Excerpt
Someone’s in my room.
I sit up in my narrow iron-frame bed, hurl the quilt aside. The guns are all downstairs in the mud room. Stupid of me. I try to stand but can’t leave the bed, like I’m sitting in a grave.
My brother Jake sits on the wicker chair by the window, wearing his Army uniform, the formal one with the peaked cap, black tie, and olive drab jacket with corporal stripes. I can only see his face in the moonlight. The rest lies in shadow.
I try to say something, tell Jake he’s dead and buried, but nothing comes out.
“Look after Pop,” he says in a raspy voice. “And Rachel. They need you.”
My eyes adjust to the dark. Ragged stumps protrude from his pelvis instead of legs.
My heart pounds, throat screams, but nothing comes out.
“Go away,” I manage. I can’t tear my eyes away from the stumps.
“Help,” he says. The room darkens. Obscures his mangled body. Only his face remains.
What kind of an asshole rejects their only brother? My brother who died for his country, while I sit around home doing nothing? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”
“Help.” My brother’s dead face fades into blackness.