"Madison, let's do something! Won't you go in the water?" Zac asked the next day. They'd asked around and found a nearly secluded beach that was attached to a park. Being a weekday and the middle of January, nobody was around. But it was bright and sunny and Madison was already a couple of shades darker, although they had only been there an hour. Madison had brought a radio with her and they'd found a good station, but it wasn't doing much.
"Zac, it's fricken 76 degrees out. The water is probably freezing!"
"Well I can't just lay here and do nothing until you're done tanning."
"You can sit there and bake. You're no darker than you were when we got here," Madison said, looking over at him. She was lying on her stomach on a large beach towel (that they'd bought on the way there), the strings on her top undone so she wouldn't have a line on her back. It was a bad idea, considering he wouldn't stop playing with her strings.
"I'm sorry if I don't tan as easy as you. It's boring here."
"I don't care. I'm having a blast." She put her head against his shirt, which she used as a pillow, and closed her eyes. He groaned. "Can you put more lotion on my back?"
"No."
"Please?" He made a face but grabbed the tanning lotion. He moved her hair out of the way and poured some of the lotion on her back, and then started to rub it in. As he was finishing, he untied the strings at her neck. She didn't seem to notice, or she didn't care. He slid his hand towards her breast and with one quick move, stole her top and moved away. She sat up, bringing her towel with her, fuming. "Zac!"
"What?"
"Give me that."
"Give you what?"
She gave him a stern look. He was about ten feet away from her, her top on the sand next to him. The only way she could get it was to get up and get it from him. He gave her an innocent look, shrugging.
"What's the look for?" He looked at the top. "Oh. Is this yours? I guess you'll have to come and get it." He picked it up and shook the sand off of it. She huffed. "What? You act as though I've never seen your breasts before."
"Zac, give it back."
"No." He grinned. She finally gave up and laid back down on the ground. "Oh, come on, sweetheart. It's not fun having it if you're not going to play along."
"Whatever, Zac." He groaned and threw her top back at her, plopping back down on his towel. She hastily put her top back on, flipping over to her back. He turned to the radio, turning up the volume. The song that was on ended and the DJ began to speak.
"Breaking news on the war in Korea�the North side launched their most serious and deadliest attack yet. Today nearly a half a million Korean and American troops died from both sides after the battle on the north side of Seoul. The count is not completely accurate but estimated to be close to that half a million mark. Casualties seemed about even on both sides and the battle lasted about eight hours until eventually the North retreated. No response yet from the president or any of the officials in Korea, but the threat is still there."
Zac froze. The biggest battles were always in South Korea; always at Seoul; always where Isaac was stationed. They had yet to hear a word from him but he couldn't be dead because the family would have been notified. That didn't say anything for POW camps that had been popping up all over the two countries. He could have been there and killed there for all they knew. It was a thought that crossed his mind nearly every day. Time was running out and he didn't know if he could wait another year to see his brother again.
"Honey, are you okay?"
"What?" Zac asked, looking over. The announcement was over and the radio station was running commercials.
"You've been quiet for a while. Are you okay?"
"Yeah�just thinking."
"He's all right, you know," Madison said, trying her best to reassure him. "So you haven't heard anything from him in a while. He's still fighting."
"It's just�I don't know what he's doing. I don't know if he's hurt, if he's fine, or if he's in a POW camp somewhere getting the shit beat out of him." Madison shuddered. "It'd just be nice to hear from him. He doesn't have to tell me what he's doing or anything about it, just 'I'm okay.' Then I'll be happy."
"Have you tried writing to him?" Madison asked. Zac paused.
"No."
"Why don't you send him a letter? You're very persuasive. Maybe he just doesn't want to lie to his mother. Maybe he doesn't want to lie to you, but it doesn't hurt to try." Zac sighed and ran his hand over the cool sand next to him. "Just promise me you'll try it."
"Fine."
Isaac,
Hi. It's Zac. How are you doing? I'm not quite sure I want to know. Hearing the stories Taylor says and he was only there a few months�maybe I don't want to hear what you're doing over there. I just wanted to see if you're still alive and all. Nobody's heard from you. It worries us. Not a day goes by that I don't think about it. I'm trying to bring you home; have you heard about Ralph Davis? He's running for president and he's going to bring you home. This time next year, if not sooner, you'll be home, along with everyone with you.
I don't have much to say to you. I don't know if I should waste my time, knowing you won't respond. Madison and I�do you know who Madison is? She's my girlfriend and just as important in this country as I am�worry about you. I don't want an elaborate explanation, I just want to know you're there and you're still okay.
Zac.
Isaac read the letter once, crumpled it up, and threw it away. How many times had he done this? Of course this was the first time he'd gotten a letter from Zac. A letter a week from his mother; this was the first one in a year and a half from Zac. Had he really been thinking about him? He didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore. He'd stopped thinking about home and the people there. This was his home now. These were his people. Granted they died all the time and people were constantly coming and going, his family was still the people around him. Zac was�how old now? Eighteen. That's old enough to be here. That's old enough to do a lot of things.
Isaac did something he'd never done before. He looked at the crumpled piece of paper he'd thrown out and, after a moment, picked it up and straightened it out again. He read it over again.
His surroundings seemed to quiet as he read over the letter again. This place was crap. He didn't want to be here�in the hospital. That damn attack on Seoul sent most of the remaining troops into the hospital. A lot of them died. That would have been better than this. Six days and where was he? Stuck in the fucking hospital bed with a bullet in his back and a drip in his arm. The pain sucked but when had he not been in pain this past year and a half? He'd been shot so many times he wondered what the point was. He'd lost faith in any cause in this war long ago.
