"I don't expect you to do that for me, Sir."
"It's where you should have been in the first place. I am damned lucky they screwed you over, and I know that. I will see my girls again because of you. I can make this right for you now."
"You have two girls. I don't have any siblings. What's it like?"
"Well, had it been up to my older girl, she wouldn't have had any siblings either," he laughed. "They are total opposites. They get along now, but sometimes it was a struggle. My older one was a princess, always had her mother driving her to dance class and gymnastics, then it was cheerleading." He shook his head. "The younger one was all about sports. If she wasn't playing she was out there watching and screaming. I don't know how Beverly managed it all on her own."
I walked along beside him thinking about Amber as a cheerleader. I could sort of see it. She was very exuberant when she was in my dream. I guess I just didn't think of cheerleaders as Biology majors. I clearly needed to get my head out of butt and stop making judgments like that. She could be a princess. I just wanted her to be my princess.
"You don't say much, Massey."
"When you come from my line, you speak when spoken to."
"Yeah, I have seen plenty of soldiers treat their children like recruits. Part of me was relieved that Bev and I never had a son. You just treat daughters differently I think."
I nodded. I should have tried harder to make conversation, but I just couldn't make thoughts. I felt like I'd woken up in the morning with a really dry mouth and no matter how many times I swallowed I just couldn't get it back to normal, only it wasn't my mouth; my brain was shriveling up.
The colonel was looking at me. He was just walking along beside me, watching me. I wondered if I looked like I felt.
"What is it, Sir?"
He shrugged. But he just kept looking at me. "I think there must be something special about you. Only one man was thrown from the trucks. I jumped out of the rear truck when the first one was hit. I was going to try to pull men out. But the second truck blew and I got impaled. So what is your future if fate threw you out of the truck?"
"It's this. I was supposed to save people. It's all I've wanted to do since I was small. All the war stories, all the deaths, and I wanted to save them. Saving people matters more than killing. I had to shoot them to save us. There was no other way."
He looked at me like he didn't know what I meant. "We should stop Massey. You need to drink water and sleep for a while. You need to sleep, Son."
We found a sheltered spot out of sight from the road and we sat. We passed the water back and forth and then I slowly helped the other man drink. He grabbed my free hand.
"She didn't want me to go. She was so sad, and angry that I was leaving her. She was just a little girl. It was my job. I had no choice. No choice."
"She'll forgive you when you get home, Sir."
He nodded and lay back down.
I lay beside him and thoughts I didn't want to remember filled my head. My father had been strict. So strict. I was a good boy. I didn't deserve the belt for behaving like a kid. Those men were laughing in the place of all that needless death. Laughing.
They were laughing.
"What's that, Massey? You okay?"
Was I ever going to be okay?
"Fine, Sir."
16. Hendrix:
Walking again.
The Colonel stopped. "I hate to say that you were right, but you were right, Son," he groaned. "I need to stop. The pain is too much."
I dug through the bag. There were still two vials, but my hands were too shaky to risk giving him a needle. There were pills. That was the safer option. I handed them to him with the last of my water. "Take them. Please take them."
He did and he lay back down beside the other man.
I put the harness back on and I walked.
Everything was black. There were no features to landscape, there were no features to the sky. The moon should have been full and lighting the way, causing a big, obvious shadow, but I couldn't see it.
There was nothing else I could do.
I had to stop.
The nameless man was muttering ever louder. I knew he was in pain, but I couldn't help him.
I couldn't do anything.
I just sat.
Day broke. Weak light came from the east. I fumbled with my pocket and took out the journal. There were words. Many words. They seemed to be written in a foreign language. My eyes couldn't read them. I took the pen.
'Amber, so beautiful, I just wanted to see that smile.'
I closed the book and struggled to get it back into my pocket. I wiped my hand across my face and there was blood. I don't know where the blood came from. I had to close my eyes.
When I opened them, there was a boy.
I lifted my gun.
I didn't want to hurt the boy, he was small, maybe nine years old, but I didn't want to be captured. He said words I didn't understand and Colonel Richardson sat up.
"Lower your weapon, Massey, lower the gun."
I always followed orders.
The other man cried out in pain. The boy looked at him and cried out something. Then he ran to him, dropped to his knees, placed his small hand on the man's face and spoke softly.
The other man opened his eyes and spoke to the boy. "Hi, Sonj, how are you, Kiddo? Listen, can you go get Billy? Can you help?"
The boy nodded. He jumped to his feet.
"You know him?" I asked.
"Cappy. He plays futbol. Is American." His accent was very strong.
"Yes, American. Do you know where the camp is?"
"Camp," he said, pointing enthusiastically. "Billy," he said and he began running.
I put the harness on I tried to follow. My left arm was completely useless. My back could not take the pressure. I crawled.
I took out the journal one last time.
