I sat down in the chair, breathing heavy, and watched as Monkey and Red lifted up the bed and placed it on top of John's single bed, lining up the pegs correctly so that the beds were now connected in the bunk bed configuration. Parker sat in the chair next to me, breathing heavy, his inhaler in his hand as he stared at the floor, sweat running down his face. Bomber sat on the bottom bunk of my bunk bed, his BDU top off and breathing heavily.

All they'd done was each carry a single chair less than twenty feet.

Of course, all I'd done was carry a small three drawer chest the same distance.

God, I was weak.

Monkey waved Red away and once the former snake-eater got out of the way my brother shouldered the bed, making it slide against the wall. He stepped back with a big grin, making a flourishing gesture through the cloud of cigarette smoke he exhaled.

"Ta-dah, one four man room," He said. He grabbed a chair and sat down, reaching out and grabbing a bottle of beer I'd popped the top on before I'd sat down.

"Thanks," Bomber said.

Red nodded, moving over and sitting down in another chair. He was breathing heavy, trying to catch his breath. Despite the positive air system being on the air felt thin today and everyone was having trouble catching their breath.

"What time is it?" Monkey asked, lighting a cigarette.

We all glanced at our watches.

"Thirteen-fifteen," Parker said.

"Sixteen-forty-five," Red said.

"Thirteen-fifty," Bomber said.

"Zero-nine-twenty," I said.

Monkey looked at the windows, covered by the heavy brown curtains, and frowned. The white light at the edges was blinding, painful to look at. He looked at my desk where I'd set some white candles up. They each burned for about an hour.

There were fifteen of them that had burnt out and a new one halfway down.

"This is goddamn crazy," he mumbled. He looked at me. "Did it get like this, you know?"

I shrugged. "When the guy with axe went crazy my skull got popped, so my sense of time was fucked up," I told him.

"Yeah," Will said softly. "I'll bet."

"I was down with a busted crap factory," John said, smoothing over the fact that he'd taken an axe to the stomach hard enough to rupture his appendix.

"How about last time?" Red asked.

Parker shrugged. "Dude, it's hard to explain. In my memories the first few days of Rear-Dee seem like they were over real quick, but that charge into the chow hall with just my bayonet and a grin? Holy shit."

He shook his head, staring at his hands.

"I dream about it, man."

Red nodded. "Yeah. I feel you, brother. Sometimes I still dream I'm back in The 'Nam."

Parker looked up. "Does it get easier?"

Red nodded. "Yeah. Talk about it, that helps."

"That's what dad says," Will commented. "He always told us kids that old men talk to each other the way they should have when they were young men."

"Profound," Bomber said.

"Fitting," I mumbled.

"How about you, Bomber? Was it like this last time?" Will asked.

Bomber shook his head. "It's all in sections, Monkey. It's divided up, not by time, but by what went down," he sighed and took a drink off his beer. "I know that We hit the motorpool before the chow hall, and that the Reds attacked the Egg before we hit them in the chow hall, but I couldn't tell you what the day was."

William nodded. "OK, I get it."

"That's how Ripcord is to me," Red said. "Less day by day and more 'after gooks in the tunnels' and 'before twenty days straight of artillery', ya know?"

Bomber, Parker and I all nodded.

"Before Aine, After Aine," I said, staring down.

William moved over to me and put his hand my shoulder, squeezing gently.

"It's like I can't escape. I half expect to see my sister here, or worse yet, Jed or Martha to show up at the CQ Area. I joined the Army to get away from it all, and as soon as I turn around, Aine's here with her smiles and her claws," I said.

The lizard hit a button and plexiglass lowered again.

"My life is a nightmare I can't wake up from," I said.

John nodded, still looking down. He suddenly sniffed and wiped his eyes. "It wasn't the combat. It wasn't charging into them, feeling the bullets hit my body armor," his fingers went to the puckered scar on his left cheek, "It wasn't getting shot through the mouth."

He looked up and his eyes were haunted.

"It was ignoring the pain, ignoring the weakness, and getting back up to my feet again to go at them again," He clenched his hands. "And again. And again. And again. In my dreams I have to struggle to my feet over and over, it just never stops."

"Yeah," Red said, putting his hand on John's knee.

"Each little piece cut from me, each cracked rib, each shrapnel wound, took a little piece of me and they never stopped wanting more," John said.

Out in the hallway a woman screamed in agony, trailing away with the kicking of feet against the tile of the hallway.

"I get it. I'm a soldier. Combat is part of my job. Combat is part of all of our jobs," John said, still staring at his hands. "But it felt like there was no end to it. Like there was no reprieve," he looked at Red. "You get it. You were under fire every day."

Red shrugged. "Yes and no. Some days Charlie came at us in full strength, the NVA determined to push us out of Ripcord. Other days I was sitting inside the wire eating C-rats and reading a comic book when some dumbass gook VC would put a round past my head. Hell, I wouldn't even look up from Batman, I'd just keep eating. But I get it. It was more like Ripcord than Saigon."

"Yeah," John said. He wiped his eyes again. "I just keep asking myself: How much more does the Army want and how much more do I have to give?"

We were all silent for a moment, except for the little boy out in the hall who went by bouncing his ball off the walls and floor. He knocked on my door, giggled, and ran away.

"And that," John said, his voice flat, dead, leeched of emotion. "It never lets up, you know?" He looked at Red. "I know, it wasn't as bad as The Nam."

