"The first thing that you should know Connie is that I have been all over the world. I have seen things and done things that most people can only dream of. But at the same time, I have seen and done things that nightmares are made of and I have to live with it each and every day. But that's another story. "

He paused for a moment as he looked out the window. Once again his eyes seemed to stare off into oblivion. Then he took a sip of coffee and started his story again.

"The team I was on worked for the OSA, (Office of Special Assessments). We were a specialized select group; we have no commitments, no families, versatile in many areas, and nothing that could be traced back to any of us. In short, we were ghosts. All of us were active duty and recruited from the different branches of the military to join this organization and we left our normal lives behind so we could make a difference. Our mission was to track, gather Intel, capture if possible and return, or terminate the ones we were after. More often than not, we terminated and left without a trace. We would go after terrorists, drug kings, slavers, pirates, and anyone else deemed a threat to the country."

As he sipped his coffee, and looked off into space again. Connie asked, "Liam, I never head of the OSA. Are they with the FBI, CIA, or a branch of the military?"

Liam smiled and then chuckled. "Connie, "they", we are ghosts. They do not exist, and are known by no one. But they are there and they are real and never mention them again to anyone for your own sake. It would cause more problems than you could possible realize and put a lot of lives in jeopardy."

Connie just nodded her head and said not a word.

Liam took another sip of coffee and then continued. "Even our true identities of the team members weren't even known to each other. We talked; traveled, worked and communicated by the code names we were given. This was to insure that if one of us was ever captured, we could not give up the identities of the others on the team. An example of this was my code name, Viper. I was fast, silent, and of course, deadly, and I was very good at it."

A blank look came over his face as he sat there. Then in a whisper, barely audible, she heard him say two words, "too good". Then a shudder went through him and he looked at her with sad eyes and went back to his story.

"We traveled the world in our assignments, Iran, Iraq, Somalia, North Korea, Afghanistan, just to name a few. Most of the time we would slip in, do our job, and slip out and no one would be the wiser. Over time, I became a cold, calculating, and unfeeling machine. Life and death became one in the same to me, and to say the least, it changed me and I began to suffer."

Liam paused once again and stared off into space, and then started up again.
"Our latest and my last mission was in Afghanistan where we were after a tribal leader who was dealing in drugs as well as harboring and training terrorists. We had no reason to expect anything but a cake walk for us. But as you know the best laid plans of mice and men can go drastically wrong, and in this case, it did. We had an informant who was from the province we were heading into and we had no reason to question his loyalty. What we didn't know at the time was that he was also a terrorist."

"So much for Intel," Liam stated with a chuckle. He paused again as Connie refilled there coffee cups. Nodded his thanks and began again.

"We were into the second day of the mission when all hell broke loose. Our guide had led us right into an ambush. They had the high ground and we were surrounded, taking fire from all directions. I was first to get hit as I was point man, but soon we were all injured to some extent or another. Either way, we soon found that we could not fight our way out of that narrow valley and had to call in close air support. The last thing I remember was the world around us turning into a fire storm of explosions, flames, dust and screams as the gun ships and jets came in and plastered the hills around us with everything they had. The only thing I remember after that was being on a chopper with King Pin leaning over me telling me to hang in there and we all made it out alive."

He got up and walked over to the window and looked out, not saying a word.

Connie sat there waiting patiently, understanding all too well how hard this was for him to tell his story. She heard him take a deep breath and let out a long sigh, and then come back to the table and sat down. Connie slowly reached over and placed her hand on top of his and gave him a reassuring look as if to say, everything will be fine.

Liam gave her a sad smile and then resumed his story. "I don't remember much after that for a few weeks, except coming in and out of consciousness. Seeing doctors and nurses over me and working on me, some of my team coming in and talking to me and saying thanks for saving their butts, some general coming in and putting medals on the pillow and telling me to hurry up and get well. It's was all a fog to me for quite a while and I didn't find out what had happened till a couple of months later."

