So today isn’t so bad.
Not until we come to a crossroads where the road bends out of sight. Our scouts went both directions, but their tracks double back and continue on straight. We walk on silently, and when I’m passing over the other road, a horse suddenly gallops into sight. Everyone freezes, including the German on his horse. Then he turns it around and kicks it forward.
I hear Captain Price shout, “Jackson!”
I have my gun up and into my shoulder before his voice is done echoing through the forest. My finger pulling the trigger right before the man is out of sight. His body jerks and then falls off the saddle. The horse startles but stays nearby, its eyes wide with the smell of blood. Price motions for a couple of us to go with him, including me and Perkins. We jog down the road, scanning the forest for more surprises.
When we come to the body, Perkins rolls him over and checks his pulse even though we already know he’s dead. His eyes stare at the sky and an exit wound punctures his chest. Private Woods checks the man for any documents and only comes up with a little black journal. I don’t look away fast enough and manage to see a picture of his family.
I step away and watch the woods, pretending nothing is wrong.
Someone leads the horse away
Price says between me, “Alright, let’s get back.”
I trail behind them and join up with the rest of the division, like nothing happened at all. I’m lying to myself, but it’s better not to think about it right now. I will later, when I’m in my foxhole and alone. There, nobody can see my hands shake.
“You good?” I turn to see Perkins walking next to me again.
I nod. “Yeah.”
But I’m not and he knows it, too.
I don’t leave early, but somehow—and still don’t know how—I’m able to come back outside of Uncle Jasper’s house. I was sitting against a tree, on watch for another two hours, when the pull became so strong, I couldn’t ignore it.
No … I didn’t want to ignore it.
The day before, I tried to trigger it. Thinking of summer and Harper and everything about home. I got close once, I think. It’s hard to tell. I was thinking about Uncle Jasper’s kitchen, the way it always smells like toast or sometimes frozen pizza. Of how warm his house always is whenever I’m cold.
I felt it then. But someone shouted my name and I couldn’t hold onto it.
So three days passed, and now I’m standing in the field next to Uncle Jasper’s house. My skin is still cold from the winter, and I’m hungry from the rations they lowered. They’ve been having trouble getting supplies to us through the forest with no roads.
It’s evening now, and I can hear the baseball game coming through the open window. I can’t wait to see his face when I walk in the front door. My legs are a bit numb, but they warm up as I walk.
I still can’t believe I did it.
For the first time in forever, I came back to a different place. A place of my choosing.
I don’t bother knocking—I just open the front door and walk in. Uncle Jasper looks at me twice before his eyes go wide and he comes to give me a hug. “Harper!”
Her feet are fast coming down the stairs, and I turn to pull her into my chest. She’s so warm and smells like home, and I finally realize how I came to be here. Because I wanted to be here, more than anything.
“You really did it,” she says, pulling back to look at me. “Where did you come back?”
“Just right outside in the field.” I still don’t believe it. Then my stomach growls and Uncle Jasper puts a hand on my shoulder. “How do you feel about pizza?”
I take a shower upstairs to get rid of the dirt and cold, still thinking about what I did and wondering if I can do it again. This small crack in the door might be the beginning of me learning control. It’s hard to have hope when I know what’s to come, but at least it’s something to work on.
When I come back downstairs, Miles is sitting next to Harper at the table, talking to Uncle Jasper.
Not expecting him here, I stop in the doorway. “Miles.”
His face lights up when he sees me. “Kale.” Miles comes around the table and throws his arms around me, but then pulls away saying, “Harper told me what happened.” And that’s when I remember. I’m supposed to die. I feel my smile fade away. Miles continues, “You know I’ll do anything for you. Just tell me what.”
“Right now, I could use some food.”
“You’re in luck; I brought the goods.” He gestures to the table where an open box of pizza sits, and I take my place across from Harper. The chair is hard and familiar—making this place feel like the home I know it is. I know it’s the love I have for it that made it possible for me to come back here.
And I think I can do it again.
They try to hold conversation while I eat, but Uncle Jasper glances at me every now and then, worry in his eyes and stress in his shoulders. When I’m finally done eating, they all sit silent, waiting for me.
I say, “What do you want to know?” I settle my gaze on Harper because she’s biting her lip and she only does that when she wants to say something.
“I want to know how you did it. Maybe if we figure it out, you’ll know how to do it again.”
“I think I can do it again … but really, is there a point? Unless the report of my death is drastically wrong, I don’t think I’ll be coming back at all.”
Harper is already shaking her head. “But you can. Whatever happens, you’ll be able to leave and come back, maybe even earlier than usual. And if you come back here, maybe we can help you.”
Uncle Jasper chimes in. “It’s the only chance we have. You must understand that.” He puts a heavy hand on my arm and I almost can’t look at him. “Don’t give up on us yet.”
I won’t break down in front them. But I feel it coming. I want to say maybe it’s easier to give up. I want to say it but I don’t. That’s not who I am.
So I tell him, “I’m not.”
“Good. So tell us what happened.”
“I tried to leave after two days, but I got distracted. I felt like I was close,” I shake my head, trying to remember exactly what I felt, “but I’m not sure.”
“Do you remember what it felt like?” Harper asks. “What you were thinking of?”
“I was thinking about this house, actually. How it always smells like toast—“
She says, “You were thinking of details. That must be what triggers it. What about that time in the grocery store?”
Uncle Jasper looks at me, “What happened at the grocery store?”
“It was the cold from the freezer section,” I tell him. “But that was more of a panic attack than anything.”
“But you still had the pull to leave,” Harper says. “What came to mind?”
“The snow … the sounds.”
“Details.” Harper smiles and nods. “That’s what it is. You have to hone in on the details and you’ll be able to do it.”
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean, maybe?”