Second That Emotion
by Latikia
Copyright © 2006
Chapter 11
Lt. Bakr talked for over an hour, explaining where our Intel people figured would be the best place to make the SnG, what time would be best to take him, how many and what kinds of Iraqi units were likely to be in the area, how we were going to get there and get back out, what we should pack, our radio call signs and frequencies, and the emergency pick up points if we were forced to deviate from the schedule.
I listened and made suggestions if I had any, took an occasional note, but otherwise let him do all the talking. He was a very knowledgeable and well prepared guy…for someone who’d never done this sort of thing before. I think one of the primary reasons he’d been chosen for this mission, apart from his intimate knowledge of the language and area, was that he could physically pass for a native.
I, on the other hand, was going to stand out like a cat at a dog show.
Isabeau,
I wish you nothing but joy and a long and happy life.
Remember me fondly, if you can.
Ike
I folded up the note and tucked it into the envelope, addressed it care of my father and took it with me to our meeting with the Colonel.
“We’ve got the weapons you requested,” he began “and there has been no change in the schedule. You two will be picked up here by a Blackhawk gunship at 0330 this morning and inserted ten miles from your destination. A retrieval chopper will be on standby from then on waiting for your pickup call. Any questions?”
We didn’t have any. Lt. Bakr left to put his gear in order and get something to eat. I stayed behind.
“Colonel, a moment please?”
“Of course. Is there a problem?”
“No sir. I have a favor to ask.” I took out my letter and handed it to him. “If I don’t make it back, would you send this on for me?”
“Don’t start thinking like that, Sergeant. That’s a damn good way to get yourself killed.”
I smiled at him. He looked surprised, just as if I’d snuck up on him again.. I guess he’d never seen me smile in all the time I’d been with his unit.
“Colonel, I’m gonna let you in on a little family secret. The reason I’m such a good killer is because I know everything there is to know about dying except for the lying down and staying put part. Pain, and fear, terror and hopelessness…death doesn’t faze me even a little. Death and I are tight. My grandfather told me, when I was young, that I could be a great hunter, but that I probably wouldn’t have a very long or happy life. He was certainly right about the happy part. As for the long life, well…we’ll have to wait and see.”
I linked with the man. He was worried. His guilt was also growing.
“Colonel, there is nothing for you to feel guilty about. Not a thing. I agreed to do this. Lt. Bakr and his general will make it back, and if at all possible so will I.”
I projected back along the link as much positive feeling as I could find within myself. It wasn’t much but I think it helped.
“I’ll take care of it.” he said.
“Thank you Colonel.”
The insertion went off without a hitch, just exactly as planned. The Blackhawk set us down twenty five miles inside the Iraqi border. We hiked to our final destination, about ten miles from the Landing Zone and dug in before it got light out. Under cover and wearing ghillie suits, Lt. Bakr and I waited out the daylight hours observing the movements and numbers of the Iraqi position.
They were a mix of infantry, four 122-mm. M-1974 (2S1) Self-Propelled Howitzers and a couple of, what looked to me like, BMP-2 Infantry Fighting Vehicles, as well as a couple of covered flatbed trucks and three small quarter ton pickup trucks. We counted forty three troops and twelve officers, none higher ranking than a Major.
The terrain in front of the Iraqi’s camp was nearly flat, with a few dips and gullies to break up the mind numbing emptiness. Behind them, where we were, were a few small hills. Thru these hills ran the one and only hard packed dirt road for miles. It was along this road that our General was expected to arrive within the next twenty four hours. If he came at all. We were dug in two miles from the Iraqi’s, on top of one of the small hills north of their encampment, but fairly close to a dogleg bend in the road. The General’s convoy would have to pass below us. Lt. Bakr kept lookout for the General and his escort, while I kept watch on the enemy. Fortunately for us they didn’t seem interested in sending patrols out. As long as we didn’t do anything stupid, they would never know we were there.
The sun went down gradually, and the temperature began to drop. We were just beginning to eat our evening meal, when I noticed an increase in activity inside the Iraqi encampment.
“I think someone just got word the General is on his way.” I murmured to the Lt. He eased out his starlight spotting scope and began scanning up the road.