"Finally I was in good enough shape to be Med-A-Vaced back to the states for more surgery and rehab. That's when things went bad to worse for me."

"Liam, I'm sorry. How could things get any worse for you? You got shot to hell and survived it. I don't understand."

He looked at her for a moment and gave her another sad smile and gently squeezed her hand. "There are different kinds of living hell Connie. For me, it's one I have to deal with each and every day, and in some aspects, it's a lot like yours I believe. For me, it started with the nightmares. At first it was only now and then and I didn't think anything of it. But they got more frequent and progressively worse. Soon they were every night and sometimes even in the day. The sounds, visions, surroundings and feeling were so real that at times I could not tell the difference from dream and reality. I would sometimes wake up screaming and other times in a cold soaking sweat from head to toe. Other things/problems began to show up with me. My senses were on full alert all the time and I was ready to strike at a moment's notice. Any loud noises would either put me into a combat mode or I would hit the deck and cover my head. On top of that, if I was resting and someone touched me, the next thing they would be against the wall with my hands on their throat."

He chuckled for a moment. "I know it's not funny but soon all the doctors and nurses would call my name out and be out of range before they would even get near me, and it became a game to them. Who was the bravest and who could get the closest to me before they called my name."

"As my time in the hospital continued, I got progressively worse. Soon I couldn't stand to be around more than two people at a time and crowds threw me in a major fit of aggression, as well as not being able to stay in those small cramped hospital rooms. Soon I was spending more and more time by myself, going for long walks stretching into hours, or setting up on the hospital roof for hours on end looking at the stars. Anything so I would not sleep. I had no idea what was wrong with me and it was slowly driving me out of my mind. I was afraid to sleep and did all I could to stay away from others, not only for my sake but for their safety as well."

He paused and looked at her, but it seemed to Connie that he was looking through her, lost somewhere in the passages of his mind. Then he cleared his throat and started up again.

"Finally, one of the doctors I was seeing, a shrink, told me what was wrong with me. He said I had severe PTSD, (Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome), and the odds were that it would be with me for the rest of my life. We tried counseling and medications, which I did not like. So I got rid of the meds."

"May I ask why you got off the meds if they were helping you, Liam?"

He looked at her for a second then smiled. "Because Connie I was walking around, barely functioning, and lost in a haze all the time. That's not me and besides, I like to keep my wits about me and I like to think, read, and write. It helps me and no one gets hurt. But to make a long story short, I was medically retired for the Air Force with full disability and released. I tried to make it in the city, but I soon found out that it was just too dangerous. Not only for me, but for anyone around me and I couldn't handle it."

Liam stared off into space for a few moments and Connie saw a visible shutter pass through his body and then he began again.

"I never went out during the day. There was too much noise, too many distractions, and far too many people out, which would put me way over the edge to the point that after a few minutes my mind and senses was seeing everything and everyone as a threat and putting me into either a shaking wreck or into full combat mode, which, to say the least, made it exceedingly dangerous for anyone around me. Finally, or at least I thought, I found out that around the hours of two to three in the morning I could safely go for walks. The majority of the city was quiet, hardly any traffic, and the only people that were out were the ones to avoid, which for me was easy. Most of the time, I could just look at them and they would turn tail and run like a scared rabbit. Sometimes I'd get one who thought he was tough and tried to prove it. But that lasted only a few seconds, then I'd be on my way again."

"May I ask Liam, what happened to those who tried to take you on?"

He looked at her with a slight smile and a sad look in his eyes. "Broken bones for the most part Connie, and a warning that if they ever came near me again they would not ever see the light of day. Either way, in about two weeks, I could walk at night with no problems. They, the night crawlers, the punks, gangs, dealers, would see me coming and just simply disappear." Then he smiled and chuckled a bit. "The only ones that ever picked on me after that were the street walkers and they would always tease the crap out of me. It got to the point where it became a game as who could get me to turn the reddest with them, and no, I never used their services, so don't even think it."

