"Not that simple, bro." The server brought him another bottle, which he drained without stopping.
"Better," he said, slapping the empty on the table.
Vernon reached out, putting his hand on Barry's. "You don't have to tell me, you know."
Barry shook his head. "No. I really do." He chuckled. "I was ready to do what you're doing. You know that? I had it all planned out. When I rotated out, I was going to college. I had all sorts of recommendation right up to the Captain, you know? 'A real asset to the United States Army,' that's what he wrote."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because we were on this patrol, right? Supposed to have been cleared, but we gotta walk the walk. All sorts out on the street, all ducking around us, getting out of our way. There was this Corporal, a real dick, you know, used to shout, 'Out of my way, Ahab!' if some guy didn't move right away. He'd make like he was gonna butt him with his rifle."
"You didn't report him?"
"Of course we did! What the fuck did anyone care? You know what it was like. Some local goes down, oh well, here's some money, we're really fucking sorry."
"It wasn't all like that, you know."
"Maybe not where you were, Vernon." He shook his head. "Anyway, we're in this real narrow street, we probably never should have gone down there, way too many opportunities to take us out."
"And someone took it," Vernon said.
Barry nodded. "The guy on point, they put a bullet through his fucking cheek, blew his face off. Same time, they hit the back end of the street with an RPG. Then they just opened up on us, we didn't have much chance even to find defilade, we're just shooting everywhere. It was truly and honorably fucked up."
"Sounds awful," Vernon said.
"Oh, not that much different from what lots of units were going through at the time. I'm lying there, I got a body of one of my buds as cover, when I see someone come out of a building, running screaming toward us. I didn't even think or hesitate, just put a bullet through his head. He drops, then the explosive on his chest goes off, and there's just pieces everywhere and dust and screaming, and it was all over."
"Jesus," Vernon said.
"And we're policing after, you know? Sarge is on the radio, we're doing a sweep, and we find some of the parts of the mad bomber and it turns out it's not some guy." Barry closed his eyes. "It was a girl, Vernon. Couldn't have been more than sixteen." He looked in to Vernon's eyes. "She was a girl, they strapped a bomb to her, probably pushed her out the fucking door, and I put a bullet through her brain."
"You do know, if you hadn't shot her, you'd probably not be sitting here, right?"
Barry's laugh had no humor in it at all. "That's what everyone told me. It was her or us. Kill or die. Some folks even said I saved most of the squad that day, were calling me hero and shit."
"What do you call yourself?"
Barry shook his head. "I don't know what I call myself. All I knew for sure was, when I got rotated back and my time to sign on the dotted line came around, I left. Everyone and their fucking grandmother tried to get me to reconsider."
"You know, if you'd stayed in and gone to school, you could have gotten help."
"Right," Barry said. "Like Rev? Or Travis? Or what about Chuck Neilly, who's gonna die in Leavenworth because he lost it one night and raped three girls? The guy had daughters at home, and there he was, raping those little girls."
Vernon was silent.
"I got no regrets getting out, let me tell you." Barry shook his head. "No one wanted to listen to me while I was in, only Monica listens now but only because she's fucking stuck with me. I can't get a job because the economy sucks. I can't afford to go to school. We live with her folks, and all I hear is what a fucking loser I am, all I do is sit around all day when I could have stayed in the Army and done something with my life, why don't I get a fucking job. Blah-de-fucking-blah."
"I'm sorry," Vernon said.
Barry shrugged. "Not your fault." He looked up. His eyes were empty. "I don't know if it's anyone's fault. Half the people who talk to me tell me I should have known going in that war sucks, that it'll fuck with your head if it doesn't kill you. The other half treat me like I'm some head case. I hate the pity I see in their eyes." He shook his head. "And all I want is someone to listen to me."
"I listened," Vernon said.
Vermpm received a tired smile. "I know. I appreciate it. I just don't know if it helps at all."
"It's gotta help some, don't you think?" Vernon said.
"I used to think that way. Most times, though, everyone back here just seems like they don't give a shit. Like all we went through, the whole fucking mess, like it didn't happen, or if it did it didn't matter, or if it mattered it's over now, so why don't we all worry about our fucking mortgage and 401(k)'s and all that horseshit. You know?"
Vernon nodded. "Oh, I know."
"Sometimes, I'll be lying in bed at night, curled up with Monica running her hands through my hair, 'It's OK, baby, you're safe, baby,' over and over. That's what she tells me. I'll be there, I'm shivering even if it's the middle of fucking summer, I'm all sweaty, crying, snot running over my lip and I ask myself that. Did it really happen?"
Silence.
"I see myself lying on that street, nothing between me and death but the bloody body of one of my fucking Squad members, and I see that girl come running out of that house, and when I turn and shoot, her hijab falls off and it's Monica and I pull the trigger, and the fucking bomb goes off. That's the nightmare I have. Every fucking night."
Vernon reached over and put his hand on Barry's shoulder.
"I got contacts, Barry-"
Barry shrugged off the hand and shook his head. "I don't want any contacts, I don't want any help, I don't want to sit around and talk about how horrible it all was, and how fucked up my life is now. I just want someone to tell me if it really happened." Barry looked in to Vernon's eyes.
"We were moving through Helmand Province, with this whole battalion, on the hunt for Taliban, warlords, who fucking knows, right? Just folks pointing their guns at us and shooting, that's all that mattered to us." Vernon licked his lips. "The guy on point was a real doof, I told the Lieutenant he shouldn't be up there, he couldn't keep his gun clean, he argued with everyone. All the Lieutenant told me was it was his turn, get back in line and shut the fuck up.
"We practically tripped over a bunch of 'em. I mean, I don't know what he was thinking up there, he should have seen all the signs, the rest of us kept saying there were signs of a camp nearby. We were lucky they were looking in the other fucking direction, really, because their watch was over the roadway, and we'd swung in behind them.
"Like that, it goes from total silence to just chaos. Bullets flying everywhere, people screaming, next thing I know I got some guy leaning on me, it's the Lieutenant who told me I didn't know what the fuck I was talking about, a bullet in his neck.
"Then, it's just over. I swear to God it was just like that. I checked my watch, and sure as shit, it hadn't been three fucking minutes, we got three dead, seven wounded and their whole little camp, all but two anyway, they're down.
"I'd been in combat before that, I'd lost men in units, I'd seen Hummers and APCs blown up. But that three minutes? No one ever told me the whole fucking world could change like that."
The two men sat in silence for a moment or two.
"I wonder if it was real, too," Vernon said.
Barry snorted. "Now that it's over, I suppose it doesn't matter."
Vernon nodded. "No. I guess not." He glanced at his watch. "Jesus, it's late."
Barry sat back. "Yeah." He put his hand out. "It was good to see you, Vernon."
Vernon shook his friend's hand. "Sure was, Barry. Good luck with everything, OK? I mean that. And if you ever need help with anything, just shoot me an email."
"You got it, bro." He grabbed his coat and headed for the door.
Vernon wat
ched his friend walk out in to the pleasant spring night air. After watching Barry drive out of the parking lot, he turned and walked out of the bar.
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