Jack

There are no survivors of wars like these. Some bodies return home from the battlefield still breathing, but there is nothing of the souls who inhabited them that remains. The scent of mud and viscera clings to them long after their uniforms have been cleaned and Inutucked away- the sick taste of despair lingering in the backs of their throats.

They told him he was a hero. They told him he had performed his duties honorably, and that with care, the nightmares would fade and the tremors would cease. He nodded his way through their empty questions and gave them absent smiles when they wished him good morning and good evening like clockwork.

Weeks passed by without note as he waited to feel his humanity return. His wounds healed, skin and bone knitting themselves back together under the careful eye of the ward’s nurses— but the yawning void within him remained.

By the time they declared him physically fit, he had realized that emptiness within him wasn’t temporary. He watched other veterans’ eyes carefully, trying to find something other than the dull reflection he saw in his own, but realized their affect was as flat as his.

He watched himself feign emotion as though through a television screen. He flirted with visitors and reacted with mock disgust when nurses teased him, a puppetmaster of his own flesh and blood.

They released him soon after he learned to convincingly laugh at the cartoons the ward played every Saturday morning, citing his easy-going demeanor and quick recovery to his natural resilience.

When he finally emerged from the sanitary healing halls, uniform pressed and folded beneath his arm, there was no hesitation at the first breath of fresh air.

He couldn’t taste the spring breeze, nor hear the sounds of city life surrounding him.

Jack’s lumbering body continued on its path towards the cab waiting to deliver him home, but his soul remained tethered in place, tasting the ash of a world on fire, hearing the dying screams of his men all around him.

—


“Well, hello, sweetheart. What’s something sweet like you doing in a hole like this?” He winked shamelessly at the bartender as he leaned against the counter, hand in his pocket.

“Oh, leave ‘em alone, Jack, they’re new, they don’t need an incorrigible flirt like yourself distracting them from their work.” Samantha, one of the older matronesses of the tavern laughed at his cocky display, waving the blushing bartender away. “Glad to see your smug little mug back in my bar, how’s the family?”

Jack laughed cheerily, blue eyes glimmering. “Oh, same old, same old, nothing exciting to share there. Happy to visit the old stomping grounds, as always.”

Samantha chuckled, filling a mug from the tap and setting it in front of him with a smile. “Good ol’ Jack, reliable as always. Say, is your brother going to be in town for the reunion as well? You know I have an eye for that rogue.”

“Oh, Sam, you’re breaking my heart!” Jack put his hand on his chest in mock horror. “What did Aden ever do to steal your affections? He may be my brother but I’d happily duel him to be the apple of your eye.”

Sam chortled at that, thumping down a dish of peanuts in front of the veteran. “You charmer. Drink your ale and quit making me blush. I have a bar to run.”

Jack grinned and followed her commands, turning a watchful eye on the town’s revelry. Sam’s bar was the only one on this side of the river, and weekends were always lively. It wasn’t long before dancing started in earnest, and he reclined in his stool to enjoy the townfolk stepping to the jutebox merrily.

“Knew I’d find you here. Predictable as always, Jack.”

Jack held back a grimace, still staring at the crowd stubbornly. “Well, you drag me out of my retirement in the shadowlands and demand I return home, I’m not going to pass up a chance to at least enjoy the comforts of home for a moment before trudging up to see the homestead, Khem.”

The older man smirked at Jack crookedly, his own drink cradled loosely in a callused hand. “Took your time answering summons though, didn’t you, boy. Your brother’s missed you something fierce.”

Something pulled distantly in Jack’s chest, before he shook off the sensation with a minute shudder. “Hell, I still came, Khem. You don’t need to lord the grip you have on my brother every goddang moment I’m here.”

Khem chuckled lowly, inching closer to the increasing tense veteran. “Lording? Funny choice of words, there, soldier. I’d keep those traitorous sentiments to yourself when you see the family, if you know what’s best for you.”

Jack scowled into his drink, hearing the threat loud and clear. “Why bother coming to fetch me if you knew I was in town already, Khem. It’s not as though I’d come all this way and turn back.”

Khem hummed noncommittally, watching a local couple dip and twirl one another across the dance floor. “I suppose I wanted to make sure you would show up with your head screwed on tight. Wouldn’t want to upset the family on your first night back.”

Jack scoffed. “I’ve been in retirement, Khem. I’ve been ‘screwed on tight’ since I walked out of that ward.”

The older man’s beady eyes flickered towards Jack momentarily before he threw his head back laughing. “Now that’s the first funny thing you’ve said since your broken little self came back from the front lines.” He snickered cruelly. “There ain’t nothing right about your head, Jack. And that’s fine by me. So long as you do as I tell you, I have no problem with your little act. Doesn’t matter to me that underneath that bluster and charm is something empty and dead.”

He finished his drink with a noisy smack, tapping his tankard back on the bar behind them. “You just keep that smile pasted on your face when you come home, and we won’t have an issue. Enjoy your night, Jack, I’ll see you come morning.” Khem threw enough money on the bar for both their tabs and melted back into the crowd of locals, leaving Jack leaning against the counter, alone.

The dancing and revelry continued around him, and he took another silent sip of his drink. He could pretend to be alive in the anonymity of the crowd a little longer, before he’d have to face his family with a false smile affixed to his face.

He might be a dead man walking, but tonight, as he watched the town twirl and jump to the fuzzy music, he almost remembered what it felt like to be alive.