Clouds by Nate Allen

Author:Nate Allen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror, happiness, grief, inner demons, choice and consequence

Chapter 11

Soon, a day passed, and Grant found himself sitting in a window seat with an honorable discharge to his name: suicidal tendencies, and personality disorder. It was a mark that would stamp itself onto his permanent record, proving that he was a veteran. No matter what Grant thought, he was a hero. As he sat in the seat, and rested his chin on his palm, he sighed.

He sat silent, and still, staring at dark clouds painted in a darker sky. Grant closed his eyes, thought about home, and grinned slightly. He thought about Chelsea waddling with Kali Marie in her stomach. He thought about his mother and sister. As hard as it was for him to admit, Grant knew that there were things still worth living for.

Ever since meeting Bobby, Grant had affiliated the town of Miles with their undying friendship. But, there was no friendship, not anymore, just a love and their growing seed. Grant couldn’t help but anticipate his slide back into safety. It was something he didn’t know anymore. Iraq had been bullets, blood, and death—repeat. Miles was the exact opposite. It was schedule, but in a completely different way. Iraq had been schedule based on survival; Miles was schedule based on the mundane.

Even though Grant had officially left the war, and the Army that fought it, he knew he would never really be out of Iraq. The fear and wariness had been branded into his flesh, stamped into his being. Even as he sat in the window seat on the plane, Grant imagined men pulling guns out, and firing his brain free from his skull. Iraq was a strip of horror images that would play throughout his head over and over again. It was a reminder of the pain he had felt, and the monster he had become.

Hours passed, the plane sliced through thin atmosphere, and entered a free man’s land. Grant kept his mind clean of voices, and soon found himself walking off the plane. He entered a bus at the Minneapolis, Minnesota Airport. The sky was now dark, and would soon be fading back into day. It was early Christmas morning. The clouds sifted snow, and held hands with the other, becoming a fog of gray blanketing Minnesota.

Grant rested his head against the window, and glanced around, seeing people old and young, fat and short, putrid and clean. It was regular life continuing. Grant found himself in the middle as nothing more than an observer: a zoologist in a zoo full of wild animals. He had become an observer of the species. Grant no longer considered himself to be part of the life around him. It was so fake.

The war had been people at their darkest, their truest. With the few glances he made, Grant saw darkness beneath civil skin, and polished smiles. Everyone was the same. Grant hadn’t escaped the danger; he had only entered a world not yet brave enough to be what they were.

The bus rolled on down an icy road, soon skidding along.

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