It said: 'ham and cheese on whole wheat, Harris. Don't you give up. I love you.'
My pen wrote words. I don't know what it said. I had to think. I had to. The last words had to mean something. They had to be real. I had to mean them.
'I love you. Always.'
I slid it back into my pocket and closed my eyes.
17. Kyra:
Panic, like I have never felt in my life, pulsed through my veins.
Harris was suffering, maybe dying.
Maybe already dead.
His words were so disjointed, and so badly written. In the beginning he had this great penmanship, that's a stupid thing to like, but it was artistic, like kanji, the letters were drawn more so than just written. It was interesting to look at.
But these last days, he was definitely losing his fine motor skills. First he was just having a hard time keeping the letters on the lines, but his thoughts still made sense. Then he started using very clipped sentences to express himself, and even then, his thoughts were still in order. I still knew what he was saying. This last entry was different. The snippets were so random.
'So dark. Moon is gone.
The boy came with the light. I didn't want to hurt the boy. He was small.
Can't be taken. Can't.
Put the gun down. He knows the other man. He told the boy to get Billy.
Do you know where the camp is? He pointed. Ran. Tried to follow.
I can't.
I love you. Always.'
And then he was gone. I couldn't feel him anymore. I was afraid I was never going to see his words again, and worse than that, I would never meet him. Never know his real name. Never get that lunch at the purple table at the bakery on Harris Street.
I began to cry. I prayed so hard, so passionately, for the angels to watch him, to save him. He gave all he had to saving the others, there just had to be mercy.
There had to be.
But no words appeared, and the magic seemed to have left
my notebook and my life.
It was a full week later that my father called me. My father! He was alive! He told me he'd been injured, but he was okay. I asked a thousand questions: What happened to you? How did you get injured? How bad is it?
He laughed. He said he'd tell me everything when he got back.
I knew that was a lie. He would never tell me the details. Never.
He told me he would be coming home on the next plane, but that was still four weeks away.
My father was alive. But the notebook was still dead.
The magic was still gone.
18. Hendrix:
I woke up struggling. I was strapped down. I didn't know where I was or what had become of the others.
"At ease, Massey, you're okay. You're in the infirmary."
"What happened to me, Colonel? Why am I strapped down? How long have I been here?"
"Don't get worked up, Son, you're in traction. You've been here five days. They had to operate on your collarbone, your shoulder and your back."
"What happened to my back?" I asked.
He looked at me like I must be kidding. "You ruptured a disc, Massey. Could you not tell?"
"No, Sir. I mean, it hurt from pulling the weight, but I just thought it was the exertion and exhaustion."
"Do you have any idea how far you brought us, Son?"
"No, Sir. I don't even know for certain how many days we were out there."
He laughed. "What you did out there was a feat of super human strength. It wasn't until we got here that I grasped just how far you went. I am humbled, Massey.”
"Thank you, Sir. Are you okay? How about the other man?"
"Fine. Both fine. His name is Cassell, Sergeant Major Sean Cassell. Listen, they were keeping you sedated because of the back. You were also extremely dehydrated, that's why they've got you hooked up to all these drips. You need to start eating again. It's going to be hard. Be patient with yourself."
I nodded.
Five days.
Did he really say five days?
What about Amber? She had to be thinking the worst. She had to.
"Sir? Do you know where my things are? I need my shirt. I have a..."
"Stay calm," he said as he slowly stood and went to the locker at the foot of my bed.
"Did they have to do surgery on you too, Sir?"
"Nah, they had to clean up the wound a little, but the internal stuff was healing just fine. They did a shit load of tests on me. Turns out I just have to follow my doctor's orders and take it easy. Here's your shirt, what did you need?"
"There's a journal in the pocket, buttoned into the pocket."
"Sorry, Son, there's nothing in the pocket."
"It must be there. It must be."
He went through all my stuff, but the journal was gone. Lost forever. The only magic my life had ever known was gone. Maybe I wasn't worthy of magic.
A soldier came with a tray of unappealing soft foods and Colonel Richardson said he'd check on me later.
I lay alone and I cried for what was lost.
But maybe the whole thing had been a dream.
Maybe Amber didn't exist at all. Maybe I never had a magic journal, just a need to believe in something so I could continue on.
The loss hurt more than my injuries.
The loss broke my heart.
In the following days they got me up, started me walking a little.
A very little.
I was wearing a brace and a big ass sling with stabilizers for my collarbone and shoulder. The doctors came and spoke to me not only about my injuries but about the aid I was able to give the others.
Evidently I was the talk of the camp.
But I hadn't succeeded in getting them here. It was the boy who finished the job. He was the hero and I drew a gun on him.
And then I found out that they were sending me home. My injuries were too great to send me back on duty so they were sending me home to rehab.
