by Kaylee Ryan
“Reeves.” I hear my name called and turn toward my captain. “This is for you.” He hands me a box and a stack of letters that are rubber banded together. He goes down the line calling out our names, giving us a little piece of home. Before Austyn, this would have been a sad day for me. There’s no one but her who will be writing me. I’m torn between rushing back to my cot to tear into them or holding my place in line to talk to her. The need to hear her voice wins out. We get three minutes, but that’s more than nothing.
When it’s finally my turn, I dial her number, and it barely rings before the sound of her sweet voice washes over me. “Slade.” My name is a plea, as if she thinks it might not be me.
“It’s me, Aust.”
“Are you okay?” Her voice is shaky.
“Yeah, baby. I’m good. We’ve been out in the field since we arrived. We just got back to camp.”
“I sent you letters, and a package, did you get it?”
“I’m holding them now. They just gave them to me. I can’t wait to read them.”
“Should I e-mail instead?”
“No, this is good. The connection is too spotty. You can hear the crackle on the line now.”
“Yeah. So you’re safe?”
“I’m safe, angel. I don’t have much time. How are you?”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, so damn much. I’ll call again as soon as I can. I don’t know when we’re going back out, but I’m good here,” I assure her. I don’t bother to tell her I’m so exhausted I can barely stand. I haven’t showered in three weeks, and there are blisters covering my feet. That truth will only make her worry more.
“Take care of you.”
“Always, baby. I’m always with you. You know that, right?”
“Yeah. I know. I love you, Slade.”
“I love you, too.” I can barely get the words past my lips from the emotion clogging my throat. I knew this would be hard, but being this far away from her, it’s taking its toll on me. I would give anything to hold her in my arms right now. After ending the call, I take my package and my letters back to my cot. We have makeshift showers here at camp. They’re pointless for the most part, but I need to get out of these clothes and wash away some of the sweat and sand from my body. I rush through the process, knowing there’s a line of my fellow marines waiting to do the same thing. Even though the shower was lacking, I feel a thousand times better.
Sitting on my cot, I stretch out and hold her package and the stack of letters in my hands. I go to the box first. I know my girl, and there’s bound to be some food that isn’t a MRE inside. Opening the lid, I feel like I’ve hit the lottery. Ranch Fritos, baby wipes, jerky, gum, socks, which I needed, and a letter. It’s labeled number nine, so I put it to the side and dig through the box. I grab the pictures she sent and a few snacks for later and set the box on the end of my cot. “Hey, guys, help yourselves,” I tell my brothers. Tearing into the Fritos, I pick out letter number one and begin to read. I don’t stop until I’ve read them all twice. It’s then that I open the papers that were in the box. A picture from Dawson and a card signed by both her mom and dad, telling me to stay strong and be safe.
I’m thousands of miles from home, well, Austyn, because technically I don’t have a home. Sure, I have a place at the barracks, but that’s not a home. A home is what I plan to make with her. Even thousands of miles away, she makes me feel as if she’s right here with me, holding my hand through all of this shit. And her family, their support is something I’ve never had, that of two loving parents. That’s just another way that meeting Austyn has changed my life. I fold the picture that Dawson drew and place it in my pocket. I stare at the pictures she sent. Some are of her and Savannah on the beach, others are of her and Dawson acting silly. Then there’s one of us. I remember the day it was taken. We were sitting in the living room, and Savannah gave us maybe a second’s notice telling us to smile before she snapped it. This too, I fold carefully, making it smaller, but not altering the image, and place it in my pocket next to the picture I had developed from my phone that I took of her at the fair, all those months ago when we first met.
Grabbing the paper and pen she sent in the box, I write her back. I don’t know when we’re going back out, and even though I’m exhausted, she’s more important. I know she’s worried and getting a letter from me will help ease some of her fears.
I hope.
My angel,
I like how you got creative at the beginning of each letter. I bet you thought I wouldn’t even notice. Well, I’ve read them all twice while I snacked on my ranch Fritos. Thank you for that, and the package, the letters. I shared some of my goodies with the guys.
