Jack

Memory

The hot sun had never been such a torture to me. Beads of sweat matted what was left of my hair to my skull. My eyes focused on the gunfire, being exchanged in front of me. The platoon had to fall back, or we’d be in a hell of a mess.

“We have to draw back!” I roared over the string of gunfire.

“Keep forth!” The sergeant screamed, ignoring me and waving us all on ahead. I stood, frozen.

“Sarge, we have to get the hell out of here! We don’t stand a fucking fi—-”

“Do as I say, lieutenant!” He barked, his face rigid. I was immediately shunned to silence. As my platoon urged on ahead of me, their shoes sinking in a mass of sand and dirt, I turned, beginning to follow.

Sir, yes sir.

Now

“Jack? Jack. Jack, wake up. JACK!”

I flung my arm out lazily, then jolted when I felt flesh. The world spun into focus as Julia’s face morphed itself into my line of vision. The explosions of bombs and the feel of the sand under my leather boots dissapeared. The only thing that didn’t was the heat.

“Sarge,” I grunted, catching a ball of fur out of the corner of my eye. “Get the hell off me.”

The German Shepard cocked an eyebrow and smiled at me. “Sarge, now!” I bitterly watched as he rested his head back on my calves.

“We have a patient. An Annie Hawthorn. The same one as yesterday. I did the skin biopsy, like you asked.”

I blinked a couple times, then sat up, shoving Sarge off of me. He sharply glared at me, moaned, then rolled over onto the other side of my bed. I met Julia’s gaze. “So you came to my apartment to tell me this? You do know that we have pagers. We're not completely underpaid.”

“Jack, I live right across from you. Look, she wants to see you personally. I think it’d be good if you came in today.” Julia’s red curls caught in the light, gleaming blond for a split moment. I sighed, throwing the covers away from me. I took a moment to stretch my stiff muscles, then lulled my head to the side to pop my neck.

“Call Brady. Tell him I can’t have lunch with him today.” I caught a scent of Julia’s perfume and inhaled. Hopefully this Annie Hawthorn isn’t a nut case. I doggedly opened my closet, dragging out the first nice shirt I saw, which was something tan. Behind me, the bed groaned, and I heard the sound of four paws hit the floor.

“Sarge,” I muttered, leaning down to clasp his leash on once he was at my side. I finished buttoning up my undershirt, then paced over to another dresser to find a suitable tie.

“Jack,” Julia suddenly pressed softly, behind Sarge. “I know you don’t want to...But I think you should visit your father. It’d be best for both of you.”

"Yes, mom." I grunted, kneeling down as I searched through my drawers.

Above me, I could feel Julia smile. “Another time, then.”