Page 1 of The History in Us

Dedication

For Mariela, for planting the seed for this story, oh, so long ago, and every other reader who has traveled this journey with me.

Thank you for being a part of my dream come true.

And for military personnel everywhere. Come home safe.

Levi– Somewhere in Afghanistan

“I want to live!” I screamed, the pain radiating up my leg and through my groin nearly suffocating me. My body trembled, no, shook uncontrollably, and I vaguely heard the rattle of the unstable, metal medic cart under me. The world smelled of rust, too much rust, bitter and tangy. The fragrance filled my throat. I needed to vomit.

“Someone help me,” I yelled despite the hurried hands around my body, cutting away already severed pants soaked with so much blood the dusty-colored camouflage only had one color: red. I hated to call for assistance, but I couldn’t help myself. The pain crippled me. I gripped the edge of the metal bed frame, glaring at the hunk of bone protruding from my shin, blood seeping to the floor like a small erupting volcano. My vision blurred, stomach churned. Fuck. Every swear word known to mankind became a litany of harmony in my head, cursing God, and war, and stupid kids used by evil human beings to kill.

“My leg,” I screamed as if the medics weren’t already aware of the severity of my condition. Red blood. White bone. Blue eyes. The colors I fought for as other images raced through my head. A church. A child. An explosion.

“Watson?” I choked out, my voice rising in hysteria as my head twisted left then right.

“Shhh, hush now.” A stern, but patient female voice spoke to me. I couldn’t make out the features of her face, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t want to be quiet. I wanted to shout. I wanted to thrash. I wanted my team.

“Williams? Murphy? Mont?” I barked out names with no response to my call, knowing the truth, and yet, not fully accepting it.

“Lieutenant Walker, you need to try to calm down.” A heavy hand pressed on my chest, but I didn’t want to settle.

“I want to live!” I bellowed again, my voice cracking like a pre-pubescent teen, my eyes blurring at the hot liquid releasing from them.

“We’re going to make certain we do all that we can to make that happen,” the nurse spoke, her tone growing firmer. More hands fumbled over me.

“My leg,” I cried out, observing my lower leg again without the ability to control the rattling of my body or the seeping blood. This is my body. This is my blood. Hail Mary, full of Grace…

“We’re going to do what we can.” Another voice, deep and male, spoke to my left. Those surrounding me grew fuzzy, outlined body images faded and blended together. The brightness dimmed. I tried to move my hand, tried to reach out for the arm holding me down.

“No, Dad, no,” I cried out as the male at my left morphed in my head to my father. “Let me go, Dad.”

“Levi.” My name warbled in my ear, a shimmering sound, squiggling and melting like cartoon sounds in my head. The voice sounded vaguely familiar. Blink. The brightness faded to dim. Blink. My eyes were so heavy. Close. Must sleep.

Levi?

Trent?Trent, is that you? I called out to my long-deceased brother. Am I dead?

Watson, Williams, Murphy, Mont. The names bled off the figurative page.

Oh God, I cried internally. Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Katie.

Guilt consumed me. Katie. Katie. The name whispered in my ear, haunting me.

Will you be a hero?

I promised myself I’d be one for her. I’d make her proud and return to her, hoping she’d remember me. That I’d be the hero a girl like her deserved. A vision with straw-colored hair, eyes brilliant as a deep lake, stood before me. I knew her, once upon a time, under an alley lamp.

Are you a hero yet?

I wanted to be.

For you, I wanted to be, I told her in my dream, the dream where she kissed me again.

A hero-worthy kiss.

Stay safe, she had said. Come back to me.

My lips tingled. The brush of hers over mine was a memory held in the blackest of nights, the hottest of desert days, and the cold-evil hell of war against hidden enemies. I wanted another chance to taste those lips, melt against them, and mold her body to mine.

I wanted to live.

Katie.