The Heart You Carry Home (31 page)

“Who did you kill with this weapon?” the CO asked as he crossed the room.

“Nobody.” The gun shook in Reno's hands.

“Don't lie to me, Reno. I was there. I saw you do it with my own eyes.”

The image of the wounded soldier moved across Reno's body, followed by the stalking Vietnamese.

“Was it a woman?” the CO asked. He stepped up to Reno. “Did she have eyes like these?” He pointed to the mask. “Did you shoot her in the eye?”

Reno cocked the gun and the CO stepped back just a few feet, almost like he was encouraging Reno to fire it.

“Who was the woman, Reno?”

“She was just a girl.”

“No, she wasn't, Reno. She was a fucking gook. She was a gook breeder. She bred the sons that killed your friends. She made
him!
” The CO pointed to the picture of the Vietnamese soldier. “Shoot her, Reno. Blow her fucking brains out.” The CO knelt down before Reno as though in supplication. Reno shook, frantic as a trapped mouse.

“Shoot me, Reno!” the CO ordered. “Blow my gook brains out!”

Reno pointed the gun at the CO's forehead.

“All the horror you've been carrying. For forty years. Let it out, Reno. Embrace it and purge it. Now!”

None of the nine other vets had gotten so far into the CO's charade—at least, none of them had been handed a weapon. They'd all collapsed much sooner or gone mad or given up and passed out. And now Ben needed to do something. He wasn't going to let this happen. He began edging toward the two men.

“Do it!” the CO demanded. “Don't fail me, Reno.”

But Reno dropped the gun. He fell to his knees and sobbed into his hands.

“Coward,” the CO whispered.

And then, all at once, the video snapped off and the sounds disappeared. The CO threw off the mask. “Take him!” he snarled, furious, and two hoplites entered. They lifted Reno by the arms and carried him out the door. Now Ben, Bull, and the CO were alone.

“My sons,” the CO said, motioning for each of the men to drink from the vat of dark liquid and then kneel before him.

B
ECCA WATCHED THE
guards carry a man from the hogan. She shuddered at the sight of the body whimpering and twitching, but when she realized it was Reno, she nearly cried out. The guards laid Reno on the truck bed, where he writhed, mumbling nonsense. Then he fell still. One of the guards took his pulse. “He's not great,” the guard said to the driver. “You should take him to the infirmary.”

“Ask the CO,” the driver said. “And ask when he wants me to bring King.”

But the guard's answer was unexpected. “He doesn't want King anymore.”

“What do you mean?” the driver protested.

“It's what he told us,” the second guard said, but he went into the hogan anyway. When he came back out, he opened the door wide. It was the briefest moment, but in that window, Becca's body went cold. Inside the room were two naked men on their knees. One of them was Ben.

Becca thought fleetingly of Jacob and prayed that he would stay hidden. Then she bolted toward the hut. The guards looked genuinely startled to see her, but they weren't going to let her through. In unison—almost in slow motion, it seemed to Becca—their arms extended. And then a beast bit into her stomach. Its jaws ripped through her skin and sank into the muscle. She spasmed and collapsed, clutching her belly. All she could think was that she hadn't even made it to the doorway. She hadn't come close. Meanwhile, the beast had discovered her breasts and shoulders and was gnawing upward toward her eyes.

“You want me to get her out of here?” someone asked.

“No,” replied a voice, deep and slow. “Bring her in.”

Hands grabbed her shoulders and lifted her like she was nothing more than a sack of bones. They carried her forward and dropped her inside the sweltering hogan. She heard the door shut. Then hands covered her shoulders. Large, familiar hands. She looked up into Ben's face. He was waxen and drenched, but she saw that he was all right. He pulled her close, soaking her shirt with his sweat. “It's okay,” he whispered into her ear. “I'm okay.”

“What's happening?” she cried. She felt nauseated, partly from the pain and partly from the stench of vomit. Her eyes flickered around the hogan, searching for the next threat. The room was empty except for Bull and the CO, who sat placidly on a pile of blankets. He looked like he was sleeping with his eyes open.

