American War

by Omar El Akkad

They were, to a man, untrained and ill-equipped, and ahead of them to the west lay certain death at the hands of a superior army. But behind them, in the dead-end towns where they were born, lay a slower kind of death—death at the hands of poverty and boredom and decay.

“Don’t worry, Father. I bet by now these folks are used to being told all kinds of things that turn out not to be true.

“They have a reception afterward where they serve that orange juice that tastes like oranges.”

Martina chuckled and shook her head. “I’ll never forget that goddamn senile old preacher. How’s he gonna go and make a little girl hate herself at her own sister’s funeral?” “Jesus,” Lara said. “Maybe ya’ll really are Catholics.”