Fight or Flight

Veronica groaned as she woke up, tossing in a bed that wasn't hers. She slowly sat up, putting her hands to her temples. If her pounding headache was anything to go by, she’d say that she had too much fun last night. She didn't know how much fun she had; she couldn't remember anything after she and the team went out for some drinks.

She rubbed her eyes, glancing around the very familiar room. She was at Nate's house, in the guestroom she always stayed in when she slept over. A bottle of water and Advil were on the nightstand. She silently thanked them for the hospitality. She swallowed two pills and chased it with water to soothe her scratchy throat. She finished the full bottle in under a minute.

"Shit," She hissed, tossing the blankets around for her phone. She checked the pockets of her pants for it.

She had a habit of drunk texting, and Matt was the one person she did not want to text while drunk. Her anxiety level heightened as she wondered if she'd texted him and didn't remember. She definitely did not want to tell him any unwanted things while she was intoxicated.

Her cell phone wasn't in the nightstand drawer, either. Maybe Nate has it, she thought. She sometimes gave her phone to him for him to hold to prevent her from texting. She wondered if Matt knew where she was or if he was calling her phone repeatedly. She just prayed that Nate had it and she hadn't actually lost it during the night.

She rolled out of the bed, stumbling as she made her way to the en suite bathroom. She looked down at the brownish stain on her shirt and sniffed her clothes. Her entire shirt smelled like she'd been doused in liquor. Maybe she'd been so inebriated last night that she could no longer get the drinks into her mouth.

She grabbed a towel and washcloth from the linen cabinet and turned on the shower. A hot shower would make her feel and smell better. When she looked in the mirror, her reflection stared back at her. Her hair was a tangled mess, her shirt was wrinkled, her face was flushed, and her eyes were puffy. The cut on her forehead had since turned into a scab and peeled away, healing and leaving a small scar.

She undressed and stepped under the warm water of the shower, pulling the shower curtain closed. She leaned against the tiles for support. Her headache was relentless. She washed her hair first, using the hair products that she always kept in the spare bathroom. Their house was like a hotel or another home away from home.

After she showered, she made her way to the dresser that held a quarter of her wardrobe. The clothes were mostly there for days like this, or when she needed to make an emergency outfit change. She dressed in a pair of loose, gray sweatpants and a t-shirt. She towel dried her wet hair and brushed her locks, tying it up into a messy bun on top of her head. The Advil wasn't working fast enough for her.

The house was quiet when she stepped into the hallway, barefoot. She padded down the stairs. The first floor was quiet with the exception of the sound of cartoons coming from the living room. She turned the corner. Her designation was on the other side of the house.

Their in-home gym was her favorite place. She didn't bother flipping the light switch, enough sunlight poured in through the windows. The room had all the necessary equipment to stay fit without going to the gym. It was mainly made for Audrey after she'd had the baby and wanted to lose the baby weight, but Veronica always put the room to good use.

Veronica decided to go without gloves, crossing the mat and standing in front of the boxing bag. She threw a quick jab at it. It was a weak punch, and the bag barely moved. She got back into her stance, throwing a few harder punches towards the bag.

"I figured you were here."

Veronica glanced at the wall-to-wall mirror. Nathaniel stood behind her by the door, holding a mug. She grunted, throwing two more punches at the bag.

"Can you slow down on the drinks?" Nate requested, grabbing her third drink in the hour away from her hands.

"Stunner, let her have some fun," Cherry laughed, taking the drink from Nate’s hand. "Here."

She slurred a "thank you" as Cherry returned the glass back to her. She wanted to forget about Matt for the night.

"I called him last night," He answered before she could ask. "I told him you were staying here. Your phone is safe and sound."

A feeling of relief spread through her body when he showed her the iPhone in his hand. Nate was truly a life saver.

"Are you not going to talk to me?" He asked. She watched him set the mug on the table. He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "I carried your drunk ass upstairs last night. You were wasted and blacked out."

"Be quiet." Nate placed a hand over her mouth to stop her drunken babbling.

"You shut up," Veronica slurred, barely able to stand on her own.

He looked down at her, sighing.

"Come on." He bent down, placing a hand on her back and the other behind her knees. He groaned as he picked up all one hundred and fifty pounds of her, carrying her up the stairs to the guest room.

The pieces of last night kept coming back. She kept a steady flow of punches to the bag.

"I made you coffee."

She continued beating the bag.

"Veronica, stop. You're going to make yourself sick."

She listened to him out of habit and abruptly stopped jabbing. She moved out of the way of the swinging punching bag, narrowly missing it before it hit her. She turned around to face him, not really in the mood to talk.