I’m glad both of you are close to your families too. I’d hate to be thinking about you being all alone while I’m here.
That’s great that your classes are going to transfer. Have I told you that I’m proud of you for chasing your dream? I am, so damn proud.
Tell Daws I love the picture and I’m carrying it with me. Please thank your parents for the letter. I’ll write to them, but right now, I’m dead on my feet. I didn’t want to risk getting called back out to the field without replying to you.
Things are okay here. It’s hot and dry, and really sandy. Nothing much else to report. Lots of long tiring days. I think about you every second of every one of them.
I love the letters. I love getting a glimpse of what’s going on in your life. I miss you more than you know.
I love you, angel.
Slade
I seal the letter in an envelope, address it, and put it in the bin to go out in the mail. I barely remember climbing back on my cot as sleep claims me.
We were back at camp for two days when we got word we were going out again. We had to be boots on the ground in two hours. We barely had time to pack our gear and gather what we needed. There was no time for a letter, or a phone call, not even a quick e-mail. Luckily for me, I wrote Austyn, her parents, and Dawson the day before. I had a feeling we would be going out again soon. The sounds of the battle going on all around us was a pretty good indication. I mean, that’s what we’re here for.
I’m starting to lose track, but this is day ten or possibly eleven of our second trip out. We’re exhausted, cranky, hot, sweaty, dirty, and we have no idea when we might get a break. We’re doing our route clearance. Spiller and Jeffers are in the Humvee, while Combs and I walk along behind. We switch off every couple of hours, giving us all a break from being on our feet. The Humvee is about a hundred yards ahead of us at all times. Combs is telling me about how Savannah sent him a letter saying how they were approved for married housing on base. He’s pumped up. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile this much since we’ve been here.
I’m just about ready to tell him that Austyn and I will hopefully be following in their footsteps very soon when a loud explosion rocks the ground under our feet. We drop to our bellies and look around, and that’s when I see it. The Humvee up ahead. The one with Spiller and Jeffers inside is hit. Flames encased in a black cloud of smoke roar into the air.
A scream rips through my throat as I climb to my feet. Combs is hot on my heels as we race toward the burning vehicle. My heart pounds in my throat as I try not to let the fear take hold. Not only are we spotted, meaning the enemy is watching, but two of my brothers are in there, and by the looks of it, they’ll be lucky to be alive.
By the time we reach the Humvee, we’re both running on pure adrenaline. “We gotta get them out!” Combs screams over the roar of the fire. The machine is hot, too hot to touch. Using my gun, I beat on the handle. The heat is unbearable, but I do my best to ignore it, pretending it’s not there. I ignore the way flames dance toward me with every thrust of my gun against the handle. Instead, I focus on the screams that are coming from the inside. A mix of terror and pain, a sound I’m certain to never forget. I continue to beat on the handle until it jars loose and the door flies open. Spiller falls out, barely missing me and rolls on the
ground. Combs and I rush to him and use our packs to pat him down to put out the flames. He’s screaming and writhing in pain. The smell of his skin from the fire causes my stomach to roll.
“You got him?” I yell over at Combs.
“Yeah, what are you—Reeves!” he shouts after me, but I don’t stop. I rush around the Humvee to the driver’s side and start beating on the door. The longer he’s in there, the less chance of survival. I get closer, the heat searing my skin, but I keep at it, beating against the handle. I’m lost in my mission to get him the fuck out of there when the Humvee explodes, and I’m thrown from the blast. My body lands on the unforgiving ground as if I’m a ragdoll.
I hear Combs yell out for me, but I can’t make my mouth move to answer him. Pain sears my leg. My arm is twisted to hell, and my entire body is numb. I know I need to try and move or at least call out for him and tell him where I am, but all I can think about is Austyn. Her blue eyes smiling up at me. This can’t be it for us. I need to fight for her. I told her I would fight my way back to her, and I will. With all my strength, I lift my arm that’s not twisted like a fucking pretzel into the air and yell for Combs. The pain from that simple act alone nearly has me blacking out. My head is ringing from the explosion, so I don’t know if I’m truly screaming or if it’s all in my head. I don’t get time to figure it out when everything goes black.
