Flame

I tried to focus on steadying my breathing. In for four beats, out for four beats. Who decided how fast the beat was? Did anyone? If they did, it wasn’t relayed to me. If there was no consistent beat, then the rule made no sense. Four beats at 160 beats per minute would be tiny, short breaths. Four beats at two bpm would require giant-sized lungs.

Trying to match my breath to imaginary beats while on the fourth mile of my five-mile run was insanity. Trying to breathe in a rhythm at any point baffled me, but trying to regulate it while exerting more effort than I had during my entire life prior to basic? Madness.

Weapons training didn’t go much better for me than PT. I landed every shot and managed to avoid shooting any of the cutouts wearing US uniforms, but I still had one of the slowest times across the whole damn company. I had never been fat, only a little chubby, but I had always been out of shape. Being a nurse meant I was used to staying on my feet for ten to fourteen hours at a time, but ten to fourteen hours of running, jumping, crawling, and climbing while carrying an extra 70-150 pounds? That was a new form of hell.

Basic quickly rid me of the extra pounds I had been carrying, but it couldn’t make me hate running any less. Running was something I believed should only occur if you were being chased.

My squad in basic despised me in the beginning. When I first arrived, I constantly fell behind during any kind of physical exertion. It had gotten easier, and the shorter my times got, the more they seemed to warm up to me.

After basic graduation, I was moved to a different squad full of medics, and we were sent to a base in northern Ohio for specialized training. Soon after my medic training was completed, orders came down for a big push in Europe.

About one year prior to my enlisting, the UK decided it was time for them to reclaim the US as one of their territories. This was met with the exact reaction everyone expected out of the US: we laughed. We did nothing to prepare or defend because, come on, it’s the UK. They’re tiny, they’re wimps, and no one has been scared of them since 1776. That exact reaction was why shit went sideways in the most colossal way when the bombs hit Florida. There could be no peace after that. The US immediately started rounding up troops to send off.

For the first year, it was a small-scale thing. No overseas forces had landed on our soil yet, and we were eager to get boots on the ground first. The US sent in small bands of troops to fight in the streets of England. My brother, Jackson, was one of them. He was drafted into the war and fought for almost a full year before he was killed. Not even two weeks after his funeral, I was at the recruitment office signing my paperwork.

Someone, probably my Staff Sergeant, yelled at me, and I snapped back into focus. I’d gotten lost in thought and fell way behind the rest of my squad. Fuck the breathing, I thought as I sprinted to catch up with the rest of them.

*****

When it was time for dinner, I had almost recovered from my run. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the runs and the sprints and the damn chin-ups. I hated them the most. I picked at my food as my bunkmate, a girl from east Indiana, rattled on about this boy in C Company, or the other one in E Company. I made the mistake once of asking my bunkmate, Hannah, if she ever thought of anything other than dick. I woke up the morning after that incident with a solid six inches of hair gone. I then lost two more inches evening the cut.

Hannah suddenly stopped talking, and the absence of mindless chatter got my attention.

Colonel Stackhouse was a very large man. I figured he had to be at least six foot eight, maybe nine. His salt and pepper hair led me to believe he was in his mid-fifties, but his face showed an age of at least sixty. I figured that must be one of the downsides of being a career Army man. His constantly stern expression and the way he carried himself made me nervous any time I was in close quarters with him. The way he stood at the front of the mess hall, waiting for silence, was no exception.

Next to him was a smaller man, though almost everyone looked small compared to the Colonel. He had dark hair, and he almost looked afraid. He was holding a large stack of manila envelopes. I felt my stomach tighten as I waited on the Colonel’s announcement.

Finally, Colonel Stackhouse cleared his throat, and his raspy voice said, “Good news, rookies. France has officially agreed to ally with us, and they will be hosting five companies of soldiers at an FOB near the northwestern shore. This mission, like all missions, will be dangerous. As of this moment, England is not aware of this alliance. When we start flying in troops, that will likely change. Every moment from the time you step onto the plane onward should have you in a state of constant vigilance for both you and your brothers.

“I know I have made this mission sound very appealing to all of you very green men, but there is an upside. Since you are all medics, you will not all be in one company. This afternoon, you will receive your orders for your new company. Only three of you will be in the first company to go to France.”

“Because you can’t heal the dead.” A girl three seats down from me muttered under her breath.

