The Winds Carry On
Five years since the death of a friend. Three since he got out of the service. It wasn’t really that long ago, yet it felt like an eternity.
Harris’s entire sense of what the world was had completely crumbled and blew away in the wind. Another dimension, another type of life, magic, everything that wasn’t real here was real there. And yet they still functioned exactly the same, disgusting way as his own world. There was no escape from the bullshit.
Harris sat in his reclining chair, just staring at his wall where he hung up everything from his time in the Air Force. His uniform, his medals, his photographs, everything was there. The guys he passed Indoc with, got through his first deployment with, even some of the civilians he rescued at sea. The memories were all right there.
And Frost. The photo of the two of them before going on that fateful operation sat right in the center of the wall. Frost was one of his closest friends. Losing his battle buddy was hard enough; he had lost a couple of friends before; but this was different. They ended up in a separate world where they were lied to, cheated, and betrayed by those who supposedly had loyalty to their cause. It was enough to make Harris angry just looking at the photo.
He was angry at the CIA for ending up in that position in the first place where they had to be rescued. He was angry at the Air Force for dropping them into a clearly unnatural cloud grouping. He was angry at the princesses, kings, and horse politicians who had used him and Frost for their own purposes, using dishonesty and deceit to get their way.
And he was angry at himself. He was angry at himself for trusting them. He was angry at himself for not planning better. He was angry at himself for not being stronger, faster, smarter. He was angry at himself for losing Frost to a world that saw him as disposable and inhuman,
His anger was what got him out of the Air Force. He couldn’t talk about what happened, he couldn’t go on ops until his mind was right. If he couldn’t talk about it, how could his mind get right? Better to leave, then, rather than drive a damned desk for his career. And honestly, why save people anymore anyway? Nothing was really worth it any more.
Harris moved to a small house in rural Nebraska after he got out so he could be alone. He never told anyone where he was going, what he was doing, or how to contact him. He just didn’t want to deal with people. Three years, and his only contact with other people was Amazon delivery guys and the occasional trip into town for groceries.
He hunted his own meat and grew his own veggies most of the time to minimize trips into town. When he did go, people didn’t talk to him. They could see he didn’t want to talk. Most people in the small, nearby town would step out of his way when he walked toward them. Fine with him, he didn’t want to talk to them. They would never get how he felt, even if they somehow understood what had happened.
Staring at the picture, Harris felt his anger seething in him, but he had another feeling inside. This anger, the rage he felt, would normally make any man destroy anything around him. Throw chairs, smash walls, all the like. But there was something else in him, this feeling that suppressed his desire to take his anger out. Kind of like a sadness that affected his ability to act but failed to dominate his perception.
How had that guy managed it? That other human who had been there. He knew the story of the guy, everything that had happened in his past. How was he not the same as Harris? How was he still in the Teams, doing that job, knowing what the world was and that it was so much smaller than they all thought they knew? How was he handling it so well? It made Harris even angrier thinking about his inability to comprehend it.
He hadn’t seen or heard from the guy since that night at the bar. Him and his otherworldly lady friend were off somewhere else, probably loving life in spite of everything. If he had died, Harris would have heard about it. Odds are, the world would hear about it. How would the guy’s friend from that traumatic time handle that news? And did he even know the guy was alive?
Why was everything so insane? Why?
Harris huffed and stood up from his chair, still angry at everything. He hated this life, what it had become. He paced around the room for a moment, thinking of what he needed to get done today. He had no chores, no shopping, nothing to order. It was the first time he had nothing to do at all.
Harris walked over to his fireplace and grabbed the Henry Repeater from its stand on top and a box of ammo. With a sigh, he opened up the box and pulled out a single .45 caliber round. In one swift movement, he slipped the round into the weapon and pulled the lever forward, then flicked it back and chambered the round.
For a moment, Harris stopped and looked at the weapon. It was a sleek design, and he had been a very successful hunter with it. He had gotten all kinds of game with this rifle, always careful about what was in season. All kidns of game except one.
CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK
Harris startled out of his appreciation of his weapon as he heard the metal knocker on his door slam three times. He blinked twice, shocked that there would be a visitor, and unloaded the round from his rifle and put everything back. As he walked toward the door, the knocker went off three more times, but he said nothing.
When he opened the door, a young woman with two-toned hair and medium complexion stood before him.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Duke?” the young woman said.
He knew that voice. And no other woman would know his name.
“Amel?” Harris replied. They both stood in silence for a moment. “What… how..?”
“May I come inside?” Amel asked. “I am not used to the cold of not having a coat.”
“Uh- yeah, yeah, come in,” Harris said.
Amel walked into his home and looked around. She had two large bags with her, one a military style duffle bag on her back and the other a roller suitcase. Harris looked at her in shock, completely taken by surprise at her visit. What had brought her here?
