Chris awoke suddenly, a cold sweat covering his body. He rose forward to sitting quickly and groaned as he put his face right into the midway sun that was streaming through the window; he let himself fall back onto the bed. This was the third day this week that he’d had a nightmare like this, where he was in battle, tragedies of war happening around him, people he knew dying, and nothing that he could do, but hopefully fend for himself and the person beside of him. He swore he was speaking French in this one, and the guns were of an old kind that he hadn’t seen before. What happened in the other two escaped him, but he remembered waking up the same way. This constant headache is starting to wear on him too, but at least he had the day off. He came out of bed and changed into dry clothes, fixed his hair some, put on shoes, and went out the door to run in warm sunlight to maybe help his head. He enjoyed this town, not too far from the city, and only a few hours’ drive from the desert.