“You don’t want to finish them?” she asks, I shook my head and smiled signaling my stomachs satisfaction with the Double Quarter Pounder, with cheese of course. We had gotten into the habit of parking the car right after we went through the drive-through to eat our food. Leaving the car to go inside felt like a completely unnecessary and mundane step. “Go give these fries and the last burger to that man over”, she points to a young guy huddled up in a blanket sitting by the bus stop. “Why?” “Because.” “Give me a reason and I’ll do it.” “Why do you need a reason to do good things?” she snaps back. I left the car. How could she have guessed he was homeless? Or needed food? Or wouldn’t be offended if offered some? I didn’t really have a choice, being able to return to the safety of my car without feeling unsafe IN the car depended on delivering my food to this man.

Upon closer inspection I noticed a beige duffle bag lying next to him with “This Belongs to Sam” scribbled on the side. I walked right up to him, “hey man... I was wondering if you want this.” He stood up. There was a cold fire in his eyes that made me regret being there in that moment. He turned his back to me, and said nothing. I set the bag-o-delicious by his beige sack and walked back to the car. I could tell the entire thing made my mom uncomfortable, but it was her fault.
“Sam was mad.” “Who is Sam?” “The man who took my bag-o-delicious.” She didn’t say anything. “Did I do good?” “Of course you did.” I gave myself a high-five.
NPR echoed through the silent car until we got home.

________________________________________
Colonel Anders inspects the camp as his troops prepare to relocate. Earlier that week a bombing in a nearby village had prompted the Colonel to ask for relocation to a resupply command post. He stops at house five and checks in. One of his men’s duffle bags lays beside a bunk.

The soldiers wait outside by the camp grounds until the chopper comes to take them. Colonel Anders walks up to them and slams the duffle bag down. “Sam”, he snaps.

“Yes, Colonel”.

“Sam, you know better than to leave your s*** when we’re moving out. Never leave something that could save your life. Do you know what this is?”

“A duffle bag, sir.”

“It’s your goddamn lifeline, that’s what it is.” Colonel Anders could tell something was wrong but made no effort to comfort him. Sam looked down at his shoe and wiped some of the dust off his pants.

“What if I don’t want a lifeline? Sir.” he muttered. A rough hand clapped the side of his face.

“I don’t care what you want! I made a promise to keep each and every one of you men alive,” he looked carefully at each man. He had made John Thomas that same promise exactly one week before that.

The men were airlifted and taken to their new base in southern Kópavogur where there was said to be much less violence. Sam knew he wouldn’t need his duffle where they were going but held on to it tight. Like it was the only thing keeping him from jumping out of the helicopter.

Days passed and the dry spell Company XVI was going through was unbearable. The often indecisive weather in these parts of Iceland made even leaving the tents for any reason a risk, not a dangerous one, but one that could cost you hours of body heat. Lynch and Terry caught Sam on a bathroom run. “Buddy,” they said, “Sam!” Lynch and Terry were known for being able to kill time, and that’s exactly what Sam needed. “Sam, lets spark up this roach and go on a little adventure. Sounds like the move to make eh?”

As far as rankings went, everyone in Company XVI was at the same level. Skill on the other hand varied from man to man, Sam was known to be the sharpest of sharpshooters South of Mongolian territory on the island. He was a God among men when it came time to make the call and pull the trigger, no one could do it better than he could.

Piss hit the dirt. Sam hit the joint. They all hit the road.

They laughed and joked along the way, not exactly knowing where they were headed, but sure that there had to be something to do around the city. They were not allowed to enter the city directly because spies for the Mongolian Army are known to be housed in many of the major cities. So they went to a small village two miles south of Kópavogur. Since the invasion, small towns and villages like these ones have been continuously raided, pillaged and taxed by the Mongolians. It was hard not to attract attention, the people of the small town hooted and hollered. Women cried with joy because salvation was here to heal their sick children. Men cried with joy because salvation was here to bring back their stolen daughters. Children cried with joy because salvation was here to stop the nightmares and the night terrors. “This is why we do all of it boys,” Lynch said gesturing towards the people of town, “true war heroes, that’s what we are.” They giggled and stumbled their way to the only bar in the town and asked for the strongest bottle of rum they had.

Hours passed. The drunk got drunker, the singers sung louder, and the festivities continued well into the night.