“I like your home,” she said.
“Umm… thanks,” Harris said.
“What is this wall?” Amel asked, pointing at the wall of Harris’s memories.
“Uhh, that’s where I put all my service stuff,” Harris said.
“Neat,” Amel said quietly. She saw the picture of Frost in the middle and smiled just a little. “Oh Frost…”
“You can drop your bags anywhere,” Harris said. “Do you need anything? Coffee, food..?”
“Some coffee would be nice,” Amel said.
Harris stepped into the other room to make a pot of coffee and try to think of what brought Amel here. He ruled out the princesses trying to reach him immediately; Amel felt about the same way as him regarding them. It would never involve anything like what they would want. Aprotelese was probably still busy and wouldn’t try to contact him. After what happened, he might not even be allowed to.
Harris made the coffee and brought out two cups, one for each. Amel graciously took the coffee and sipped it slowly, appreciating the taste and warmth it provided her. Harris offered her a seat on the couch toward the window and sat next to her.
“What brings you here?” Harris asked, straight to the point. “And how did you even get here?”
“What, I can’t visit my friend?” Amel joked nudging Harris’s arm. He cracked a little smile. “I wanted to see how you’re doing after these years. I just had this feeling that I should come by.”
“Well, I appreciate the visit,” Harris said. He really did. “But also, how did you get here?”
“Twilight gave me a spell scroll,” Amel explained. “I put my hoof- or hand- on the centerpiece and I and anything I am touching go to the other world.”
“And change you to a human,” Harris added.
“That too,” Amel said with a grin.
“How have you been?” Harris asked.
“I’ve been fine,” Amel said. “I live in the same house, still. I’ve had some guys try to talk to me, but I’m not interested.” Harris chuckled. “I hang out with the girls a lot. I traveled a little, too, but not far. Mostly just seeing the cities of the country.”
“Sounds good enough,” Harris said.
“What have you been doing?” Amel asked.
Harris told her, minus some details, the events that followed his return to America after the insanity that was his rescue operation. It wasn’t all that much to tell, really, since his job hit a plateau and then he left and went into seclusion up until today. Amel felt a pang of sadness at his tale, but always suspected that life would be difficult for him here after those events.
“It hasn’t been very easy, has it?” Amel asked.
Harris sighed. “No. No, it hasn’t.” He looked up, feeling a weird pressure in his gut. “They won’t let me talk to anyone, not even their own people. I can’t tell my family, so even if I go back, the rift will always be there, so it’s easier to just leave them behind now. None of my guys can ever know. They said I couldn’t go on ops like this, but to get out of it, I needed someone who could understand. And they took that possibility from me.”
“Duke…” Amel said. She put her hand on his shoulder.
“I wish life was like it was before…” Harris said. “When things made sense.”
Amel had nothing to offer him. He was right; things making sense is always easier. When people are just people, the world is a singular thing… What even is reality? Even Amel didn’t have any idea of what it could be.
Amel slipped her arm around Harris. “I understand,” she said. “I don’t get it either.”
“How do you deal with it?” Harris asked. Amel sighed.
“I don’t,” Amel said. “I’m just little old me. I’ll concern myself with my little old world.”
Harris chuckled. “Maybe that’s how it should be,” he said.
“Maybe,” Amel said. “Would you like it to be that way?”
“I would,” Harris said.
“Come back with me. The princesses won’t know. And even if they do, they won’t bother us.” Amel sat up. “If they do, I’ll tell them to go eat dirt!”
Harris laughed. “You know, I may have a better solution,” he said.
“Oh?” Amel said.
“Just change me the way you changed to come here. They’ll never know; it’s not like they know my real name.” Harris shrugged his shoulders as he spoke.
Amel smiled. “That would probably work, yes,” she said.
“When should we go?” Harris asked.
“We can leave whenever you want,” Amel said.
“Can I just grab a couple things? Then we can go,” Harris said.
“Take your time,” Amel said.
Harris walked over to his wall and took the photos from it. Everything else could stay; he didn’t need his medals, because he didn’t need recognition. He didn’t want the uniform, it wouldn’t fit him much longer. Besides the photos, there was nothing he would want to hold onto.
“I think I’m ready,” he said. Amel walked over to him with her bags and took his hand. Harris gave one last look to the wall, saluted it goodbye, and with a flash of light, he was gone from this world, never to return.
Off in the distance, a man and a woman sat on a hilltop, watching the house. No one knew they were there. When they saw the flash, the man sighed contentedly and sat back.
“I guess he’s off to a better place, now,” the woman said.
“He is,” the man said. “I would know. I was in that position once.”
“I’m glad he is going to be okay,” the woman said.
“Me too, Cinny,” the man said, leaning over and pulling her close. “Me too.