"Come on over and sit with us, Sam," Bubba said, standing up after the waitress dropped him off a new beer that I'd paid for.

"Sure thing," I said, smiling and getting up. I was letting my Texas accent run.

Bubba probably had a mean streak a mile wild, probably liked to fight, and probably had a whole host of unsavory and unpleasant personality issues.

But that didn't mean he couldn't act like a decent person.

The big thing was not to challenge him, his perceived position, or embarrass him in public. If I avoided those three land mines, I had a good chance of getting out of the tavern without rolling around the floor trading bare knuckle kisses with him.

We headed over to the table, where one short stocky guy and two scrawny guys were sitting. I grabbed a chair, pulling it with me.

When we sat down the other three men squinted at one. One I recognized as the one who has nudged at Bubba as if to remind him that he was going to pick a fight. I gave the guy a big Texas smile without letting it touch my eyes. He flinched back slightly from whatever it was he saw.

We sat down, Bubba with his beer, his buddies with their drinks, and me with my iced tea.

"Heard you rebuilt crooked Mary-Beth's trailer," Bubba said. It felt more like an opener than anything else.

I nodded. "Yup. The frame was good, so was the siding, so I just rebuilt everything else," I told them. "Did some construction when I was younger, so I knew how to work."

"How ya liking it?" Bubba asked me.

I smiled. "I like it. Grew up in Texas, this is a nice change of pace," I told him. I lit a cigarette and pulled the ashtray over by me.

"You were military, huh?" The stocky guy asked, a slight bit of challenge in his tone.

I nodded. "Almost ten years."

"Couldn't hack it no more?" He gave me a vicious grin.

I smiled back. "Army decided I couldn't hack it with half a missing lung, nerve damage, and a leg that needed rebuilt after the enemy got through with me."

His grin got wider. "You get busted up in that bullshit war in 91?" Before I could answer he continued and I knew exactly where he was going. "Maybe if you'd done your job them rag-heads wouldn't have attacked us on nine-eleven."

I gave him a wide grin. "Maybe if you knew a goddamn thing about the Middle East you'd know it was our stationing of women in Mecca with the Patriot wagons that pissed off bin Laden and allowed him to push that the West contaminated it. And maybe, just maybe, if Clinton had paid attention in 1994 when he bombed the World Trade Center the first time, it wouldn't have happened. But, that ain't what happened and I can't change it."

I was going to leave it there, let it slide.

But... something about Sam English didn't let it happen.

I leaned forward. "But no, why don't you tell me all about how much you know about the Middle, you sawed off little runt."

The guy snarled and started to stand up.

Bubba slammed his hand down on the runt's shoulder, pushing him down into his chair. "Sam's a goddamn hero. Won a Silver Star like my grand-pappy did in Korea. You calling him a coward, John-Edward?"

The short guy, John, flinched. "No, Bubba, I mean..."

"Then shut yer goddamn mouth, John-Edward," Bubba growled.

John Edward shut up.

"Don't pay no attention to John-Edward, Sammy, he think's he's a big stud because his brother was a Marine for two years," Bubba said, smiling. "Silver Star, whoo-whee, that can't have been easy to get."

I shook my head. "I'll be honest, Bubba, it got ugly."

The scrawny one sneered. "Like what?" He asked.

Bubba opened his mouth and I shook my head. "I'll answer," I stared at that scrawny one. "Ever kill a man?"

He shook his head.

"Ever had anyone actually try to kill you? Not just a fight, not just angry at you, but ou to kill you dead?" I asked.

Again, he shook his head.

My mind went back to Panama. "Back during Just Cause, it got ugly. We were going toe to toe with men that we'd trained, hard core little bastards. We had to dig them out, close range, up close and personal," I could almost hear the crackling of the buildings burning around me.

"Got a Bronze Star for Valor that war," I said softly. My hands came up, involuntarily holding an M-60that existed only in my memories. "I was up in the ring mount, our normal 60 gunner had gotten wounded in her arm and shoulder, someone had to stay on the gun. The buildings on either side of us were burning, and it was the second night, we'd fought our way through four battles that day and two the night before, but the city was burning around us

the thud of artillery, outgoing and incoming, the constant rattle of fully automatic fire close and far, the crackle of the flames, screaming sometimes close sometimes far, corpses in the streets, my mouth dry but my bladder full even though I'd pissed less than an hour before aine's voice ringing out AMBUSH HIGH UP BOTH SIDES and the 60 swung around to come into line with PDF up on the right hand roof kneeling behind a low crest of the wall the sixty shudderingagainstme asIfiredandfiredandfired into the crest provingthatconcealmentisnotcover and raking the bulletsbloodscreamingbodiesfalling brassfallingthehammeringagainstmy shoulderandthe screamsofthedeadandthesilenceofthedead

"Sammy," Bubba's voice cut through the memory and I realized with a start I was staring the scrawny guy, who'd drawn back in his chair, my teeth pulled back in something that might be called a smile if it held anything human at all in it. My hands were still holding an invisible M-60 like I was raking a rooftop.

I looked at Bubba, shuddering slightly. "I'm here," I said. "Thanks, man."

He shook his head, "You all right, you kind of trailed off on us."

"Memories," I said. I took a drink off of my iced-tea and looked at the cigarette in the ashtray.

It was half-burnt away.

I took a deep drag and looked back at the scrawny one. "You really wanna know how I got those medals, buddy?"