“After you’ve received your new orders from Sergeant Jenkins here…” he slapped the young man standing next to him on the back, “…head back to your quarters and get a good night’s sleep. Some of you are departing as early as 0500. As you were.”

Colonel Stackhouse walked out the door, leaving Sergeant Jenkins to stand there alone. I had suddenly lost my appetite. I cleared my spot at the table and made my way up to Jenkins. I was the only one moving already, and I could feel my legs shaking as I walked up to him.

Before I could say anything, Sergeant Jenkins was holding out an envelope to me. “Nametag,” he said, as if he knew I was going to ask how he knew my name.

“I can’t be the only one named Stevens in this company,” I said.

“No, but you are the only woman named Stevens in this company. So, unless your parents named you Edward or Bryce, those are your papers.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

“Rest well, Stevens.”

I nodded and walked past him. A small line had started to form behind me.

I was grateful I had been at this base long enough to know the walk to my room by heart. My eyes kept blurring and my heart was racing. When I reached my room, I was grateful my bunkmate didn’t get up with me. I threw my papers onto my bunk and snatched open the bathroom door. I hurled until only acid was left in my stomach. Once the heaving stopped, I went to the sink. I rinsed my mouth out and quickly brushed my teeth. I let my hair down and cringed. Hannah chopping off most of my length meant I was left with only my natural dish-water blonde color, and it barely fell past my shoulders. The green flecks in my otherwise gray irises popped against my bloodshot whites.

I finished brushing my teeth, flushed again for good measure, and exited the too-small bathroom. I climbed up to my bunk, and for the first time, I was grateful the terrible girl I roomed with made me take the top. I had mastered crying silently early in life; as long as no one saw me, I had no reason to be embarrassed. With shaky hands, I pulled my papers out of the envelope.

And my heart sank.

I was reassigned to F Company, departing at 09:00. I’m not the first to go, but I’m one of the first. I breathed deep and tried to remind myself that this was why I was here. A medic may not have been able to save my brother, but I could save people like him. Men and women from our country, fighting for us to remain free of the UK’s control. But I can’t help people if I’m dead, too…

The door opened and I quickly wiped my face. Hannah walked in, and she was silent.

“Everything okay?” I asked her.

“I’m in K Company.”

“Are they…?”

“Yep. First to fight, first to die.” Hannah slung her papers on the desk in the corner of the room.

“I’m sorry, Hannah.”

“Me too.”

After a few minutes of silence, Hannah said, “I need a cigarette. I’m going to step outside and call my folks. You should do the same.”

I nodded and scolded myself for not thinking of calling them. As soon as Hannah was out of the room, I laid on my back and dialed my mother’s number. She answered on the third ring.

“Hey, baby! How’s it going?” The sound wrapped around me like a blanket.

“It’s… It’s the Army, Momma. It’s going about as well as you’d expect.”

“Has the running gotten any easier?” I thought I heard pots and pans banging.

“Yeah, a little bit. Are you cooking?”

“Yeah, just making me and your dad some dinner. But it’s fine, honey, I haven’t heard from you in weeks. What’s going on?”

I took a deep breath and exhaled. “I got my papers today, Momma.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, baby. It is kind of what you signed up for, though.”

“I know, I know. I’m going to Europe.”

“Well, at least it’s pretty over there.”

“Probably not where I’ll be.”

Momma laughed then, and I felt my chest loosen a bit as I laughed with her. “No, I suppose not. But you’ll be saving soldiers’ lives, honey. That’s exciting, right?”

I heard the crack in my mother’s voice, heard how hard she was trying to stay positive for me. “Yeah, Momma. I’m happy to be here, really. It’s just scary to think about.”

“You’d be a dumb ass if you weren’t scared. Hang on, talk to your father.”

As much as I loved my father, he didn’t provide the same comfort my mother did. I filled my father in on the news, and he told me to be safe. I laughed and said I’d do my best, then he handed the phone back to Momma.

“Do you want me to say anything to anyone at the hospital?” my mother asked.

“Yeah, tell Melanie I said all my patients better leave the hospital in one piece.”

“You know that girl is too lazy to bring harm to anyone. It’ll be her CNA that accidentally kills someone, and it won’t even be the poor girl’s fault. Melanie sent her in to pack Mr. Jeffries’ wound yesterday. I heard the poor man screaming two floors up!”

