His Last Battle

The clock read 2:04 in neon red light that reflected gently off of the walls in the dark room. Noah had to be up in less than four hours, and yet he still fought the creeping of his closing eyelids. It was day eleven, and as far as he could tell, he was still mostly sane. The record for the longest period without sleep was 18 days, 21 hours, 40 minutes, but he wasn’t trying to beat a record. That wouldn’t be good enough.

Even if he never slept again, it wouldn’t be good enough. The memories would never leave. They haunted him in his wakeful state as well. He couldn’t escape.

Lying on his side, Noah watched as Claire breathed in and out in a silent slumber. It was a comfort for him to know that she wasn’t trying to avoid the same nightmares he constantly struggled with. He loved her, but he was torn. A surge of jealously suddenly shot through him. He didn’t deserve this. Of course, neither did Claire, but he was willing to do anything to be rid of his past. Placing the burden on another was nothing to consider for the price of freedom.

Everything that he would need awaited him just down the stairs. He had made sure that everything was perfect before joining his wife in bed that night. Nothing but perfect would suffice. He deserved nothing less.

---

“You’re audacious, DeSario, and I like it.”

Noah’s blue hues scanned the man’s face for any trace of sarcasm, and upon no discovery of the sort, he broke into a smirk. “Are you ready to kick some ass?”

“I’m ready to save some,” Cooper Daelyn replied with a genuine smile.

DeSario couldn’t contain the comment: “You’re a boring sonovabitch, you know that?”

“Yes, Sir, I do, but at least I’ve got a good shot. Now let’s get this show on the road.”

Was Daelyn making a quip about Noah’s shot? That’s what it sounded like, but Noah’s shot was ten times that of any of the other men on the team, so he chose to ignore the potential argument. Into his headset, he commanded, “Uptown Two, this is Downtown Eagle One with Downtown Two. We’re going in.”

“Copy that, Downtown Eagle One. Downtown Eagle One and Downtown Two are entering enemy camp.”

---

It had been a rescue mission. Four American doctors with status and money were caught in the middle of nowhere: a small African village that Guerrilla rebels would soon invade, slaughtering anyone and everyone. Navy SEALs were sent in on the job. This meant Noah and the men he had been working with for the past six years. Men. He always failed to remember that Jackie had, in fact been a woman. Her beauty hadn’t made up for the tough interior that turned away most men.

Noah tried to push the flashbacks from his mind, but the war wanted to rage on. Gently placing a kiss on Claire’s cheek, he stood and exited their bedroom. The last room that he had to pass on his way down to the kitchen was that of his daughters’. Riley and Emma lay fast asleep. At one and four years old, they wouldn’t be awake until the sun was high in the morning sky. They wouldn’t comprehend what had actually happened for years to come.

Stepping off of the last carpeted step, Noah found his foot meeting with the cold tiling that lined the hallways and kitchen of the house. The shock that rushed through his body at the sudden change in temperature brought to him the realization that he was doing this. He wasn’t backing out. There was no going back. Scrubbing a hand across the unshaven red hair sprouting from his jaw, he stepped into the kitchen.

---

There were more rebels than what the SEALs had been expecting. By the time the team had gotten to the shack they assumed the doctors were being held hostage, they were completely surrounded. As if that hadn’t been bad enough, opening the small and flimsy door showed Noah four Americans lying in pools of blood; slaughtered and helpless.

The rebels were laughing. They were laughing. They were heartless bastards. As the thought crossed his mind, he realized that he was a dead man. The American doctors were dead, his team was dead, and he was dead. The last two statements were in theory, of course, but it was all the same at that point.

The first bullet hit him in a spur of fire and ice. He was angry; he was fearful; he was depressed. The capsules tore through his flesh, ignoring whatever safety gear he wore to try and prevent that exact process.

In seconds he was on the ground, in the mud. Jackie’s body remained a heap of massacred flesh on his left. Cooper was trying to reach his automatic weapon with no success, to Noah’s right.

It had all happened so quickly that he felt like he was being asphyxiated by time once he actually knew what was occurring.

The Guerrillas still laughed, believing that he was dead. Noah knew that if he was going to survive, he mustn’t move. A single bullet was nailed through Cooper’s body to finish him off. It took everything that he had in him for Noah not to scream, but he managed the silence. A heavy boot connected with his head, jolting his body to the side. The pain was nothing. He heard the thumping of feet against his team’s bodies, though, and that was something. The crazy shits were kicking his men.

---

A second team of SEALs had flown in when Noah’s team hadn’t met with the bird on time. He had been lying in his blood for hours, slowly slipping from our earth. His blood, Cooper’s blood, and Jackie’s blood. They were more successful, for some unknown reason, and because he couldn’t protest, they loaded Noah onto a stretcher and brought him home.

It was over, yet it was still only the beginning of the end of the war.

Now Noah stood in his kitchen, his bare feet invaded by the cold of the tiled floor.

With a nearly exaggerated carefulness, he stepped up onto the wooden chair that, rather than sitting at the kitchen table, stood alone in the middle of the room. He draped the noose around his neck, and took a deep breath. Toes curled over the edge of the chair, he slowly inched forward.

“Daddy?” Riley’s small voice came from the kitchen doorway, “What are you doing?”

Noah froze. He didn’t look at the child. He couldn’t. “Daddy’s fixing something. Go back to bed, baby.”

“I need a drink.”

“Your cup is beside your bed, remember? Go back to bed, now.”

“I forgot. Night, night Daddy. I wuv you.”

When he heard the last step creak and the girls’ bedroom door close, Noah stepped off of the chair.

The war was finally over.

Word Count: 1168