"You went way overboard with the drinks last night," He told her. "Just relax."

How could she relax? Her boyfriend was on her back over training and she had no clue how to tell him that she was leaving. It was a lot easier for Nate to tell Audrey than it was for her to tell Matt. Audrey anticipated it. She knew how to prepare for it. Matt didn't and Veronica couldn't bear to put the weight on him like that.

She turned back around to the punching bag, round housing it. She kicked it again and again out of frustration. The curve of her foot and ankle met the heavy, leather bag each time.

"Try not to hurt yourself before we leave," Nate advised, watching her overexert herself with a hangover. "Unless that's your plan."


“What happened?” Nathaniel asked, walking up to the group. They’d called him because he was the team leader and he probably knew what to do.

“He came walking up to our checkpoint. He said he has a bomb strapped to him, but he’s sorry. He wants us to take it off,” Cherry explained to him, pointing at a screaming man. The man was dressed in a white button-up and waving his hands at them from down the street.

“Take it off?” Nate questioned. “What’s this guy trying to do?”

“Help this man,” The native translator demanded. “He’s not a bad man!”

“Not a bad man?” Cherry looked at the Iraqi translator like he was insane. “He’s got a fuckin’ bomb strapped to his chest!”

Veronica kept her eyes on the man at the end of the street, waving his arms. There was no sight of a bomb like he claimed.

“This is a trap, man,” Kenny shook his head at the team leader. “He’s trying to pull us closer.”

“Alright.” Nate turned to the translator, keeping his eyes on the man. “Tell him to open his shirt slowly so we can see what’s inside.”

Veronica raised her rifle, aiming directly for the man’s head. If he had a detonator, she was going to kill him before he could push it. The man listened to the translator, slowly unbuttoning his white dress shirt. He pulled it open, revealing a suicide vest.

“Jesus,” Veronica gasped, lowering her gun a bit. If it blew, it was going to do a lot of damage.

“I need a 75 meter perimeter,” Nathaniel announced, pointing his finger. “Get everyone out of here, now!”

“You’ve gotta call EOD, man,” Cherry suggested calling for the combat engineers that were responsible for clearing and disarming bombs.

“I can’t,” Nathaniel shook his head. “It’ll take about an hour for them to get here and we don’t know how much time is left.”

“Well, do something!” Veronica shouted.

“Tell him to get on his knees and put his hands up,” He instructed towards the translator.

Veronica watched the man get on his knees and raise his hands in the air. She glanced back at her best friend, knowing that Nate had no idea what to do in this situation. The man was coming to them for help, and his life was basically in their hands.

“Can’t I just shoot him?” Cherry asked, his sights set on the man.

“No!” Veronica blurted out. “Nate, he’s just asking for help! He wants us to help him!”

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows at her, reminding her that he was technically a superior of hers. She huffed, hating when he used his rank to his advantage.

“I got this,” He said, raising his hand in frustration. He looked at the newest team member. “Sam, you know about bombs, right?”

“Yes, Sir.” Sam stepped up. He was originally supposed to go into the explosive disposal unit.

“Nate, no,” Veronica urged him not to send Sam out. He was only twenty-four years old. He was just a kid, in her eyes.

He ignored her protests, giving Sam a kit and instructing him on what to do. Sam nodded, taking the responsibility to appease his leader. Veronica watched the nervousness contoured on Sam’s face as he took the first steps towards the man. Without hesitation, she lowered her gun and followed him.

“Veronica, what are you doing?” Nate called out after her. “Get back here now!”

“If Sam goes, I’m going with him,” She protested. For some reason, she felt the need to go with him, in a protective manner.

“To hell you’re not!” He shouted. “You trying to get yourself killed?”

“With all respect, Nate, fuck off,” She told her friend into her mic.

Sam chuckled, looking at her with his freckled, youthful face. “You’ll probably get your ass kicked for that one.”

“Nah, we go way back,” She shrugged nonchalantly as they walked down the barren street. “I’m not letting you get killed, kid…alone, at least.”

“Thanks, Scottie,” He smiled, patting her shoulder.

When they approached the kneeling man, they also kneeled to his level. Veronica tried not to show fear as she stared directly at what would possibly kill her within the next several minutes. This was practically suicide.

“Okay,” She let out a shaky breath. She glanced at Sam beside her. “I’ll help you.”

“Just calm him down, please,” Sam instructed, reaching into the kit for whatever tools he may need.

“Keep your hands up,” She said as best she could in Arabic. The man continued yelling for help, shaking in fear. “Just calm down. We’re going to help you, okay?”