“For fuck’s sake. I’m going to need you to keep them alive then.”

“I’ll do my best, but you know I have my own patients to tend to.”

“I know. Thanks, anyway. I should probably get some rest now, Momma.”

“Wait! How’s Liam doing?”

My heart sank at the mention of his name, but I tried to keep my voice level.

“I’m… not sure, Momma. He’s not here. He’s probably in England somewhere, wringing necks and pulling off people’s limbs by hand.”

Momma let out a full belly laugh that was contagious. “Well, you should ask about him. I don’t trust his mother to tell us if anything happened to him.”

“I will, Momma. And if I find anything out, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, baby. Good night, I love you.”

“Good night, Momma. I love you, too.”

I laid there for what felt like an eternity, but sleep wouldn’t come. Hannah hadn’t come back yet either, so I decided to call one more person. With trembling fingers, I found Liam’s picture and clicked call.

With every ring, my heart beat faster. Faster and faster until the robot lady told me to leave a voicemail—my heart stopped then. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. He was busy, probably. Why did I think he would answer? Stupid. It took me a solid two seconds after the beep to find my voice.

“Hey, Liam, um… This is Alis. Alis Stevens, in case you forgot. I’m sorry to call, I… I don’t know why I am calling really. Momma wants to know if you’re doing okay, and I’m being shipped out to-tomorrow. So… please let me know if you’re okay, so I can tell Momma, and I might see you soon. Who knows, right? Bye.”

My voice broke somewhere around “tomorrow” and steadily dissolved into tears. By the end of the message, I was sobbing. There was no taking it back, so I shoved the shame down and let the sobs roll out of me. I had just about stopped crying when my phone dinged. I picked it up, the bright screen burning my eyes. It was a text from Liam. All it said was: “Doing fine. Tell Momma I said not to worry. Everything is going to be okay, Al. I promise.”

I put the phone down on my bunk, rolled to the wall, and resumed sobbing until sleep finally claimed me.

*****

Though I’d never heard Hannah come back the night before, I certainly heard her the next morning. She was packing franticly and did not give two shits about being quiet.

“What time is it?” I asked, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

“0437.”

“And you’re supposed to leave at?”

“0500.”

“Oh, shit. What can I do?” I asked her, quickly rolling over in my bed. Hannah threw a small gym bag at me.

“Clothes, dresser,” she commanded as she pointed.

“Got it.”

I dropped down from the top bunk and started snatching clothes out of the dresser and shoving them into the bag. Hannah ranted the entire time.

“Never been late in my entire fucking life, never even had a late period, but today, today, I sleep through my alarm and I’m going to fucking be late. My new company is going to hate me. They’ll say, ‘No, I don’t want her. The bitch was late to deployment. She can’t read a clock; how can she stitch up my leg?’ And do you know what I’m going to say? I’ll say, ‘Sew your own fucking wounds shut then, you colossal shit stain!’”

“Hannah!”

“What?!”

I handed the bag to her. “You’re going to do great. Need anything else?”

Hannah looked around the room, and then she looked back to me. Her hair was pulled back into its usual bun, the one we all had to wear, but her flyaways were starting to resemble a lion’s mane. Her voice had been angry, but her eyes… They shone with fear. After a moment, she started blinking back tears. “No, I’m good. Thank you.” Hannah gave me a quick hug. “Try not to die!” she called as she walked out the door.

I smiled and called after her, “Right back at you!”

With Hannah gone, the room was eerily quiet. I busied myself by packing, but that didn’t take nearly as long as I needed it to. So I unpacked everything, refolded it, and packed it again. That time, I folded everything as tight as possible, put my laptop in between two layers of clothes, then put my laptop and phone chargers between two other layers of clothes. Lastly, all of my toiletries and medical supplies went on top. My books, only two, went in either end of the duffle bag to give it some support.

By the time I finished all of that, it was 0645. Close enough to breakfast time, I thought. I could wander the halls for an extra fifteen minutes until the mess hall opened.

When I finally entered the mess hall, there were a dozen or so people in there. I figured they were all people in my new company. I was not ready to meet them yet, so I got my food and sat at a table in the empty corner of the room. I had just sat down with a biscuit, three slices of bacon, and orange juice when Colonel Stackhouse approached me. I immediately scrambled out of my chair and stood at attention.

“At ease, Stevens. Come with me.”

