Rated R – For Violence, Language, Alcohol and Drug Use, and anything else that enters my twisted mind


Prologue – Unfinished Business
The blackness of night enveloped the small apartment, broken only by the flickering light of a small television set. The glow emanated from the TV like dying embers on a fire, hitting old pizza boxes and beer bottles. An easy chair that was stained and well worn was the only piece of real furniture. A figure was slumped in it, a half-empty bottle of Bud still clutched in his right hand. The man was disheveled, unshaven, and adorned in a wife-beater and stained jeans. His eyes fluttered, trying to keep sleep at bay. Yet his eyelids were like weights and inevitably they succumbed. And once his eyes closed the dreams came, like they always did.

Suddenly, the man was no longer in his small apartment. Sweat beaded across his brow as he adjusted his patrol cap. The air was damp and heavy, adding weight to the gear strapped to his chest and back. A fly buzzed by his ear. Reflexively he brought his hand up and swatted it away. Then, the team leader ordered a halt. Automatically going to a crouching stance, he tightened his grip on the M4A1 carbine in his hands. The rustling of vegetation could be heard. Faint, but definite. He then noticed that the normal calls and croaks of the jungle had ceased, leaving a stark silence in their absence. Suddenly, out of the bushes, a rotting hand reached out and grabbed him on the arm…

Nick Rhodes awakened with start, jumping to his feet and spilling his beer. He was tensed and gasping for air. He didn’t even notice the sound of his Bud bottle breaking on the floor. Unconsciously, he reached for his arm. Nothing. It was just a dream. Nick slowed his breathing and ran his hand through his dark, unkempt hair. No. It wasn’t just a dream. It was a memory, a flashback that took him back to that god-forsaken mission to that hellhole. He paused, trying to shove those memories from his mind. He staggered forward toward his bathroom. Letting the cool water pass through his hands, he brought them up to splash over his face. It was just a dream, he thought, bringing up bad memories can’t do anything for me now. Hunched over the sink, he brought his head up to face the mirror. He noticed how large and dark his 5 o’clock shadow had gotten. Nick was thinking about grabbing a razor when his door exploded inward. Automatically going into battle mode, he had little time to reach for a weapon that wasn’t there before his ears rang and whiteness enveloped his eyes.

Chapter 1