Outside his shop, a news alert blared from a customer’s TV: “Unconfirmed reports of a mass hallucination at a former military base in Kentucky. Dozens claim to have seen a ghost in combat fatigues.”
Leo looked at his dusty PC in the corner. The Allied Assault icon was gone. Deleted. As if it had never existed.
He put the mysterious phone in his jacket pocket. For the first time in twenty years, he wasn't just playing a hero.
It read: “Omaha Beach. Tomorrow, 0600. Bring your own ammo. – The Sergeant.”
Leo looked at his own reflection in the black screen of the phone. He was wearing his usual oil-stained hoodie. But for just a second, the reflection wore a muddy helmet and a torn 1st Infantry Division patch.
“What’s the issue?” he asked.