“I’ve got lights heading this way. Looks like two vehicles. Shit! A BMW sedan and an EE-9 (Cascavel Armored Car). Maybe three klicks off and coming fast.”
Earlier that morning, when we arrived and picked out our observation position, we’d set up three Claymore mines alongside the road. Our plan was to cripple the vehicles in the convoy, at least long enough for me to kill the General’s bodyguard and escort. Lt. Bakr would grab the General, secure him and get him away from the site and headed towards the primary evac location. My job at that point was to ensure that the unit below us thought I was an invasion force and spent all their effort trying to get me and not go looking for the missing General.
Yeah, not the greatest plan of all time, I know. We really could have used a few more troops, but two was what we had. I could see more clearly why the Colonel had been feeling so guilty. Even with a full SnG team this would have been iffy.
I unwrapped the L96A1, attached the starlight scope and laid out twenty rounds of it’s 7.62x51 ammo. I also brought out my Glock and an extra clip of the armor piercing rounds. The clip I put into my right front pocket, the Glock I checked to be sure there was a round in the chamber. Satisfied, I put it back in the shoulder holster. Lt. Bakr put his AK-47 in semi auto mode and checked the safety on his Beretta. We were as ready as we were going to get.
I took a long drink from the camel pack I wore under my BDUs, strapped to my body like a backpack. Not only did it help keep me cool in the heat, but it was an extra source of water, apart from the canteens we carried.
I quickly scanned the Iraqi encampment one last time. They were still getting ready for the General’s arrival. But nobody was coming out to meet him. Good. That would have really complicated the hell out of things.
Lt. Bakr was the Marine and the expert with the Claymores. He held the remote detonator and waited patiently for the BMW, which was leading the tiny parade, to reach the first mine before setting it off.
The explosion was loud, but not as bad as I thought it was going to be. Must have done a lot of damage though, because the front end of the BMW suddenly shifted to one side, the front wheel on the driver side exploded and the car went off the road and rolled onto its side.
The Lt. hit the remaining switches at the same time, as the APC began to slow down. Both mines exploded, taking out the front tires of the vehicle. It skidded to a dusty stop.
Lt. Bakr jumped to his feet and ran down our hill towards the disabled beemer, AK-47 held across his chest. I looked thru the scope scanning the APC. Two bodies moved…I saw them shifting around slightly thru the slits in the front. I linked and fired twice. I moved my sights to the back and upper portion and waited for movement.
Then the back hatch of the APC swung open and a head popped out, followed by a large body carrying what looked like a .30 cal machine gun. I waited till he cleared the back door and linked. One round thru the ear. Pull back the bolt, eject the brass, insert the round, slap the bolt forward and lock. Wait for the next man. They were staying down, using the door for cover and trying to get around the side and keep the APC between themselves and me. I saw a head. Linked and fired. Reload. The thing had a mounted machine gun on the top turret, but no one was coming out to use it. I kept watching.
Lt. Bakr had gotten to the BMW and was checking inside for the General. I heard his AK fire twice. I kept looking thru the scope. There had to have been more than just two men in the back of that carrier. I kept looking.
Meanwhile I heard the Lt. cursing, at least it sounded like cursing, and manhandling someone up the hill. I kept my eyes on the APC.
The Lt. shoved someone to the ground beside me, and growled something at the man. He reached into one of his saddlebag pockets and came out with a small roll of duct tape and tore off a strip and slapped it over the mouth of his prisoner. Back into the pocket went the tape and out came a long black strip of plastic. Bakr used it to secure the man’s wrists behind his back.
“This is our General.” he finally said.
“Is he in good enough condition to move?”
“Yeah, he says his shoulder hurts, but that won’t stop him from walking.”
“Okay. We have one slight problem at the moment. Only two men came out of the back of the APC. There should have been at least one more. I’m going down to check, but I need you to keep an eye on the Iraqi’s camp. They should have heard us by now. Let me know when they start coming this way.”
“Alright, Sergeant. Be careful.”
