2: Beneath Orion, Worlds Apart 02

Present Day

Everything was black. Multiple loud and unidentifiable noises jumbled together deep within the recesses of his mind. The intense ringing in his ears slowly subsided, allowing Patton to slowly decipher the individual and distinct sounds of assault rifles, burning fire and frantic, angry yelling – and not in the English tongue.

As he opened his eyes, his vision was so blurred that he couldn't initially distinguish the dry ground from the arid blue sky. A haze of light and dark swirled together. Straining his eyes, everything slowly came into focus, allowing Patton to distill the obscure images into clear and accurate pictures.

Black toxic smoke and raging orange flames surrounded him; he found it hard to breathe because of the noxious fumes. He didn't know how long he was out; he was groggy, but slowly coming around.

With the realization that he had just survived the helicopter crash, its wreckage strewn about and completely surrounding him, he suddenly became aware of an intense pain coursing throughout his body from head to toe. His entire body felt bruised and battered, but his left shoulder in particular – his rotator cuff, he suspected – was engulfed in pain; he could barely raise his arm without the feeling of a stabbing knife digging inside. Patton suspected the shrapnel from the explosion must have not only severed part of his safety harness, but also sliced into his upper back by his shoulder. His adrenaline had spiked so high he didn't initially feel the pain, but he felt it now and it hurt like nothing he had ever felt before.

Airman Patton found himself partially in his seat, which had been thrown out of the helicopter after falling out of the sky. Unbuckling the remaining straps and rolling over onto his side, trying to stand up, he noticed the lifeless body of Sergeant Cash still inside the helicopter. Patton met his eyes, but they were empty. There was nothing inside them able to return his stare.

He might not have moved if he didn't hear his name being called.

"Luke! Get up! Luke," the voice exclaimed. At first, he thought it was a female voice.

The sound of gunfire erupted next to him. Someone grabbed him roughly, but it soon became apparent that they were doing a quick combat first-aid check. A hand grabbed underneath his armpit and tried to lift him up.

"Patton, get up! On your feet, they're coming for us," the voice said. It wasn't a female voice. It was Lieutenant Wayne, tugging at Airman Patton with one hand, trying to get him to stand, holding an M-16 in the other. He shouted over his rifle, "Westwood and Cash are dead, it's just you and me! We've gotta get out of here!"

Adrenaline began to surge throughout Patton's body once again at the mere mention of those words. He already knew Cash was dead, but Westwood too? Their Command Pilot and team leader? Patton stole a quick glance at the cockpit. All he could see from his angle was a lot of blood and a severed leg a few feet away from the pilot's helicopter door, or at least where the door should have been.

He was stunned. He wasn't sure what to do, but he knew they had to move. The gunfire was getting closer, and the only thing protecting them was part of the wreckage. Between Lieutenant Wayne snapping him back to reality and Patton's own sense of self-preservation, the young Airman did a quick scan for his own M-16 among the wreckage.

"Luke, there isn't any time," Clint shouted, although the young Airman was already halfway to his rifle.

"Got it," Luke exclaimed, grabbing the rifle and quickly making sure it was loaded. The two Airmen took off at a dead run, occasionally firing blindly behind them to buy a few seconds.

They could hear the sounds of their trailing helicopter behind them, still airborne and firing at the ground below. Patton guessed there were at least thirty to forty insurgents, half of which were chasing after them; if he made it out alive, he'd owe the entire crew of the other Pave Hawk a year's supply of free beer since they put themselves in harm's way just to give them a few precious minutes of separate from the enemy.

"We have to lose them on the mountain, and then we regroup," Wayne panted while running as hard as he could. "We're faster than these punks."

It was like the hunting dog chasing the rabbit. He must have read it a hundred times, along with several other Aesop's Fables, back in elementary school. Maybe it was the second grade; he couldn't quite remember, but he did recall Kaylee in his class, sitting only a few desks ahead of him holding the storybook in her hands. He should have been thinking of something else as he ran from the enemy – anything else, really – but the fable was on the forefront of his mind.

