My room was nice and warm when I opened the door, the heat rolling out of the room and covering me. I'd taped a copy of my profile to the door after giving another copy to the CQ so that people would leave me alone for the next five days. I felt weak and shaky still, but was glad to be alive. Stillwater and Bomber were in worse shape and still in the hospital, but they'd released me this morning. I'd had to wait almost two hours for someone to pick me up and it had taken another five hours to get back to the barracks.
"Hey, Foster," Drake said when I walked in. Pv2 Drake was my room-mate, another radioman, only assigned to 3rd Squad, a wiry guy from Colorado with black hair and blue eyes. "Heard you were dead, man."
"Damn near," I said, staggering in and sitting down on the bed.
"You look like Hell, Paul," Drake told me.
"Thanks," I said, taking off borrowed PT Uniform shirt. The woman who had came and got me, a mean looking female Private by the name of Nagle, had brought it to me.
"What happened?" He asked me as I laid back on the bed. All my muscles hurt.
"We found our ammo site, turned out there was a chemical weapon leak and a radiation leak," I told him. "We had fatalities, Drake. The only people left are me, Bomber, and Stillwater."
Drake shook his head. "Those two are harder to kill than a shithouse rat."
I just laughed at that.
"How bad are you?" Drake asked me, sitting down in the chair and picking up his boots. He'd already broke out the Kiwi and rubbing alcohol to give his boots a good spitshine. Master Sergeant Crowe didn't care about how our boots were, but too many of the officers and NCO's in other platoons seemed to wait around every corner to jump out and yell at anyone who's boots were spitshined and their uniforms starched.
"Not too bad. I wasn't that close. Stillwater and Bomber were about half dead by the time we got there. When I left they were on dialysis to keep their kidneys from shutting down," I told him. I sighed. "You think it's going to be like this the whole time?"
He was silent for a long moment. "I don't know, man. This is my third unit. I thought I was going to be put out but they sent me to this place." He was quiet a bit longer.
I itched all over, but the doctors had told me not to scratch and given me calamine lotion to smear on myself. I figured I'd take a shower later and then do it.
"This place ain't normal, man," Drake said, slamming down his boot. He looked at me and I realized his eyes were full of tears. "If I had known I was coming here, Paul, I would have just let them send me to Leavenworth."
"Dude, don't cry," I told him.
"We're going out to look for our ammo site again tomorrow, Paul," he said. "What if it's like yours? I don't wanna die, man." He wiped his eyes, "Goddamn, this place is terrible."
I nodded. Hell, I didn't know what to say. The other man had been in the Army six years to my less than six months, was on his third unit to my first. Hell, he'd been a Staff Sergeant before they had busted him three ranks for trying to rob the PX. He was trained in the cryptography gear, and the training NCO had him teaching all of us the gear the first month he was here.
"The whole goddamn thing scares the hell out of me," He said. "If I thought it would get me out of this place I'd start sucking dudes off, Paul, swear to God."
"If you're offering, I could use one," I joked. Drake laughed, a sharp brittle sound. Before he could say anything there were three sharp knocks on the door.
"I'll get it," Drake told me, setting down his boot. He walked through the small hallway to the door and opened it.
"Foster in here?" Private Nagle asked. She had a slight sneer on her face and her voice and body language were aggressive.
"Umm," Drake said.
"Well, is he in here or not?" Nagle snapped. Drake took a step back. Nagle was a big woman, taller than me, with broader shoulders, thicker arms and legs than I had. There were some ugly rumors about why she had ended up in 2/19th that I'd heard before I'd even headed out to look for the sites. The whole way back she'd just smoked Camels and ground her teeth, barely saying anything.
Cripes, she scared the crap out of me.
Still, she'd stopped at the Burger King drive-through and bought me a double whopper with cheese and a milkshake. Her smile when she handed them too me had seemed nice enough, but somehow the niceness seemed to make her even more frightening.
"He's on his bed," Drake said, stepping back.
Nagle stomped into the room, stopping next to me and looking down. "I'm in the squad now since you guys are undermanned," She told me, her voice dripping with venom. "Who's Corporal Stillwater?"
"He's still in the hospital," I told her. I frowned, "He's just a PFC though, made it like a week ago."
"The new CO promoted him to Corporal, told me to tell him that he's in charge of first squad," Nagle snapped. "Christ, at least tell me he's a former NCO."
I shook my head. "Nope. He's my age, seventeen. He's been in like a year or so."
"Wait, he signed up when he was sixteen?" Nagle asked.
Christ, the woman was intense.
"Yeah. Join the Army or go to jail," I told her. Drake sat down and started polishing his boots again.
"Fucking great. They put a seventeen year old moron in charge of an ammunition site?" She rolled her eyes, "I swear to God the Army gets stupider and stupider," She shook her head and stared at her boots, "Great, he's probably a fuckup who's going to get me killed."
