Lean on Me

“Man, swallow your pride! How am I supposed to know you need help if you won’t tell me?” I yelled over the roar of rushing air. It was a hot, dry heat and the open windows on the truck didn’t do much of anything but it was better than nothing.

My friend Chris looked at me, holding the sullen expression on his face. His mouth opened into an ‘O’ as the truck became airborne, riding on a brown mushroom of dirt and dust.

That was the last thing I remembered before waking up.

I heaved a cough through what felt like a screen of sand in my lungs.

We stopped moving.

A shadow blocked the sun. “You awake? Good, I was tired of dragging your ass.” I recognized Chris’ voice.

“What happened?” I asked weakly.

“I.E.D. trashed the truck and banged us up pretty bad. Lucked out with a premature detonation.”

“Don’t feel lucky.” I coughed.

“C’mon let me help you up. You’re going to have to lean on me, we got a lot of ground to cover.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it- this is what real friends do.”

View this story's 3 comments.