Worth Saving

by W. S. Greer

  To my pleasant surprise, I’m unfazed by the sound of the wind whisking around us, and I even feel soothed by the slight bumpiness as we take off and move towards the drop zone. Slowly but surely, my heart rate goes back down to normal, and I feel at ease. I feel like my old self again. I’m comfortable behind the controls, and I’m suddenly glad I’m back at work and doing the thing I once loved. It feels good, and I can’t wait to tell Major Nelson I came back, and didn’t have any issues with doing my job.

  I can hear the chatter of the guys behind me. They aren’t talking to me, but I’m not surprised. I’m Air Force, they’re Army, and there’s always going to be at least a little bit of division between the branches, especially during peace time. We can put all that shit aside once we’re in combat and we need to focus in and kick the shit out of the enemy, but when we’re at home, we have a friendly rivalry, and that’s okay.

  As I carry us through the sky, I move towards the drop zone, which is an empty field right off the flight line, and I raise our altitude at the same time. It doesn’t take us long to get to where we’re going, and I need to call it in to the tower. So, I reach twelve hundred feet and I hover above where the paratroopers will jump.

  “Delta One, this is Whiskey Sierra.”

  “Go ahead, Whiskey Sierra.”

  “Roger, we’ve reached maximum altitude and are centered above the drop zone. The team is on standby and waiting for the green light.”

  “Copy that, Whiskey Sierra. The jump team is a go. You have the green light.”

  “Copy, we have the green light.” I reach down and flip a switch in front of me that illuminates a green lightbulb in the back of the chopper. After I flip it, I turn around in my seat to make sure it’s on, and that the jumpmaster, Colonel Burg, can see it. I signal to him that the light is green, and he signals for his team to move. That’s when it happens.

  All of a sudden, all I can see in the back of the chopper is the image of Lieutenant Weston’s body sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by a shimmering pool of blood. The six paratroopers are still there, but as they start to get up, they’re stepping on Weston’s body and they don’t even know it. With every step, Weston’s carcass shifts and the blood splatters all over the paratroopers’ boots.

  I suddenly feel like I’m spinning, and I’m terrified, so I close my eyes for a second, but when I open them, he’s still there. They’re still stepping all over his dead body, just like in one of my dreams, except I’m wide awake. My eyes bulge and I feel sweat starting to bead on my forehead as it becomes harder and harder to breathe.

  Suddenly there’s a shift in the chopper. It rocks to one side and one of the paratroopers loses his balance and falls to the floor, just barely avoiding falling out of the door Colonel Burg just opened. I snap my head back around and look out the window, but I’m not hovering the chopper over the Nellis flight line anymore. I’m back in Afghanistan. The green grass below us has morphed into brown sand, and the empty field is now cluttered with stucco houses and filth. I feel like I’m losing my mind as I let go of the controls and cover my face with my hands, but the second I do, the chopper drops all at once and I have to grab on again to keep us in the air, but the engines are starting to stall and we keep dropping. I can hear screaming, but I don’t know where it’s coming from, and just when I’m about to turn around to look, the front windshield gets hit with multiple bullets.

  Out of nowhere, I can hear AK-47’s being fired, and the rounds are bouncing off the shell of the chopper. There’s an explosion that rocks the helicopter to the left as smoke billows from one of the engines and we go into a spin. It takes all of my strength to pull us out of it just as the landing skids slam against the ground, jolting me forward and knocking my headset off.

  When I realize I was just shot down, I reach down and unbuckle my harness, then I rush to find my weapon because I know they’re going to come to try to finish us off. But, I never find it. I reach in between the seats where I normally keep it, but it’s not there, and I feel even more afraid now because I can’t find it, so I look out the window to see if I can see them coming, and what I see scares me more than anything else.

  There’s nothing out there. I’m not in Afghanistan. I’m not surrounded by ISIS, or the Taliban or any other enemy I’ve grown to hate. I’m at Nellis, and I just slammed a helicopter full of paratroopers onto the ground.

  I turn around in my seat, and it’s not Lieutenant Weston I see, it’s Colonel Burg and the five other paratroopers who trusted me to help them train. Four of them are strapped into their seats with horrified looks on their faces, and two of them are lying on the floor, still holding on to anything they can, but they’re all still alive.

  As for me, I’m too shaken to move. I can barely think, and I have no explanation for what just happened. All I know is that I’m still scared out of my mind as my six passengers climb out of the chopper cussing at me, and the siren from the firetruck grows louder.

  Austin

  “Good morning, Captain Sloan. Come on in. How’s everything?”

  I sit down on the couch and clasp my fingers together. I feel nervous and frustrated, although I can’t really pinpoint one specific thing I’m frustrated about. It’s everything. It’s my entire fucking life.

  “Austin,” the major says again, making me snap out of it. “Are you okay?”

  I look up at him and for a brief second, I swear I feel tears starting to form, but I have to push it away with a shake of my head and a furrow of my brow.

  “Umm, I don’t even know anymore, sir,” I admit, still shaking my head. “This time last week, everything felt fine. It all felt like it was starting to come together—like things were starting to make sense, and I was able to see a bright future. Now, I don’t know.”

