I can see, but it’s blurry. I’m weightless right before I’m slammed to the ground. Dirt falls onto my face, but I can’t hear a fucking thing, even as my head buzzes. The lack of sound is slowly replaced by a high-pitched ringing in my ears, and then I’m blinking past the flare of brightness. It’s nighttime, but the flare nearly singes my eyeballs out of their sockets, and I feel heat at my back. The scent of smoke and dirt sticks to my nose and the back of my throat. I try to push against the ground to get up, but I stumble when I hear someone screaming. I look around, frantically trying to find who it is and why, but everything feels disjointed. My body isn’t working the way it should.
“Brant, buddy, can you hear me? Brant!”
The voice is like an echo, but I can’t latch onto it. All I can feel is pain and darkness and that god-awful feeling of being utterly stuck. It fills me with panic and dread. The screaming keeps going, and the smell of burnt flesh, smoke, and dirt throttles me.
“Move, so the dog can get to him,” I hear from far away.
I start coughing from the dirt and smoke stuck in my mouth and nose, but I can’t fucking breathe. Panicked, I try to clear my airways of the sand and soil, but my hands hit something soft instead of connecting with my face. I feel like I’m dying. Suffocating through the airless memory that I’m stuck in. I try again to wipe away the dirt and clear my nose, while I spit it out of my mouth over and over again, but something warm and wet against my face makes me freeze.
That’s not right. There wasn’t anything like that. It was just dirt and the smell of burning and screaming. Nothing warm against my face. Nothing soft at my fingertips. My brain stumbles over the memory as it tries to latch onto the present and pull me back to what’s real.
“Brant, you’re in Endstone, Montana. You’re at work. You’re not there, son. You’re okay. Puddles is here. I’m here. Open your eyes and look at us, son.”
I feel the lick of a dog’s tongue on my cheek and neck, and then a furry head presses against my chest. I reach out and hang on to it, recognizing the necessary life-line.Puddles.It’s my fucking dog, Puddles. My brain fires off, trying to connect, and I feel her lick me some more. I focus on the feel of her short fur under my hands. There are other voices talking to each other, but I just focus on bringing myself back to the here and now. Puddles wasn’t there with the explosion. If she’s here now, then the voice is right, I’m not there. The explosion already happened. Theo, Madix, and I were the only ones to survive.
I open my eyes, and the view of the explosion finally fades away, but I focus on petting Puddles some more, and I hear the music on the radio that competes with the ringing in my ears. The song is old, something I feel like my dad listened to when he was working in the garage, but it helps bring me more to the present. I pay attention to where I’m sitting and focus on the lifeline heavy in my lap as Puddles nuzzles further into me.
The music over the radio fades out, and a serious voice replaces the old song. “Death tolls continue to rise at an alarming rate, and a state of emergency has officially been declared. The president has advised citizens to seek out a vaccine that was introduced late last night on the east coast. Thousands of centers are being set up all over the country and Americans are being told to watch for an announcement that will indicate when it’s their turn to receive the lifesaving vaccination. We’re being told that the announcements will be made in alphabetical order, and the center that should be attended will be specified at that time. We’ll keep you updated as developments unfold…”
Puddles licks my hand this time, and my vision finally clears enough that I can see her sitting in my lap. Her brown eyes are locked on mine, and she pushes at my hand over and over again with her snout, forcing me to react and pet her, which I finally do. She rewards my reaction by licking my arm, knowing that she’s grounded me back to reality again.
“There you are, son,” I hear, and I feel Sheriff April pat me on the back. “I got you some water,” he says, passing me a bottled water. “Can you turn your head and look at my ugly mug so I can get a look at you?” Sheriff April asks in a teasing but supportive tone. His voice drowns out the newscaster on the radio, and I feel a cold water bottle being pressed into my shaky hand. I take it and slowly bring the water up to my lips, emptying the bottle in a few long gulps. I finally have the ability to look up and focus on Sheriff April kneeling beside me. Zeke and Mr. Stevens are on the other side of the counter, looking down at me with worry.
