Page 40 of Faded Rhythm

Julian

The silence inside the truck is like a third passenger. There’s no music. No talking. Just me and AJ headed to complete a mission.

He grips the wheel so tight, his knuckles are white, but he’s steady. AJ is always steady.

I’m mimicking him right now, but inside, I’m raging.

The gravel turns to dirt. The trees grow thicker. Branches claw at the doors as the truck lurches through the thick woods, headlights sweeping through thin fog.

Finally, AJ brakes. The engine ticks in the cold silence as we sit there, motionless.

I look over at him.

He looks at me.

I nod slightly, then we exit.

The trunk creaks open. Two shovels. A heavy tarp, bloodstained and sagging in the middle.

We grab our shovels and start digging. The top layer is hard, but we force our way in. Each thrust of the blade sends vibrations up my arms. The earth is damp and musty. Sweat beads break out across my forehead, cool and salty.

We sync up, digging in rhythm. The sound of metal on dirt is almost peaceful. You could almost fool yourself into thinking this was a nice spring evening working in the yard—if not for the body in the trunk.

It takes nearly an hour. Maybe more. Time is meaningless out here, just like it was in the field.

Sometimes you count down to shit…two more months til I’m home.

Six more days til the next meal. Two more days til mail.

Sometimes you think in terms of survival; just get through this next minute. Hour. Day.

I think I’m on that time right now. If I can get through this next couple of hours, I’ll be okay.

AJ stops, leaning on his shovel like he’s satisfied. We’re about five feet deep.

Good enough.

We head back to the trunk, lifting the tarp together. Brett’s body is stiff now, mouth open in a frozen cry for help, eyes bulging and grotesque.

Nothing we haven’t seen before.

I grab his hands. AJ grabs his feet. We talk him over and drop him into his final resting place, and it’s not sad or poetic. There are no last rites. He’s just a body returning to the dirt where he belongs.

Each shovelful of earth dulls his flash. Those perfect white teeth. That diamond stud earring. The platinum chain. The interlocking Gs on his belt. None of it matters anymore. If it ever really did.

Back in the car, the engine rumbles to life, and I prepare myself for what comes next.

AJ pulls off, then he finally breaks the silence. “What happened?”

I stare straight ahead. “Brett was smarter than I thought.”

A beat passes.

“You feel guilty?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t feel anything.”

It’s quiet for about five miles before he speaks again.

“Remember Kandahar?”

I pause as the name takes me back to that place. “Which part?”

“The alley,” he says. “Behind the blown-out hospital. When you were bleeding out. I thought I lost you.”

I glance at him. “But you didn’t.”

“Nope.” He turns the a/c on, angling it toward his face. “I threw your ass over my shoulder and carried you two blocks under fire.”

I huff out a dry laugh. “You were my hero, AJ. Even though you dropped me twice.”

He snickers. “Fuck you. I was injured, too.”

“I’m fuckin’ with you, man. You know I…” I trail off, my throat suddenly dry and full.

AJ glances over at me. “You don’t have to say it, J. I know.”

I nod.

“And what I need you to know is I’m ten toes down behind you. No matter how dire the situation. No matter if it looks like all is lost. I’m with you til I can’t be no more. And this little dead-inside act you got goin’ on right now doesn’t faze me.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “If you hadn’t been there—“

“That’s the point, man. I was. I am .”

I nod. “You’re the only family I have.”

He’s silent as a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“You wanna giggle and kick your feet hearing that, huh?” I tease.

“Nah. I’m just…I lowkey feel like that ain’t accurate for you anymore.”

“How you figure?”

He twists his lips. “Come on, J.”

“I met her not even a month ago.”

“Does she feel like a woman you just met a month ago? Do her daughters? You running around here on some terminator shit because, what? You bein’ nice? Nah.” He chuckles. “You can’t bullshit me.”

I clear my throat. “Phase two.”

He shakes his head. “When you’re ready to talk about it—“

“Ain’t shit to talk about but the next phase.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Just watch the house for now.”

“I got you.”

A few minutes later, the hospital comes into view. The parking lot is half-full, but AJ doesn’t park. He drops me at the curb.

“You sure you wanna go in there?” he asks.

“I have to.”

He nods once. I open the door and step out. I hear the truck idling behind me. It finally pulls off when the sliding glass doors open for me.

The scent of antiseptic hits me. So do the memories. Almost six weeks in a place like this, only I was alone. I stride toward the gleaming elevators at the end of the hall. I ride up in silence, watching the numbers tick toward floor 11.

The first face I see when the doors open is Ebony’s.

She stands from her seat, eyes red and puffy.

“You need to leave,” she says before I can speak.

I ignore the order. “How is she?”

Ebony looks at me like she wants me dead. “She’s in a coma.”

The words drop like stones. I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“She lost a lot of blood,” she adds, quieter now. “The bullet hit just below her collarbone. Pierced her lung.”

I wanna tell her I know that part already. I was there for every agonizing moment.