Veronica tried her best to get him to understand and to console him. She wondered if the man understood that it would be a lot easier to disarm it if they killed him. This man probably had a family, though. She didn’t kill innocent civilians, and she hated when the opposing side used civilians to make a point.

“Shit,” Sam groaned lowly. He pulled a watch from a pocket of the vest.

“What?” Veronica looked at the watch. Her eyes widened at the time left before the bomb was to explode. She was definitely dead now.

“There’s a timer, there’s about six minutes left,” Sam said into the radio. “There’s a lot of wires.”

“Veronica, come back now,” Nathaniel ordered through her earpiece.

“I can’t,” She said through her mic, staring down at the ticking watch. She knew he was just trying to keep her alive, but she couldn’t leave this man alone. “We have to save him.”

“There’s locks on this thing,” Sam told her.

“Well, unlock them,” She said like it was the obvious answer. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She could hear the blood flow in her ears. “Be careful.”

She watched Sam try to break the locks off with a pair of pliers. The man babbled and prayed to his God.

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” She put a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s our time?” Sam grunted, using all of his strength to squeeze the pliers.

“Four minutes,” Veronica breathed. She had to stay calm for the sake of this man. If she panicked, he panicked.

“This is hard steel,” Sam informed her. “I’m going to need a torch.”

“We don’t have time for a torch! We don’t even have a torch in the truck!”

“I know,” Sam paused, giving himself a moment for a pep talk. “I can do this. This is my first deployment, I can do this.”

“Three minutes.”

“I’ve gotta get the bolts off,” Sam tried again. He squeezed the pliers again with no luck.

“We don’t have enough time, Sam.” She panicked on the inside. She mentally prayed and said her goodbyes. If she got blown up, there would be no body for a funeral.

“About two minutes,” Nate reminded her through her earpiece. “You guys have to come back now.”

“Give us thirty seconds,” She begged her friend. “We can save him.”

“Fuck him, get back here now!” Cherry’s gruff voice came through.

She glanced behind her, looking at her hollering team at the opposite end of the street. It was a long run back to safety.

“Sam, can you do it?” She asked, looking hopeful.

“He’s a dead man, Scottie,” He sighed, his face doubtful. “I can’t do it and there’s a minute and fifteen seconds left.”

The team removed the civilians from the street and began to back up further down the street as it got closer to the detonation time.

“One minute,” Nate announced.

Veronica and Sam both stood up, cursing. There was nothing they could do. The man looked at them wildly, asking where they were going.

“There’s too many locks,” Sam explained to him in English. “I can’t help you.”

“Do you understand?” Veronica asked him, placing her hands on his shoulders and shaking him frantically. “There’s too many locks.”

The man began to cry at their words. She didn’t even know this local man, and yet her heart broke for him.

“We’re sorry, okay?” She apologized. Her voice quavered. She couldn’t cry, not now. “We’re sorry!”

“We have to go now,” Sam urged, grabbing her by the arm.

She stumbled backwards as he pulled her and they broke into a sprint. She looked back at the man, who was staring up at the sky helplessly. She uttered a silent prayer for him as she ran. The crackling explosion sent her and Sam flying forward and within seconds, it was all over.

Veronica kicked the punching bag again, as if she was kicking the bad memory out of her mind. She put her foot back down on the mat, regaining her balance. Her stomach churned, either from the violent flashback or from the hangover. She retched, spewing vomit all over the mat. She leaned over with her hands on her knees, her stomach aching as she vomited.

“And I told you that was going to happen,” Nate sighed, walking over to her. He stepped around the small puddle of vomit, placing a hand on the small of her back.

“I’m sorry,” She choked out, gagging at the disgusting taste in her mouth. She wiped her mouth with her shirt and collapsed on the mat. “I’m sorry for ruining it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” He said, waving his hand. The exercise mat was the least of his worries. He sat on the floor and wrapped his arms around his friend. “Hey, babe, can you bring some paper towels?” He called out to Audrey.

“I’m sorry,” Veronica apologized again. She started to cry, grabbing fistfuls and mumbling into his gray v-neck.

“I’ve got the paper towels,” Audrey bounded into the room with her cheerful tone, carrying a handful before frowning. “What happened? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” He told his wife, rocking his friend back and forth. “Just a bad hangover.”

“I’ll get more paper towels then, or a mop,” Audrey nodded and glanced at the puddle of throw up. She dropped the paper towels, turning on her heel to find the proper cleaning products.

“Hey.” Nate lifted Veronica’s chin with his thumb so she could look at him. Through her watery, red eyes, he could tell what she was going through. The memories were always bad. “It’s okay, V. I get them, too.”