The dog almost catches the rabbit, but at the last minute, the rabbit finds a way to narrowly escape from his jaws of death. The Master of the dog, angry that the mangy mutt managed to let the rabbit escape, begins to beat him. The dog tells the master, "Why are you beating me? I was running after the rabbit for my dinner, but he was running for his life."

Wayne and Patton were the rabbits, running for their lives.

Patton knew that an immediate rescue plan was out of the question as long as the helicopter remained in combat. Despite the tremendous firepower of the Air Force Pave Hawk, they were severely outmanned; the ambush had been well-staged and the adversary was crawling all over the hillside. It was only a matter of time before Reaper 32 would become overwhelmed from the enemy forces and have to pull back. And that was assuming their fuel held out for the duration of the fight.

If nothing else, they should have at least radioed back to headquarters requesting additional Combat Search and Rescue, hopefully even a flight of A-10s for close air support. It was a sickening irony that Patton, a crucial member of a rescue team, was now in need of rescue himself.

Their boots thumped across the rocky ground, working there way downhill. Patton heard the Lieutenant panting just as hard as he was. It felt like they were running a marathon in their combat gear, but at least they were gaining distance between the pursuing enemies. He didn't know how many miles they covered so far... six? Maybe eight? Still, they didn't slow down; there was a lot further to go until they could even think about taking a breather.

He grit his teeth and ran through the pain, each stride reminding him of the fire in his shoulder, but knowing his life was on the line. Everything was surreal. The thought that something as small and insignificant as twisting and spraining an ankle at this very moment in time, ensuring the enemy would be able to close in and capture or kill them, was sobering. Stopping was not an option.

Additionally, Luke realized if Kaylee never whipped him into shape and gave him the ability to train on his own, giving him the strength and confidence he needed like a mother bird kicking her young out of the nest, he would have already collapsed and been at the mercy of the enemy.

Despite the pain in his back and shoulder as well as the other aches, bruises and burns from the crash, he covered enough distance with the Lieutenant that the sounds of the firefight and chasing pursuers died off.

Still, they kept running. And running. They ran until the sun went down, and then they ran for another hour.

And then they hid. And they waited.

As quietly as they could.

Two Months Earlier

Grateful that the exhausting day was behind him, Luke quietly sighed as he dragged himself into the tent, dropping his gear on the ground and crashing face-first on the cot. Because of the increase of enemy attacks, military operations escalated and Allied forces were ramping up. He couldn't remember the last time he actually day he had off; his combat hours were racking up and he felt less and less like a rookie.

In fact, it was only a few weeks into Operation Eagle Rage that he had his first confirmed kill. Since then, he added another five to his tally, second most in his unit – a statistic that he wasn't too proud of or liked to dwell on. He should have been elated; after all, he was doing his duty and protecting his country. After all, his targets were stone cold killers.

Still, his stomach turned every time he thought about his first kill, remembering how the bullets impacted the insurgent holding an RPG aimed directly as his Pave Hawk. He couldn't shake the memory of blood splattering in all directions, the body torn apart in a hail of bullets by his minigun. That image was stained in his mind. Had he hesitated, or missed, the RPG would have taken out their helicopter, killing the entire crew and every single Special Ops person on board, but that didn't make it any less upsetting.

Kill or be killed. You didn't have to like it; that's just the way it was. Choosing to do nothing was an option, but it was an option that would get you killed.

Flying over unfamiliar villages was always nerve-wracking for Luke, and he always kept his guard up. You never knew if someone would seize the opportunity to take a shot. Return fire always had the risk of hitting an innocent civilian, and to make things worse it was harder to tell the enemy from the general noncombatant villager.

"Kaylee," Luke whispered to himself, physically and emotionally exhausted, "What did I get myself into?"

His heart was heavy. He knew he was doing the right thing, but it wasn't always easy.

As an epiphany came to Luke, he sat up on his cot.

Luke realized that doing the right thing was sometimes so difficult that collateral damage was inevitable, often due to circumstances out of one's control no matter what path was chosen to get there.

He grabbed his laptop from under his cot, using it as a hard surface to pen another letter to Kaylee.

My sweet Kaylee,Luke started.