I lay the sniper rifle down, picked up my AK and moved down the hill, towards the front of the APC. I ignored the bodies in the cab. I wanted to be on the far side of that back door, so I eased around to the side I couldn’t see from the hill and moved softly, inching towards the back. I didn’t hear anything. I could see the nearly headless bodies of the two men I’d shot, lying sprawled on the road in crumpled heaps. I bent down and picked up a handful of small pebbles and tossed them against the steel back door, bouncing some into the opening. I heard them rattle around briefly before eventually ending up on the floor of the carrier. But nothing else. I shoved the barrel of the AK into the doorway, ready to fire. There was a man lying inside, it looked as if he’d been slammed against the front of the carrier area when the mines went off and broken his neck. I tried to link, but he was gone. I turned around and headed quickly back up the hill.
“There’s two squads headed this way.” Lt. Bakr informed me when I got back.
“How long before they get here?” I asked, taking the sniper rifle back from him.
“Maybe ten minutes.”
“Damn! That doesn’t give you much time. Take the General and haul ass for the evac site. I’ll take out the squads; that should get their attention focused on me and give you enough time.”
I moved over to our guest and rolled him onto his back. Looking hard into his eyes I linked with the man.
He was a burly, heavy chested man, probably in his early fifties, with the bushy mustache favored by the Iraqi general staff I’d seen pictures of. Right then he looked scared.
He felt scared, but there was also deception and cunning in there too.
“Ell-tee, do me a favor and tell our friend here something. Tell him for me that if he tries to escape, I’ll hunt him down and make him beg for death.”
Bakr looked at me strangely for a moment then rattled off a string of words I couldn’t begin to follow.
Our prisoner nodded his head in understanding, but I didn’t feel him accepting what he heard. I blasted him quickly with what it would feel like to have all the skin peeled off his chest. His fear level rocketed; his heart began to pound like a frightened rabbit and sweat broke out on his face even though the early morning air was chilly.
“Okay, I think he’ll behave himself.” I said, still staring into his eyes. “But don’t cut him any slack. And don’t release his arms till you’ve got someone else to watch him. Trust me, I was Army CID before I came out here. I know prisoners.”
“Alright, Sergeant. I’ll have the chopper wait as long as I can for you.”
“No. You and our new buddy here have to get back ASAP. My job is making sure you do. I’ll find my own way back. Now take off, we don’t have much time.”
He reached out and we shook hands. “It’s been interesting working with you, Ike. Hurry back. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Thank you, sir. I look forward to it.”
I covered their escape from our spot on the hill until I lost my link with the general, then packed up my gear and moved to another location where I could see the ambush site a little better. I planned on using the sniper rifle for as long as possible, but then I’d have to rely on the AK.
I wished momentarily that I’d brought a few hand grenades, but I hadn’t…so wishing wasn’t going to do me much good.
The two five man squads arrived just as I was settling into my new location. Eight men spread out and began searching the wreckage while two stayed with the pickup trucks they’d driven out in. I got off five rounds, before they figured out where I was and started firing back. Damn flash suppressors never work as well as advertised.
I eased down off the top of the mound and circled around towards their encampment, figuring they might try to pull out and get back home. I made it behind them on the road and moved up. Two more shots, two more kills. Only three left. I shifted position again, heading down along the road away from them. I ducked down and off the road into a shallow depression and waited.
I head one of the trucks start up. I set the sniper rifle down and brought the AK around. As soon as the pickup came into view I rose up and emptied the full clip into it. I popped the clip out and replaced it while the light truck barreled off the road and out into the desert, still headed in the direction of the Iraqi encampment.
I put the AK across my back, picked up the rifle and took off into the darkness, heading back towards the ambush site. I needed to collect some ammo clips. The sun would be coming up soon and I had to get under cover. I’d brought four tubes of sun blocker with me, but I had no idea how long I’d be out here, so I had to get hidden quick. And I had to draw attention to myself so they’d keep looking for me and not go off looking for Bakr and his prize.
The British L96A1 supposedly had a maximum effective range of 1,500 meters. The first part of my plan, such as it was, was going to test that assertion. The sun was up and it was getting hot. I’d buried my lower half under a light layer of sand and dirt, the remainder hidden (I hoped) beneath the ghillie suit. I’d chosen this site for two reasons.
