THE GATES OF HELL

A/N: as a special treat for everyone who has been reading this story, this chapter is being posted early.

CHAPTER 10

David sighed softly as he joined the other passengers leaving the plane. The military had given him extensive training on weapons, how to slip through the jungle without being seen or heard, and they had taught him how to kill. But no one had thought to teach him what it would be like to return to the real world after being in Viet Nam for eighteen months. The Army didn't give any training on how to be a Viet Nam veteran. While he hadn't exactly expected a welcome home party, he didn't expect to find an angry mob of college-aged war protesters at the airport terminal either.

Luckily, he had been warned at the military hospital where he'd spent two weeks after getting back to the states to dress in civilian clothes and take a commercial flight for the last leg home and he was grateful that he'd followed that advice. But in spite of that, somehow the protestors seemed to know that he was a returning soldier. Everywhere David looked, there were student protestors waving signs and yelling ugly obscenities at anyone who looked like they might be military personnel. Hobbling across the hot tarmac, David kept shooting anxious glances at the faces of the boys and girls his own age who were calling him all sorts of names. As he passed through the gate into the main terminal, a pretty blonde stepped in front of him and spat in his face, hissing at him and calling him a baby killer. David held his tongue as he brushed past her and hurried out of the terminal.

Pausing just outside the main entrance, he took a deep shuddering breathe and exhaled slowly to calm himself. So much had happened in the past six weeks that his mind and body was having trouble adjusting to all the major lifestyle chances. He might be a civilian again and back home in New York, but his mind was still somewhere over in the jungles of Viet Nam. Pulling a crumbled pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, he stuck one in the corner of his mouth and lit it, inhaling deeply. Smoking was just one of the bad habits he'd picked up over there that he knew he should give up, especially now that he was back home. Ma and Aunt Rosie would never approve. But right now he needed something to calm him down and keep him grounded. Shifting his duffle back up to his right shoulder, he hailed one of the cabs circling the lot for passengers and climbed into the back seat. He gave the driver his mother's address and then leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes to avoid any unnecessary conversation with the driver.

Half an hour later, the cab pulled up in front of his childhood home. David dug some bills out of his wallet and handed them to the driver as he climbed out of the vehicle. As the car pulled away, the front door flew open and his mother came running down the sidewalk towards him. "DAVY!" She cried happily, as she threw her arms around her oldest son and hugged him tightly. "THANK GOD YOU'RE ALL RIGHT."

"I'm fine, Ma." David said reassuringly, wrapping his arms around his mother's waist and breathing in the familiar comforting scents that he always associated with her. "Just tired. It was a long flight."

"Well, come inside. I've got supper on cooking and Nicky should be home soon." David let his mother take his hand and lead him into the house where he had spent the first thirteen years of his life. Nothing much had changed. If anything, everything seemed smaller and more faded with time. And in spite of the familiarity of his surroundings, this was no longer his home. His home was in Bay City. But he had decided to spend his first month back in the states with his mother and his brother, reconnecting and reestablishing the bonds that had been strained throughout the years of his enforced absence from this place.

Rachel Starsky looked at her eldest son with a critical eye as he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. It was obvious that he had lost a lot of weight, his clothes hung loosely on his slender frame. But it was his eyes that bothered Rachel the most. They held the same haunted look she had seen in the eyes of other young men returning from a war a long time ago. She knew that David had seen things over there that no man should ever have to see and that he had done things that could scar a man for life. She just hoped that David was strong enough to learn to live with his experiences over there. Her heart ached with pain for her son and what he had gone through but he was a man now and would shy away from the comfort of his mother's arms.

The aroma of Rachel's famous fried chicken soon filled the air, one of David's personal favorites. To celebrate his homecoming, she had prepared all of his favorites for supper. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes with white gravy, buttered corn, hot rolls and chocolate ice cream for dessert. She was just sitting the food on the table when the back door slammed open and her youngest son, Nicky, came into the house.

"Hey, Davy." Nicky said, as he grabbed a bottle of soda from the refrigerator and sat down at the table across from his older brother. "How was your flight?"

"Long." David mumbled with a crooked grin, his exhaustion starting to catch up with him. All he wanted to do was sleep. Seeing that David didn't feel like talking, Nicky ignored him and started telling his mother about his newest scam to make some money as quickly as possible with as little work as possible. After finishing his meal, David excused himself and went to his old bedroom, the same room he had shared with Nicky when they were kids. Nicky no longer slept in the room; he had taken over the other upstairs bedroom when Rachel moved her room downstairs to the guest bedroom. But the room still contained the twin beds they had slept on as children. Stripping down to his boxers, David threw himself across the bed, face down, and was soon sleeping soundly.

Suddenly, David awoke with a start, his heart pounding with fear and his eyes darting around the room anxiously. It took him a minute to realize that he was in his childhood bedroom in his mother's house in New York and not locked in a cage in the jungle. He was shaking violently; his face covered with sweat, as he shoved himself out of bed and quietly crept down the stairs. Turning on the kitchen light, he made a pot of coffee. He knew he wouldn't be getting anymore sleep, not tonight anyway. He had finally stopped shaking but his heart was still pounding frantically and he could taste the fear that lingered in his mouth.

"Can't sleep?" his mother's voice said softly as she stepped out of the darkness of the living room and into the kitchen, startling David with her unexpected appearance.

"No." David said, lowering his eyes and avoiding her gaze, stirring sugar into his coffee to hide the shaking of his hands..

"David, are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine." He said but the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. He knew that his mother was worried about him, he was worried about himself too, but he didn't know what to do. He couldn't seem to control the crazy things that were going on in his mind. And he couldn't talk to anyone about it, if talked to someone about it, he would have to tell them about the things he had seen and done over there, and what he'd gone through in that prison camp and he had no intention of reliving all that again.

Rachel frowned but didn't question her son's answer. She knew that David wasn't ready to talk about it and she didn't know if he would ever be. But she also knew that she couldn't push him, if she pushed him, he would only shut her out completely. Things had been strained enough between them in the past few years; Rachel didn't want to alienate her son any further. He was no longer the thirteen year old boy she had sent away from home, he was a full grown man with his own demons to conquer.