I pushed myself up on one elbow. "You got a lot of balls," I snapped. Nagle looked at me. "Earlier this year he kept going back into a river full of goddamn ice to pull people out of a wreck, damn near caught pneumonia. He and Bomber managed to close the door on a compromised bunker full of ruptured chemical weapon rounds as well as pack mud on a compromised nuclear artillery shell."
Nagle stared at me for a moment. "You got a bad rash, Foster," she said.
"Blister and nerve agent," I told her, dropping back and pulling my sheet and blanket back over myself.
"They give you anything for the rash?" She asked me.
"Calamine lotion," I told her.
"Where is it?"
"On the desk," I told her, "Along with your PT shirt."
"Keep it," She said, moving over and picking up the lotion. She pulled the chair over and sat down next to me. "Pull down the blanket."
"What?" I asked.
She glared at me. "Pull. Down. The blanket." When I didn't move she flipped the blanket off of me, pulling it away before I could grab it away. "Hold still, ninny. You need that rash taken care of before you start scratching it and spread that shit everywhere."
I nodded, watching as she poured some of the lotion on her hands.
"How long have you known Stillwater?" She asked me, rubbing the lotion on my chest.
"About three weeks, since I got here," I told her. "He doesn't talk much, but he and Bomber are friends."
"Bomber? The big Texan?" Nagle asked. I nodded. "Huh. I met him a few times at the NCO Club." She looked thoughtful for a moment, pouring more lotion on her hands and starting to rub it down my arms. "Stillwater has to be the short guy that just sat there and drank."
I nodded. She poured more into her hands and reached down.
"Hey now!" I said, trying to push her hands away.
"Your penis and testicles are covered in rash, dumbass, you wanna lose them?" She snapped, "I ain't giving you a handjob."
I just nodded, laying there and letting her rub the calamine lotion all over my body. She even rubbed it between my butt cheeks, ignoring my protests. It felt humiliating, like she was man-handling me.
She'd just finished, tucking me in, ignoring my protests, when there was a knock at the door. Drake got up and answered it. He'd left while Nagle was applying the lotion, having just come back with a tray of food for me.
"Foster in there?" Someone I didn't ask.
"Yeah, what's up?" Drake asked.
"There's a Gail Foster on the phone for him, says it's urgent," He said.
"Oh God," I groaned, throwing my arm over my eyes.
"What's wrong, and put your arm back at your side," Nagle said, moving my arm.
"It's my ex-wife," I told her.
"I'll see if he can walk down there. He's on quarters, he got messed up pretty bad," Drake said.
"Don't wanna talk to her?" Nagle asked. I shook my head. "Bad blood?" I nodded.
"Hey, you wanna talk to her?" Drake asked.
"She keep bugging you?" Nagle asked. I nodded again.
Why can't she just leave me alone?
"I'll handle this," Nagle said, standing up. She looked at me, "Just lay there and don't scratch, we don't want that rash to spread or thicken up." She stood up, digging in her breast pocket. "You just lay there, Foster."
She stomped out of the room.
"Goddamn, that's one scary bitch," Drake said.
"Yeah," I said. My legs itched and I resisted an urge to scratch them. Apparently scratching at them for the next few days could tear open the wounds and leak diluted blister agent on my legs, making the rash thicker and cover more of my body.
"She got big titties though, don't she?" Drake said. I laughed with him.
"She'd probably eat your head after you fucked her," I told him.
Drake laughed harder, "She's probably tie you to the bed, dress up in leather, and put you in a gimp mask."
The door opened and we both went quiet as boots stomped into the room. I looked over and saw that Nagle had a mean looking smile on her face. She stopped at the garbage can, reaching in and pulling out an empty Sprite can. She sat down next to me, reaching into her breast pocket and pulling out a pack of Camels.
"Either of you want one?" She asked, opening it. Drake and I both shook our heads. She shrugged, lit one for herself, then put it away. "Don't worry, Foster, she won't call again."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Told her that you were my bitch now, and if she ever called again I'd hunt her down and slit her trailer trash throat," Nagle said, her voice a growl. She laughed, "She just hung up."
"Thanks," I told her.
"No problem, baby," She said. She patted my head. "Sergeant Crowe said I'm supposed to take care of you while you're on quarters, so you're stuck with me. I'll sleep in my room, but other than that, I'm the one who'll take care of you during the day. At night it'll be a big ass Amazon, Specialist Stokes."
I nodded. I'd seen the big Amazon around. She was massive, and pretty scary.
"Get some sleep, Foster," She said, leaning back in the chair and blowing smoke rings toward the ceiling. "I'll take care of you." She smiled at me, and it seemed to soften her face. "Trust me, Foster, we're squad mates, I'll take care of you when you need it."
She grinned wider.
"No hand jobs though."