It gave me a good open view of the Iraqi force, with a little height, and I could still see the ambush site and cover it too.
I still had eighty two rounds for the rifle, so with a bit of cooperation from my buddies down below, I’d be able to stay where I was and pick them off one by one.
Yeah, right.
My plan worked pretty well actually. I made four kills before they started keeping everyone under cover. The people who tested the L96A1 must have known what they were talking about. All my hits were made from over a kilometer away. Then some genius thought it would be a good idea to crank up an M-3 APC with a grenade launcher mounted on it and send it out, with ten men inside. I hadn’t spotted the M-3 before. Must have been under cover being worked on.
I had to move.
The APC would fire off a grenade now and again, randomly. I had to crawl and creep slowly; I couldn’t afford to raise any dust and give my position away and motion is what attracts the eye quickest.
After an hour of dragging my ass across the dessert floor in slow motion I set up again. The M-3 was still out there, having deployed its small group of sacrificial victims who were now doing their best to keep hidden behind the APC’s armored bulk. Some damn fool popped up out of the top looking like a prairie dog in a helmet. He started yelling orders to the infantry hiding behind him. His head sprayed blood and brains and his body pitched back hard and hung there limply long before the sound of my shot reached them.
Two more rounds for the trailing infantry, and it was time to move again.
The heat was getting harder for me to take. I realized that one way or another I had to put an end to this that night or I’d never survive. Besides, if the local commander wasn’t a total fool, there were reinforcements on their way while I was busy playing cat and mouse.
Two more hours spent creeping and crawling. Two more hours hoping the assholes in the tin can didn’t get lucky with their random shots and turn me into marinara sauce.
We kept up this game all day. I couldn’t hurt the APC; I didn’t have DU or sabot rounds for the sniper rifle, assuming that they even made them, and I wasn’t planning on getting close enough to try the Glock’s 10mm AP rounds.
By six that evening, the M-3 had lost all his infantry support and I’d gone back to shooting into their camp whenever a body popped out long enough for me to link. I began making my way slowly towards their camp’s entrance, moving slowly and cautiously. I had a lot of ground to cover, but I had time. I wanted to arrive well after dark. I’d been boiling all day long and I was running low on water. It had to end tonight.
The M-3 must have run low on fuel, because it finally gave up chasing after me and went back to base. It came rolling by, not thirty yards from where I was crawling along. Once it passed me enough to act as cover, I jumped up and jogged along behind it until I got as close as I felt comfortable with, dropped back and started pretending with all my might that I was a lump of local flora.
The sun finally went down and the temperature began to cool. I waited, drinking the last of the water from my camel pack, trying to figure out how I was going to get inside their camp.
Their camp was mostly three large berms in an inverted U shape, but they had large flood lights illuminating the tops and outer edges. What I wouldn’t have given for a little air support right about then. Anything to get them to shut off those lights.
I let them get comfy and cozy, let them think maybe they’d
gotten me with their tank. At
Inside the camp was larger than it had appeared from a distance. More empty space. There should have been more people to fill the available space.
I was sweating and shivering. I was hungry, I was thirsty and I started feeling the need to hurt again.
I felt a full body shiver run thru me. In the back of my mind a little voice asked me if I knew what I was doing. I told the little voice to shut the fuck up. Of course I didn’t know what I was doing.
I started projecting emotions. Fuck the link. I just opened up and broadcast everything that was in me.
I started firing the AK in semi-auto mode. If it moved I linked and fired. Men were screaming, rolling around on the ground, slamming their heads into walls, doors and each other, clawing at their eyes, ripping their clothes; a couple of them even managed enough self control to shoot themselves in the head. I walked steadily around the inner perimeter, linking and shooting, linking and shooting and filling the empty spaces and shadows with my inner demons.
After twenty minutes I couldn’t hear anymore screaming or crying or begging. So I began searching thru the barracks areas, the offices, temp buildings and bunker. Shooting everyone I saw if they were still alive then moving on to the next unexplored place. I checked inside the tanks and under the vehicles.