"Time for your medication, Mr. Hanson," said a young Korean woman in a candy striper uniform said, walking into the room without knocking. She set down a little paper cup with a few pills in it and a larger paper cup of water. Her accent was heavy and it seemed as though she had a hard time saying the words. He never knew if she could understand him if he spoke back to her, so he didn't. She gave him a smile but he didn't look up. "You must take your medication, Mr. Hanson."
He quickly tipped the pills into his mouth, swallowed them down with the disgusting water, and set both cups back on the table next to him. She picked them up and left. He never said anything to her. He never said anything to anyone. They had to check his tags to find out his name. He was just that way. Nobody needed to know anything about him. Nobody needed to know him or what he'd been through.
Picking up a piece of paper, he wrote something quick down and let it be.
I'm fine.
Ike.
Zac looked over the half sheet of paper over and over again. Three words, including his name. For a moment he wondered if it was a hoax, but it was Ike's handwriting. He'd seen his brother's writing enough times to recognize it, even if he didn't have much to work with. He was nearly knocked off his feet at the realization that he'd gotten something back. He'd actually answered!
"Hey Taylor!" Zac yelled.
Taylor was in the bathroom. He hadn't even heard Zac's voice. Splashing freezing cold water on his face, he relaxed only a little bit. He shirt was off, thrown somewhere, his silver tags hanging low on his chest. He let out a hard breath, leaning over the sink. His tags hit against the sink and clinked a bit. He didn't notice.
On his back the pale skin surrounded an even paler long scar, halfway down his back. It was forgotten; that wasn't anything like the one on his leg. This one he kept hidden from his brother. Didn't want to tell Zac about this one. Zac was freaked out by his leg; he didn't need to know about this one. This was the one that haunted him, though. Especially as of late. The other flashbacks didn't bother him as much as this one did. This one had surfaced recently even though he'd tried with all of the strength he had, every day, to forget about it.
Today's flashback had hit him like a ton of bricks while he was dressing after a shower. He didn't know what triggered it. Maybe his train of thought had taken an unwanted turn but before he knew it he was on the ground, writhing in pain and dying for it to be over. He'd bit hard on his hand so he wouldn't scream, knowing Zac was in the other room. If Zac heard him he'd tell someone and they'd send him away to a psychiatrist for help. He didn't need help. He was doing great. He hadn't had a flashback in months until this one. It was the absolute worst. He'd never had one like this before. Now he was out of energy and the day had barely begun.
"Taylor!!" Zac yelled, pounding on the door. Taylor jumped out of his trance and grabbed his shirt from the floor. He hastily put it on and opened the door.
"What?" he snapped, obviously perturbed.
"Never mind," Zac said, turning around. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Taylor's pissy attitude. The half sheet of paper in his hand caught Taylor's eye.
"What's that?" he asked, his attitude not as evident in his voice. Zac blew him off and walked to the couch, plopping down on it. "Zac, I'm sorry."
"Whatever."
"What is that?"
"It's a letter from Ike." Taylor froze.
"Why'd he write you a letter?" Taylor asked.
"Because I wrote him." Taylor sat down on the couch.
"Let me see." Zac grudgingly handed over the letter. Taylor looked at it. "What the fuck is this?"
"His response."
"Oh, thanks for the elaborate detail, Ike. Maybe you should write him back and tell him the next time he writes us he should try not to be so wordy."
"Well," Zac said, a smile crossing his face, "at least we know he's alive."
"True."
"I'm going to call Mom."
"And what are you going to tell her?"
"She's more worried than any of us about him, Tay. She should know that he's all right," Zac said, getting up. He walked over to the table and picked up his phone.
"He obviously isn't or he would have elaborated a little bit more."
"I'm still calling her." He looked through his phone book for home, then put the phone to his ear. "What time is at home?" he asked. Taylor looked at his watch.
"I think nine o'clock. Where are we?"
"I don't know." Someone picked up the phone. "Hey, it's me. Is Mom around?" Taylor looked over the half sheet of paper and Isaac's quick message. Turning it around, he saw something in the corner. "Hey Mom! Guess what! Ike wrote me. He didn't really say anything but he's fine. Yeah, I know, it surprised me too. Go figure. No, he didn't say anything about where he was. No, he didn't say anything about what he was doing. Just, 'I'm fine.' Yeah, that's it. I know it sucks, but I figured you should know. Okay, I'm going to go now. I love you too. Bye, Mom." Zac put the phone back on the counter.
"Ike's in the hospital," Taylor announced.
"What? How do you know that?" Taylor held up the half sheet. "How? He didn't say anything about it."
"It's hospital stationary." He handed the sheet to Zac, who grew confused at the marks on the edge of the paper.
"Um�I'll take your word for it."
"Oh," Taylor said, lightly laughing. "I forgot you don't read Korean. You really should learn, you know. Can't complain about Korea if you don't even know the culture or the language."
"All right. And I suppose you know the language fluently?" Zac asked, sitting back down next to his brother.
"Not fluently. I know enough to get by, I can read some of the characters, and I've been in and out of the 'infirmary,' as they called it, enough times to know that this," he said, pointing to something on the sheet that looked like just a whole bunch of illegible scratches to Zac, "means hospital."
"What do you think he's in the hospital for?"
"It could be anything. But I'm sure it's nothing serious. I was in and out of the hospital a million times. He's probably just the same." Zac made a face. "Don't worry. I'm fine."
"Well you say that all you want. I have to meet Davis downtown for a conference." Zac grabbed his phone from the table, took a coat, and left the room.