The plane would leave here in three weeks. But I didn't have anything left to go home to. I stubbornly clung to some small hope that Amber was Colonel Richardson's daughter and that we would meet when that plane landed.
It was all I had left to hope for.
19. Kyra:
I should have been happier. My father was alive and he was coming home. The whole thing was over. That was his last tour. He was done. The end.
But I was depressed.
And angry.
And confused.
I had been checking that notebook every day. Every single day. I knew every word that was written. I had mental photos of the pictures he drew. He was there; Harris was living in those pages.
Then suddenly, he was gone.
It all vanished right before my eyes.
"No!" I cried. "The words were all I had left of him. Why did you have to take away the words? Why?"
I guess I was never meant for love or magic.
The days marched on just like they always had. I went to class. I did homework. My dad didn't call. I crossed the days off on my calendar just looking forward to the day he'd be home and I could stop worrying about him.
That day came at last. It was crisp, sunny fall day. All the colors seemed so bright, so vivid and that just made my heart ache.
There were a good number of families on the tarmac, waiting for the plane. I stood watching the sky, minding my own business. My heart sort of skipped when I spotted the plane. I watched its descent, and the moment it touched down.
My dad was home.
20. Hendrix:
I stayed close to Colonel Richardson. He'd said his girls always came to the airstrip and I just had to know if Amber was his daughter. But really since I lost the journal, I hadn't even been able to hope.
He was much more spry getting down the ladder than I was. The brace on my back kept me moving very slowly. By the time I made it to the bottom, he was a good ways away. He had his two girls in his arms and he was kissing their heads.
Their dark-haired heads.
He waved me closer. I removed my hat and greeted them. They were lovely girls, especially the younger of the two. The older one may have been the princess, but her sister didn't need the fancy dress or the tiara to be beautiful.
Anyway, it did not matter that these two lovely girls were gushing and thanking me. They weren't Amber.
I lost her.
I lost the dream.
I was as pleasant as a massively disappointed man with a back brace and an arm immobilizer could be. At last I excused myself, hitched my pack onto my good shoulder and began to walk away.
21. Kyra:
And not only was my dad home, but they opened the door of the plane and he was the first one to exit. He was on crutches. His leg was in a very large brace. They had a wheelchair for him at the bottom of the ladder and he waved to me as he sat. He was smiling.
My dad was a character.
Clearly he was cool with the attention he was getting.
A moment later I was hugging him. My dad. He was home. He was injured but he was safe.
"You going to tell me what happened?" I asked.
"I broke my leg," he grinned.
"I never would have guessed."
And that was my dad, the fountain of information.
Other families were moving away. The crowd was thinning quickly.
That was when I saw him.
I couldn't breath. He was just moving away from another high-ranking officer. He had his hat off. His hair was short and dark. He had his left arm in a giant sling.
He was beautiful.
My father must have been watching me.
"That's the young man who saved my life, Kay-Kay."
I spun. "What's his name, Daddy? Tell me his name!"
"Hendrix Massey."
I began to laugh. Two last names. Harris really wasn't that far off. "I'
m going to marry him, Daddy," I blurted out.
And then I ran after him.
"Harris!" I called out. "Harris, wait! Please wait."
He looked at me. His eyes were so wide. He was so handsome. I wanted to run right into his arms, but he was obviously damaged and I was afraid to hurt him.
"Amber," he whispered as he reached out and touched my hair. "It's you. You're real. I lost the journal. I couldn't make it to the camp and when they rescued me, I lost the book. I thought I lost you too. I thought I wasn't worthy..."
"Hendrix, you saved my father."
"Your father? Your Father. You were the little girl in the hospital."
"He told you that?"
"He had head trauma. He said things."
"You set his leg?" I asked.
He nodded.
"Did you mean it when you said you loved me?"
"More deeply than I have ever meant any words in all of my life. And sadly, I still don't even know your name."
"It's Kyra, Kyra Cassell, but I still feel like Amber," I said as I reached up and pressed my hand to his cheek.
"I'm Hendrix Massey."
"I know. Two last names. And we are ham and cheese on whole wheat, aren't we? This is a relationship, isn't it? Because I'm standing here just gazing at something magical and I would like to wrap my arms around you, maybe kiss you, but I don't know if that would hurt you."
"It definitely wouldn't hurt. I swear on all that's holy that holding you in my arms, well arm, would not hurt."
"You're funny!" I laughed as I wrapped my arms around him.
"You're beautiful, Amber. I would really like to have that lunch at that purple table if you think that maybe being in a relationship with a soldier is something you can do."
"I can, Harris. I can."
"I should go ask your father's permission."
"You should kiss me. I already told him I was going to marry you."
"Will we live happily ever after?" He grinned.
"Isn't that how all magic books end?"
He nodded and our mouths met in that first glorious kiss that was definitely the ending of the book but the beginning of our fairy tale.