The noise and hustle and movement in the office was a muffled sound to JC. He sat in the hard chair of the waiting area, not seeing anything, his eyes focused inward on his thoughts. He saw none of the people in the office, heard none of the conversations, and accepted none of the coffee or water offered to him. He just sat. He’d been here for three days. He came first thing in the morning, he left, last thing at night, and in between, he just sat. Waiting. Waiting for news. One way or the other. “He’s here again,” a woman murmured, shuffling papers but watching the man sitting so quietly against the wall. “He’s been here for three days now,” her friend replied. “Waiting to hear something about a Marine who was listed MIA.” “His brother?” “I don’t think so,” came the reply with a wink. “Ladies.” The women jumped apart as the major’s voice sounded behind them. “Major.” “Please ask Mr. Chasez to come into my office.” “Yes, sir.” She slipped around the desk area and walked to JC. JC jumped when a hand touched his shoulder. He turned wide eyes toward the woman. “Justin?” “Mr. Chasez, Major Kincaid would like to see you in his office.” He nodded silently, limping behind the woman as she led the way behind the desks and into the major’s office. Major Kincaid was a tall, lean Marine, practically recruiting poster material except for the eye patch covering his right eye. “Mr. Chasez, please. Have a seat.” JC sat down and swallowed. “Do you…have you heard about Justin? Private Timberlake? They said to contact you if I needed any additional information, and so far, no one has told me anything, and I keep sitting out there waiting for information but no one tells me anything.” JC paused as the major held up a hand. “Wait, slow down. Please.” He reached over and pressed an intercom button. “Betty, please bring me a cup of coffee for Mr. Chasez. And anything you can find to eat, too.” He looked at JC’s thin, pale face. “You look like you haven’t eaten in days.” JC ignored that. “I need to know about Justin,” he said, his voice low and controlled. Damn these military people, he thought. Why can’t they just answer my questions? “As I told you that first day,” Major Kincaid said, waving in Betty with coffee and sandwiches. “I promised to contact you when I found out anything more about Justin and what happened.” He lifted two sandwiches off the platter and placed them on a napkin in front of JC. JC regarded the food for a moment before picking up a piece and taking a bite. “Is that why you called me in here?” he said around the food. “You heard about Justin?” “No, Mr. Chasez, I haven’t. I wanted to ask you to go home.” JC shook his head, rising from the chair. “Thank you for the sandwich,” he said, replacing the bread and meat on the desk. “I’ll be outside if you have any information.” “Mr. Chasez…JC…wait.” JC paused at the door. Major Kincaid ran a hand tiredly over his face. “Please. If you’re going to stay out there, at least finish the food. I don’t want you keeling over from hunger in my office.” A ghost of a smile crossed JC’s face as he resumed his seat. He sipped the coffee Betty had brought, eating the rest of the food. JC noticed the major watching him, his bright green eye narrowed in thought. “I can take this outside if you want,” JC told him. “Oh, no. Forgive me,” Major Kincaid said. “I’m just trying to figure out…I mean. I read that Private Timberlake was an orphan, no family anywhere, and I’m wondering…” “Who I am?” JC finished for him. The major nodded. A faraway look came into JC’s eyes. “I’m his next of kin,” he said simply. *** A hundred fiery hells were burning on his skin…a thousand devils were piercing him with red hot pokers…a million nerves were open and screaming in agony. His entire world was pain and pain and pain. He didn’t know day from night…light from dark. All he knew was pain. He twisted, trying to escape the pain, trying to avoid the fire. The devils continued to hold him down, forcing him to lie there, contributing to his pain. There were noises around him he couldn’t hear, figures around him he couldn’t see. All he knew was that he had to get away…had to escape…he couldn’t breath…had to escape…couldn’t breath…couldn’t… “Doctor! He’s crashing! They were back…holding him down…had to get away…escape the pain…escape… *** “How ya doing, JC?” Marge’s voice sounded over the music. JC turned to the club manager, giving her a tight smile. “I’m okay. Great. Peachy.” He flipped a bad of ice into the cooler. “If you need more time off…” JC shook his head. “No, thanks. I think it’s better that I keep working, you know?” Marge nodded, giving JC’s thin shoulder a squeeze. “I know, sweetie.” She spied a huddle of girls and moved off to break it up. “Just let me know,” she said over her shoulder. JC filled the cooler, his mind shifting, as it has continually over the past five weeks, to Justin. The Marines had finally told him where Justin was when he went missing, a battle on a small island called Iwo Jima. JC had then scoured the papers, learning everything he could about the battle, cringing as he read the casualty lists, praying as he read the battle accounts. After five weeks, there was still no word of Justin. He’d finally stopped going to the Marine office every day. Now he only went every other day. They all knew him by name, knew who he was looking for, and were as helpful as possible. But no news of Justin since he’d received that telegram. No word whether he’s alive or… JC shook the thought away, serving drinks until closing. He slowly cleaned the club, the soft music from the radio keeping him company. He locked the door and walked through the foggy night to his apartment. His brace clinked as he climbed the stairs, stopping long enough to collect his mail. He flipped on the lights and walked to the sofa, dropping down to go through his mail. He spied a letter with unfamiliar handwriting, postmarked Hawaii. Slipping a shaking finger under the flap, JC opened the letter and pulled out the folded paper. A gasp escaped his lips and his heart skipped a beat as he read the words on the page. “I’m okay, JC. And I’m coming home.”