Liam paused and Connie asked another question. "Um Liam, my I ask why you didn't partake of their services. After all, you are male?"

He looked at her for a moment with a surprised look on his face, and then busted out in laughter. Finally he stopped laughing and smiled at her.
"I may be male Connie, but I am not a typical male. I think with my bigger head, not my other head," as he tapped his finger on his head. "Besides as many STD's and other diseases that are going around out there that can kill you, that's the last thing I needed to deal with, and besides, at that point in time, sex was the last thing that interested me. But to answer the question you might be thinking, yes, everything works fine."

Connie turned beet red and turned away as Liam looked at her.

"But that's neither here nor there at the moment so not a concern. Either way I continued my walks till the wee hours of the morning. My one and only stop was a small all-night coffee shop I use to stop in and get breakfast for myself. I had become a regular there and as soon as they saw me, they would greet me and the waitress would have coffee in front of me with in a matter of seconds. One morning, I walked in there and I knew instantly something was wrong. The waitress Susan and Joe the cook were both on edge and frightened and I saw why. There were, what I would call, five punks, or gang bangers over in one of the tables. They were loud, obnoxious, vulgar, and just looking to cause trouble for the fun of it. I guess they were in there twenties, thought they ruled the world and were high as a kite on whatever shit they were taking. Either way, I knew they were trouble and looking to prove just how bad they were."

He let out a deep sigh, took another sip of coffee and continued. "They kept calling for Susan to get over there and take care of them while making gestures of what they wanted and foul language. As well as getting louder and more obnoxious by the second. I could see the fear in her eyes, so as she reached for the coffee pot that was setting in front of me, I placed my hand on hers and told her to go in back, Joe call 911 and both of them get down and stay down. As she left, these punks started yelling for her to get her ass back there and a whole lot of other things I won't mention. Finally they got up and started on me. I told them that if they were smart, they would leave before they got hurt. They laughed, and then it started. One of them shoves my food off the counter and grabs me while another pulls out a sawed off shotgun and shoves it in my face, cussing me out while telling me how bad there going to fuck me up as well as what they're going to do to this place."

"Then it hit me----All the years, the training, the violence, sounds, visions, nightmares, pain came flooding back to me in one quick blinding flash. I remember screaming a blood curdling scream, and then nothing. The next thing I remember I was curled up in a corner of the diner, shaking uncontrollable as one of the police officers was talking to me trying to bring me back down, telling the rest to stay back and that I had and was suffering from PTSD. He said he knew because he dealt with it as well, but not on the level I had."

"I finally came down enough to where I could talk with him and as I looked around, I couldn't believe what I saw. The dinner had become a blood bath, all five of the gang were dead, two of them had their heads blown off, and the other three, their bodies were bent in unnatural positions. They also had a medic working on me for some stab wounds that I didn't know I had; they wanted to take me to the hospital for further treatment, but I said no."

"Then over the next couple of hours, the story came out on what had transpired. To make a long story short, it was a case of self-defense, the gang members all had records and two of them had warrants out on them for assault and attempted murder. As for Susan and Joe, neither of them were hurt and told me in no uncertain terms that I would never pay for a meal in their place again no matter what time I was there."

"As for the officer who talked me down, he and I became somewhat friends but soon realized that I was too far gone to ever be restored to normal society. He and I still stay in contact and I consider him a friend, or at least as close to a friend as I'll ever have. He also suggested that if I have somewhere to go and escape from the city, to do it before I got any worse."

"It was then I remembered the cabin and have been out here ever since and enjoying it completely. That's my story Connie on how I came to this mountain, no more, no less."

"But I will tell you one thing, you have it, PTSD, as well. Not as bad as I do, but I know it's there and it's starting to eat at you. So whatever I can do to help you out I will. It would truly tear me apart to see such a beautiful, intelligent women go down the same path as I have."