The Cracking Factor

A little short story I wrote while being timed: 15 minutes.

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The leaves fell around me, dancing in the air as though they were trying to put on a special performance just for me and my spouse. Adding insult to injury. Mother Nature had no way of knowing it was too late. The leaf did a couple of cartweels and a triple backflip before landing dead center on the casket. The pallbearers slowly laid her into the earth.

I wasn't one to show my emotions on any occasion, but I let out a few tears - a small breach in my emotional wall. Nothing too concerned. After all, this was a tragic occasion. Even though I was a Vietnam war veteran, I felt I could make an exception here. I had my friends around me, my colleagues at my side. All's fair in love and war.

But, that one incident triggered something in my mind. I still wasn't sure if the autopsy was right. Food poisoning isn't always by accident. A hamburger could have been undercooked on purpose, right? Was that left out for me? Did someone see me in that diner, and switch up the order by accident?

I tried so hard to shut these thoughts out, but it seemed that every time I tried to stop thinking, the problems grew. I slowly gathered into a tight hunch over the sterring wheel of my pickup truck. Something was wrong - I could feel the emotions swelling up inside me. What was going on? Anger, rage, things that had been bunched up for so long now coming to a head.

I swerved around at the next intersection and made a straight line for the diner. It was a three day drive, and I had no bags - I didn't care one bit. Somebody murdered someone I loved more than myself. In cold blood, for that matter. I've done unspeakable things in the war, but I can justify that in self defense. Or can I? Those kids in the village who stole the hand grenades - did they really intend to pull the pin before I took them out? What about the whole village that had a few Vietnamese guards in them? Was I any different then whoever poisoned the burger? Was it all a complete accident?

A sudden honk pulled me from my trance-like state. I swerved to the right to avoid an oncoming 18-wheeler. "This can't be any good," I thought to myself. I had to find some place to cool off. These emotions were coming on too strong. Where were my meds? I think I took them this morning, but it was all a blur. So many people, so many issues, so many problems... so much unbelievable pain. I couldn't think of anyone alive who had the kind of ordeal I felt like I was going through.

As I drove onto a large bridge, I looked to my right and saw a couple of canoeists. A flashback pulled me into another trance: All I could see was people escaping on canoes, gondolas, anything they could find. We were pulling into a village southwest of Ho Chi Min City, with a whole truckload of marines and arms, complete with helicopters behind us for air support. We thought there were enemy troops stationed there. All we found were women... children... families. We - I - killed innocent people that day. That was on purpose. The person who killed my wife with an undercooked burger possibly did it by accident - I don't know.

Something inside me snapped. I lost control of my body. All I could do was watch what my eyes were seeing. My two cold, clammy hands grabbed the steering wheel, and swerved to the right - off the overpass, into the river. I felt nothing... I heard nothing... all I could see was the car sinking, into a slow, murky water. The canoeists watched in horror.

"Are you okay? Can we help?"
I couldnt' feel my bodily responses. All I heard was, "Don't cry for me. I'm already dead." The car slipped under. First blue, then brown... then... nothing.