue sky between the plane and the ambulance that drove me to yet another hospital, I felt the change in the air.

  My mood immediately lifted at knowing how close I was to home. To my family. To Ana. God, I couldn’t wait to see her.

  The morning after I arrived, a nurse woke me from a rare nightmare-free night of sleep to tell me that I had some company. I pushed into a seated position a moment later when my mama flew through the door. I caught a glimpse of my brother following closely behind seconds before Mama’s arms wrapped around my neck.

  “I can’t believe it,” she murmured into my shoulder. “I can’t believe you’ve been alive all this time.”

  I took my time, comforting my mama until her sobs subsided. I expected her to be happy and relieved to see me, but her extreme reaction confused me. Some of the things she said didn’t make sense, unless . . .

  I glanced up to find Mitch staring at me with wide, disbelieving eyes, and something clicked. Something I’d heard while drifting in and out of consciousness weeks ago. Something that hadn’t made sense until now.

  I pushed Mama back to arm’s length, and swallowed the lump growing in my throat. “You thought I was . . . dead?”

  Mama nodded solemnly, and I shot a look at my brother. “How?”

  “They dropped artillery on your platoon. Everyone was killed in the blast. Identifying bodies was a nightmare for the Army. In some cases, all they had to go by were the dog tags. They found yours in the rubble, and assumed you were one of the bodies they couldn’t identify.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting off the images that assaulted me every time I remembered that day. The charred remains of my platoon visible through the thick cloud of smoke . . . Luke Davis crawling out of the flames, my dog tags dropped in the chaos behind him . . .

  I pushed aside the anguish spurred by the events of that day, and focused on something just as painful to me now. I’d come back from the dead—after an entire year—and it hadn’t slipped my attention that one person was missing from this reunion.

  “Where’s Ana?” I parted a questioning glace between my mama and Mitch. It was obvious from their hesitation that neither of them wanted to answer me. I sat up a little straighter in bed and pressed. “What happened? Where is she?”

  My heart pounded as Mama’s hand curled around my wrist. “You need to understand, Ben, we all thought we had lost you.”

  My eyes tight
ened. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer, but I asked, “What did she say when you told her I was alive?”

  There was a long pause, and I opened my eyes in time to catch the look shared between my mama and brother. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t as simple as Ana moving on with another man in the aftermath of my supposed death. It was something bigger than that, and neither of them wanted to tell me.

  My throat tightened, forcing my voice to come out raspy. “Is she alright?”

  Mama lowered her head with a sigh. “We don’t know, Ben.”

  “What do you mean? How could you not know if she’s—”

  “She left,” Mitch cut in abruptly. “A few months after we got the news about you, she left. We haven’t heard from her since. No one has.”

  “No one?” I chuckled humorlessly. “What about Marly? Jeffrey?”

  “Marly passed shortly after you . . .” Mama trailed off with a shake of her head. “Jeffrey enlisted after he graduated. The house is empty. Marly left it to Ana, but she left no forwarding address at the bank, no way to contact her. She’s gone.”

  My feet were on the floor before Mama finished talking.

  As far as I was concerned, Ana was only gone until I found her. I didn’t know how I would find her, but one thing was for certain. I wasn’t going to waste any more time sitting in here while Ana was out there with incorrect information. I was alive, and I was going to find her if it was the last thing I did.

  The doctors grudgingly agreed to release me two days later, and only if I promised to follow up with the local VA within the week. I told them I would, but I had other priorities, and my health wasn’t one of them. I was fine, despite what I knew my mama thought when I caught her looking at me with worry-lined eyes.

  My return home wasn’t as wonderful as I had always thought it would be. While it was nice to step into the house for the first time in two years, it felt different. Empty. Something was missing, and I suspected it had everything to do with Ana not being there for my return.

  My steps were slow as I walked into my room. Everything was exactly as I had left it—like a fucking shrine. Only smaller. At least, it felt smaller.

  Shifting into autopilot, I unpacked my bags. I was nearly finished when my fingers grazed the frayed edges of the photograph I had carried on me for the past two years. The one of Ana and me, taken the day I’d left. It had been a year since I’d gotten a clear view of it in good light, and now, I couldn’t look away.

  I slumped onto my bed as the weight of everything—what I’d seen, what I’d lived through—hit me. On top of all of that, the realization that Ana had no idea I was alive crushed me. I had to find her. But how?

  Head bowed between my shoulders, I choked on the emotion that tore its way up my throat. I was still sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the photograph through watery eyes, when Mama came to sit beside me. Her hand on my shoulder was all it took to break me.

  “I have to find her, Mama.”

  She squeezed my shoulder, but said nothing. My eyes dropped to the box in her hands, and a faint memory sparked. I guessed the contents of the box before she told me, and I wasn’t sure why she found it necessary to show me. Especially now.

  “Mama, I don’t—”

  “This is all she left behind, Ben. The money, the ring, and this . . .” To my surprise, Mama lifted a folded piece of paper out of the box. “I thought you ought to read it. Maybe her words will help you to understand.”

  I scoffed. “Did she say where she was going?”

  Mama’s head shook softly. “Ben, I know this isn’t what you—”

  “Just give me the letter, Mama.” I put my hand out to take it from her. I held it in my hands for a long time after she left. A big part of me wanted to unfold it, to immerse myself in Ana’s words—no matter how painful they might be to read. A smaller part of me wanted to stay in the dark, to not know the pain she had endured, and that ultimately forced her to leave.

