Page 2 of Barry

Barry drew a deep breath and started stroking Honey’s fur again. “You’ve read the information Andrew gave you.” Andrew Hollister was his commander overseas. They were out on a mission and had been hit hard by insurgents.

The attack happened without any warning. Andrew and Jose were about twenty paces in front of him and Pip. Fish had peeled off to take a leak, and Toker and Razor were bringing up the rear. Frisco, as always, was on point, not too far ahead of Andrew and Jose.

The first explosion was nothing but a percussion that happened about the same time as Pip shoved him forward, and he lost his balance and fell to the ground. That was when the flashes started like a stop-action film. He saw Fish come running from the buildings, heading back to them. Then it was Jose screamingat him. “Get up! Move, you have to move!” He tried, God, he tried, but … Next, he saw Andrew and Jose, both bloody and battered, firing at the insurgents. His fucking M4 was in his hands, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t make anything work. His hands … they were covered in blood. The flesh was peeled off the insides. He knew they were his; they were attached to his body, but they wouldn’t fucking move. He panicked and tried to scream. His vision tunneled again.

Sulfur … the stench hit him, and his eyes opened again. He felt like he was floating. The rotors of a helicopter circled above him but in slow motion. He tried to lift his arms, to move, to get up. A jerk sent his head sideways. That was when the real nightmare started.

“I saw Fish,” Barry said, wiping the tears from his eyes. He didn’t look up; his memories were front and center, and the one that haunted him the most was playing over and over like it always did. “When they were loading me on the helicopter, I saw him, or IthinkI did. His hand was raised toward me. I couldn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t do a damn thing.” And the rage that always came from that inability filled him again. He hatedhimselfmore than anything. One movement, one word, anything that could have drawn the men’s attention to Fish … but he couldn’t even fucking manage to do that. That anger gnawed at his gut day in and day out. If only he could have said something, moved … indicated anything to the people carrying him …

“According to the reports, everyone but you, Andrew, Jose, and Pip were killed that day.”

“Pip died from his injuries sometime after we got to the hospital.” Barry tapped his head with the hand that wasn’t petting Honey. “But up here, Doc … Up here, I see Fish stretching his arm out to me. Our eyes met. He mouthed, ‘Help me.’ Itwasreal. I swear it was.” Silence reigned for several long moments. Barry didn’t mind it that time. He stroked his dog and sorted through his memories. He finally said, “We left him there.Ileft him.”

Doc Wheeler nodded. “What remained of the bodies were recovered. Fish’s dog tags and some clothing were all that were found. The explosion was that violent. According to the investigation, there was no way he survived.”

“That’s what everyone says,” Barry conceded. He finally looked up at his therapist. “But I know what I saw. When I came out of whatever stupor I was in, I told them. It was the first thing I said.”

Doc Wheeler shook his head. “It wasn’t a stupor. They performed surgery to reduce the pressure of swelling of your brain and repaired fractures in your skull. It was a miracle you survived that explosion. Your traumatic brain injury was severe, and that is where the aggression issues and the PTSD originate. These memories of Fish could be your brain trying to reorganize thoughts of that time.”

Barry glanced at Honey, who was sleeping on his lap. “Or there is a chance they could be real, Doc. They didn’t recover his body.” And that was one of the truths no one could deny.

Doc Wheeler leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “What is causing you to believe that?”

Barry frowned, immediately confused. “That they didn’t recover the body?”

“No, that your recollections are not a part of the PTSD and TBI. When we last talked about this, you were doing all right with that portion of your journey.”

“Journey. It’s a trip I never wanted to be on,” Barry spat out, waking Honey. The dog stretched and settled again. He stopped and closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing, repeating the things Doc Wheeler had taught him to say to calm down. He looked like a fucking fool doing it, but it was better than going into a rage. He hadn’t had an uncontrolled episode in months, but it was hard to keep under wraps. Finally, his heartbeat and breathing slowed, and his jaw unclenched. He once again felt the fur under his hand and could hear the ticking of the large clock on the doctor’s wall. He spoke quietly. “The murder. You heard about that, right?”

Doc Wheeler replied, “I did.”

“Before the sheriff found out about it, Tegan and I were pinned down at the stockyard by a shooter.”

“I heard about that, too. No one was injured at the stockyard, right?”

“No, thank God. Came from high ground. A position that was defensible and one the shooter chose in advance.” Barry patted his dog. “The sheriff asked Tegan and me to come with him. There was a campsite.” Barry looked up. “Someone in the military set it up. Someone from the military was the shooter.”

“Why would you think that?”

Barry had to consider that for a moment. “The way the camp was built, the setup, shielding the camp from the wind and sight. It was a tactical position to scope out the stockyard.” It was evident to anyone with any training. Trying to explain his rationale was more difficult than assessing and knowing he was correct. “Ask Andrew if you don’t believe me.”

“This isn’t about Andrew, and I have no reason not to believe you. What happened at the campsite?”

Barry narrowed his eyes. “Well, a murder, for one. That crackhead from up north was deader than dead.”

Doc Wheeler blinked and then shook his head. “I meant, what made you think Fish could now be alive?”

“The sheriff asked if Tegan and I could look around some more. There were several things I saw that he didn’t at the scene.” Barry shrugged, playing it down, but being useful was a huge boon to his frazzled ego. “Tegan was with me when we found the pylon.”

Doc Wheeler’s eyes narrowed. “Which is?”

“It was a signaling device we trained on and used. It was a specific stack of stones that we would wrap in grass or reeds and tie, so they looked like they were clumped. I saw one. Inside was the exact pylon we used. The sheriff took a picture of it. It was there.”

“Okay …” The doctor waited for him to continue.

“When I told Andrew about it, he went out to the site. Someone had removed it. It wasn’t there anymore.” Barry looked at the doctor. “The entire place was swarmed with cops. State cops, so they weren’t any Barney Fife wannabes, you know? No one saw how the pylon was removed.”

“So, you think Fish is alive, signaling you, and he’s killing people here in South Dakota?”

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