The North (#wattys2016)

Chapter 12

“Ark Two, roger over,” the radio hissed.

“Hull drains to dump out the … well, you know?” asked Sid.

I grimaced. Everyone would have to go to the bathroom at some point and I’d already relieved myself in an empty bottle. It was easy for a guy to urinate, but not so easy for a girl and while Jo could hide behind a poncho liner to do her business, I felt sorry for Kate. I didn’t bother asking her how she’d been going all day, - she wasn’t exactly pleased when Sid whipped it out and pissed off the side of the carrier two hours earlier. Also, nature would eventually call for all of us to defecate, and we sure as hell weren’t going to do it inside of the APC, for obvious reasons. Back at the armory we had folding toilets that resembled a small stool; you’d simply tie a blue bag underneath the seat and do your business. The bag would then go into an oil drum in the middle of the parking compound and we burned our waste every day. We still had a folding toilet on board, but really, we’d just have to exit the carrier and squat over a log, just like infantry soldiers had been doing for thousands of years. Only in this case, the person going would have someone providing security because it has long been every soldier’s worst nightmare to get killed while taking a dump.

“Yep … hull drains it is,” I said. “Pour out your waste and everyone washes up during their shifts tonight. One bottle of water each, got it?”

The team all nodded in unison as I turned my attention to Jo. “And you, baby sister. You get to wash up before you go to sleep – you can use the leftover water in the cooking pot. And I want you to brush your teeth.”

Jo nodded as she scooped a mouthful of ravioli into her mouth. Dawson tore open her pouch of chilli with her teeth and then dumped a handful of ground up soda crackers inside.

“How far did we make it today?” she asked, as she stirred the contents with her spoon.

“About fifty kilometers,” I said. “Maybe we can do fifty tomorrow … who knows?”

Sid scraped the inside of his pouch of corn beef hash with his hunting knife. “Scrounging tomorrow, right?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. Possibly. It’ll depend on what’s out there.”

“It’d be nice if we could all be together at night,” said Dawson.  ”Everyone from both carriers.”

“What do you want everyone to be crammed in for?” said Sid as he crumpled up his foil bag. “This is the problem with having chicks in combat roles – always wanting to freaking socialize.”

Dawson flashed a fiery glare his way as she edged forward on the jump seat. “You know what, Sid?”

“What?”

“Get bent,” she said angrily. “That’s what.”

Sensing a possible scrap, Jo dropped her foil pouch of ravioli and scrambled over Kate’s lap, standing in the center of the carrier to separate the pair. She threw an accusing glare at Sid and said, “I’m a girl and I’ve shot a creep, Sid. You were there … you told me I was a good shot and a good soldier. Well … I’m eight and Kate is fifteen. She’s twice as good as any boy.”

Sid snorted and poked at his ration pack in an attempt to avoid Jo’s gaze. “Yeah, kid … you’re a good soldier. I’m just old fashioned is all.”

“You’re a knuckle dragger,” Kate griped as she leaned back against the wall of the carrier and relaxed a little.

I swallowed a mouthful of ham omelet, doing my best not to gag. Jo climbed over my lap as I gave her a hug and whispered in her ear. “Good, job on that. You put Sid in his place.”