“Reeves.” I feel a slap to my face. “Wake the fuck up, man. Come on, you’ve got to wake up.”
“Austyn.” I push the words past my lips. My head is foggy, and I can barely make out what he’s saying. I can smell the fire and feel its after math down to my twisted bones. I can taste blood and ashes, but the only thing I can think of is her. She’s all I see as I close my eyes. My angel.
“Austyn,” I croak. When I close my eyes, I can see her. She takes me away from this war, this hell that I’m currently lying in broken and battered.
“Thank fuck,” I think I hear him say. I can tell he’s scared; the ringing in my ears is softer now, allowing me to hear his panic. “We’ll call her, okay? We’ll let you talk to her, but you have to stay awake, man.”
“I—” My mouth’s dry, as if I’ve eaten a pound of sand. The taste of blood, and ash gagging me. The pain from my injuries is excruciating. “I love her,” I grit out. “T-t-ell her.”
“Fuck that.” Combs leans in close. “You’re going to tell her. You’re going to stay awake until the medic’s flight gets here, and then you’re going to tell her. You hear me? You’re going to be okay. Stay with me. You’re going to tell her.”
“Angel,” I try to say, but I’m not sure if I do. Everything is starting to blur.
“Open your fucking eyes, Reeves! Open them,” Combs says.
I want to. I want to open them and see her face, I want to open them and make him promise to tell her how much I love her, but I can’t make it happen. No matter how hard I try, they just won’t open.
My entire body hurts. The pain is all-consuming as I lie here in the sandy desert waiting for help to arrive. “Slade, stay with me!” Combs yells, and that’s the last thing I remember before darkness takes over yet again.
IT’S SATURDAY AFTERNOON, AND WE’RE just lounging around the house. Classes start next week, so I’m taking a break before my life gets crazy again. I worked the morning shift at the diner. Turns out, good help really is hard to find, and Margaret welcomed Savannah and me both back with open arms.
“Aust, I say we draw more pictures for Slade,” Dawson suggests.
I can’t help but laugh. He’s drawn almost as many pictures as I’ve written letters. I’ve mailed every single one of them too. I hope a little piece of home will keep him going. “Sure, bud. We can do that. Why don’t we watch a movie first?”
“Transformers!” He cheers, and we all groan because we’ve seen it hundreds of times.
“Why don’t we watch The Avengers this time, bud?” Dad asks hopefully.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “We need popcorn.” He jumps off the couch and races to the kitchen.
“I better help him.” Mom laughs and follows him to the kitchen.
Dad pulls up the movie and hits pause, waiting for them to come back. “You heard from Slade?” he asks.
“No, it’s been a couple of weeks. He’s out in the field like last time I’m guessing.”
Before he can reply, his phone rings. He looks at the screen as if he’s not sure he should answer it, but then swipes the screen and puts it to his ear anyway. “Hello,” he says, still looking not uncertain about whoever’s on the other end. “This is Lee,” he confirms.
I pull up my phone and text Savannah, asking if she wants to come over and hang out with us.
“What does that mean?” I hear dad ask, pulling my attention back to his call. “Yes, I see. Where?” He’s quiet, listening I assume. He’s staring straight ahead at the wall. His stare is laser-focused on… nothing. “Can you please send me that information? Yes, that’s my e-mail. Thank you for calling.” He hangs up the phone and rubs his hands over his face.
“Popcorn!” Dawson exclaims, coming back in the room, Mom on his tail, laughing.
“Dawson, I have an idea. Why don’t you take the popcorn up to your room and start on those pictures for Slade? I need to talk to your mom and your sister for a few minutes.” His shoulders are tense, and it feels like something is wrong.
“Ah, man, I never get to hear the good stuff,” he whines.
“Dawson,” dad warns in a stern voice. I’m now certain that whatever it is, is bad. Fear clutches my chest as I wait for Dawson to go upstairs.
