Lance’s smile promptly vanished as his heart jumped into overdrive.
“The what?”
“Fireworks,” she repeated.
“Jesus Christ, Mom! You said there wouldn’t be any!” Lance shouted angrily, in full panic mode as he ran towards the door.
She grabbed his arm to stop him.
“Now wait a minute,” she snapped, just as Jeremy barked, “Chill the fuck out, man!”
“Tanner—” Lance broke off, knowing there was no time to explain anything anyway. Just as he jerked his arm free, he heard it. The first boom of a bottle rocket. The first of many being launched in quick succession.
“Tanner is outside, so he won’t miss any of the fireworks show,” she quickly assured him.
“That’s the fucking problem! Goddammit, Mom! Tanner has PTSD!” He raced downstairs, not waiting to hear anything else. At this point, all that mattered was finding Tanner. Yanking open the patio door, he ran towards the last place he’d seen him.
The backyard was flooded with brilliantly colored lights from the fireworks overhead. Even though they were inexpensive and not all that impressive, whoever was in charge had a good setup, setting them off one right after the other. Red, blue, green, white, and yellow flashes half-blinded him as he searched for Tanner, who had apparently deserted the lounge chair during Lance’s absence. Suddenly, Lance heard panicked voices rise above the explosions.
He ran towards the voices, and came to an abrupt halt, stunned by the nightmarish scene unfolding in front of him.
Tanner had tipped one of the dessert tables over, using it as a barricade to hide behind. Holding a steak knife in one hand, he held a little girl with the other.
“Fucking let her go!” A man, presumably the girl’s father, stood in front of the table yelling at Tanner. Tanner wasn’t budging. He flinched and shuddered violently with every blast, his eyes wide and filled with panic. He kept shushing the crying child while pointing the knife towards the crowd.
Several people had their phones out, shouting about calling the police.
“Man, seriously, I don’t want to—” the man switched from yelling to begging. Tanner continued to brandish the knife and refused to release the girl. It was dark in his corner of the yard and that wasn’t helping. Obviously, Tanner viewed these strangers as enemy combatants, ready to grab him and the kid, and then toss them in a cell in the middle of the fucking desert.
“Oh dear!” His mother rushed up to stand next to Lance, wringing her hands.
“Stop the fireworks! Right the fuck now!” Lance yelled at her, but she just stared blankly at him and didn’t react to his directive.
“Alright! That’s it, asshole! I’m done waiting!” the father snarled at Tanner.
“No!” Lance cried out in panic, wrapping his arms around the guy, holding tightly as he struggled.
“He’s got my girl!” The man shouted angrily as the woman standing next to him was on her phone, begging a police dispatcher to send help.
“He’s protecting her!” Lance yelled back at the father. “The fireworks triggered him. He’s a military veteran with PTSD. He thinks you’re going to hurt them. He’s just protecting her!”
As Lance’s words sunk in, the father stopped struggling. Lance dropped his arms. He told everyone to back up and lethim handle this. He did his best to block out everyone else, including those on their phones talking to the police. For now, he needed to deescalate the situation before someone got hurt.
Overhead, the fireworks were still going off at regular intervals. Just how many of those goddamned things were left to launch? Tanner flinched with every blast.
Lance whipped around to face the father. “You want to help your kid? Go tell the fireworks guy to shut that shit down right the fuck now!” With a quick nod of understanding, he turned and ran towards the fireworks launcher. Satisfied that at least one person was doing something to help, Lance turned back to Tanner, who remained behind the table while holding onto the sobbing girl.
“Tanner, look at me. It’s Lance. Lance Kingsley. You saw me play college football. You sleep on my couch sometimes. Hey, remember me?”
“Lance,” Tanner said slowly and frowned. Somebody moved behind Lance and Tanner tensed, raising the knife threateningly.
“Hey, now! It’s okay! They’re not coming for you,” Lance said, trying to get Tanner to focus on him. “I’m Lance. You’re Tanner. You’re a retired Army vet. You’re back stateside. There’s no one here who will hurt you. I promise.” Slowly, Lance reached into his back pocket to get his phone and then placed it on the ground.
“Lance,” Tanner said slowly, as if he had difficulty processing the name.
“Can I turn on a light? So you can see me? Can I do that?” Lance asked, holding his breath while waiting to see how Tanner would respond. Tanner stared at him for a long, tense moment during which no one spoke or moved. Tanner finally gave a sharp nod.
When the light hit Lance’s face, Tanner jerked backwards in surprise.
