The Marine

A Story by Jenn K

Luke is a Marine that just returned from war. After seeing and experiencing the atrocities of war, he is now unable to face real life, but in an abandoned church he will learn to live again.

The Marine

The church stood on a small rise just off a severely neglected highway that ran through the backwoods of Wyoming. The walkway leading up to the wooden doors of the church lay forgotten beneath years of mud and dirt and surrounded by tall grass and weeds. One of the wooden doors stood slightly opened and barely hanging by one hinge. Giving the door a slight push, hoping that the last hinge will continue to hold, kicks up the dust that has collected on the floor. The sun streams though a broken stain glass window, where the dust motes seem to dance in the wind that flows through the door and window.

The aisle leading to the dais had six pews on each side, although only three of the twelve looked able to handle any weight. They stood sentinel over the wooden cross that still clung to the back wall. The bugs and mice had long since eaten the kneeling pads away leaving only a few strands of material hanging from them. A ragged bible lays open on the floor next to the pulpit seeming to try to spread the word of God even when most ears have stopped listening here for some time.

Luke stood just inside the doors of the church, hands tucked into the pockets of his camouflage pants. The legs of his pants tucked inside his combat boots, and his khaki shirt tucked inside his pants. Laying over his heart the silver dog tags stood out even more prominently than his crew cut. His light green eyes, currently hidden behind dark sunglasses, almost matched his khaki uniform. He belonged in this uniform in his opinion, but with his latest decision made, he knew that he would not be wearing it for much longer.

For three days he had been driving, with no real destination in mind. Three days. While his wife Natalie had been at the store, he had packed a bag and walked out. Natalie, with her golden blond hair and bright blue eyes, nine months pregnant with their first child, a son. A son that Luke feels he has no right to be the father of. The MP's had to be looking for him by now. A Marine that goes AWOL was eventually going to end up on the wrong side of a jail cell.

Taking off his sunglasses and hanging them on his shirt collar, Luke slowly made his way up the aisle. He stepped through the dust on the worn floor, marked by years of shuffling feet. Reaching the front most pew, he slowly sat, hoping that his weight wouldn't break the pew. Looking up he stared at the cross. The suffering of the church around it seemed to have not touched it.

Not seeming to notice he folded his large hands in his lap, hands that carried the marks of war. The scars stood out in sharp relief against the darkness of his skin. He carried other scars too, scars in his heart, in his mind, and in a small jagged scar across his jaw. He hadn't stepped foot in a church since he was a small child, on feet that even then seemed to be too big. His nose was just a little crooked, the product of a broken nose received during a spontaneous football game as a teenager. He could remember smiling a lot in the past, but now it seemed he had forgotten how to smile.

Since his time in Iraq, he has eaten little and slept less. When he does sleep, his dreams are riddles with the sounds of war. The loud crack of gunfire and the sulphery smells of bombs. Mark and Luke had joined the Marine's together. A step they made together in order to save America from the terrorists threatening their way of life. Together they made it home from their first tour to Iraq and had only been there for two months on their second tour when he had lost Mark forever.

He had managed to complete his second tour without Mark but since getting home, the stark reality of the loss has haunted him. He had not been able to save him. He had only been able to hold him as the life bled out of him. A bullet had taken his life and Luke could still feel the sticky blood on his hands that he could never seem to clean off. The coppery smell still filled his nostrils so that even a rose smelled like blood. Since he couldn’t save his best friend, what made him think he was worthy of a child. He knew he wouldn't be able to save his son when it mattered most either.

As he sat staring at the cross, he saw something move to his right, but when he turned his head all he saw was the swirl of dust. But turning back to look at the cross, Luke was suddenly sure that he had now officially gone crazy. There was no other explanation for the vision in front of him. It was not possible. He didn't believe in the afterlife. When you were gone, you were gone.

"Maybe you should change your way of thinking," Mark said to him with a smile.

"You can't be here. I watched you die. I still have your blood on my hands." He looked down at his hands, still seeing the stain of red. Looking up again, he watched as Mark stepped forward. He was still dressed in his uniform, the uniform he died in, but there was no blood on him. His chest didn't have a bullet hole that leaked the life from him. Luke couldn't look away from him. He just continued to stare.

Sitting next to him on the pew Mark said, "The man I knew wasn't a quitter. He wouldn't have walked away from a fight. He would have fought to gain what he needed."

"I'm not the man you knew. I can't seem to step past what I see. I couldn't save you."

"It wasn't for you to save me. It was my time to go. I felt no pain. As soon as that bullet hit me, I was gone. Now you need to move on from this. You need to let it all go."

"How?"

"Go home, kiss Natalie, and hold your son. I'm gone and happy where I'm at. It's your son and wife who need you now."

“They don’t need me,” Luke said with a shake of his head. “They’ll be better without me.”

“They do need you. Natalie especially needs you now. She has been so worried about you that she is now in the hospital. Your son wants to come into the world. She is waiting for you to be there to hold her hand and help her. Don’t be a quitter. Go home to the woman who loves you.” Luke felt a slight pressure on his arm and glanced down. Looking back at Mark’s face he saw him smiling as he faded away.

Luke wasn’t sure what to do. He looked back up and the cross. Folding his hands he did something that he hadn’t done in too many years to count, he prayed. He needed strength. He had made such a mess of his life since returning home. Pulling away from Natalie was the biggest mess. She wasn’t responsible for his pain. All she had tried to do was be there for him, and he just pushed her away. He wasn’t sure why she loved him but he knew that she did. And even with him not letting her close to him she stayed. He owed her more than walking away, he owed his son more. Had he really seen Mark and had a conversation with him. He wasn’t sure, but one thing was certain, it was time to go home.

Standing from the pew, Luke walked back down the dusty aisle toward the doors. Just as he was about to walk through the door, Mark called his name. Turning around he looked into the green eyes of Mark, who was once again standing under the cross on the dais. “Just remember what a great man you are. You are going to be great dad and your son is going to be even greater because you are his dad. Of course, how could he go wrong since he is named after his uncle Mark?” Mark sent him one last cocky grin and raised his hand to wave as he once again vanished.

For the first time since returning home, Luke smiled. Walking out of the church, the sun shone on his face. He looked back at the church as he climbed into his car. Maybe he had made some mistakes, especially in the last few days, but he finally felt right with the world. The tension he had been carrying around on his shoulders was suddenly gone. Looking at his hands he finally saw them, not covered in blood, but with the lines and calluses of hard work. Putting the key in the ignition and starting the car, he turned back toward the road and headed home to his wife and son.