Not too long ago, but before today

War became wars. Months slipped into years. Hunt remained, Hunt changed. Helmand, Ramadi, all the other hellholes, all the places he destroyed. More than a decade at war, and after all those years, he found himself home; he found himself alone.

New York had transformed since he left, new buildings, new people, new money, but the subways stayed the same. Soot-covered tiles flashed past the window as the express train barreled through another station. “At least there’s no graffiti,” he mumbled to himself.

“Dey don’t know who dey mess’n wit—Dey. Don’t. Know!” A disheveled homeless man paced, shouting at nothing; he stumbled as the train jostled.

People crowded the back-half of the car. Straphangers clutched metal bars and hovered over riders squeezed into side-by-side orange seats. Those lucky enough to sit stared at crotches swaying in rhythm. Several unlucky souls jammed near the metal doors stood nut-to-butt, huffing  and straining to see when the next stop would arrive. Someone shouted, “Move in.” No one moved except an old Chinese lady who lifted three green plastic bags, shuffled two paces, and set the bags in front of two teenage boys playing Angry Birds.

Hunt and the homeless man had the front-half of the car to themselves. Hunt surfed in place and leaned against a pole, resting it in the space between his torso and arm, trying his best not to touch the bar with any exposed skin. He tucked his hand in his pocket and gripped the steel spine of his knife, pumping the collapsed blade into its fold. The balls of his feet pressed firmly into the floor as his icy blue eyes studied the homeless man from under his hat’s lowered brim.

Ripped clothes, exposed feet, dirty skin, the homeless man paced back-and-forth yelling. Hunt hadn’t smelled a human smell that vile before, not on a living human anyway. Rotted flesh, shredded flesh, burnt flesh had an immediate and recognizable pungency. The stench of this living man filled the train with a sharp noxious mix of shit, piss and perspiration so foul, he found himself both fascinated and repulsed. The homeless man ceased pacing, dropped his “homeless vet” sign on the floor, and laid across a row of chairs…