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it, Kenneth soothed. We need to go get Katie. Come on, babe. We'll go get Katie and
then go see the Grabowskis. He looked up at Mark, who waved them off.
After they left Mark stood in the middle of his living room, wondering what he
should do first. He picked up his phone shakily and dialed Brendon's number. It was
Friday. Brendon should be getting up for PT.
Hey Mark! How's it going?
Mark swallowed and cleared his throat. Brendon?
Dude...what's wrong? Which one?
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He could hear Brendon's voice change from being friendly to intrepid.
It's Phillip. He...Brendon, it's bad.
He heard Brendon start cussing, and heard something bang against the wall.
What happened? When? What about Ryan? Is he going to& ? Don't...Fuck.
They were clearing the road. Phillip was out of the Bradley directing traffic or
something. Suicide bomber. He was looking away from it. He's pretty broken up. We
aren't sure what is going on, but if they get him stabilized they're shipping him to
Landstuhl in Germany.
Mark could hear Brendon breathing hard. He could hear tears in the other
man's voice.
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He can't...He just can't, Mark. He's fucking Superman. Superman doesn't die.
He's flesh and blood, Brendon. He can and we have to--
Fuck you Mark. No he can't. He and Ryan...This isn't happening.
With that said Brendon slammed the phone down.
Everyone had ways of dealing. Mark's way was to take charge and do the grunt
work. Kenneth's was to get clinical. Sandy went emotional. But Brendon dealt with it
like he dealt with basic. Unlimited hero worship. Mark knew that the younger man had
looked up to Phillip and himself like they could do no wrong. Nothing could ever
happen to them because they were with the Drill Sergeants. They were indestructible.
***
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When the phone rang again Mark answered it on auto-pilot.
What the fuck is going on?
Mark couldn't help but feel the wave of relief course through him. He felt guilty
as hell for it, but he pushed that aside.
I love you, Patrick. I love you so damn much. Mark choked.
I know, babe. I do but what the fuck is going on? We had a blackout and I heard a
couple guys from the seventh got killed and a few more fucked up badly. What's going on?
Mark gave Patrick the no bullshit story. Unlike with Brendon he didn't sugar
coat it. That would piss Patrick off to no end.
There was silence for a few moments before he heard Patrick sniff.
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What about Ryan?
No news. He hasn't contacted anyone yet, Mark answered.
That's not like him, Patrick said.
I know. I emailed him but didn't get anything back yet.
I love you Mark. I& fuck. The sob did Mark in. He began to cry and didn't even
try to stop it.
The call lasted fifteen minutes exactly. Mark knew because he counted the time
off in his head. They said they loved each other. Mark promised to email him if he
heard anything.
***
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Katie was sitting in his front room watching TV. She hadn't said much since she
got there. He watched her closely and noticed she wasn't really watching TV, just
staring at the screen with acute disinterest.
Uncle Mark? she called hesitantly.
Yeah, Katie-bug?
Is my daddy going to die?
Six little words spoken so quietly that Mark had to strain to hear them. Katie-
bug... he started; she turned and looked at him.
Is my daddy going to die? This time her voice was hard. She was demanding
an answer.
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Mark knew both Phillip and Sandy had been very honest with her. While it was
a low probability it was still there.
He could, Katie. But I have never known a man more stubborn or with as much
fight as your dad, he said, clearing his throat. Thirteen-year-old girls shouldn't be
dealing with this shit.
Is he hurting bad?
Mark swallowed hard. Probably not, he's in a coma.
Okay. Her small shoulders shook as tears began to stream down her face.
Mark walked to her and pulled her into his lap. Shh baby. He's...gonna be
fine.
Don't lie to me, Uncle Mark. He might not be.
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It hurt to hear those words coming from a girl whose biggest concern should be
'what should I wear today?'
***
Hey Folks 15Sept2006
I sent a letter to my wife. If you're reading this it means she's sent it to you. I
couldn't get into details through my email but she can.
Last week we went on patrol on Route Whiskey. The Iraqis had a huge-assed
cluster fuck going on. We had to dismount. Phillip got out because his BC was driving
him crazy. Ryan and I just got out. Anything beat staying in that hellhole. We had
enough guys to cover with the big guns anyways.
Phillip had nearly gotten hit by some asshole. Who ever thought every Iraqi
should be given a driver license needs to be shot. It was the fifth time someone almost
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got ran over. He was screaming and hitting the guy's hood with his M16. Ryan was
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