“Fine. I wanted to draw a picture for Slade anyway,” he grumbles, taking his bowl of popcorn and stomping up the stairs.
“Dad?” I ask, rubbing my sweaty palms on my legs. I take a deep breath and slowly exhale to attempt to calm my suddenly frazzled nerves. Something from that call upset him. He stands from his chair and moves to sit next to me on the couch. Reaching over, he takes my hand in his. “You’re scaring me,” I tell him.
“Austyn, I need you to listen to me, okay?”
I nod, the fear capturing my ability to speak.
“When he was here, Slade asked me if he could list me as his next of kin. He didn’t have anyone else, and his fear was you being alone if you got the call. There was an explosion.”
“Oh, God.” Dad squeezes my hands a little tighter, I’m sure because of the way I’m trembling. “Tell me he’s okay. Tell me!” I scream, as a sob rocks through my body. “What did they say? What happened?”
He glances over at Mom, and she comes to sit next to me on the other side of the couch. Her hands rest on my thigh. “That was the Marine Corps. All they could tell me was that there was an explosion, but he’s alive and stable. They’re taking him to a hospital in Germany for further treatment.”
My hand grips my necklace that I haven’t taken off since the moment he put it on me. My breathing is labored; I can’t seem to be able to pull in enough oxygen.
“I need you to calm down,” he says soothingly.
“He’s alive?” I repeat his words as my mind races to process everything he’s said. There was an explosion. “Stable, what does that mean?” I’m somehow able to ask through the fear that’s gripping me.
“Yes. He’s stable, but they couldn’t tell me more. They’re sending me the information via e-mail of where he’s going to be. As soon as we get it, we’ll go to him.”
“We need to go now.” I try to stand, but his hand on my shoulder stops me.
“Austyn, listen to me. I need you to calm down. I know you’re scared. As soon as we get the information, we’ll book a flight.” He looks over me at my mom.
“Please,” I beg him. I need to go now. I can’t just sit here and wait. I need to go to him. My phone vibrates on my lap, and I grab it, hoping it’s him, hoping that this is all some big misunderstanding. It’s not him. It’s Savannah. “Brandon?” I ask him.
“They didn’t say, sweetheart, and even if he
was hurt, they wouldn’t tell me. They will only tell those who are listed as next of kin.”
“I can’t tell her,” I sob. “She’ll worry. What do I do?” My phone rings again and my pulse races. “It’s Savannah,” I show them the screen.
Mom takes the phone from my hands and answers the call. “Hello.” Her voice is soft. “Yes, she’s here, but we’ve just received some news.” She listens intently. “That’s good to know. I’m glad they called you.” She listens again. “I’ll tell her. They’re going to be leaving as soon as we know where he is for sure. We’ll keep you updated. I’ll tell her. Thanks, Savannah.” She hands me back my phone. “Brandon was with him,” she tells me. “He insisted he gets to call her and let her know he was safe. He’s still out in the field, but he knew she’d worry once you told her about Slade. His captain called her to tell her he’s unharmed and he’ll be in touch soon.”
I exhale in relief that he’s not hurt too. “What about the other guys? Did she say anything?”
“No, they won’t give her that information,” Mom reminds me gently.
“So what do I do? I can’t just sit here when he’s God knows where and all alone.”
“You need to go upstairs and pack. That way, when we find out where he is for certain, we can be on the next flight out,” Dad says.
“I’ll be right behind you to pack myself.”
“You’re going?”
“I have to, Austyn. You’re not listed, I am. They’re not going to tell you anything once you get there. Besides, no way am I letting you fly out of the country on your own, especially when your emotions are all over the place.”
“Come on, sweetie. Let’s go pack a bag so when Dad gets the information, you guys can go.”
I allow her to pull me off the couch. Blindly through my tears, I follow her up the steps, holding her hand. I sit on the edge of the bed, while Mom pulls a bag out of my closet. “I’ll pack a hoodie. I’m not sure what the weather is like in Germany, that way you’ll be covered,” she rattles on.
