text: I was born. I lived. I died. Trite words. They belittle what it is to come into existence, to live. They are sterile. Clean. A monochrome, safe, description of life. Life is anything but monochrome, safe, sterile, or clean. Especially clean. Life was messy. Squalling babe to squealing child to sulking teen to stressed adult. Not one moment clean, clear cut, or bland. The late appointments, job interviews, job rejections, bills, the clutter of life made life anything but monochrome, safe, sterile, or clean. Especially clean. I’m repeating myself. I’m losing focus. They say blood loss will hinder brain function. I guess they’re right. Focus, focus! My name is David Litke. I am 26 years old. I am married to Katherine Litke. I was born - Was that a footstep? Just my mind. Damned bunker. Life was anything but monochrome, safe, sterile, or clean. Especially clean. Fuck, stop repeating yourself. Focus, focus! My name is David Litke. I am 26 years old. I am married to Katherine Litke. I was born in Laramie, Wyoming. My parents are Mark and Jane Litke. I am a - Voices. No not voices. Grunts. Strange, primal grunts. You have time. You do. Life was anything but monochrome, safe, sterile, or clean. Especially clean. For fuck’s sake. I repeated myself again. They say blood loss hinders brain function. My name is David Litke. I am 26 years old. I am married to Katherine Litke. I was born in Laramie, Wyoming. My parents are Mark and Jane Litke. I am a frogman in the United States Navy. That’s it. That’s what I needed. That explained the body armor. And the grenade clenched in my fist. And the dead body. Joshua Pell. That was his name. Petty Officer Pell. An arm and half of his face was gone. How did that happen? Why am I still holding a live grenade? Other bodies were on the floor. They were wearing strange gowns - or nothing at all - and lay in tangled, bloody heaps. Life was anything but monochrome, safe, sterile, or clean. Especially clean. My name is David Litke. I am 26 years old. I am married to Katherine Litke. I was born in Laramie, Wyoming. My parents are Mark and Jane Likte. I am a frogman in the United States Navy. I joined because life was too clean. Too safe. They’re snuffling at the door now. That’s it. The people in the gowns, hospital gowns, had tried to kill us. Petty Officer Pell had dropped a grenade as they swarmed him. I must’ve been shielded from the blast. Most of it at least. My right leg was riddled with shrapnel, and stab wounds from the crazed doctor trapped in here had punctured my arms. And a concussion from a blast in an enclosed space - Life was anything but monochrome, safe, sterile, or clean. Especially clean. Stop that, or you might as well blow your brains out now. My name is David Litke. I am 26 years old. I am married to Katherine Litke. I was born in Laramie, Wyoming. My parents are Mark and Jane Likte. I am a frogman in the United States Navy. I joined because life was too sterile, too monochrome. And I am about to die. I shifted my weight from where I sat on the gurney. The movement knocked several platters and needles on the floor. The grunts and snuffling stopped. Shit. . . A primal, raw scream tore from some unearthly creature’s throat. It echoed for what seemed like forever. No. They weren’t echoes. They were responses. My name is David Litke. And I am about to die. It had seemed like an easy job. Raid the compound, snatch the doctors, and destroy the research. We didn’t realize the research would destroy us. The compound had seem abandoned, until we lost contact with Bravo. Then Delta. Then Charlie. My squad, Alpha, had been alone. Then we had started disappearing, one by one. They had hunted us, stalked us. My name is David Litke. We had run to this room to find it locked. We busted in anyway. The crazy doctor who had been hiding in here stabbed me several times before we downed him, all the while shouting “They’ll find us! They’ll find us!” in Arabic. Then the “they” he had been referring to had come. Then Petty Officer Pell had dropped the grenade. That’s why I still held mine. My name is David Litke. They had a hard time coming through the door a second time, those freaks. Their fellow lab experiments blocked the door. They shoved in eventually. Their twisted, grotesque forms lunged at me. Dirty, clawed hands outstretched. Teeth gnashing. Mouths spewing that vile scream. I hardly felt them tear into me. I only thought - David Litke. About to die. The grenade dropped to the floor.