GUTS

the MEATing

Omar wakes up to silence as lucent as steel. The room smells like rain, yet the air is so dry. Or maybe it's just his parched throat. He needs water, to drink, to bathe, to just rinse this scratchy atmosphere.

He opens his eyes to collect the little light in the room as possible, then squints again through the darkness. It looks like a storage room filled with artillery and ammunition as well as sandbags and ragdolls, all brand new. No wonder the metallic smell in the air that he mistook as rain.

Rubbing the back of his palm against his eyes, he leaps off the sandbag he was just lying upon and to the group with a soft thlat. His knees buckle.

The moment he twists the knob open, he is greeted by a cacophony of busy soldiers. The door for some reason opens to a wide expanse of land that stretches as far as his eyes can see.

Everywhere is littered with soldiers going on with whatever activity or training they are probably meant to do. All in separate groups, hailing motivational lines. Some in sack races, doing handstands, checking guns out, lifting weights, eating and cheering and the lots.

Hopefully, Omar does not have to search too much for Claudia who appears right by his side the next minute.

"Omar!" She engulfs him in a hug that makes Omar appreciate her signature coffee smell. It seeps into his bones and he breathes a gale of relief. "You're okay! Of course, you'd be. It's you," she slaps his shoulder.

"Oh really? I almost got choked to get and a slap on the back is all I get?" Omar folds his hands, donning a disapproving glare. "Where is the motherfucker anyway?"

"That motherfucker," Omar turns to see Shark behind him, in khaki overalls and his shaggy hair tucked into a black, lacy durag, "is the Commander of Special Forces, who you thought was the perfect subject to feed on."

"You're really unnoticeable, you know that right?" Omar deadpans to which Shark kisses his teeth in response.

"Omar, your neck," says Claudia as he reaches for Omar's neck and examines the red, blotchy marks decorating it.

"Damn, I can feel it too," Omar replies slowly, tracing his neck with his fingers; he can decipher fingers, bumps caused by the iron grip of that one man.

"Fuck, he really did a number on you."

Omar now raises a brow at Shark. "Which begs the question, was it ever that serious?"

Shark only shakes his head as he walks forward into the mob of soldiers. Omar and Claudia walk behind him. "You don't know half of what is going on."

"I barely know anything at all." Omar shrugs.

"Good, 'cos you won't anytime soon."

Omar pouts, mumbling to himself, Claudia only wraps a hand around his arm and pulls him closer. She is like a mini mom and a spirit animal in one person.

"Why was he half-dead though? When I saw him, he was clouded with--"

"Anyhoooo, I have to sort you guys staying at this base. I've not officially introduced myself but I feel it's high time you guys knew." Omar frowns at the rude change of topic. "Plus, you are my saviors so it's only reasonable you know."

"Awww, you give us too much credit," Claudia declines the compliment humbly.

"As a matter of fucking fact," Omar butts in, "yes, we deserve all the credit. I've not expelled so much energy in such a long time."

"Don't blame me, if I were you, I'd be cursing not just the enemy and the spy that caused the downfall of your base in the first place."

Omar's left eye twitches as much as his fists. Claudia merely places a hand on his and his demeanor softens. Well, it isn't as if he was connected with most people in that base anyway. Claudia was basically his only friend while the others treated him like an alien sometimes, and an accessory for war mostly.