5
Wyatt
2008
Maybe we die a million deaths before we’re born and each time we do, we come back hoping it’ll be in a different way next time. Not so painful, not so long, drawn out, not so quick, not so gruesome . . . You get the idea. I could die a million times but live. I want to live just once. — Excerpt from Wyatt’s journal
The thingabout near-death encounters is that it puts a whole lot of shit into perspective. Like the fact that some asshole cut you off at a red light means nothing anymore. You can smile and wave and wish him well on his way. Assholes are everywhere; why dwell on the flaws of one? The fact that someone never calls or stops by anymore is all irrelevant, because in those moments before you die, you know what’s important. You know what you’d give your life for over and over again. What you’d sacrifice to protect.
For me, that is Hayley.
It’s always been, Hayley.
Hayley — my light, my hope, my love.
And so, I promise myself, in that time between living or dying, that I would make it another day, and I’d pencil in another note to her in my spiraled notebook. I’d live another even if it’s just to see her beautiful face one more time.
I can hear muffled shouts ringing in my ears. Whoever is speaking to me sounds far away. The voice floats in and out of my consciousness, calling out to me, like a beacon at sea. But I feel myself being washed away by the high tide.
“Barnes, move man! Wake the fuck up!” His voice is closer now, almost beside me. It’s urgent, warning me of some unknown danger.
“Hill?” My voice is strained as I realize where I am. I open my eyes, and they burn. My body hurts everywhere. Sergeant Josh Hill hooks his hands under my arms and strains to lift me to my feet. When I finally stand, wobbly and unstable, he flings my arm over his shoulder and wraps his arm around my waist. I cough and heave a breath.
“We’ve got to move.” He’s dragging me forward through dust and smoke to safety.
There’s a constant pain in my ribs, and my chest burns like hell.
I continue coughing, splattering blood everywhere. The pungent smell of death hangs heavy in the air as we make our way over bodies of our fallen comrades.
“We can’t save them all,” he mutters as if reading my thoughts.
Then that makes me the lucky one because I’ve been shot, and he’s rescuing me yet again.
“Hang in there, man. Just a few feet, and we’ll be out of the line of fire,” he shouts above the sound of machine guns and uproar. A blast goes off, and he picks up his pace.
We’re surrounded by cries of anguish, other soldiers making their way forward. Josh keeps pressing on.
I’m light-headed, and I rest my full weight on my friend. His body staggers every few steps. He’s a strong man, but my bulky build and height aren’t helping him get out of this any faster.
The sound of another blast and gunshots ring in my ear through the shouts, and I struggle to sift through the haze of my mind.
We were under attack under the cloak of night, and we didn’t have enough time to respond. We never heard them coming; they pounced on us.
Life thieves come to claim more damned and broken souls.
“We’re almost there, man; don’t pass out on me.” I stagger and stumble forward onto the dust. The reality of my situation is crippling. We’re in the middle of the fucking battlefield, and I am hurt, losing copious amounts of blood every second, and I’m slowing Josh down. Strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me.
“Leave me,” I groan trying my best to shrug him off. “Get the fuck out of here.” I wonder if he can hear me. It hurts to say the words.
“There is no fucking way. Come on, Barnes; you’ve got to work with me. Don’t tell me I came back in here for nothing.”
“What?”
“No time to explain.” He hurls me up, breathing heavily, and places my arm around his shoulder again. I lean my whole weight on him for fear of falling back.
My vision is blurry, but I know if we don’t get out of here now, neither of us will.
“You’re an asshole. I told you never to come back,” I grunt as he drags me forward.
