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Two men start climbing out of the van before I can wave them off, both in their mid-thirties if I had to guess. Greasy hair and patchy facial hair, along with worn out, ripped clothing. My unease has me white-knuckling the tire iron in my hand.
“What seems to be the problem, baby doll?” The driver of the vehicle asks with a smug look on his face. He’s skinny, too skinny, making him look sickly. His skin looks discolored from a lack of bathing.
“Just a flat tire, but I have it covered. Thanks, guys,” I state, matter-of-factly, trying not to show them my fear.
“You don’t even have the old tire off yet, it’d be an awfully tough job for a woman,” the passenger slurs in my direction, but immediately looks to the driver, seeking validation. This one is shorter, and a lot rounder, the dark patches of facial hair stand out oddly against the paleness of his face.
The way he said “woman” has my hackles rising. These are not good men. This is not a good situation, but I don’t have any weapons. My phone is useless. The universe really fucking hates me.
“I’ve done this before, I’ll be fine,” I force through my teeth.
“Nah, I’d like to see this, wouldn’t you, Bub?” The driver says to the passenger, and I guess his brother, clearly egging each other on.
“We don’t have anywhere to be, Tony. Let’s see how she does,” the one called Bub snickers.
“I’d rather you guys left,” I speak calmly, even though my heart is beating through my chest. I’m surprised by how steady my voice comes out.
“HA! She doesn’t want us here, Bub. We just try to be helpful and this lady has to go on being a bitch.” Tony’s enunciated slur makes me flinch. He slowly starts circling the car, cutting me off from the driver’s side. My eyes bounce back and forth, not able to watch them both at the same time.
Bub starts creeping towards me like it’s a game of cat and mouse. Except it’s two mangey, feral cats versus me, the mouse. I raise the tire iron like I’m preparing to swing an ax, “Get the fuck away from me, both of you!” I yell, the panic in my voice clear now.
At the same time, like it’s been rehearsed, they lunge at me from either side. I swing the tire iron, knocking Bub in the side of the head, causing him to stumble off to the side clutching his temple. Tony grabs me by my hair suddenly, pulling my ponytail so tightly I’m afraid my hair will be ripped out by the root. The pain is there but it’s still nothing compared to the terror I feel.
This is what every woman fears. It’s the worst-case scenario that we all whisper about. No one wants to be at the mercy of any man who wants to do you harm, let alone two. How can I fight back when I’m outnumbered? Out strengthened?
“You hurt my brother, you dumb bitch.” He throws me to the ground about five feet from my car, into the gravel and weeds on the side of the road. I swear I feel each individual rock scrape across my skin as my momentum carries me across the rough shoulder.
Finally coming to a stop, I gasp trying to catch my breath after having the wind knocked out of me. I’m struggling to regain my bearings, but in my peripheral vision, I see the woods about 100 yards from me. If I can make it there, maybe I can outrun them, and lose them in the trees. It’s my only chance.
“Bub stop whining. You got hit by a woman, you’re being a pussy!” Tony yells at his brother, not paying me any attention. I take the opportunity and jump up, but as soon as I take a step toward the trees, I get yanked down by my ponytail, again. I land hard on my back, my lungs temporarily deflating once again from the impact. I wheeze, attempting to suck in more oxygen, but it feels like I’m suffocating.
“Dumb bitch!” Tony yells, slamming his boot into the side of my head, hard. Everything goes black…
Chapter Two
Nathan
Sitting on the ground deep in the Blue Ridge Mountains, my back aching from leaning against a boulder, I am utterly alone. The rock digs into my spine, but I ignore the dull pain, too lost in thought.
Two months since leaving the Army. A decision that proved difficult, but after serving 13 years I was done with the orders. I was done with the deployments, and I was done being forced to associate with commanders who got high on belittling those under them. I’d have to put in seven more years before retirement, but after spending my entire adult life in the service already, I couldn’t stand the idea of wasting away anymore. I needed a break.
Enlisting in the Army was for my father, a dream he had while I was growing up to follow in his footsteps, and a dying wish he bestowed upon me before losing a battle with cancer my junior year of high school.
At the time, I felt like I was doing something important, making my family proud, but a commitment like that at 18 years old isn’t fathomable. The first couple of years flew by, enlisting, starting boot camp, finishing boot camp, and being stationed. Being surrounded by a bunch of like-minded guys my age, drinking too much when we weren’t on duty, and chasing girls in bars. It seems like a fever dream now.
Not long into my second year, my best friend and roommate, Chester, was killed right outside our local hangout. It was a shitty bar with cheap beer and free pool tables. It was 2 a.m. We were paying our tabs when Chester slung an arm around my shoulder and our other buddy, Robby. He told us he was leaving with the only chick left in the bar and that he was for sure getting laid. We all laughed at him as he left towards the parking lot with her, then took bets that she just wanted a ride home.
Looking back now, it kills me that he didn’t wait for us to follow him. Two gunshots and tires squealing, while Robby and I stared at each other. Standing at the bar, we were frozen for what felt like minutes but were mere seconds. Not processing what we heard.
By the time we ran outside, Chester was dead on the pavement next to his car, blood pooling underneath him. The girl was gone, and the car was long gone. I had nightmares for months, the “POW! POW!” of gunshots then running in slow motion trying to make it to him before he bled out.
The coroner told his mother that the second shot was the one that killed him, but that it killed him instantly, and there was nothing we could have done to save him. He swore to her that her son felt no pain, and probably had no idea what hit him. I wanted to believe him, but the memory I have of Chester’s face as he lay dead on the pavement will haunt me forever. His eyes were wide open like he had seen a ghost. His face showed the fear he must’ve felt.
The bar didn’t have cameras. The police collected evidence but admitted that there wasn’t much they could do without names or video of it occurring. The bartender swore it was a gang initiation, but she was a known gossip, so no one took what she had to say to heart.
Still, Chester’s face haunts me. I dread closing my eyes at night, knowing what I’ll see in that dark corner of my mind. It was the first time I had ever held a lifeless body, but it wasn’t the last.
His death was a pivotal point in my career. After that night, I needed purpose, something to put my energy into so I didn’t think about the questions I had that would always go unanswered. Chester always wanted to be Special Forces. From the moment I met him, he said that was what he joined the Army to do. The other guys and I would rag on him, tell him he was a wimp and that he’d never make it, but I hope he knew I didn’t mean it. I admired him for having a goal, a purpose. I was lost in this life that was hand-picked for me by my father. I never would have joined up if it weren’t for him, and once I was in it, I didn’t have a plan.
