He had been to their house on base on many an occasion, where they had worn out Delroy’s eight-foot, regulation pool table.
“What’re you making?”
There was a savory aroma filling the kitchen. “Oh, I was just making some pecan pie,” Molly said absent-mindedly, “for after dinner.”
Molly’s dinners were the stuff of legend. They were all in for a treat. Delroy…where was…
All of a sudden, the girls’ laughter turned to screams from the backyard. Peter stood up in alarm, but Molly remained seated. She was crying, mascara running down her face. She began to tear at her clothes violently.
“Molly, the girls…”
However, she would not stop. She tore at her dress and then her hair, screaming bloody murder. Peter did not understand.
He crossed the kitchen and flung the screen door open. A strange man cornered the girls. Peter crossed the yard quickly. “Hey, you! What do you think you’re doing?”
The man did not turn around. He only continued to advance on the girls slowly. They were holding each other and screaming.
Peter descended the old wooden steps and crossed the backyard yelling at the man. “Hey! Get away from those girls!”
But the man never turned around.
Peter put a hand on the man’s shoulder and whirled him around. “Hey…” He was stunned by what he saw. It was Delroy.
However, it didn’t look like Delroy. The man was practically grey in color, his skin ashen. His eyes were dead, but wild with some kind of feral hunger.
Peter didn’t notice it before, but Delroy’s clothes were disheveled and ragged. He smelled of bile and looked like a hobo.
Recognizing his friend, Peter’s demeanor quickly softened. “Delroy, what are you doing? You’re scaring the girls.”
Only Delroy did not answer. He grabbed Peter by the shoulders and began to pull him close, as if to intimate some kind of secret, something that would explain all of this. His grip was like a vice.
The stench was overwhelming. It was a sweet, sickly, rancid stench, and it was coming off his friend. Peter’s viscera contracted as the aroma of pecan pie was chased out of his nostrils. He wanted to retch.
However, as Delroy pulled Peter close, his mouth began to open, revealing stained teeth. Peter twisted and pulled away from Delroy and out of his grasp. “Delroy, what happened to you?”
Delroy lurched forward, arms extended, reaching for Peter. His mouth still hung open. Molly was screaming hysterically from the steps outside the kitchen, pulling at her hair. “You let him die, Peter! I trusted you. You promised to take care of him. I trusted you!”
Peter was caught between his friend and his wife. What the hell was going on? The daughters were now taunting Peter. “You let our daddy die. You let daddy our die. Hi-ho the dairy-o, you let our daddy die.”
Peter had been Delroy’s commanding officer for the past five years. In that time, they had become friends. They had seen some action in Iraq, but they had always looked out for one another.
“I did my best. There was nothing I could do.”
“I trusted you, Peter.”
“Molly, we were taken prisoner. There was nothing I could do.”
“…hi-ho the dairy-o, you let our daddy die!”
“Girls, I didn’t want your daddy to die.”
“Ashes, ashes, NOW YOU FALL DOWN!”
Delroy lunged forward and grabbed Peter, falling on top of him. “Delroy, I’m so sorry.” Delroy opened his mouth.
“As I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep…”
“I’m so sorry, buddy.”
“And if I die before I wake, I pray my dad your brains to take.”
Peter closed his eyes as he felt jagged teeth clamp down on his nose, sending blood rushing back down into his throat. He gasped for air…
***
Peter woke sitting straight up, his eyes overwhelmed with the whitewash of his surroundings. He heard the blips of monitors nearby. He was in a hospital.
It was just a dream. Where was Lucita? How did he get here? Was he still in Mexico? He knew he was back in the States when he saw a nurse enter the room with Major Lewis.
“How are you, son?”
It was such a big question. His body ached, and he was a bit disoriented. It took a moment to review in his mind all that had happened.
“The whole squad was wiped out.”
His own voice sounded strange to him.
“I know, son.”
“Those bastards knew we were coming. How did they know we were coming?” His question was more of a demand, and to a Major no less.