RIPTIDE
Chuck
The sun beat endlessly down on the exposed areas of his face and neck. Everywhere he looked there was dusty yellow sand. It was even in the air causing him to cough a little with every breath. The sun radiated off every grain of sand causing its rays to amplify themselves. It was as though he was an ant beneath a magnifying glass. Chuck could feel his flesh begin to turn red and burn. He had often had the thought that there wasn't enough sun block on the planet to save him from the coming misery. His peeling skin from past days like this one had already begun to sting from his own sweat. Besides the sound of agonized groans of frustration from his fellow soldiers, it seemed the only other audible sound was that of the wind blowing sand in and across his ears. Unfortunately there was precious little he could do about it out here. Continuing on was just about the only thing he could do. His feet moved in an endless monotony over the ever rising dunes of sand. Each footstep made him feel as though he were wading through water.
He wiped his sun baked hand across his forehead. When were they going to take a rest? It felt like they had been trudging through the desert for days. What he wouldn't give to be home, beneath a tree in central park, in Blair's arms.
Blair. Just the thought of her sent a pang through his heart. His hand instinctively slid inside his jacket and around the picture he kept of her. This was the longest he had ever been away from her. He could hardly stand the distance between them. She was what kept him going. Every destination, every order, every step through the outstretched desert was a step in her direction.
His silent Blair-induced-stupor was broken when he heard shouting in the distance. All at once his platoon found themselves being shot at from an invisible enemy. The wind had whipped up so much sand it was hard to see their own shoes, let alone snipers in the distance. Chuck dove into the sand and crawled his way through the vast onslaught of death. Just when he felt he could crawl no further, a hand reached out and grabbed his rucksack. He turned, squinting through the sandy breeze and searched for what he prayed was a friendly face. Thankfully, it was more than a friendly face. It was Nate.
Chuck took in a breath. He could not be more relieved that he and Nate had somehow been drafted into the same platoon. He could, in fact, remember the day their luxurious upper east side world had come to ruin.
Chuck gazed at his own face reflected in the window of the limo. He slid his around the soft jut of his jaw, stopping over the thin patch of stubble he had missed that morning. It wasn't often chuck had fled from his hotel room without looking his absolute best; clean suit, fresh shave, slicked hair. Already it was turning out to be an off day. He gazed deeper into the reflection, as if hoping to somehow see the teenager he once was. 21, he thought. It felt like graduation was just yesterday, that he and Blair had only recently begun to really care for each other.
He had somehow managed to sink so far into his disillusioned past that he hadn't even notice the limo's door open. It was only when Blair had slid in next to him and kissed him softly on the cheek that he seemed to flutter back into reality.
