Chapter 11

Shawn

It’s so hot. I feel like I’m in a huge oven. My heavy combat clothing is sticking to my body uncomfortably fucking everywhere; it doesn’t breathe any better than I do.

I’m practically hyperventilating as I spring up, quickly swinging my gun into the window opening, and crouch below with my partner.

Letting out a long stream of bullets horizontally, I fire back on the enemy.

We’re pinned. Fucking motherfuckers have had us pinned for over an hour. Slumping back down, my labored breathing picks up.

This is bad.

Sweat trickles into my eyes as I note again how fucking hot I am.

Just quit fucking thinking about it, I scold myself.

Ping, ping, ping.

The gunfire around us sounds like popcorn. Loud popcorn. Quick staccatos that make our surroundings jump and shatter from the ricocheting bullets flying around us.

Ignoring it, I jump back up to return fire.

Dust is everywhere.

Visibility is shit. I can’t see more than twenty feet.

All the gunfire has made the hot, dry air stir up a fine dust storm on the street outside. It’s not surprising, since this fucking dust seems to be everywhere and in everything. I can feel it in my lungs as I suck in another hot mouthful.

Fuck. Tastes like hot burnt toast.

An explosion to my left has me pulling back quickly. The percussion shakes the building we’ve reconnoitered in, and the air itself vibrates around me. It’s as if a fog settles around me and my vision goes shimmering white.

The noise is deafening as I hear debris settling and shifting around me. Coughing, I try to cover my face in the crook of my elbow, keeping the worst from my lungs. Slowly, the air clears a bit, and I can see about ten feet or so.

Damn, half the building is missing to my left. Bright light is starting to filter through the haze of broken concrete and plaster that’s raining down as dust.

I turn to check on my partner James, who is just on my right…then everything goes black.

Fuck!

I’m sitting up in bed, shaking as I come to my senses.

Where the fuck am I?

That’s right. The guestroom at Evelyn’s.

Grabbing my head with both hands, I fall back on the bed with a crash.

The sheets are soaked. Perfect.

Not that I’m surprised. This is a fairly regular occurrence for me, and, according to the doctors, it’s a regular occurrence for all veterans of active combat.

Just something else I have to live with.

Rolling to the side of the bed, I swing my legs over the edge. Sitting up, I lean my head in my hands and hunch over my legs, propping my elbows on my knees.

Deep breathing—in through my mouth, slowly out through my nose. My racing heart begins to slow.

“What’s wrong?” The small voice at the door brings me quickly back to the present.

Tanner.

My son. Calling him that will take some getting used to. I wonder briefly if Evelyn will tell him who I am soon.

Looking up, I see his small figure peering in. He’s pushing the door open more as I watch, and one hand is hanging on the knob, his other arm wrapped around a stuffed animal. He’s so small in his Superman pajamas.

“Hey, buddy.” Running my hand over my short hair, I think of how to respond. “Nothing’s wrong. I just had a bad dream is all. Doesn’t that happen to you sometimes?”

Turning, I start pulling the bedspread up the mattress so I can lay back down without swimming in my own sweat.

Tanner drops the knob and ventures a step in the door before responding.

“I thought when I grew up, I would be so big and strong that I wouldn’t have bad dreams.” His tone sounds extremely disappointed.

Leaning back on the pillow I’ve propped up on the headboard, I motion him closer with a wave.

“Yeah, I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that. I still have a lot of bad dreams, kiddo.”

Leaning on the bed near my feet, Tanner props his stuffed dog on the bed next to him. It’s funny, that stuffed animal looks familiar.

“What do you dream about?”

Shit. What do you tell a kid about your PTSD?

One thing the shrink always drilled into me was to be as honest as possible. It’s supposed to help or some shit.

“I dream about war. Fighting. That sort of stuff. What are your bad dreams about?”

Tanner thinks carefully for a few seconds before answering. “Witches and ghosts mostly. Scary stuff like walking in the woods and being lost.” His mouth screws up, and he drops his head onto his hand, propping his elbow on the bed.

“Well that’s a bummer. Sometimes you just have to ride them out. Wait to wake up.” I cross my legs away from his face to give him more room where he leans.

“That’s what I do, too.” His face brightens as his head pops back up. “Can you tell me some stories about my mom, since you all are old friends and stuff?”

Throwing his right leg up on the bed, he puts his whole upper body on the mattress to use as leverage to pull both legs on and climb up on his knees.

“Did you know her when she was a little girl?”

Oh, man. I wish I could remember Evelyn. At this point, I would give anything to remember our life together.

We obviously cared deeply for each other.

Sure, she moved on, but what husband wouldn’t want their wife to if they died?

If you truly love someone, you want them to be happy. Even if that happiness isn’t with you.

Again, I think sticking to the truth with Tanner is the way to go. I intend to be in his life forever, and I don’t want him to remember me lying to him down the road.

“Unfortunately, I was in a pretty bad accident and lost some of my memory. I don’t really remember your mom that well.” I try to keep my voice upbeat and not let the sadness I feel creep in.

Tanner looks puzzled but interested. Raising himself up on his knees in front of me, he clutches the stuffed dog tight around the neck to his chest.

“What kind of an accident? A car accident? I saw that happen on a TV show. It was a lady, though. She hit her head in a car accident and lost her memory, too.”

He’s just so damn cute.

Settling back on his heels, he waits with interest for my answer.

“It wasn’t a car accident, but something hit my head, too. I didn’t know who I was for a long time. But I can make new memories. That’s what I’ve been doing. And now, I know you. Maybe you can tell me a little bit about your mom, and it will help my memories of her come back? The doctors say that can help.”

I scoot over and pat the bed a couple feet over, so he knows he can come closer.

Crawling up the bed, he settles back and looks up at me. “What do you want to know?”

Such a good question. I want to know everything.

“How old is she?” Seems like as good a place to start as any.

“Twenty-nine. She keeps saying this is the big three-oh year and that she’s getting old. But she isn’t old!”

Tanner’s animated laughter makes me laugh, too. He seems so small next to me, but he’s so articulate. So smart. That must be from Evelyn.

“Okay. So, what’s she do for work?”

“That’s easy. She’s a secretary.”

Tanner is treating this like a game show, and his voice gets louder with excitement.

“Where?” I ask quickly, urging him on.

Slapping the bed on both sides of his thighs with his hands, he belts out, “Dr. Peterson’s office.”

He dissolves into a fit of giggles like that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. Slipping down the bed next to me, he wiggles and laughs, hugging his stuffed dog.

“Tanner?” Evelyn’s voice pulls my gaze from his little body to the door where she stands.

My smile fades at the anger I see in her face.

“We were just visiting. He’s fine.”

I didn’t want her to think he was bothering me. Maybe that’s why she looks so pissed?

Tanner pops up guiltily at his name, quickly sliding his lower half over the side of the bed, landing gracefully on his feet. He doesn’t leave but leans against the bed by me.

“He said I could come in, Mom.” Even though he thinks he’s in trouble, he’s bouncing. With his hands behind his back, he’s using them to push off and bounce back into the side of the bed.

“I did. We were just getting to know one another.”

Tanner looks over his shoulder to smile gratefully at me for defending him.

“Well, I would like you to go eat the breakfast I just put out on the table, please. I need to talk to Shawn now.”

Okay. Obviously, someone didn’t roll out on the right side of the bed. The angry look hasn’t left Evelyn’s face, and Tanner seems happy to leave quickly—probably just relieved that he’s not the one in trouble.

“Bye, Shawn.” Once he wiggles around his mother at the door, he takes off at a run.

It kind of makes me wish I could sprint out of here, too.

What can she be pissed off about already?