After an hour I was going in circles, seeing the same dead faces for the second and sometimes third time. I stopped and checked my clip. It was empty. I tossed it away and snapped in a new one. I vaguely remembered a kitchen area, so I went there. Finding water I drank my fill then bathed my face and arms, wiping off the worst of the dirt, caked sun blocker and blood. I removed my battle harness, opened my BDU jacked and removed the camel pack and refilled it. That was when I noticed that I’d been shot. Twice.
One was nothing more than a deep scratch across the top of my right shoulder between the neck and joint, but the second one was a hole. I examined it as best I could, which wasn’t all that well. The hole was fairly small and went all the way thru, front to back on my lower left side, an inch and a half or so above my hipbone.
I rinsed them both off and applied some disinfectant gel and bandages from my small stash of medical supplies. I had two small syringes of morphine, but I didn’t feel much in the way of pain yet, so I decided to save them.
Digging thru the wreckage I found some bread and a couple kinds of meat. I sat down, my back against a wall and had my first meal in more than twenty four hours.
And I started to think again. I hadn’t been doing much of that since I’d come over the top of the berm. I realized that I was still broadcasting. I turned it off the same way I’d break a link. My body gradually began to relax.
Had I given Lt. Bakr enough of a head start? Did he get to the pickup alive and with the general in tow? What was I going to do now? Seemed simple enough at first glance. Hot wire one of their vehicles and drive off into the dessert in the direction of my unit’s last position. Hell, it was only thirty five miles.
Then my brain woke up. What about the mine fields that were supposed to be out there? And what would my own side do, seeing a vehicle coming at them from the Iraqi side? I’d likely get blasted long before I got to within shouting distance.
I checked my gear. The small radio I carried was shattered. It had died bravely, taking a round meant for me. So there was no going back to the recovery points for me. I’d have to do this the hard way.
Shit. Shit, shitshitshitshitshit!
Good thing Granddad had taught me to read a map. I pulled my map out, along with my compass and took some readings, determined which direction and which heading I needed to follow and marked it. Fine. Great.
I dozed off for an hour.
I woke up reaching for the AK. I heard aircraft overhead.
Gathering up my gear, I put in on as I made my way out of the kitchen into the slaughter house outside. I heard aircraft, but I couldn’t see them. Still too dark out for that. I had to get away from here as fast as I could. I still had four clips for AK and the Glock was still unused, so I was covered there. No way was I going to try and lug the sniper rifle; it would remain behind. I tossed the remaining rounds next to the body of the Iraqi major who’d commanded this little outpost. Climbing over the central berm, I slid down the side and took off at a lope, headed towards my own lines, thirty five miles away. I had to put a lot of distance between myself and this place before the sun came up and I was forced to go to ground for the day.
There was enough moonlight out for me to be able to see where I was going, where I was putting my booted feet down, stride after stride. I had to be careful; if not I could easily end up with a bad sprain or worse, a broken ankle or leg.
Pick ‘em up and put ‘em down. You learn to do that in boot camp. Lots of marching, lots of unit runs. I’d mastered this kind of running by the time I was in high school anyway, so it was only a matter of keeping sufficient attention on where my feet landed and which direction I was going. Pick ‘em up and put ‘em down.
It was a mindless activity, mostly, which gave me time to think. Something I hadn’t much wanted up to that point. But now there was nothing but time.
I was never much given to philosophical thinking. Linear thought was useful, it helped if you wanted to make plans, to accomplish things, get places. Non-linear thought was handy in solving puzzles. But philosophy…too general for my needs. What I started pondering was ethics.
I’d killed. A lot. Was what I’d done right? What was ‘right’? Didn’t that depend on which side of the argument you were on? Was there ever anything that was always right or always wrong? If there was anything like that, wouldn’t that qualify as Truth? Was any of it justified or justifiable? Jeez…given enough time I could probably justify almost anything. But ultimately it all came down to right and wrong. The more I wondered and puzzled and analyzed the more I came to realize that I could justify all the deaths I’d caused, but one. And that was the only one that didn’t bother me. Maybe rationalization was more effective than justification.
