Steve was alone in a cement room--no windows, no natural light only a low hanging light which gave a dull glow. His head was throbbing from the capture. "Hey, Bryce, Snips..." Steve said groggily as he sat upright. His voice was thin and weak, but that wasn't the point. At the moment Steve was assessing his surroundings.
Two Iraqi men came into the room with guns. One had a pistol while the other an M-4. "Shut up," one yelled harshly. Steve just glared back at his captors angrily. His hands were tied as well as his feet. With his situation as is, there wasn't much to do. The one with the pistol smiled after talking with his friend. The sound of a hammer echoed across the small room as the Iraqi lowered the barrel to Steve's head.
Steve woke up in a cold sweat. It was about 5:00am. He fell back into his sheets and stared up at the ceiling. He'd been back for three weeks and the nightmares didn't stop. Already he wanted out. For more than a third of his life he was a killing machine. How can they just expect him to be a civilian? Realizing that he had to move, Steve got up and put on running clothes.
He left his small apartment and began to run. His headphones were on loud, but he could still feel the surroundings. The quietness of the early morning unsettled him. It made him think of the lulls between firefights. Already he had run for 1 1/2 hours. He panted slightly, but the need to keep active trumped his exhaustion. Staying out for another hour or so, Steve stopped into a small diner.
Taking a seat at the counter, Steve ordered a cup of coffee and listened to the early morning babble. The news was on as usual, but Steve ignored it. Usually they just talked about irrelevant things like the latest celebrity meltdown or what cat video was the cutest. But then something caught his attention. A building was ablaze and captions skidded across the screen...Avel St...That was where Steve's parents lived. Leaving the money on the counter, Steve rushed home and got into his car.
Disregarding the speed limit, Steve wove in between traffic. It only took him 8 minutes, a ride that usually took 15. As he got closer a cop stopped him from entering. He parked his car a distance away and snuck into the closed off area. This was the only home he really knew and it was ablaze. Finding the nearest firefighter Steve commanded, "Where are Thomas and Marie Davis?"