Sam lifts his head off the bar counter but can only see blurred outlines of unfamiliar shapes. The sounds were just as blurry as his vision. There was a constant hum in his ear, and the chatter in the background sounded like echoes in a cave. He was deep in the cave of his own mind. Sam is able to distinguish one voice in the crowd, it was Terry. He tries to focus his vision and catches a glimpse of Terry leaving the bar, being led away by a woman with golden blonde hair. “Go get em’ tiger,” he manages to say as he slurred every letter. On the other side of the bar Lynch was playing a friendly game of poker, everyone was all in and the dealer had just turned the river.

They left the bar fifty thousand Icelandic Krona poorer.

As Sam and Lynch left the town, they were given flashlights and maps to help them find their way back. They told the people to tell Terry they would be back the next day for him. Navigation for these trained soldiers in no difficult task, unfortunately this was not a normal situation. The weed had worn off but the booze had taken its toll.

They sat on a nursing log and gave their tired feet a rest. “Should I send in call for rescue?” Sam joked.

“Tell them to bring a buffet too.” The forest was not very thick, but the monotony of the landscape made judging distance and location almost impossible.
The two fall silent and an eerie calm takes over the forest.
One click. “What the hell was that?” Sam said, even though years of military training already told him what it was.
Two clicks. He turned off his flashlight and signaled for Terry to do the same.
Three clicks. Someone was adjusting their scope. Focusing on the target. I froze. The shot was deafening. Terry’s body slumped over onto the Sam’s shoulder. Sam tried to hold up his friend head but all he could feel was the warm blood that syrupped its way of out of his skull. Darkness.

________________________________________



As my mom tucks me in that night I asked her about the man we had seen by the bus stop.

“What are you asking me?” “Why did he have a bag like the character in the video game has?” She seemed puzzled. “Well he must have fought in a war, he is what they call a Veteran.”

In my game, when you win you get an award and there is a scene where you are reunited with your family after months being away. “Where is his family?” I asked. She sat next to me and put her hand on my forehead, which I liked.

Saturday was boring. Sunday was the same. Monday was exciting.

I headed home on the usual public bus. I sat in the very back with a transvestite with beard hair and very large breasts, an elderly man with an eye that looks melted shut and empty cans in plastic bags, and young white guy with a Bob Marley shirt and a mopey face that should have a sign hanging from his nose which says, “Hi, I’m stoned. Nice to meet you.” My mom tells me it would be better if I walked home.

At the stop three before mine I see cops struggling with a homeless man. I decided if my mom wants me to walk home that’s what I’ll do. I get off the bus and make my way slowly to the scene. “Get your pig hands off me!” The homeless man had a beige duffle bag with “This Belongs to Sam” scribbled on the side. “The owners of The Morrison said you haven’t been paying your ‘rent’, we have to take you away for trespassing.”

As part of the “Clean the Streets” campaign cops have been filling the jails with innocent homeless men and women, to make the city look pretty. Which I know about from NPR.
“Let him go! He’s a Veteran!” I must have said Veteran funny because the people behind me started laughing. The cops let him go to see where that had come from. “Son, this doesn’t concern you.” If his family wasn’t there for him, then I had to be. Right? That was my reason for doing good.

After a while the cops got bored of arguing with me and Sam, and left us. He chuckled, “Thanks for having my back kid. Fuckin’ cops.” It was the first time a grownup had sworn in front of me and not apologized. He told me about why the cops were harassing him and why people were scared to speak up. He got annoyed when I asked him about his family. “How did you know I’m a vet?” I pointed at the duffle bag, “I have the same one you have.” He was confused, “Was your dad in the army?” “No, the soldier I created in my video game! He has the same bag.” He shook his head.

We talked some more and I learned that he had fought in Iceland against the Mongolians, which is where my character fights. He told me that after his friend died, his Company abandoned him in Iceland, and about his journey back to America. “They told me I was a deserter, and then I was on my own, I didn’t get any of the benefits the other guys got. Which doesn’t matter ‘cause we all ended up on the streets,” he said while lighting a cigarette. “Why didn’t they get awards and go back to their families?” “Because s*** don’t work out like that, not for us. Can’t return to a family if you ain’t got one and you can’t go back home if you ain’t got one. That’s why we joined the goddamn army in the first place.” Sam picked up his duffle bag and pulled out a Bible. “This is what got me through all my struggles, this is what saved my life,” he said as he held the old leather book to his heart.

“Are you still going through struggles?”

“Yeah, every day. As far as I know people like me will always be going through struggles. That’s just how it works.” I wished that wasn’t how it worked.

These people that had fought so hard to keep others safe, and now they live in this paradise city, while living within their own personal hell. Just as I was beginning to understand my mom called and told me to get my ass home, and then apologized.