The rest of them, they had no idea why I’d killed them. They’d been trying to kill me, sure, but why?
Because they’d been ordered to by people in authority they trusted, or had to trust, to make those kinds of decisions for them?
Because I’d been killing them?
And why had I been killing them? Pretty much for the same reasons they had been trying to kill me. That, and to accomplish my mission. To protect the lives of two men, one of whom I’d only known for a matter of hours and the other one I didn’t know at all and couldn’t give a damn about.
All because one man with power wanted more, even to the point of claiming that a land that had once, many hundreds of years in the past, been claimed by somebody else should still belong to him?
The fact of the matter is that the history of mankind is all about one group of people getting greedy and wanting something some other group has; land, water, natural resources or a larger gene pool. Everything else is window dressing.
Pick ‘em up and put ‘em down. Don’t stop moving…got to keep moving. Check the compass and keep on course.
I was firmly on the path my grandfather had feared. Was there anything I could do to get off this path to madness and early death? Did I even want to get off? Maybe I wanted to die. Well, if that was the case, I’d had plenty of opportunities recently, how come I hadn’t availed myself of their kind offer and let them?
I couldn’t do it myself, I knew that much. It just wasn’t in me to suicide. I have no idea why not, but it wasn’t. Had I agreed to go on this mission in the hopes that I’d get killed and put an end to it all? Did I have a death wish? Was I looking for someone else to put me out of my misery?
That question had been running around in my head for quite some time, when I saw my shadow appear in front of me as the sun begin to rise up over the horizon from behind me.
I have rarely in my life seen anything more wonderful and life affirming, at least to me, than a sunrise in the dessert. There is something in the unfolding colors of orange, red and golden yellow, in the serene silence just before the sun lifts itself above the horizon that makes me believe, just for a moment, that I can hear the world softly breathing and then it yawns and a new day starts.
This dessert didn’t make me feel that way.
It wasn’t like the sloping dunes of Lawrence of Arabia with their majestic emptiness. It wasn’t like the high dessert of Arizona, filled with life; the giant saguaros, the squat barrel cactus, the mesquite and Joshua trees, roadrunners and coyotes, jackrabbits, Gila monsters, rattlesnakes and scorpions.
No, this dessert reminded me more of a sun-burnt, un-watered, un-mowed backyard behind a ramshackle house in a crappy neighborhood that no one wanted to live in.
I stopped and dug a shallow trench, a few inches deep and as long as my body. I lay down in it and began piling the dirt and sand over my body from the feet up. I spread the ghillie suit out over me and the mound and disappeared from sight.
My last thought before I went to sleep was ‘Maybe I do want someone to end my pain. What reason have I got to keep going?’
The sounds of aircraft flying low over my position woke me. I’d been dreaming, wildly scattered and vivid images that made no sense and that fled from my mind as I came fully awake. My heart was pounding hard and I was sweating. I stayed low against the ground and slowly lifted my head to take a look around, scanning for movement, trying to get the roar of the jets out of my ears so I could figure out what, if anything, was near me.
Daylight was fading. I took a long gulp of water from the camel pack tube near my chin then closed it off. I couldn’t detect any movement and I didn’t hear anything moving nearby, so I very slowly began working myself out of my shallow grave.
The holes over my hip hurt like the devil, a throbbing ache that called out for attention. I opened my BDU jacket and peeled off the bandage pad in front and examined the wound. It was reddish, swollen, tender and oozing, with thin streaks of color beginning to radiate outward. I pressed in and around the opening and bloody yellowish pus erupted. I clenched my teeth against the urge to cry out. I wiped off the viscous liquid with the dirty pad and got out my little first aid kit. Forcing the mouth of the antibiotic gel tube into the hole I squeezed some of the contents into the wound, and applied another pad and taped it in place. Then I did the same, as well as I could with the hole on the opposite side.
New bandages in place, I packed up my gear, took out part of an MRE and choked it down. There had been only two MREs left, now one and a half, and they would have to last me till I reached our lines. I relieved myself into the shallow trench, then dumped the bloody pads and the MRE wrappers in with it and covered it all; doing my best to hide that anyone had been there.
