Requiem for a Soldier (Requiem #1)

Bonus Chapter! Chapter 25.75: A Sound of Thunder

Thanks so much for 500K reads! That's halfway to 1M, which is nuts. As an expression of my gratitude, here's an idea I had for a Requiem for a Soldier chapter that never became more than a rough idea... until now. As the derpy chapter number suggests, this comes right after the previous Bonus Chapter you just read. The reference in this chapter title is mostly unrelated, but as soon as I thought of it, I had to use it. If you think I write open, ambiguous endings, you should read some of Bradbury's work.

June 5th

Ana

I look up at the clear blue sky and the sun shining down on me, warming my skin. I'm sweating a little from the exertion in my newly-planted garden despite the morning chill. While I pull weeds and tend to the plants, Ryan is off chopping wood. I can hear the dull thuds of steel biting into wood as he splits logs. The morning air is still, not a single leaf rustling in an invisible wind. Birdsong trickles in from the forest and I can hear something scampering about in the underbrush.

It's the puppy. I scan around the clearing and spot the little white fluff trying to distract Ryan from log-splitting. As I watch, Ryan has to keep stopping and encouraging Casper to move away so he doesn't get hit with flying wood chips. He's being patient with the dog, but I can tell he's beginning to border on exasperation. Despite that, he doesn't raise his voice at the dog or express anger in any way. He keeps talking to Casper in gentle tones, even when the poor animal plants himself directly between Ryan and the partially-split log.

I watch as Ryan lowers the ax to the ground and finally gives up, succumbing to the dog's voracious appetite for attention. He crouches to the ground stiffly, but once he's there, he sits cross-legged on the forest floor and Casper squirms his way onto Ryan's lap. He laughs softly as he strokes the dog's silky coat.

I feel a smile grow across my face when Ryan hugs the puppy close to his chest. Something constricts in my chest as I watch the stoic, scarred, disabled soldier openly show affection for a bounding ball of white fluffy energy. Said energy ball begins to wriggle its way out of Ryan's hold and tears off into the forest, turning and pausing for a moment before running back when Ryan doesn't immediately give chase.

I hear Ryan muttering something under his breath, not loud enough for me to hear. Then he reaches out and grabs his walking stick, leaning on it for balance and support as he stiffly climbs to his feet again. I briefly wonder if he hurt himself yesterday while we were planting the last items from the greenhouse into the garden in the yard.  Or are his injuries that bad and he just pretends not to feel pain in front of me?

I'm still contemplating this when I realize Ryan is looking at me and I've been overtly staring at him for the last few minutes. I quickly look away but not before Ryan has tossed the walking stick aside. 

Still flustered, I stand and fetch the watering can, heading for the river. I could use the water from Ryan's collected rainwater system, but I feel like taking a short walk. The river isn't far. Ryan's planning to build an irrigation system for me that brings fresh water straight from the river. I smile. He's so great. I can't believe how much I mistrusted him when I first woke up here. He's easily one of the best people I've ever known.

My quiet joy fades the further I walk into the trees. I love these woods, the cabin, the river, this whole place - but being alone out here is still unsettling. I still have that disturbing dream-memory of running for my life through these trees, being chased by something from a nightmare. I shiver despite the warmer weather. I hasten my pace to the river and fill the watering can quickly.

I jump and emit a little shriek when I hear a distant booming noise. I whip my gaze around, trying to figure out where the sound came from. A patch of dark clouds on the horizon catches my eye. As I watch, it grows larger and moves closer at a surprising speed. I didn't know Alaska had thunderstorms.

Not keen on the thought of being caught outside in one, I pick up the watering can and refill it, only just now noticing that when I dropped it in my shock, it spilled all over my shoes. I hurry through the forest back to the cabin, resolving not to go out into the woods by myself again. When I reach the cabin clearing, I breathe out a heavy sigh of relief and try to calm my racing heart. I'm fine. Everything is fine.

Trying to act like I didn't run through the forest with nightmares on my heels, I calmly walk over to the garden and water the plants. Then I look up at the sky and realize this is a waste of my time. The sky is about to do this for me.

I look around for Ryan and Casper but see neither. They're probably in the shed. But when I peek inside, the shed is dark and unoccupied. Thunder rumbles again, closer this time, but now I'm calm enough not to be startled by it. I smile. I always liked thunderstorms as a kid.

I find the two boys in the cabin. Ryan looks up when I walk in.

"I was just about to go looking for you. Storm's coming."

"I noticed." I look down at my soggy shoes, then step back outside and peel them off. I pad across the room in damp socks, carrying the shoes to the bathroom where they can dry without dripping everywhere. I take a quick shower to clean off the sweaty garden mess.

When I return to the main room, Ryan is sitting on the couch with a cup of tea and a book. I don't think I've seen him drink tea before. Just then, a sudden clap of thunder booms and shakes the cabin, the windows rattling in their panes. Casper whimpers and I look around the room with wide eyes, shocked by the intensity of it.

Ryan's book slams shut and he begins to pace in the back corner of the room. I sit on the floor under the big picture window and peek out at the sky, which has grown alarmingly dark for late morning. As I watch, lightning streaks across the sky, followed several seconds later by a distant boom.

"Get thunderstorms often?"

"No."

I pull my gaze away from the sky to look over at Ryan. Something in his voice sounded weird. He's given up pacing now and has spread his gun-cleaning towel across the kitchen table, his firearms placed atop it and his gun-cleaning supplies scattered about in an order that only makes sense to him.

I stand and join him by the table. "Are you afraid of thunderstorms?"

It makes sense. LA hardly gets rain. Thunderstorms are probably very rare. We got them often enough growing up in Phoenix. My early-childhood fear of thunder was outgrown pretty quickly.

"No," Ryan says, looking up at me. His expression and his tone are defensive, more so than he's been in a while.

We stare at each other. A clap of thunder sounds and Ryan flinches visibly. He quickly looks away from me and focuses on cleaning his Beretta. Then suddenly it clicks in my mind.

"I suppose thunder does sound rather like a bomb going off."

Ryan glances up at me for only a moment, but from the guarded look in his eyes, I know I've hit the nail on the head. He's not scared of thunderstorms, it's the PTSD triggered by the sudden loud noise. Now I feel like a jerk for drawing attention to it.

I retrieve my Glock and rifle from the cabinet and pretend like I can't get the rifle bolt out. I ask him for help and he quietly obliges. I'm not the type of girl who feigns incompetence to make a man feel better about himself. I generally despise the practice. But today, with this man, it seemed right.