“Yes sir, Colonel.” I dropped my hand and fell into step behind Colonel Stackhouse. I thought back to my breakfast with nostalgia and a bit of shame. Should I have thrown it away first? Or was that rude? Was it more rude to leave it on the table for someone else to clean up?

I followed Colonel Stackhouse down a long hall—the hall my room was on—and through a set of double doors that I had somehow never been through before. Colonel Stackhouse swiped his badge, and a green light flashed before a lock clicked open. That’s probably why I’ve never been this way, I thought. We made two right turns, and I was frantically trying to keep up with all the turns in my head in case he made me leave here on my own. One more left turn, and we entered the first office on the right. He opened the door and stepped aside. I stepped through the door, and Colonel Stackhouse followed, closing the door behind him.

“Have a seat, Stevens.”

I did. My heart clogged my throat, threatening to choke me. I tried to calm it by leveling my breathing. This is the only use for that dumb ass breathing method, I thought. It may have been shit for running, but it was great for delaying panic attacks.

“Your assignment’s been changed. You’re no longer joining F Company.”

I stared at him blankly and said nothing. I couldn’t imagine a situation that required my assignment to be changed. Was I being dishonorably discharged? Were they mad I didn’t clean my food off the table? No, he came to me before I left my food… Too many thoughts and not enough words prompted the Colonel to speak again.

“You’re too uptight, Stevens. Pretend I’m not your Colonel for a minute. Talk me to like you would a college professor or your favorite teacher in high school.”

I stared at him in shock for another moment. I took another couple of deep breaths before I found my voice. I said the only thing I could coherently vocalize in that moment.

“You scare me, sir.”

A smile played at the corner of his mouth.

“I get that a lot. Why do I scare you, Stevens?”

“You’re just… large. And intimidating.”

“Good. That’s my job. Now, like I said, you’re being reassigned.”

“Where to, sir?”

“Maine. I’ve received a request for you to join a task force that’s currently based there.”

That left me with more questions than it answered.

“A task force?” I asked. “I’m not specially trained for anything.”

“You’re a medic, that’s your specialty. As it stands, they need a medic. You’re being sent to join Task Force Smoke as their resident medic.”

“Sir… I’m sorry, but who the hell named the task force?”

“A sergeant who goes by the name of Smoke.”

I fought not to roll my eyes. “He named it after himself?”

“I believe so.”

“So… he’s kind of full of himself, then?”

The corner of his mouth twitched again, and I felt my body relax a bit more. “Yes, but with good reason. He and another member of the task force are also very handy with smoke grenades, so it works on a couple of levels.”

“I have one more question.”

“Yes, Stevens?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

The colonel’s mouth tightened into a thin line. He looked down at his hands, folded neatly on his desk, before he answered. “I know your story, Stevens. You’re also not the first Stevens to be in one of my companies.”

“There’s at least three of us here now, I heard.”

“I was referring to Jackson.”

I fell silent and lowered my gaze to my boots.

“Your brother was a good man. I was sorry to hear about him, and I commend you for trying to fill his shoes.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me, Stevens. Now, about your reassignment. Have you packed already?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sergeant Jenkins—I believe you’re familiar with him—will escort you. You’re going to have to fly commercial, unfortunately, but we’ve gotten you all the clearances you’ll need. Head on back to your room and Jenkins will be there in a few minutes to collect you.”

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

It had been bothering me since we left the mess hall. “I left my breakfast on the table.”

He didn’t try to stop the grin that time. “Go eat your breakfast, very quickly, and then head back to your room. I’ll wait a few minutes to call Jenkins.” Colonel Stackhouse turned to his computer and started typing.

“Thank you, sir.”

I didn’t move for a few moments. Finally, the colonel looked up from his monitor. “You’re dismissed, Stevens.”

“Thank you, sir.” I got up from my chair and walked out, gently closing the door behind me.

I made a conscious effort to walk normally through what I assumed were the NCO’s offices. Once I made it through the set of double doors (without getting lost!), I started power walking back to the mess hall. As much as I hated running, I had to fight to keep myself from doing it in that moment. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw my food was still on the table. I scarfed down my meal, ignoring the sideways glances from the soldiers at the other tables, and rushed back to my room. I left the door open and sat on Hannah’s bed.

About fifteen minutes later, Sergeant Jenkins knocked on the open door.

“Ready, Stevens?”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“Let’s go.”