Monster

Eight

I wasn't supposed to be there that day. My commanding officer only brought me along as a precaution. He said the mission would be safe and easy, and we'd be home before lunch. The sound of screaming and gunfire was deafening.

"Medic! Medic!" someone was shouting from the other side of the building.

My heart was pounding, and my hands were shaking. I didn't want to go over there. Not where bullets were flying and people were screaming. I heard the voice get louder and more urgent. I knew that voice. He was a friend. We came to guard children, and I couldn't just stand there shaking in an alley when I could help them. That was the whole reason I trained for the job in the first place. Just to help. All I ever wanted to do was help.

So I took a deep breath and hugged my rifle tightly. I ran around the corner and into the open courtyard. My friend was kneeling over a bleeding child. The little girl was the one screaming. She couldn't have been more than ten. I could already tell by the amount of blood and the wound's location that she wouldn't live long enough for me to save her.

"I'm here! I'm here!" I shouted, returning my gun to my shoulder and trading it for my medical pack.

I pressed my fingers to the ripped cloth Jimenez held against the little girl's stomach. He released her and jumped up, disappearing through an alley. The girl looked up at me with tears in her eyes, and I didn't know how to comfort her. I just knew I had to try. Even if I couldn't save her life.

"You're okay, sweetie. You're going to be okay," I reassured her as I pulled the fabric away to assess the damage. I was looking for something that would give me hope. Any indication that it wasn't as bad as I thought.

But the wound had no exit, and it was leaking more than blood. If I managed to stop the bleeding, all I'd do is give the girl a long agonizing death. I bit my lip to stop the flood of emotions and looked back at the little girl. I forced myself to smile.

"Don't be afraid," I said.

There was shouting across the street. Then, for a moment, the gunfire ceased, and there was nothing but the whistle of the wind. Then I heard the last word I wanted to hear while sitting in a vulnerable position in the middle of an open courtyard.

"Grenade!"

The explosion rocked the courtyard. One moment I was looking into that little girl's eyes, and the next thing I knew, I was yards away, lying on a pile of debris on my back. I could feel the burns on my ear and face. Ringing drowned out all sound except for the pounding of my heart. I struggled to get back on my feet and searched the courtyard for the little girl. She was lying several feet away, looking peaceful beneath a blanket of plaster and brick. Her eyes were still wet with tears, but she stared unblinkingly at the dusty sky.

"Jo. Jo?" a voice said through the ringing, and I felt hands on my shoulders. Someone gripped me hard and spun me around. I gasped and blinked.

"Steve," I said when I finally made sense of my surroundings. I was at home in my dark bedroom with the tree-shaded walls. Steve was in my bed, shaking me out of a nightmare.

"Are you okay?" he asked, as a fellow soldier, not the lover he was supposed to pretend to be. My heart was pounding still, and in the silence, I could hear my own ragged breathing. I was still trembling, and the blankets had twisted in my legs. I nodded quickly.

"I'm fine," I told him. "I'll be fine." But his eyebrows creased in the darkness, and he sat back and released me. I could tell that he was seeing me more thoroughly than most people did. It was the same way soldiers looked at me on the outside. A mutual understanding. Equals. Not as a patient, sister, or daughter.

"You don't really believe that," he said flatly. I rubbed my forehead and tried to relax.

"No," I admitted. "But I didn't think you were asking about my mental state."

Then I rolled over and turned my back on him. He shifted and returned to his position beside me. He would have been more comfortable on the couch, but he wanted everything to go as planned, so he joined me anyway. I was used to being alone, but I didn't want to be. Sometimes all a person wanted was someone who understood. He wrapped his arm around me.

"You don't have to do that," I whispered into the dark. "No one is going to see."

"I know," he replied.

I didn't say anything. I stared at the window where the shadows of the tree were dancing on the glass. A pale green light made them stand out more than usual, which meant the neighbor's porch light was on. They didn't have any pets, and it was motion activated. It must have been the raccoon. Steve's body was warm, and I could feel the steady thump of his heart against my back. So I closed my eyes and sighed. I never was any good at sleeping alone. There were no romantic feelings, but it was nice not to be alone for once. I think he felt the same way.

"Goodnight, Steve," I said.

"Goodnight," he replied.