“We're the only two left.” Ben nodded at Bull. Bull appeared to be in worse shape than Ben. His head lolled on his neck like he was drunk. “I'm gonna be sick,” he said and rushed to a bucket in the corner. A moment later, Ben heaved and rushed to a second bucket. Becca followed and knelt beside her husband, stroking the damp hair on his head. It was when Ben sat up that she noticed the wound on his chest: the Greek helmet, pink and oozing. “What is this?” she cried. She held her fingers above the spot and Ben winced as though she'd actually touched him. “What did you do to him?” she screamed at the CO.

“You aren't going to deny the sergeant his chance to win the heart? Surely not so close to the end,” the CO replied calmly.

“I drank that stuff.” Ben nodded at the dark liquid. “He drank it too.” Ben motioned to Bull, who was on his knees, gripping the sides of the bucket. “It's a drug.”

Ben looked like he wanted to say something else but then he threw up again. In between expulsions, he looked at her. “I'll be fine.” He panted. “Go outside and wait for me, Becca.”

She shook her head.

“I don't want you to see this.”

“I'm not leaving,” she said.

“Please,” Ben pleaded, his eyes frantic.

“I think she should bear witness,” the CO mused, stroking his beard in an almost comical fashion. “If she sees, she will know, and if she knows, she will feel.”

Ben shook his head imploringly. “Becca—”

“No,” the CO interrupted, his voice cold. “She will stay.”

Swiftly, his massive body, so much more limber than she would have imagined, leaped from the blankets and seized her arm.

Becca struggled, but the CO only tightened his grip. She called for Ben, but he could barely hold his head upright. When he finally managed to lift it, his eyes were glazed over; he was gone.

No . . . no . . .
she cried silently to herself. The CO yanked her arm forcefully, almost throwing her against his blanket throne. “Sit,” he ordered and tugged her down. “Bull, son, come over here.”

Bull pulled himself away from the bucket and walked shakily toward Becca. “Soldier,” said the CO. “I have an important duty for you. She is your prisoner. She is not to move, not to speak. Do you understand?”

As Bull nodded, Becca looked into his eyes, searching for recognition. “We sat on Kath's porch,” she pleaded. “We watched a hawk.” But it was too late. The chemicals had taken over, and Bull pulled Becca to her knees. Then he knelt behind her and slid one arm around her stomach, holding her still. She felt trapped, like a doll. She wanted to speak his name, to try to break through to him, but she was terrified to be held like this. He could break her neck. Just like that.

“Very good, Bull,” said the CO. “Wait for my next command.” He picked up a remote control and the hogan walls came to life. Becca saw a dusty, unpaved street lined with cinder-block buildings. The smell of burning trash wafted down from vents somewhere overhead. And the room filled with Arabic singing. The music was beautiful and harsh and so tangible that Becca felt like she could have physically grabbed it—if Bull hadn't been holding her down.

The sound of gunfire burst over the music and Ben dropped to the ground. Then an Arab man appeared from one of the houses. He hurried into the road and laid something there. Then he disappeared back into his house.

Ben was now hiding behind the blankets. He looked up at the CO. “I'll stake out the house,” he whispered.

“Good thinking, Sergeant. Report back what you find.”

Ben stalked across the room and banged on the door—on the hogan wall—shouting at the man to come out. Nothing happened. Then
boom
. Flames burst across the screen, the explosion so loud that it shook the hogan walls. Becca screamed, unable to stop herself. Bull tightened his hold. He was making it hard for her to breathe. Ben dropped flat and rolled back and forth, crying out as though engulfed by fire.

“You're safe, soldier!” the CO called out. “But the snipers!”

Pops of gunfire echoed through the room, and Ben ducked and dodged like he was trying to avoid actual bullets. He ran toward one wall, and an image of fire burst up in his face. He ran at another wall and met more flames. The CO, meanwhile, was watching intently, pressing button after button on the remote. Becca couldn't stand this. She shut her eyes. She wanted to plug her ears but Bull had her arms trapped against her sides.

“Open your eyes, woman,” the CO ordered. “Open them now.” Bull shook her hard and finally, she submitted. “Do you understand what you are seeing?” The CO leaned over and whispered hot and close into her ear. “I'm creating the opportunity for his catharsis.”

Ben ran back and forth, meeting flames at every turn. Only when the CO beckoned to him did he stop. He hurried to the commander and slid to the ground.

