The Fort (Aric Davis)

any proof of what a little liar you are, this is it. If you’d actually seen any adult in those woods doing what you said, you never would have gone back there.” She paused to catch her breath, and Tim just stared at the floor, the shock of it still settling in. “In case you were wondering, Scott knocked over a table in his room when he came home, and Beth had the good sense to call me. I called Luke’s house, but his mom must have slept through the ringer. I don’t know what we’re going to do, though. You lie, you make up stories—”
    “We’re going to have a family meeting and discuss this in the morning,” said Stan. “We talked about that a few minutes ago, if you recall, Tammy. Tim, get some sleep. We’re going to try.”
    Tim’s mom left the room as he got into bed. His dad paused at the door and put his finger on the light switch. “I can explain,” said Tim. “I can make it all make sense.”
    “No you can’t,” said Stan as he shut off the light. He paused there in the doorway. “To think I almost believed you.”
    Somehow, that was a thousand times worse than being slapped by his mom.

49
    Hooper woke with the sun. He had barely any memories of what had happened the day before, other than being fairly certain that somehow he had survived a VC mortar attack. I’m shell-shocked, that’s what it is. Clad in only a towel, Hooper dragged his dead leg behind him, not sure if it was better or worse that the pain was still gone.
    Once he was in his room, the thought came to him that there was something he needed to do, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He came in to dress, though, so he did that. Underwear first, then fatigues. He dropped the revolver in his pocket and then strapped the .45 in its holster to his chest. The pants were so tight on his right leg that the pressure caused his wounded leg to thrum, bringing a dull sensation that was almost pain to it. Hooper used his KA-BAR to split the pants down the shin, from just above his knee to the bottom of the cuff, and the pain and the pressure went away.
    Why am I doing this, why am I getting dressed?
    Hooper ran a hand over his forehead. The fever that had broken in the night felt like it was coming back, and swiftly. You’re getting dressed to be ready, in case the VC come or you’re relieved of duty. Hooper wasn’t sure what to think. He knew he was in his house but also that he was back in the shit, back in the Nam. None of it made any sense. It was terrifying to have no idea what he was supposed to be doing.
    You need to relax.
    Hooper sat back down on the couch. It was stained with blood, his blood. I need to get them before they come for me, before they come to take Amy from me. The thought of Amy was a revelation: once this was all figured out, he needed to go back down there, get her some food and water, and have a conversation. She needed to be told that the VC were in the area, and that even though Charlie was gunning for them, she was going to be safe. If she knew that he was going to help her, she’d probably feel a lot better about everything, might understand why he had to hide her like he was doing. The enemy was everywhere, and she should know that.
    Hooper leaned back on the couch, letting the sun come through the drapes and bathe his face in the light. It was wonderful, and the only thing missing was Amy. As soon as this was all settled, things were going to be right. Maybe they could even go outside again together. Not away from the house, of course, but they could go in the backyard with its high fence. Now, though, he needed to be vigilant and hold the house until help came. His guys knew where he was, and it wasn’t going to take forever for them to get him out of here, just longer than he wanted them to. That’s how it was with Big Green, though, a never-ending waiting game.
    His leg was throbbing again, like it had been before he’d sliced his pants, and Hooper decided it was from the pressure of it lying on the couch. He picked his leg up, then spun, so that he was lying on his right side and he could kneel with his hurt leg on the floor. Fuck, it’s cold in here. He ran a hand across his forehead. Sweat was beading up, and his scalp felt on fire. Letting his hand fall away, he knew that his injuries needed time and rest. He closed his eyes, falling asleep immediately, and was transported back to Vietnam, back to the jungle. They were after him, but he was going to win.

50
    Luke woke with the