  “You don’t see such a bright future anymore?”

  “I don’t know what I see. I’m not even sure I care right now.”

  “I see,” the major says, and he goes to work on the notepad. “So, what happened that made your outlook different? Tell me about your week.”

  I have to prepare myself for this one. I take a deep breath and really settle into the couch, which squeaks and whines as I sink down like it always does. I hate that sound even more today. Once I’m all set, I let it pour out of me.

  “Excuse my language, Major, but I’m just fucked up right now, sir,” I say, feeling extremely emotional in an instant. “Everything was going so well, and then all of a sudden, it just changed in the blink of a fucking eye, and it’s like everything I thought last week was just some hopeless pipe dream, and I feel like a fucking idiot for believing it could be real at all.”

  The major exhales and clears his throat.

  “Okay, but what specifically happened, Captain?”

  “Specifically? Well, specifically, the woman I was falling for turned out to be a stripper, slash prostitute. She was lying to me from the very beginning about where she worked, because she’s not a bartender, she’s a prostitute at a gentlemen’s club called Red Pony. I went out to hang with my boys and I saw her working there. Then, of course, at the time I needed a friend most, Jason and Jordan had to get on a plane and head back to Seattle. So, they’re gone, and I’m here trying to deal with this shit all on my own. Not to mention the fact that I had some sort of freak out moment at work, and basically crash landed my chopper with six paratroopers in the back. The impact snapped one of the landing skids off, and now I might have to come out of pocket to pay for that, because since no one died, the Air Force has no problem saying it was all pilot error. I’ve been indefinitely grounded by my squadron commander, and I’m looking at multiple letters of reprimand. So, needless to say, Major, I’m having a really bad fucking week.”

  It takes Major Nelson a while to even say anything. For a moment, he just sits there with his mouth open and his eyes wide. Then, he presses his lips together and lets out the breath he was holding.

  “Okay, so that explains why you looked so distraught when you walked i
n here,” he says after he repositions himself in his chair so he looks more professional and less in awe of my story. “Well, first off, I’m sorry you’re having such a bad week. I’ve heard some stories in my line of work, but the one you just told me was pretty rough. So, how are you holding up after all of that?”

  “I’m not holding up,” I snip. “I told you I’m fucked.”

  “Okay, well let’s start with the things you can’t control first, okay? Last week I asked you how you felt about going back to work and flying again, and you told me you thought you were going to be good to go, because things were starting to look up for you. Remember?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “When you told me that, you also said that your dreams about Lieutenant Weston’s death had slowed down and you weren’t having ‘space-out moments,’ as you called them. Now, when you said that, was that true?”

  “Yeah, kind of. I wasn’t having a dream about Weston every single night, so I thought that was progress, and I wasn’t having space-out moments. I really was okay.”

  “Well, based on what happened during your training this week, it’s pretty obvious to me you’re still struggling with the issue of Lieutenant Weston’s death, and it’s bothering you more than you let on. I’ve also read the report from your accident, and what you describe in it is a full hallucination about a war scenario in which Lieutenant Weston is dead and being trampled by the paratroopers, and your helicopter gets shots down. That’s a big deal, Captain. Like, you showcased something that is cause for serious concern.

  “So, first things first, we need to be completely honest with each other, okay? When I ask how you’re doing and how you’re feeling about your time in the desert, you have to tell me when you’re still having issues, because I’m not with you at night, and I’m not in your head, so I can only evaluate what you tell me. I have to be able to trust that you’re telling me the truth, otherwise, I can’t help you.

  “Secondly, I have to inform you that your incident has grabbed the attention of the board of doctors here, and you’re being recommended for further evaluation at the downtown VA. You’ll still come see me once a week, but you’re going to start going to see a psychiatrist at the VA as well, starting next week. Okay?”

  Great. Another person I have to explain my whole life story to. Fan-fucking-tastic.

  “Your PTSD is a serious issue,” Major Nelson continues, “maybe even a little more serious than we originally thought, but now that we know that, it’s important we keep you away from flying until we get that resolved, okay? And we will, Captain Sloan. We’re going to get it resolved. I need you to believe that. Do you believe that?”

  “Sure. Yeah, I believe you, Major,” I answer. What other choice do I have but to say yes?

  “Okay, now let’s get into the things you can control.” Major Nelson jots down something on his notepad, and then refocuses his attention on me. “So, based on your evaluations over our previous sessions together, I think the situation with Layla is having a major impact on you. Last week, and every week before this one, has been very positive. Now, however, things have changed. Have you spoken to Layla since you saw her at the club?”

  “Yeah, she came by my house the next day to try to explain, but I didn’t really want to hear it.”

  “So you didn’t give her a chance to explain?”

  “Well, I did, but . . . shit, I don’t know.”

  “Her explanation wasn’t good enough to you?”

  “No, it wasn’t. I knew all about her past and how messed up her childhood was, and all that, but four years after she moved out of her pig-of-a-father’s house, she was still working as a prostitute. Somewhere deep down, she had to enjoy it on some level.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because she did it for so long!” I snap. I feel frustrated because it’s like he’s trying not to see it my way on purpose.