“He is dead in here,” the CO said to Becca. He pressed his palm to the Greek helmet branded on his own skin. “I am giving him a chance to live again.”

“This is insane,” Becca snarled. “Don't you care that you're hurting him?”

Bull seized the back of her neck. Becca whimpered.

“It's okay,” the CO said. “Let her go, and start your patrol.” Bull did not hesitate. He dropped his arm and started a slow circle around the hogan. Becca crawled to Ben, who was folded into a ball at the CO's feet.

“Those wan, insubstantial relationships of the civilian world,” the CO said. “They mean
nothing
. These men died in the jungles! In the deserts! Just look at them!”

He motioned to Ben, and then to Bull, who was still circling the hogan holding an imaginary gun in his arms and mumbling orders to no one. The war scenes flickered nightmarishly. Becca remembered what Reno had said about King fleeing Kleos over and over. It was the one thing that gave her enough courage to speak. “If you keep them here, you're not even giving them a
chance
to live normal lives. You don't have any faith in them.”

“If you mean I lack faith in people like
you
, then you're right. There is only one chance for life after death! If a man can embrace his pain and expel it fully, then he may lead others. He may be reborn by leading his brothers and sons. Otherwise, who are we? What life can we possibly . . .”

The CO's voice trailed off and Becca was startled to see tears in the old man's eyes. “It's all right, soldier,” he said, and motioned Ben to him. Becca could only gape as Ben knelt before the CO and let the old man pet his head. “It's going to be all right,” the CO whispered. “I promise.”

“This isn't all right,” Becca whimpered, trying to coax Ben from his submissive position at the CO's feet. “None of this.” She dared to look the CO in the eye. “Just let Bull win,” she pleaded. “Give the heart to him. He's the one who wants this.”

For a moment, the CO actually seemed to consider this request. “Bull,” he said. But the moment Bull turned, the CO Tased him. Becca was so horrified, she couldn't even cry out. “Bull has been a good soldier,” the CO said calmly. “But Durga demands youth. And selflessness. And doggedness. She demands to be exalted by music. Bull cannot give her these things.”

Now the cityscape on the walls faded and a sort of metal cage materialized. It was the innards of a vehicle, Becca realized, and it was coated in blood.

A picture of a hand flashed on the wall.

Ben stumbled over and grabbed at the hand. Then there was a foot. Then a leg. Ben jumped and lunged and scratched at the wall as though he could physically pull the images into the room.

“You can't put your friend back together, Sergeant Thompson. You cannot clean up the blood. You cannot disinfect the metal. There is nothing whatsoever that you can do.”

“No!” Ben growled.

But the CO only nodded. “This was Coleman's fate. This is what happened.”

Ben was crying now, still grabbing at the limbs on the screen. Becca went to him. “It's not real, Ben,” she said, desperately trying to steel herself against this psychotic version of her husband. “It's just a picture. Look at me. I'm real.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “See, this is me.” But Ben kept grabbing at nothing. “This is the leg,” Ben cried. “This is the hand. This is the finger.” He was out of control, just like the night she'd fled.

“Why don't you tell your wife why you smashed the fiddle,” the CO said. “It might clear things up for her.”

The images faded and the lights dimmed. “I had a dream,” Ben said, turning to face the CO. He seemed to Becca, just then, like an actor on a stage. And the CO was the director, feeding him his cues.

“Go on,” the CO encouraged.

“A rope was tied to my waist and at the end of the rope was the sack. Full of parts. Full of Coleman—” Ben waved his hands at the walls. “I had to cut it off me. Cut away the bag of parts! Stop dragging.”

“So what did you do?”

“I fought with the knot!” Ben clawed at his waist, pounded his fists against his stomach, pulled at his skin like there was a real rope wrapped around his belly.

“Stop it! Ben, look what you're doing to yourself!” Becca grabbed at his hands, but he shoved her out of the way. She picked herself up from the floor, tears burning.

“Do you see now?” the CO asked. “In the darkness of his mind, you are not his wife. You are not even his friend. You become the knot he cannot untie. You become the enemy.” The CO looked disgusted that she'd needed to have any of this explained. “And then what, Sergeant?”