  Eventually, I unfolded the paper. My throat ran dry at the sight of her flowing penmanship, identical to that in the faded and worn out letter I’d spent the past year memorizing.

  Only this one wasn’t addressed to me, but to Mama.

  I’m sorry I don’t have the courage to tell you good-bye in person. The truth is, being in your home reminds me too much of Ben. It’s not just your home. It’s everything. His memory is everywhere. They are good memories, and I will treasure them someday. But I can’t yet. Right now, remembering only brings me pain. It only reminds me of what we all lost when he died. I need some time away from here, and away from the reminders of his memory that I can’t face. Someday, when I can look back on our time together with a smile, instead of succumbing to tears, I might return. Until then, this is good-bye.

  In this box, you will find all the money he gave me before he left, and the ring that belongs to you. While it was an honor to receive it, I don’t feel right wearing it anymore. I want you to have it back. I hope you understand. I’m sorry.

  Love,

  Ana

  I folded the letter with trembling fingers, placed it in the shoebox along with the wad of cash and the engagement ring, and shoved it under my bed. She had given no clues as to her destination. Finding her would be nearly impossible, but I was determined to try.

  I wouldn’t stop until Ana was back in Stone Creek.

  I started early the next morning. The friendly chatter at Winston’s Groceries came to a sudden and dramatic stop the moment I walked through the door. I gave a polite nod to the elderly cashier working the register before scanning the aisles of the small store for the familiar face I was looking for.

  I knew she would be here, of course. I’d been told so when I showed up at the front door of her parent’s house a few minutes ago. Finally, in the refrigerated foods aisle, I found Jen Anderson.

  Her eyes flicked in my direction as I walked the length of the aisle. A second later, the carton of eggs in her hands slipped from her fingers. “Oh, my God,” she breathed.

  “Hi, Jen.” I smiled as I walked over to her, careful to not track through the broken eggs at her feet. “There’s no easy way to tell you . . .”

  Tears sprung up in her saucer-sized eyes. “You’re alive?”

  I nodded. “It’s a long story.”

  Her head shook violently as she stared at me. I didn’t think it was possible for eyes to grow any larger, but they did. Then she gasped in horror, and a strangled cry burst out of her. “Ana . . .”

  I pulled her into my arms as she fell apart. Several moments passed before her sobs waned, and I spoke gently into her ear. “I’m going to find her, Jen, but I need to know where to start looking. Have you heard from her at all?”

  “Not for seven or eight months now,” she mumbled. “Last I heard, she was leaving her dad’s. She said he was into some bad stuff, and she didn’t want any part of it.”

  I pushed Jen back to arm’s length. “What kind of stuff?”

  “Drugs, I think. She didn’t really go into details, but I knew she had a rough time the few months she stayed with him.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Her dad was the only other person I’d thought to check with. While I hated to hear she was already gone from the one place I knew to find her, I was relieved to hear that she wasn’t still with him. I could only imagine the experiences she’d had with him.

  I could only imagine the heartache that had pushed her to go to him.

  “Did she say anything to you before she left?” I pressed Jen. “Did she tell you why?”

  Jen smiled sadly at me. “She never really said, but I think it was too hard for her. I remember seeing the look on her face the day Mr. Pebbles put that land up for sale again. I’m pretty sure that was the moment she decided to leave.”

  I’d nearly forgotten about that land I’d put a deposit down on. Once I found Ana, I’d track down Mr. Pebbles and find out if it was still available. I still planned on making it ours someday. Once I found Ana.

 
“No idea where she could have gone next?”

  “She mentioned heading north,” Jen offered, “but didn’t specify where.”

  “North?” That could be anywhere. “What about Jeffrey? Do you know where he went?”

  She rubbed her forehead as if to help her memory. “I think he was stationed at Fort Benning, but that was over a year ago.”

  He could be anywhere by now. Good news was that I knew some of the officers at Fort Benning well. Several came to see me in the hospital before I was discharged. It wouldn’t be a problem to call them up to find out if Jeffrey was still there, or deployed. If he was deployed . . .

  He was the best option I had now. The only option. If I had to fly back to Vietnam to track Ana’s brother down, I would. Fortunately, more troops were withdrawing every day. The war was practically over. There was a good chance he was in the States. If he was, I would find him.

  I had some phone calls to make, but first I helped Jen clean up the mess I’d caused on the floor. After a long hug, and promises to keep her informed on my search for Ana, I left the store with a new plan.

  If Jeffrey Maxwell was alive, I was going to find him. And then I would find his sister.

  Jeffrey’s reaction to seeing me wasn’t as dramatic as Jen’s. He knew about the Army’s rush to claim as many of our POWs as possible while the number of troops in the jungle dwindled. He had heard about the one POW out of Fort Benning that had been classified as KIA for a year.

  He almost looked smug when he spotted me walking over to him in the empty mess hall. “What took you so long?”

  I pulled him in for a brotherly hug. “You knew it was me?”

  “I heard your name dropped a few days ago. Wasn’t sure when you were getting home, but I figured you’d show up here eventually.” He shook his head with a sigh. “I wish I had good news for you . . .”