The funny thing about our sense of smell is that aromas can trigger powerful memories, even though they leave very few traces of memory themselves. You can smell a rose and suddenly it brings you back to the first time you were kissed, but remembering the smell of a rose isn't easy unless you have roses nearby.

I think that is why every day I pull out the last letter you sent me, so I can recall the sweet smell of your perfume. Every time I inhale that breathtaking fragrance, I can picture you here with me, as if you were sitting right here by my side.

While I can't conjure or bring forward your natural scent to the forefront of my mind, I do remember when you first started wearing the perfume our freshman year. At least up until the winter break of our sophomore year when you switched perfumes. I'm guessing someone bought it for you over Christmas, even though you switched back a few months later and have worn it ever since. To this day, I still don't know the name of your perfume, but I would recognize the smell anywhere.

A single tear formed in the corner of Luke's eye. Simple logic told him the wet drop appeared only because he was in a stressful environment. The hardest part about being deployed wasn't the sporadic moments of pure and intense stress; it was the steady moments of moderate stress, compounding day after day after day, never relenting and never offering a break. It was the difference between running a mile and sprinting a marathon – no stopping allowed.

Even though it was completely rational, logic didn't always have the right answer. He missed Kaylee so much, especially since he had been away from her for so long. He would give anything just to have her soft hand touch the side of his face, reminding him he was still human, and that she was still there for him. The absence of his best friend combined with operating in a combat environment made it extremely challenging to maintain focus.

I miss you like crazy, Kaylee. It is so difficult for me out here; you have no idea. I've done unforgivable things, and I've seen horrors never meant to be seen with human eyes.

Ten days ago, I killed an enemy combatant for the first time, and I've killed many more since then. Too many. I know it's my job, but I wonder if I will look differently in your eyes? I'm not as perceptive as you, but I know when I look into the mirror, my eyes are different. I don't think they are the same blue eyes that captured your heart and soul. On one hand I know I did what had to be done, but on the other hand, I feel like a monster.

It gets worse. Two days ago, we extracted several wounded Army soldiers from a hot spot. Before we arrived they hit an IED and were subsequently ambushed. We arrived on scene shortly after the firefight ended. Our helicopter evacuated two wounded soldiers, but we also took two soldiers who were killed in action. I swear, Kaylee, they looked like they were our age. One of the deceased wore a wedding ring. I couldn't stop staring at the band on his left ring finger, thinking that someone, somewhere didn't realize her husband was dead. I knew, and she didn't. Her world was ok at that moment in time, but that would soon change, and nothing would ever be the same for her.

They were no sheets covering their bodies like they do on television; in fact, most of their clothing and body armor had been stripped away for the medical team before they were pronounced dead. I just can't shake the image of how they looked.

God knows how much I miss you Kaylee. I would give anything to wrap you in my arms and hold you, maybe lay in your lap so I could feel your fingers running through my hair. Maybe if you held me tight, I could briefly forget about the horrors of this place and the horrible things I've done.

Why do I feel so awful for doing something that was right?

I know it was right, and I know it wasn't a mistake for me to be here, but at the same time all I want is to forget about all of this, and to have that white picket fence with you somewhere far away from here, somewhere without war. I hope, Lord willing, that all of this ends soon.

"Shit," Luke exclaimed, pounding his fist on the cot. He bit his tongue, hoping he didn't wake up anyone in the tent.

He couldn't tell her that! What was he thinking? Shaking his head angrily, he silently cursed himself for allowing that level of detail and pain to flow from his pen.

Luke crinkled up the letter and threw it in the wastebasket.

Pulling out another piece of paper, Luke resigned to start over, completely from scratch.

He put his hand up to his chin, trying to refocus and think about what he wanted to say to Kaylee:

My sweet Kaylee,

I miss you. I know I say that every letter, but it's true. I am elated that you consider yourself my girl, but I'm not so sure that you should be. I truly do not deserve you. I do not think anyone deserves you, to be honest. The truth is you should be placed upon a pedestal to be viewed and adored, as if you were a beautiful angel radiating a blinding light. Or perhaps the last remaining crimson rose petal after all other flowers on earth withered away to nothing.

