Class of 1989: A Post Viral Apocalyptic Story by Jack Hunt

Author:Jack Hunt [Hunt, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Direct Response Publisher
Published: 2020-02-14T16:00:00+00:00

Ten - Misconduct

Hal wouldn’t let up even as he speared the throat of a burner with the sharp end of a chunk of steel. “Now I remember why we never used to play hide and seek when we were kids — you were crap at it,” Hal said, bellowing at Nate. “Go in the RV, he says. We’ll be safe in the RV, he says. I’m glad to see that despite all your military training, Nate, you still are awful at the art of stealth.” Nate flipped the bird just as a window smashed at the far end and two burners attempted to scramble in, cutting themselves in the process.

“A little help,” Nate called out.

Hal rushed down the narrow aisle and launched a front kick at one of them. His boot struck a young guy in the gut and the kid went straight back out. “I mean all that time overseas, serving besides America’s best and you…”

Nate snapped, “Fuck you, Hal.”

“Hell, I’m surprised the military didn’t kick you out for being a liability.”

“They did. Okay? They did.”

Hal paused for a second and looked at him.

“What?

“Watch out!” Nate yelled. Hal reacted without even looking, stabbing another in the chest and ending the siege on the RV.

After the group had split, they’d found themselves over on Elm Street. That’s when Nate spotted an RV that was open. They’d hightailed it over thinking they hadn’t been spotted. They hadn’t until Nate knocked over a vase on the table. For the past twenty minutes they’d been doing everything in their power to prevent being torn apart.

Now, as the last of them lay choking on blood, Hal slumped down on a plush couch, staring at Nate as he checked both ends and made sure there were no more coming.

“But you said you…” he trailed off.

Nate looked at him. “I lied. Okay?” He shook his head as he ran a hand around the back of his sweaty neck. “I would have done anything to stay in.” Nate looked through the RV, lost in thought. “I loved everything about serving my country and being a soldier but… it was killing me. The flashbacks, the nightmares and the crippling anxiety. It was awful.” He took a deep breath. “But you know the worst part?”

Hals shook his head.

“It wasn’t for misconduct that they discharged me even though that’s what the paperwork shows.” He looked down at his feet, a sense of humiliation washing over him, as the memories of serving his country came flooding in. “I had to secretly record my sessions with my military-issued therapist. Can you believe that? Yeah. When I was there telling them about my fears and suicidal thoughts which by the way came from numerous concussions. I had to record them for proof because instead of listening to me and discharging me for medical reasons, they berated me for even suggesting that I had anxiety, or PTSD. They tried to convince me that my experiences in Iraq weren’t traumatic — shit, they didn’t even look at me, Hal, when I told them I was thinking of committing suicide.

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