What If

When the youngest guy pulled out a knife, that’s when my rapidly beating heart stopped. Knives are wicked in every sense of the word. People always assume guns are what cause the greatest damage. But with a gun you knew what to expect: a bullet through the body. You’d either die, or you wouldn’t. Knives you could get more creative with. It’s a sickening art that some take pleasure in, creating broken images in blood on another man’s body… and that’s what they did to us.

They took turns, making us watch as they terrorized one of our brothers: slicing down arms or faces, sawing off three fingers from Connor’s hand. The sound of his screams still reverberated in my mind at night. That sound, that awful sound as those fuckers laughed, as Connor hollered from the unbearable pain. I threw up, my body heaving forward, but still my own sickness landing in my lap.

They came for me next. Rodriguez looked me dead in the eyes and said out loud, “Go to that place where they can’t fuckin’ hurt you. Think about her, man.” I’m sure he was referring to my wife, but she’s not the woman who came to mind. I saw Briar.

I saw her running down that hallway nearly naked. The knife cut into my chest like I were made of butter.

I thought of the time Darcy and I raced back to her house. She had Briar in the car with her and tried to pull a bullshit move that, if I hadn’t pulled back, would’ve gotten them both killed by crashing into the semi in front of them. When we got to Darcy’s house I chewed her out while searching Briar’s face, making sure she was okay. The blade slid down, burning the muscle in its path.

I could almost hear Briar’s laugh that disappears when she’s giggling too hard. The knife was removed from my body and then just as quickly pressed to my stomach. Grinding my teeth together, groaning, I tried to keep from screaming, not wanting to give them the satisfaction.

“What does she smell like?” Rodriguez yelled at me, trying hopelessly to free me from the burn.

Blood slid down my throat from biting down on my lip. “Sweet. Kind of like flowers,” I groaned. I threw my head back and shouted.

“How did you meet her?” Rodriguez continued.

“High school,” I bit out.

“You’re going to see her again, hermano,” he promised me, calling me brother in his native language.

At the time I didn’t believe him. I hadn’t seen Briar in years, and I doubted she wanted to see me. Ever. Sometimes bridges were too burned to go back in time and try to rebuild them.

The negative thoughts took me away from the paradise in my head and brought me back to my reality. I looked down at my chest and saw the crisscrosses of blood gushing from my front.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” he promised me again.

I thought they were done. The knife disappeared into someone’s pocket. But then one of the assholes stepped forward, dumping a white powder into his hand. I looked down, seeing the crystal like structures in his palms. Salt. He pressed the grains into the wound of my chest, grinding them deeper into my body.

I screamed and thrashed in the chair. I couldn’t take it! I couldn’t fucking take it. I reared my head back and aimed right for his forehead. I head butted him, knocking him out and onto his ass.

One of the other men came up and backhanded me across the face, causing my already bleeding lip to break open further. They cursed at me in their language, taking turns punching and kicking me.

Even though the pain I felt was excruciating, staying in that hellhole another minute longer couldn’t happen. If we were there another day, I was sure we’d die. I relaxed my entire body, closed my eyes, and slumped forward, pretending to have passed out from their blows. I could only hope they took advantage of the fact that I was out cold.

They did, like the weak pieces of shit they were. They untied me and tossed me roughly to the ground. I opened my eyes slightly, just enough to see through a small crack, and eye who had the gun in their waistband.

He stepped over me, each leg on either side of my torso. He leaned down and pressed his hands onto my neck. I hit the inner side of his elbows which caused him to fall forward. I grabbed the gun from his waistband and rolled him off of me. I didn’t pause. I didn’t think twice about what I had to do. I blew a bullet through each one of their chests. One of them took two bullets when he continued to come after me.

My adrenaline was pumping to the point that my pain became a distant memory. I didn’t have time to nurse my wounds. I grabbed one of the sharp blades they used on us and ran towards my brothers. I sliced through the binding around their hands and feet.

We didn’t have time to stall. There could’ve been tens more of the men who had taken us. I grabbed one of Connor’s arms and pulled it over my shoulder, helping him walk to the only door in the room. He was in bad shape; they didn’t wrap his hand after chopping off his fingers. If he didn’t get help soon, he wouldn’t make it.

That fear pushed me forward. Rodriguez and Gardner searched the lifeless bodies for more guns. They passed one to each of us; both of them took two.

“I’ll cover,” Gardner said. He made his way out the door, his back pressed against the walls; he looked around the corners, telling us when it was safe to go through.

We took off down a long corridor, stopping when Gardner told us too. We were careful to not make a noise, but they had to have heard the gunshots coming from the other room. The only thing we could hope was that they assumed it was their men doing the shooting.

We made it outside and into the desert heat. We weren’t too far from our station. We moved quickly, trying to duck low but there was nothing for us to hide behind. The thundering of footprints slapped against the dried floor behind us. They were on our heels. They were healthy, and we were weak and injured.

I twisted around, firing at the six men coming towards us. One fell down, crying out and grabbing his gut.

“Shit!” I hollered as my leg went out from underneath me. Blood seeped through the thigh of my pants leg. I was hit. I pushed Connor to the ground, shoving him behind me so he wouldn’t get hit. He’d be lucky to make it with the wounds he already sustained. He wouldn’t have a chance if he took another hit. I fired at the guys running towards us. I hit some, but Rodriguez and Gardner were shooting at them too. One of the terrorists was left standing. He looked me straight in the eye; his gun pointed at me and my gun pointed at him. They went off at the same time. The blow to my chest knocked me down. I laid flat on the ground, bleeding out, losing my life force. I could feel my life leaving me. Before I passed out from loss of blood I had two thoughts: one, please God, let my brothers get back safely and secondly, I was still crazy in love with Briar.

I blinked, looking at the wall over Briar’s shoulder. When I was telling her my story, about my nightmares, about the reality of what happened to me back in Afghanistan, I had forgotten that I was just telling her my story and that I wasn’t personally back there all over again.

“Arrow,” Briar said softly, sniffling. Feeling numb and a little disorientated, I looked into her eyes. “I love you too,” she cried. “So, so much.” She kissed me tenderly, sharing my pain, sharing my fears, taking away the nightmares, and handing me my dreams. There was nothing else she could say, and I didn’t particularly want anything else. Hearing those words from her was incredible and felt like a huge illusion. Her tenderness and love continued when she took me in her soft hand and guided me inside of her. She moved up and down on me in measured movements. Her eyes stared into mine, conveying the feelings neither of us could put words to. “I’ve always loved you,” she said against my lips.