He read the last paragraph over and over, trying to make sure the words were perfect. It was still difficult to open his heart and convey his feelings, but he wanted Kaylee to know how much he loved her. It took a great amount of concentration and courage for Luke to confess his love for her.

Luke gritted his teeth. The next part wasn't going to be easy. He simply couldn't tell her the truth and worry her any more than she already was. Thanks to the bumpy patches in their relationship, Kaylee had been devastated more than once even if, occasionally, she was her very own catalyst for doing so.

It went against his very nature, but he forced himself to write a false reality:

I'm doing great out here, Kaylee. I've had plenty of time to hit the gym, eat, and occasionally fly. Our region is relatively stable and quiet, so please do not be worried about me.

I love you, Kaylee, and I always will.

No matter what.

Love,

Luke

"No, Luke says he's doing great. I was worried about him, but it sounds like nothing is going on right now, wherever he is at. Thank heavens," Kaylee told Audrey, sipping on her Mango smoothie at the local Pita Pit.

Audrey smiled, crossing her legs, "I'm really glad to hear that, Kaylee. So... you two are...?"

Kaylee grinned, her face turning bright red, "Well, we're doing a lot better. I still can't believe how he's opening up to me. How he's said he loves me. I just... I..." It looked like Audrey's friend drifted off from reality, floating along on the clouds and into some kind of fantasyland.

Audrey giggled, "Earth to Kaylee!"

"Sorry. Maybe writing is easier for him than talking in person, or even over email. I don't know, but I love how he's opening up." With a giggle herself, Kaylee added, "I think I'm spending more time writing letters to Luke than studying for all my classes combined."

"I don't blame you," Audrey said. "Who would have thought Luke would've joined the military and ended up on the other side of the world?"

Both girls grew quiet, sipping on their respective smoothies, until they heard someone standing in line exclaim, "Holy shit, is that you Kaylee? Audrey?"

Kaylee and Audrey turned their heads, surprised to see their friend Mick approaching.

Mick dated Cindy, their fellow cheerleader, during their senior year but neither Kaylee or Audrey had seen him since graduation.

Steve, Mick's friend and also a Remmington grad – although he was a year ahead of them – also stepped out of the line to say hi.

Kaylee and Audrey both smiled. "Mick! Steve," Kaylee said pleasantly.

"Wow, it's been a while," Audrey exclaimed. "What have you two been doing?"

Mick laughed, "We were going to ask you the same question. Both of us are working at Davis Automotive. His dad owns it," he said, nodding to Steve. "Fortunately he got me the job."

Smiling from ear to ear, Mick addressed both girls but was specifically looking at Kaylee. "You look great, Kaylee; you too Audrey. So what about you two girls? What have you two been up to?"

"We're both going to Mountain View Community," Kaylee told him. She sighed. "I'm almost done with my associates, but I'm still not sure what I want to do in the long run. Miss Smarty Pants over there," she said, grinning at Audrey, "is going for her nursing degree."

Audrey, bashful from Kaylee's comment, quietly mumbled, "It's not a big deal, hon."

Kaylee took advantage of Audrey's embarrassment and kept pushing her. "Of course it is! You and Luke will be like the two most successful Mustangs of our class!"

"Luke... you mean Luke Patton? What's that guy been up to? He's gotta be making a killing in computers or something," Mick asked.

Steve piped in, "Hey, you were kind of dating him for a while, weren't you Kaylee?"

Unable to contain the smile on her face, Kaylee told them, "Yep; we've been kinda on again, off again, but we're definitely on right now. He's deployed, actually; he joined the Air Force." It was obvious how Kaylee spoke with pride as she talked about Luke and his accomplishments. She could feel her face practically glowing as Mick and Steve listened to her, both in awe.

"I... I had no idea," Mick said with amazement. "So what's he do?"

"He flies on helicopters, but other than that I don't really know. He's in a super-spooky unit, or something," Kaylee said uncomfortably. "I'm not sure I even want to know more than that, to be honest."

Steve laughed, "Yeah, I remember Luke now. He was the only junior in our advanced math class my senior year. He ruined the grade curve for everyone!"

Kaylee almost smirked, "Yep, that's our Luke."

Steve continued, "I thought he'd be some successful CEO, or own his own software company, or something."