He shook his head.

Bubba chuckled. "Thought not," the big heavy brawler said. He looked at me. "My grand-pappy, he'd get that same look on his face, he'd hold a gun only he could see, and he'd trail off and go silent," he looked at everyone else. "Sam here's the real deal."

That made me smile. "Wish I wasn't, Mister Coldwren."

"Buy you a beer?" The big brawler asked me.

I shook my head. "It sounds great, Bubba, it really does, but I drink that one, I won't stop. Not tonight, not tomorrow, and I'll be back to being a drunk again," I told him.

Him and the stocky one nodded at that.

"'Nother can of iced-tea then?" The brawler asked me. I nodded at that and he signaled the waitress.

"You planning on working, Sammy?" Bubba asked me.

I shook my head. "I got pretty busted up," I admitted. "Then I worked in the mill, but I'm starting to feel all those injuries catch up on me."

He nodded at that. "Time's are tough since the banks collapsed in 2003," He said.

"You just gonna go on welfare or something?" The scrawny one who'd mouthed off when we were still at the bar sneered.

I shook my head. "Nope. Uncle Sam gives me a bit each month in return for giving him 10 years and parts of my body."

I could see what he wanted to say, that it was welfare, but he glanced at Bubba and looked down at his beer. That told me that Bubba's grand-pappy probably had been drawing a pension himself.

"You do much hunting, Sammy?" Bubba asked me.

I shook my head. "Not in a long time. A real long time. Was thinking about it when hunting season comes around, Mister Coldwren."

Bubba smiled. "You bein' all formal a Texas thing, Sammy?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Old habit. Don't bother you, does it?"

He shook his head. "Naw, just odd to hear."

The waitress dropped off my iced-tea, a glass of it, leaving the can next to me. I lit a new cigarette and stared at the other three men.

"What do you guys do for work?" I asked them.

"Scrap yard," The short stumpy one said.

"Cable slinging for the electric company," Scrawny Guy One said.

"Cut firewood," Scrawny Guy Two said. "Work for the Forestry Service in the winter."

I nodded. "Good work, right there," I said to each of them. It was, too. When the banks melted down my family might have gotten richer (believe it or not), but a lot of people had lost their jobs and had to take new ones.

Hell, it was good just to have a job nowadays.

We chatted a bit more, the other three slowly opening up. None of them were married, although a glare and a clenched fist from Bubba silenced the wife talk right off. He'd seen my ring, and probably the pained look on my face at the mention of wives

because Pru is dead

when the discussion of women came arund.

I didn't mention Miss Mary-Beth either, although I had to admit I kind of wished that she was with me instead of them.

There was just something about her pale fat butt in my hands and against my hips that I really liked. Really really liked.

After a bit I made my excuses and said goodbye to the four men, heading out of the tavern.

The night was cool and dark, the sounds of forest around the bar pleasant and unfamiliar. I stood next to my truck for a long moment, thinking about nothing, and just staring at the stars for a long moment.

Sighing I fired up the truck, heading back home, the headlights cutting the darkness.

I really felt alone as I parked the truck in front of my little house. I got out, walking up inside the house. I opened and shut the lock three times before I walked away from the locked door.

Part of me wished that I wasn't alone. I could feel Pru's absence more palpable than any time since I'd left Texas and for a moment I had the urge to leave the house and go back out to the truck.

It hurt so bad that it took my breath away.

I had thought that going to the bar, being around people, even big brawler rednecks like Bubba, would have helped ease the loneliness.

But it had made it worse.

I walked over to the computer room, turning on the computer before I walked out and poured myself a glass of koolaid. By the time I came back with a slice of Miss Mary-Beth's casserole and the koolaid, the computer had booted up.

I sighed, staring at the screen.

Maybe playing one of the games would help.

I logged in to the other game, this one a superhero multiplayer game.

I lost myself in making the costume, writing the background, selecting the powers according to the notes I'd drawn up when I had been researching the game, and exploring the game world.

When I realized it was four in the morning I got up and went to bed.

In my defense, I was distracted, not paying attention. I was lonely as hell and thinking about the game. The burns across my back were painful and I'd taken a pain pill to help with the stinging pain across my back.

There were a ton of reasons for me to forget.

But it doesn't excuse what happened.

I forgot to take my medication that Doc Rutheford and the shrink had prescribed me. My brain remembered me taking the pain pill, and it interrupted my routine.

After locking each door and window three times, after going out to the trucks and locking/unlocking the doors three times, after going back into the house and locking/unlocking the windows and doors as well as turning each inside door knob three times, I went into the bedroom. I slowly undressed, my body feeling thick and my limbs feeling heavy, just dropping my clothes on the floor. Afterwards, I thought about showering, but just didn't feel up to it.

So I laid on the bed.

I laid there, staring at the ceiling, and smoked two cigarettes. The smell of smoke kept me from being able to smell Pru's perfume like a phantom moving through the house. I finished the cigarettes, set the ash tray to the side, and finally just stared at the ceiling.

Ant, years ago, had taught me a trick. Apparently the human body was hard wired to go to sleep if you held still for twenty minutes or so. All you had to do was a few simple steps and you went to sleep, your autonomic system taking over.

I stared at the ceiling, counted to thirty, not blinking, then closed my eyes.

I held still.

And went to sleep.

But I'd forgotten my pills.

and so...

I dreamed.