Doe Hollow

Night Terrors

Abby woke to the smell of bacon frying in a cast iron skillet. In her sleepy state the aroma led her in and out of pleasant, lucid dreams of her grandmother's house on Saturday mornings. She drifted back into a light sleep and was transported to the breakfast table at Mammy's house, AJ sliding into the chair across from her dressed for mudding on his four wheeler, a faded blue Wildcats baseball cap on his buzzed head.

"No hats at the table," Mammy warns without even turning around. AJ whips the cap from his head and drops it on the floor under his chair.

Viola "Mammy" Sparks is a firecracker. The mother of eleven children, nine of them boys, nothing gets past her. Even standing at 4'10" and weighing in at maybe 102 pounds soaking wet, she can take on any one of her children or grandchildren. Mammy is like a ninja with a wooden spoon. Smart off in the next room and in the blink of an eye your ass is burning like fried hell and Mammy is back in the kitchen as quick as she came out.

Mammy sets plates piled with her home cured bacon and made from scratch pancakes in front of Abby and AJ, then joins them at the table with a cup of coffee and a Little Debbie cake. They eat in silence until Abby gets the sense that something isn't quite right. There's a faint scent of burning meat in the air that's gradually getting stronger.

"Mammy, you left the stove on," Abby says, looking up from her plate. To her horror, Mammy's Saturday morning kitchen has dissolved into an urban street. People are running and screaming in all directions. Abby doesn't understand.

"Mammy!" She wails. "AJ!"

The only reply are the terrified shrieks of the crowd around her. People are shouting in Pashtu, Dari, Arabic, and French. Men in knit hats and women in head scarves fall at Abby's feet and beg wildly in various languages. Captain Branson and Tech Sergeant Morales run toward her. Their squad had volunteered to help paint murals in a children's hospital. Abby was confused and terrified. A sudden explosion knocks the three Airmen off their feet. Abby's ears are ringing. She reaches Tech Seargent Morales as flames rain down on the street. Captain Branson low crawls toward them.

"God dammit!" He screams, his own ears ringing as well. "They fucking detonated another one!" TSGT Morales struggles to his feet.

"Captain, the kids! The fucking kids!" He's screaming and trying to find the strength to run back to the hospital.

"God dammit Morales sit the fuck down before you-" Captain Branson starts coughing violently as Morales runs out of earshot. "Mask Sparks!" He gasps, shaking Abby from her stupor. She realizes she's been holding her breath because of the smell. Like roasting meat.

Abby rips her gas mask from its pouch on her hip and slaps it onto her face, tightening the straps and checking the seal in one swift, practiced motion. Captain Branson is struggling to get his out of the pouch, so Abby grabs it herself and shoves it onto her commander's face. A new wave of civilians comes crashing down the street as Abby and the Captain find their feet. Branson looks back at the flaming skeleton of the children's hospital and back to Abby.

"Get the hell out of here Sparks!" Captain Branson screams, pushing Abby along. "Get back to command and tell them what happened. I'm going to find Morales." Abby obeys, but doesn't get far in the crowd. People are screaming and coughing everywhere. Abby finds a hole in the human wall and breaks through, only to trip over a body. Men suddenly swarm her, screaming in languages she doesn't understand and pointing at her mask. A man tries to grab at the front of the mask and Abby pulls her M9 pistol, shoving it in the man's face. The men closer to her try to back away and are pushed forward by the ones behind them. Terrified, Abby fires the pistol in the air and men dive away from her. Waving the weapon in front of her, Abby plunges through the crowd to a nearby alley where they parked their humvee earlier. She jumps in, cranks it, and plows out of the alley and back toward command. People dive left and right out of her way. She keeps screaming even after she's clear of the crowd.

"ABIGAIL LYNN SPARKS!" Virginia screamed, shaking Abby wildly. Abby woke up struggling, still screaming at the top of her lungs. "Abby, it's me, it's Mama." Virginia sobbed, tightening her grip on Abby while rocking back and forth on her knees. Abby slowly came to, shaking and hyperventilating. Virginia never loosened her grip on her daughter.

"Mama!" Abby sobbed when she found her voice. The return of her flashback nightmare was the final straw for Abby. Her body wracked with violent sobs as all of the pain of the past year worked its way to the surface at once. Abby soaked her pillow with tears, and after almost a full hour the storm began to calm. Virginia gently let go and Abby collapsed, exhausted and hoarse, onto the bed.

"Can I have some water?" She whispered, and Virginia leapt from the bed. When she returned Abby took the glass eagerly and gulped down the cool water. She sat silently for a long while, eyes closed, pressing the cold glass to her face. Virginia sat still, a silent but comforting presence.

Finally Abby spoke.

"I'm not ready to talk about it."

Virginia nodded.

"Please don't tell Daddy and AJ."

"I won't," Virginia promised.

Abby stood up from the bed and placed the empty glass on the night stand. She stretched and hugged her mother gently.

"Abby, I can't stand to see you like this," Virginia sniffled. "What can I do baby?"

Abby sighed. "I don't know," she answered honestly.

Having lost her appetite for bacon and pancakes, Abby spent the rest of the morning in her room. Still reeling from the nightmare, she decided all the old stuff in her room had to go. She went to the garage and got a yard bag, and filled it with all the stuff on the walls, shelves, and in the drawers and closet. After a very quick but thorough sweep, she lugged the bulging bag to the basement steps and down, dragging it to the darkest corner. Returning to an almost empty room was refreshing. All that was left was the furniture, bedding, and the two bags she'd brought back from San Antonio.

"Clean slate," she said aloud to herself. She opened her green military issued duffel bag and dumped its contents onto the bed, then did the same with the suitcase and backpack. She began methodically hanging her clothes in the closet, shelving the few books she'd brought home, and carrying her remaining toiletries to the hallway bathroom. When everything was in its place, she folded the duffel bag and the backpack, zipped them up in the suitcase, and slid the suitcase under the bed. Satisfied with her work, she showered and dressed quickly and headed downstairs.

"Is there gas in my car?" Abby called out, retrieving her keys from their hook by the garage door.

"Yeah I filled it up the other day and had the oil changed," Ronnie called back from the garage. Abby joined him at the hood of his project car, a '55 Impala.

"Thanks, Daddy," Abby said, hugging him. He held his oil covered hands away from her clothes. Abby ripped a shop towel from the roll and handed it to him.

"Are you going out?" Ronnie asked, wiping his hands.

"Just going to do a little shopping. I need new clothes and some stuff for my room." Abby headed toward the outer door of the garage.

"Be careful," Ronnie warned. "And call me if you need anything."

"I will," Abby promised before exiting the garage. Her little Honda Civic was sitting in its usual spot, clean as a whistle and in perfect condition, thanks to her thoughtful father. Abby rolled the windows down as she headed towards town, letting the wind refresh her.