I checked my heading with the compass and started jogging south east. Pick ‘em up, put ‘em down.
Half an hour later the pain in my side started affecting me to the point I that I was walking more than running. If this kept up I’d never make it back. I stopped and dug into my gear, took out one of the syringes of morphine and injected it. I bent the needle and buried the syringe in a small hole.
Pick ‘em up, put ‘em down. “I don’t know, but I’ve been told/Eskimo pussy’s mighty cold.”
My stride improved as the burning pain in my side faded away. I started feeling lighter, faster.
Pick ‘em up, put ‘em down. Left, right, left, right, left…left…left, right, left…
“Why did you run away from me Izzy?”
‘Why do you think? You’re not a kid anymore, figure it out.’
“You were the first person, besides Mom, that I knew for certain loved me.”
‘If you’re so sure I love you, why would I have run?’
“I don’t know. I don’t understand.”
‘Sure you do. Use your head. Analyze the facts. Put the pieces together.’
Pick ‘em up, put ‘em down. Check the compass. Getting off course, shift a couple of degrees to east. “I don’t know, but I’ve been told…”
“I know you love me.”
‘Yes.’
“I love you too.”
‘Yes’
Fuck. Oh, jezzus fucking Christ!
‘Come on, Ike, you aren’t thirteen anymore. You’ve been out in the world, you’ve studied, and you’ve read more than anyone I’ve ever known. You know why…why can’t you just say it?’
I flashed back to the image of Dad and Ivan at Mom’s funeral. The way they hadn’t been able to look at me. They way they hadn’t been able to get near me…Izzy had been in tears, but she looked at me with so much understanding. Not pity, with sympathy and forlorn understanding. I’d been projecting my pain! I hadn’t realized it then, but I’d been broadcasting my feelings of anger, of sadness…of loss and abandonment. And not just for Mom.
“You felt it all.”
‘Maybe not all, but…’
“You felt my love for Mom, for Carlie, and for you too.”
‘Yes. Love for me too.’
“And you ran…again!”
‘Yes…but why? Why, Ike?’
I wasn’t thirteen anymore. I wasn’t the naïve little boy who’d been sheltered from the nasty, dirty facts of life. I knew…I…
“We kissed.”
‘And…?’
“I…we…you and me…”
‘Why would I run from you Ike? Knowing how much you were hurting, why would I run?’
“Guilt…you were feeling guilt from the very beginning.”
‘Yes.’
“You thought what we did was wrong. You thought you’d seduced me! You thought you’d done something twisted and perverted and illegal. You thought I would blame you!”
Why couldn’t I come out and say what I was thinking?
“You didn’t seduce me. I might not have known, or understood, the word, but I understood the feelings. I felt what you were feeling and I felt them too.”
‘No. You never did.’
“Yes! I told you…”
‘Did you? Did you really? Did you ever say you wanted me? That you needed me? Did you ever tell me that you felt desire for me and not just from me?’
Hadn’t I? Did I ever truly feel that way towards my sister? And if I had and I couldn’t tell her how I felt, innocent and ignorant of the social and legal crime we’d been on the verge of committing, how could Izzy ever have faced me, knowing full well what we were doing and that in time I’d be aware of what we had done…what she’d done to me?
“Was what we did really so wrong?”
‘You tell me, little brother. You already had my answer.’
Pick ‘em up, put ‘em down. “Pay attention to where you’re going, Blacktower! Do you want to die out here in the middle of nowhere?”
I stopped talking to myself and focused on my surroundings. Off to the south I saw a billowing cloud of dust; vehicles, headed in my direction. It was still dark out but it wouldn’t be for much longer. I had to get under cover fast. Stop, drop and start digging my daylight tomb. Scoop the sand away, scrape into the dirt with my knife. I’m the world’s biggest prairie dog and the coyotes are coming. Dig, dig, dig…crawl in and cover up then hide under the covers. Monsters can’t get you if you’re under the covers. Take a couple gulps of water and then think invisible thoughts.
“I still love you Izzy.”
‘Go to sleep, honey. And come home soon.’