The sheriff’s mouth is in a grim line. “Do you know what triggered it?” he asks. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’d like to correct whatever it was, if we can, so it doesn’t send you back.”
I swallow and try and focus on what was happening before my episode. “It smelled like smoke. Blood and dirt too, maybe. I don’t know, but it was definitely a smell,” I say, my voice embarrassingly croaky. I fucking hate when people see me like this. Usually, it’s just Madix and Theo, but when this happens in public, it’s a hundred times worse.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” Mr. Stevens tells me, and I immediately feel bad for makinghimfeel bad.
“Not your fault,” I mumble. “I don’t always know what’s going to trigger me.”
Mr. Stevens nods, but I can tell that he still feels horrible. I give Puddles one last ear stroke and then push up off of the ground, hating how shaky I am. I give Mr. Stevens a wide smile, but it’s strained. He takes a small step back, and I try to reassure him that it’s okay, but I’m not fooling anyone. I grab the small gun case from the counter and finish unzipping it. I hate the way that they’re watching me warily, and I hate that they just witnessed me be so weak and broken.
Trying to move on, I clear my throat and say, “Let’s see what we can do about that magazine release, shall we?”
Mr. Stevens hesitates for a second, but when the sheriff nods at him, he comes closer so I can inspect the 9mm. I breathe through my mouth, just in case, but I don’t miss the concerned looks that are being exchanged between Sheriff April and Zeke. I’d bet a million dollars that as soon as they walk out the door, they’ll drive over to our place to tell Theo and Madix what happened. It’s annoying, but I know they’re just trying to look out for me. I wish for the millionth time that they wouldn’t have to, but if wishes were fishes...or whatever the fuck that saying is.
I sort out the Smith & Wesson, and Mr. Stevens practically runs out of the shop when I’m done. Yup, he’s going to stick to coming in on Thursdays from now on, and probably give me a wide berth forever. Sheriff April goes to the back to grab me another cup of coffee, and I take it gratefully. I take a fortifying sip and set it on the counter just before he pulls me in for a slap-on-the-back kind of hug. I try to get out of it because I’m still fucking embarrassed, but at the same time, I appreciate the gesture. He’s a good dude, and since my old man is dead and buried, it’s nice to have a father figure who’s been kind enough to have taken the three of us under his wing.
“You okay, son?” he asks me.
“I’m good, Sheriff. Thanks.”
He studies me for a moment before nodding. “I keep telling you boys, you need a woman.”
I laugh, because he busts our balls about this every chance he gets. “Yeah, yeah.”
“You know I’m right,” he says with a shrug before turning back to Zeke. “I won the shoot-out, so you can buy breakfast.”
Zeke curses, and they resume their shit talking before heading out. “You want the boys to come cover for you?” Sheriff April asks me as he opens the door.
I shake my head. “I’m good,” I assure him.
He nods and they both leave, and I can hear them arguing all the way to their car.
Taking a deep breath, I pat Puddles, who’s stuck to me like glue, and get back to work. By the time closing rolls around, I’ve had a dozen more people in and out of here to shoot, and I sold a gun along with some boxes of ammo. Despite this morning’s fiasco, today went pretty smoothly. When I hear the rumble of Madix’s diesel truck, I look up at the clock, realizing it’s already past five. Madix and I met when we were stationed in Fort Benning. Later, when we were deployed on our first assignment in Afghanistan, we met Theo Coleman, and we’ve been thick as thieves ever since.
When the shop door opens, Puddles immediately leaves my side to greet Madix, licking at his fingers as she sniffs him. I shake my head and laugh to myself at his outfit. Madix Ortega is a big dude. His mom was from Mexico, and from the pictures I’ve seen, he has her to thank for his good looks; dark eyes, dark hair, tan skin, and way too much of an asshole to be rocking skinny jeans. I don’t care how “in style” he says they are.
