Page 45 of Hostile Extraction

“No.” Dusty yelled, but he didn’t seem to be talking to her. She quietly turned his knob, and the door creaked opened.

Dusty was lying on the bed, but he seemed in the throes of a nightmare. His body thrashed as if he was trying desperately to escape. The sheets were tangled around his waist like a vise grip.

“No, Bryan!” he called out.

Asia moved to him, unsure how to wake him without scaring him.

“Dusty. Dusty, it’s just a dream.” She moved next to the bed.

He couldn’t seem to hear her, so she gently touched his shoulder and shook him.

His eyes shot open, and he grabbed her, pulling her onto the bed and flipping on top of her with his hand around her throat.

“Dusty. It’s… it’s me, Asia,” she gasped out as she clawed at his hand, trying to pry his fingers away.

He blinked as his sleep dissipated.

“Asia. Sorry.” He immediately released his hold on her neck. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m okay,” she assured him, rubbing her hands along her neck.

“What are you doing in here?”

“I, I heard you yelling. You were having a nightmare.”

“Oh. I-I get those sometimes. Hazard of the job.”

Asia caressed his cheek, wanting to ease the pain she saw in his eyes.

He leaned into her hand as if it was the only lifeline holding him here.

“Do you have these nightmares often?”

“Is everyday often?” He chuckled, but his torment was evident as if he was haunted by some unseen ghost.

“Maybe you need to talk to someone.” She suggested the obvious. But she knew it was easy for someone to give that advice, and a lot harder to take it and actually follow through.

“Yeah, probably so.”

“But you won’t?”

“I don’t know. I’ve just been trying to make it through one day at a time. I suppose I’m running from the inevitable.”

“What was your nightmare about? Who’s Bryan?”

His muscles tightened at the name.

“It’s the same nightmare I always have. It’s when I got my whole team killed.”

“W-what?” Asia stuttered. “You couldn’t possibly have caused that. What happened?”

He looked down at her. His jaw clenched tight.

“If you’re not going to talk to a professional, at least talk to me,” Asia whispered.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the misery of reliving his nightmare.

“We were in a small province in Afghanistan, securing it. The town was quiet, too quiet. I made a turn around the edge of a dwelling and took two shots. Suddenly, there were insurgents everywhere. The team was taking too much gunfire and had to retreat. They regrouped and used their skill and tactics to take them out. They’d killed everyone.” He paused to take a breath. “Except one. I lay in the alley watching my whole team coming up the south side. Then I noticed him. He was strapping on a vest. I knew immediately what it was. A suicide vest, rigged with explosives. I yelled for them to stop. I tried to get them to turn around and leave me, but they wouldn’t stop. Then it was too late. The man ran at them, and I watched my whole team die trying to save me.”

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