The Keeper
Copyright© 2021 by Charly Young
Chapter 23
Deafening blasts of incoming mortar fire woke Quinn out of a sound sleep. The harsh glare of white phosphorus flares flickered against the room’s curtains.
“I’m hit,” a familiar voice screamed.
Corporal Bobby Durant of Beaumont, Texas was shrieking in pain.
He scrabbled frantically, searching for his Unit One bag.
Couldn’t find it.
He was unprepared, and a corpsman who was unprepared to do his job meant Marines died.
There was no worse sin.
The platoon stood in a circle watching, eyes accusing.
Quinn lunged out of the bed, lungs gasping for breath. His foot caught in the sweat-soaked sheets—tripped— and the pain of his face hitting the floor woke him.
Sanity slowly returned.
Thunder and lightning continued outside.
“Just a dream that’s all.” The hoarse sound of his voice echoed in the dark bedroom.
“Just a dream,” he scrubbed the tears from his face and walked into the bathroom to get a drink of water.
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