had licked the cum off his sex partners bellies and the three fell asleep; Reece was weak in the knees—from disappointment.

He didn’t take off his clothes. He just lay down on the bed and looked at the pile of snoozing comrades. He stared at Kelly’s cock and full round ass and took a good long last look. It was something that he wouldn’t even be able to dream of now. He knew that it was ruined by the visuals of the brillo pad with legs and the homo who blew him in the shower crawling all over it and ruining it. And Reece’s heart pained knowing that he wasn’t a good enough man and would never be good enough to get to touch him.

In the morning as they left for camp, the three joked and acted as though nothing at all had happened or had been documented for prosperity. Reece even managed to feign the same. Maybe he had inherited some acting talent after all. For the next week nothing seemed to change--nothing at all.

The morning it happened, Kelly joked about how his stuff and Reece’s stuff kept getting mixed up. He jokingly accused Reese of doing so on purpose. At lunch time they walked to the chow hall, and Kelly tossed his arm around his shoulders and grabbed his other arm. “Thank you, man.”

“What for?” Reese asked.

“You know…” he said and they entered to makeshift mess hall.

The four of them were sitting down when a team of friendly nationals entered to eat. As they passed through the line one stepped up on a table and began saying something loudly in Arabic. Reece thought he was praying, it must be a holiday or something.

“Holy shit!” Hersh said and took a dive toward the guy. Everyone stood up and others started running and shouting. The last few seconds seemed to be in slow motion. He saw guns being pointed and Kelly turned to Reece and clasped his fingers around his hand and squeezed. “I love you, man,” he said and the bomb went off.

Reece was one of a dozen or so survivors. When they pulled him from the rubble, he was conscious but not responsive. It took them two hours to pry Reece and Kelly’s fingers apart. When the last grip came lose, Reece wept openly.

Kelly’s hand was one of the few identifiable pieces they found. Reece was told it was a miracle, by all rights he should have been blow to bits, too. Even more miraculous, although his injuries were extensive, he would live and other than a few scars would have no permanent physical damage.

He was flown to Dover, Delaware for months of treatment and recovery. He did his best to cooperate, but Reece was absolutely numb. All he could see was the look on Kelly’s face as his body burst into a million tiny pieces. After that, all Reece could remember was the feeling that he was being heaped on by piles of garbage and Kelly’s tight grip on his hand.

Reece felt nothing. His body functioned and healed but he just felt nothing at all. Even when he was discharged with honors, given his second Purple Heart and told he was going home for good, he felt nothing. As he packed his duffle bag, dutifully as