He Won't Be Coming Home

"Down this way," the captain of our squad shouted back at us, before turning down a deserted street. We hadn't run into anyone - no renegades, no insurgents, no people hiding out in buildings waiting to ambush us as we headed into a trap - which was unusual. We were near the center of Baghdad. We'd been out there for hours, draining the energy from our bodies. We'd have run into someone of opposition by then. Something must have been going on.

We trooped over the dusty street, keeping a lookout in all directions, our guns pointing everywhere. Something strange was going on, and we wanted to have the upper hand and at least be prepared for some sort of attack.

My troop rounded corner after corner, planning on running into some form of enemy combatant, but no one ever came. It was like we really were completely and utterly alone in this city. The silence was all around us except for the wind and our breathing.

"Stop!" the captain announced, the rest of us coming to a halt behind him. "You hear that?"

We all stopped and listened. It was a scraping noise and then that of a shotgun being cocked. Someone was near. None of us moved as we waited for whoever was hiding to come forth. And then, a small dark boy stepped out of a doorway on the right side of the street a few yards away. He held a shotgun in his hands, aiming it at us. He didn't shoot, and the look on his face told me he probably wasn't going to. He looked scared; he should have been - there were fifteen or so grown men with grenades and guns and all sorts of other weapons strapped to them staring him down. If he was smart, he'd turn and go back inside.

Then, out of nowhere, I felt this wave of... anger sweep over me, washing all rationality out of my brain as I stared at this little boy. It was like a beast had been released from its cage inside me. I felt like I wanted to hurt this boy. And I wanted to hurt him badly. I couldn't control what happened next.

One minute, I was standing with my men, and the next thing I knew, I was surging forward, my automatic held at the ready. I let out a cry of fury as I ran at this boy. He didn't move. Didn't shoot, didn't run away, didn't even flinch. My finger on the trigger just... went.

I shot round after round into the body of this little boy, watching as his blood spattered the dirt on the ground below us. The shooting was ringing in my ears and it wasn't until I heard the clicking of the trigger on an empty gun that I stopped. I was breathing hard, the rage suddenly gone. The boy fell forwards onto his knees and the collapsed face down in the dirt, the gun pinned under him. Little pools of blood were forming around him and I lowered my gun, realizing what I'd done. I turned around, expecting all of the other soldiers to stare at me like I'd gone mad, and maybe I had. But when I looked, no one was there. I was alone. All alone in this deserted street, just me and this dead little boy. I turned to look back at his dead body, but something was different about him. His hair was no longer black, but a brown color. And his skin... his skin was white.

I hesitantly took a few steps toward the body until I was right next to it, and then stuck my foot out, digging it under the body and turning him over. I felt my breath hitch and my stomach drop, and I collapsed to my knees. Staring back at me... was Alex. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek at the sight of his dead body.

I'd just shot my son. Brutally shot and murdered my only son. I pulled his body to mine, hugging it for dear life as I just looked down, crying, rocking back and forth wishing with every fiber of my being that I hadn't just done that.

I shot up in bed, my cheeks wet and sticky with tears and my breathing heavy. My heart was racing and there was a stabbing pain in my lower left leg. I groaned as I brought a hand to my face, rubbing my forehead. That was the second time I'd had that dream since I'd been placed in the hospital, and it scared me to death. It always seemed so real when I was asleep that it was a relief to wake up even knowing I was at base camp. It was just going to show that being in Iraq was messing with my head. Not only did I have hallucinations like that in my dreams, but even during the day. I'd see something move from the corner of my eye and nothing would be there when I looked. I could almost feel a physical sense of my brain beginning to deteriorate. This war had begun to drive me to insanity, after being there for only two months. Two months that seemed like an eternity.

Slowly I wiped the last trace of tears from my eyes and looked around the room, hoping I hadn't woken the other patients. My eyes landed on the empty bed next to me and I sighed, remembering.

A man from my troop, ironically named Matt as well, had occupied that bed, up until a few days prior. He'd been put in when his temperature was nearing 104 degrees and was suffering massive dehydration, and he stayed there, keeping me company for the last week that I'd been in the base camp hospital for. Then he was given the okay to get back out there and fight, but he didn't come back that day. He used to wake up every night having screaming fits, and none of the nurses would be able to calm him down, so they had to tranq him. He'd gone so insane and troubled that when he was released, he went out and shot himself in the head, ending it there and then for himself.

I hissed as the shooting pain in my leg struck again, sending my calf into an almost paralyzing pain. I'd gotten into the base camp hospital from a raid a week ago. Part of our base was struck with mortars, blowing up a lot of important buildings and machines and equipment. Unlucky for me that day, I was quite close - too close - and a chunk of shrapnel went flying and caught me in the leg. It didnt get lodged in there or anything, but it cut a deep enough gash that I needed fifteen stitches in my calf.

The pain was horrible to bear. Some nights it kept me awake. The nights I did sleep, I woke in the middle of the night from nightmares. Either way, I didn't get much sleep and that, in turn, got the cogs in my head turning. For a man stranded with the army, that's never good.

So now, after waking up from that terrible nightmare, I knew I wouldn't be sleeping. I decided to read over the last letter Jayvee sent and figured it was about time I wrote her back. I hadn't had a chance to in the past week since I was injured and I usually asked the nurses to drug me up because of the biting pain in my leg, which lulled me to sleep during the day.

The sun rose shortly after my letter to Jay was finished, and shortly after that, breakfast in the mess hall had ended and I was greeted by Zacky as he came in the ward. He pulled up a chair next to my bed and took a seat.

"Hey, how are ya?"

"I'm complete shit. I didn't sleep well again last night..." I mumbled, looking down at my lap.

"...Was it that dream again?" Zacky asked knowingly. I simply nodded, staring off into space.

"Hang in there, Matt. All this shit will end. And we'll get to go home to our families. And I dunno about you but when we get home, I will proudly say a big 'Fuck You' to any Army recruiter that shows up at my door," he said, a smile trying to break through. I shushed him after seeing some of the glares he received from the other soldiers in the room. Zacky didn't care. He didn't care about a lot of things to do with this war and our current positions. He'd gotten in a slightly better mood, but I couldn't tell if it was because he had gone as insane as I had lately or not. Whatever it was, I wasn't too sure I liked it. But I'd ask anyways.

"What're you so chipper about?" I asked as the nurses came into our ward with breakfast trays. I slowly picked at the food on the one placed before me, not really in the mood to be eating.

"Got a letter from Sarah. Eight months, man... Little over two months we've been here. One more month an... I'm a daddy," Zacky beamed.

"Did she say how things are going?"

"Yeah. They're going good, I guess. Brian took them all fishing for Alex's birthday."

I nodded my head at the thought. I'd never gotten to fish with my son before I was sent away. One more father-son moment handed over to Brian. I guess I'd have to get used to it though, because that was the way things would be going for awhile.

"Well, I gotta get going. I only had a couple minutes to drop in and say hi to you. I'll come back later when we get back from our daily raid," Zacky said, rolling his eyes at the last bit. They seriously did have us out doing something every day.

"Alright. See ya," I waved, and then I called the nurse over to put me into a well deserved, drug-induced sleep.