Red held up his hand. "Hold up, there, soldier," He said. Bomber stopped talking, looking surprised. "In The Shit I didn't have have to live with actual malevolent supernatural entities," he said. "If the gooks had been able to call that kind of shit up at will, I'd have never reenlisted."

Tap shoes ran by with laughter, followed by little shoes and the boy laughing.

"No dead gook children running through the firebase. I mean, sure, weird shit happened, but this is more than just once or twice a day," He pointed at my bandaged arm. "Whatever was in the room slashed the fuck out of Stillwater's arm, cut up the doctor like a pimp working over a New York hooker."

He waved his hand. "And we all know that whatever it is, it's waiting in that room for another sucker to go inside."

"Yeah," Bomber said quietly.

"So yeah, The Nam was tough, man, but this is a whole 'nother level. It's the difference between Special Weapons and plain ol' eleven bang-bang," Red said. Out in the hallway marching boots thudded by and I could faintly hear German. "That's worse than harassing fire, man."

"And you die a fuckload of a lot worse than Charlie making your day," William said.

"Much worse," Red agreed, looking at my forearm again. I knew he was thinking about Captain Woolworth's face and breasts.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Bomber said, hanging his head. I could see he was crying. "I mean, yeah, I did some bad things, but this? This is terrible even for Hell."

The light flickered and buzzed and I tensed as gunfire rang out in the hallway.

"We should check on that," William rumbled.

I noticed he didn't get up.

"I can't," Bomber said, wiping his face again. "I just can't. I feel like shit about it, but I can't fucking do it."

The gunfire picked up and there was an explosion in the hallway that the lizard classified as a 40mm HEDP detonating down at the mid-way doors.

"STAND AND DELIVER!" my own voice roared from the hallway.

Everyone in the room looked at me. Bomber jerked, his hands coming up like he was gripping his battle rifle, his eyes wild, and his mouth jerked into a painful rictus. Parker jumped to his feet, his hands searching for something at his side.

"Easy, easy," Red said, patting his leg. "Ease down, Bomber, ease down."

Parker stood there for a second and I took his hand, tugging him so he sat back down next to me. He looked at me, his eyes wide and half-crazed.

William let out an explosive exhale, wiping his forehead.

"Jesus wept," he said softly.

The room went silent and I looked down, feeling guilt wash against the Plexiglass.

"We held, by God and all the martyrs," John said suddenly, wiping his face angrily. "They came at us, they didn't stop, but he held them RIGHT FUCKING THERE!" The last part was shouted as he pointed at the curtain covered window. He jumped to his feet. "We fucking held them! With guns, blades, and goddamn fists, we fucking held them to the bitter fucking end!"

He looked at me, his eyes wide, foam at the corners his mouth, his nostrils flared, his face white with red splotches on his cheeks.

"We did it, didn't we, Ant?" he shouted. "No fucking quarter expected nor given! WE FUCKING HELD THEM! Foster got fucking disemboweled but he kept right on transmitting! Lanks got her fucking face half peeled off, but she killed that vodka swilling fucking Communist douchebag right in the fucking bathroom!" He looked at Red. "By God we finished the fucking fight! Artain jumped on a grenade right fucking there," he pointed at the spot right in front of the desk where the tile was bright and new. "And it STILL didn't kill him! He died after all of them did, and with his fucking boots on!"

"Bomber," Will said, stepping toward him, reaching toward him. Will was ignoring Red's slight motion to veer off, ignoring the slight headshake.

"No! We did, Monkey, we fucking killed them, we kept fucking killing them, until they were. All. Fucking. Dead!" Bomber shouted. "Fucking Ant dropped a goddamn glacier on them at the airfield, killed them by the fucking hundreds right there while I popped them with my battle rifle like fucking zits. Dink! Dink! Dink! Fuck you, Ivan!" bomber turned to me. "Didn't we, Ant?"

"Yes, we did," I said, staring at him.

"You're goddamn right we did," He yelled. He turned to Red. "Me and Ant, we charged right into them with bayonets. Fucking Aine, she ripped out a guy's throat with her fucking teeth! Nancy and Stokes waded into them with fucking pistols and wishes! They couldn't stop us! NOBODY COULD STOP US! WE'RE THE GODDAMN US ARMY AND THEY WERE JUST COMMUNIST FAGGOTS!" He yelled. He turned and looked at me. "Nobody could stop us, Ant. They've never been able to stop you and me, brother. When it was over, it was just us. Nobody else. Just us."

He sat down, put his face in his hands and started to cry.

"It was just us. In this fucking room. Ankle deep in blood while fucking Artain died and all I could tell him was 'at least you have your boots on," he said the last part in a dopey voice, still crying. "And still Ant made us get on our feet," he sobbed.

"I get it," Red said softly. "I do, man."

We sat there, quietly, while he cried for a few minutes. Finally he wiped his eyes and looked up at me.

"I'm sorry, man," he said.

I shrugged. "Yeah. I get it."

"We good, brother?" He asked, wiping his nose with his arm.

"Yeah, we're good," I told him. "Twisted steel and sex appeal, brother."

"All the ladies love a killer," everyone finished with me.

Out in the hallway a woman started screaming in agony.

Bomber and me grinned at each other.

"Monkey, break out the whiskey and coke, let's get fucked up," I said, still grinning.

Monkey got up, moving to the fridge.

Outside, closer than I'd like, wolves howled.

And others answered.