  “Look, I understand how it might seem that way from the outside looking in, but maybe she didn’t have any other choice. Have you thought of that?”

  “Well, that’s kind of what she was trying to say. I just . . . I was falling for this girl, Major Nelson, so to see her in there dressed all slutty was too much. I just couldn’t handle it. This whole time, I thought she wouldn’t sleep with me because of her father. I thought his abuse and trying to touch her messed her up. I thought she was broken, and it was me that was gonna fix her, but it turned out different. I thought she needed me to save her. I just . . . I don’t know, man.”

  “So, after everything you know about Layla and her childhood, you think she’s not broken?”

  I close my eyes and rub my temples with my thumb and middle finger.

  “Well, when you put it that way . . . I don’t know.”

  “What about you, Captain? Were you sexually active before you met Layla?”

  I open my eyes and look up at the major, who glares at me, his stupid chin pointed right at me. I can see what he’s trying to do. I see where this is going.

  “Yes, I was sexually active before I met her, but nobody paid me.”

  “So, you openly had sex with random women for free? Did you have a childhood that was unbearable to you, to the point that you had to run away from your abusive father who tried to sexually abuse you?”

  “Okay, okay. I get it, Major. Point taken. But, she still lied to me about it. She still hid all of this from me, and I had to find out by complete accident, and I was caught off guard, and it still fucking hurts, okay?”

  “I understand,” he says as he tosses the notepad on the floor. “But I also understand that your progress with your PTSD seemed to coincide with the progress you were making in your relationship with Layla. Now, it could be a coincidence that you had a panic attack right after your breakup with her, but something tells me it’s not. Your breakup isn’t the cause of the hallucination, but I don’t think it helped your mental state any.”

  I let out a loud sigh as I realize he’s right, but I try not to admit it. I don’t want him to be right. I’m still mad about everything. I’m still upset, and I don’t feel ready to get over it yet.

  “Look, the point is this, Austin,” he continues. “Layla trusted you enough to tell you about her hard childhood—the kind of childhood that messes people up their entire lives—and you know you’re not exactly a saint, even though you didn’t have a difficult upbringing. So, who are you to scold her about something you could never begin to relate to? Who are you to judge her, especially when she trusted you enough to confide in you?

  “People make mistakes, Captain Sloan. They lie. Everybody does. But the important question is, can you forgive? Can you do your best to understand her plight, and forgive her? And the answer to that question determines the kind of person that you are, not the kind of person she is. Now, I’m only on the outside looking in, but from where I’m sitting, you might want to give this a ton of thought before you just end it. Because, maybe Layla wasn’t the one who needed saving after all.”

  Layla

  “Medium rare, please. Oh, and I’ll also have a house salad with ranch dressing, please. Thank you.”

  “So, how you been holding up, hon?”

  I hand the waiter my menu and wait until he saunters away before I answer Marlene’s question. She and Amanda are basically on the edges of their seats waiting to hear how things have gone since Austin found out where I worked.

  “I’m okay. I mean, I’m busy, so that’s helping me keep my mind off things,” I reply.

  “Yeah, knocking out those online classes?” Amanda asks, her short blonde hair glows from the sunlight beaming through the open blinds next to us.

  “Yeah, well, slowly but surely,” I answer with a shrug. “It should only be a couple of days until I get the GED part done. That’s the easy part, from the looks of it. This online college stuff is going to be a mess, I can already tell.”

  “Yeah, but it’ll be worth in the end,” Amanda assures me. “Like I told you before, once you get that stuf
f started, I can put in a good word for you at my school and see if we can bring you in as an assistant or an aide. I spoke with my principal yesterday, and she said she’ll see what she can do once you complete some classes.”

  “That’s great. Thanks so much, Amanda. You have no idea how much it means to me that you’re trying to help me out.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” she says with a bright smile. There’s something about Amanda’s pale face and calm demeanor that’s comforting. She’s been doing her best to hook me up, even before I quit Red Pony. She and Marlene are the best friends I could ask for.

  “I’m really proud of you, Layla,” Marlene chimes in. “It’s good to see you getting on your feet and doing something like this, getting your education completed. That’s great. I still can’t believe you stood up to Damien the way you did.”

  “Well, I had to. I couldn’t take his shit anymore.”

  “I know. You put up with a lot since you started there.”

  “For sure,” I say before I sip my lemonade. “What’s it been like there since I quit? Is he taking it out on the other girls?”

  “He tried at first,” Marlene says, raising her eyebrows. “But he stopped. Three girls have quit since you left. I guess after the third one quit, David told him to calm down with all the crazy, violent shit. He’s been a good boy ever since. It’s like you started a revolution. He doesn’t know what to do now that girls are brave enough to walk out of there.”

  A smile grabs ahold of my face and doesn’t let go.

  “Good. Serves him right,” I reply proudly. “I wish I would’ve left sooner, though.”

  Marlene’s face shifts. I think she can sense what I’m talking about, and she knows how I feel about it. About him.

  “I’m sorry it turned out the way it did,” she says. “I wish I would’ve known it was him and his friends I was serving at the bar that night. I had no idea, or I would’ve at least warned you.”