"Sir, I -"
"This is a direct order, soldier! Do you fucking understand?"
I saluted. "Yes, sir, Colonel Mad Dog."
"Dismissed."
I blinked and I was deep in the jungle, the other members of my patrol nowhere to be seen. "Anthony? Coyote? Guys? Where are you?" I held my rifle at the ready and marched resolutely forward.
After a few minutes, I heard a groaning in the undergrowth. Acting on split-second reflexes, I swerved and emptied half a clip into the foliage. I rushed forward, ready to bayonet any Viet Cong I could find.
I found a young woman with auburn hair and round-framed glasses, her army fatigues stained dark with blood, trying to hold her intestines in with both hands. One of her legs ended just below the knee in a blackened mess - she had had an encounter with a land mine.
"It's okay, private, I'm a field medic," I assured her.
"Watch out for Trent," she gasped.
"Trent? Soldier, it's Charlie we have to watch out for."
I did my best to bandage her wounds, but I knew she'd need immediate surgery if her life was to be saved. I flicked on my radio. "HQ, HQ, this is Sergeant Morgendorffer. I need an immediate medical evac at coordinates -"
"No need, Morgendorffer," Mad Dog's voice growled over the radio. "Your position is deep in enemy territory. The napalm will be dropping in thirty seconds."
"No, damnit, we need an evac! Hello? Hello? DAMNIT!" I threw the useless radio away. "Come on, private, we have to get out of here." I tried to lift her up to drape onto my shoulders, but she was stuck to the ground as if she weighed ten thousand pounds.
"Go on without me, dad," she whispered.
"NO!" I roared, redoubling my efforts, but it was no use. I could hear the plane engines overhead, and the jungle all around us lit up brighter than the sun. I screamed as the flames engulfed us, screamed even though there was no air in my lungs, only fire. Daria screamed, too, and even though my eyeballs had already burst, I could see the flesh melting off her skeleton.
XXXX
I awoke with a start. The sudden movement knocked one of the empty bottles off the table in front of me, making me wince when it exploded against the linoleum. I got the broom and swept up the mess.
Of course, the Old Man hadn't been in Vietnam. He was far too old to serve at that point. Daria hadn't been there either. (She wouldn't even be born until some years after the end of that conflict). Willow wasn't there; he was a friend from before I was expelled from Middleton. Anthony might have been in Vietnam, but I only knew him as Daria's history teacher.
The dream was a new variation of a recurring one I've had ever since returning to civilian life. Sometimes the private is one of the young men I patched up to no avail; sometimes it's one of my childhood friends driven off by the Old Man; sometimes it's me.
Sometimes I'm the insane colonel.
I don't usually dream. I only dream when I'm drunk. I only drink when I hear the Old Man, giving me hateful remarks on my life, ranting about how much better he was than me, or just chuckling at the misery my life is.
I dream an awful lot.
XXXX
Summer passed by rather uneventfully.
Daria would meet up with Helen almost every day, and sometimes I would be there. I don't know what their chats were like when I wasn't there (she didn't tell and I didn't ask), but when I was there, Helen and I kept exchanging meaningful glances. I knew Daria knew something was up, but the ball was in Helen's court in regards to Quinn.
I thought Daria and I would end up growing closer over those summer months, after what seemed to be a thawing in our relationship towards the end of her sophomore year. I guess inaction on both our parts let things slip back to the way they were. It was probably better that way, too.
It killed me to have this great expanse between us, but if I let my emotions out for the barest amount of time, they would control me. They would run away from me, and I would do something horrible again, and I would lose Daria forever like I'd lost Helen forever.
Better this way...
XXXX
A few weeks into Daria's junior year, Helen called me. She told me we'd be getting invitations to her niece's wedding in the mail soon. She would be at the wedding.
With Quinn.
I hung up the phone, my heart pounding. "Daria?" I called. "Come down here, please? Bring that picture of your mother."
She came down after a few minutes with Jane (there was no use separating the two, and I made a note to call Helen back and see if I could get Jane an invite). The photo was in her hand. Her brow was furrowed just a little and her lips were pursed, which meant that she was deeply curious.
I took the photo from her and caressed it. My finger lingered on the baby, and I closed my eyes and briefly imagined what Quinn was like now. I didn't daydream for long, though, as I had to break the news to Daria that she had a sister.
I gave her back the photo. "What do you know about this photograph, Daria?" I asked her.
She frowned. "It's of me and mom. Why?"
I shook my head. "No, it isn't."
I was always proud of how smart Daria was. It didn't take her very long to figure out the implications of my statement. "This is...I have a sister?"
I nodded. "She lives with Helen."
Her eyes widened in shock, then she scowled. "If she's alive, if she's BEEN alive for however many years now, why am I only now being told about her?" Her voice got louder with each word. Jane squeezed her hand and patted her back, but none of the anger left Daria's expression.
"It...it was my call, kiddo. Until recently, I didn't think you would ever get to see her, so I didn't want you to get your hopes up -"
"GET MY HOPES UP?" Daria was now on her feet, her face a mask of rage. "For nearly my entire life, I've been utterly alone - no friends OR family. The only way my life would be different without you would be I'd probably end up in a homeless shelter - or if I was really lucky, a foster home. Hiding mom away from me, I can get. But you DARED to hide away MY SISTER?"
"Daria, it's..." I trailed off as Daria leapt from the seat and stormed upstairs. The sound of her door slamming made my ears wince, and then...then, she began screaming. Nothing coherent or garbled, just one long howl of fury and sadness.
Jane shrugged and went upstairs to try to comfort Daria.
In the back of my mind, the Old Man laughed and laughed and laughed. "You did a real fine job on this one, Jakey!" he cackled. "Real fine job!"
A few hours later, Jane came down alone and found me at my usual post in the kitchen. She cleared away the empty bottles (I had managed over a dozen this time) and started talking to me. I remember telling her about the wedding, and she said she'd tell Daria about it. Then we talked about other stuff, and she kissed me on the cheek, filled a glass of water for Daria, and left again.
