Killeen, Texas
CONUS
Thursday
31 October, 1991
2200
The OD green van's door slid open and vampires, ghouls, zombies, princesses, fairies, and minature soldiers piled inside, all giggling and laughing, all carrying bags. The seats quickly filled up, and Donovan slid in next to me. A buddy of his, Steward, from Bravo-Company 3/67, slid in beside Donovan and shut the door.
"You kids all buckled up?" Steward asked, turning in the seat to look at them all. Some shook their heads and he wagged one finger. "Buckle up, kids."
They all laughed and I could hear the buckles clicking as I fired up the van.
"This was a good idea, Chief," Donovan said, leaning toward me.
"Learned it in my first unit," I told him, cracking the window. Then I remembered all the kids in the back and rolled it back up.
"Is everyone all buckled?" Steward asked. They all yelled yes, so I threw it into drive and pulled away from the curb.
"All right, kids, we're gonna go to the fire house now!" Steward called out.
All the kids in the back cheered. They knew, as well as I did, that the candy all had to be X-rayed before they could have any.
Nobody wanted to bite a razor blade or hypodermic needle.
Crackheads thought that was funny.
Steward started them singing the theme from Halloween III, clapping on the "Silver Shamrock" line and laughing with them as I drove to the fire station.
When we got out, he was first in line to chivvy the kids toward the X-Ray machine while I hung back by the van and smoked a cigarette.
I'd had a bad week.
I was hoping that was behind me now. I'd watched as Mrs. Ramirez's body was loaded up on the plane, walked First Sergeant Ramirez onto the plane myself Tuesday. I'd walked him through it all. He'd already been on leave, but he'd been inconsolable, his bereavement leaving him stunned and numb. I'd arranged it all.
And stared down anyone who tried to remark on it.
I treated him as a suicide risk. The only privacy he had was when he went to bed in his own bedroom. I slept on the couch, smoked outside, and made sure he ate. He stumbled from one task to the next, not drunk, just stunned by his wife's death.
Sometimes I could see he wanted to blame me. Blame my presence on her letting go. Monday night I'd let him scream at me after I asked him if he was going to bring his children back for her funeral or have it somewhere else.
It was fine, let him hate me if that's what carried him through this.
Wednesday had been my Mental Health appointment.
I didn't sleep all that well last night.
I watched as the Battalion's little ghosts and goblins dumped their candy for the fire-fighters to examine. Donovan was keeping an eye out on one particular little princess that obviously wanted to climb the fire trucks when Steward came wandering out.
"Spare one, Chief?" he asked. I dug out my pack and shook one out to him. He had his own lighter, which surprised me. He took a long drag and blew out the smoke. "Reminds me of taking my little brothers and sisters to the surrounding farms then to the firehouse."
"You a country boy?" I asked, leaning against the van.
"Yup. Colorado," he said. "San Luis Valley. Barley, potatoes, wheat, carrots," He blew out smoke. "Fourth generation. Do a tour or two, go back home," He shrugged. "Tank and a combine ain't too different. Whatever it hits gets shredded."
That made me laugh.
"You in the Storm, Chief?" He asked me, almost idly.
"Yup. Fought in the Storm. You?" His tension made me tense for some reason.
"Yup," he said. "Lieutenant let me name her Combine, drive it through the oil well fires to outflank four times our numbers in tanks," I could see goosebumps rising on his forearms. "Was like driving through Hell itself. We were buttoned up, running full NBC, driving through the oil and fire so we could hit them before they could go to the assistance of the units getting slaughtered on the Highway of Death."
I nodded.
"I'm not one of those 'ten miles from Baghdad' guys, though, I know where we were," he said. "How about you?"
"Wounded in Action, enemy fire," I told him.
He just nodded. "Donovan mentioned you earned yourself some serious awards the hard way," He shook his head. "Me and Dee, we go back since he got to Hood. I've been in Cav since about a year before the Storm."
I nodded.
The kids were excited as they wound their way through the line, clustering near Donovan and chattering at him. He was smiling as he looked down.
"Sorry, chatty," Steward said.
"It's all right," I said gently. "I make people nervous."
He chuckled at that, rolling the cherry of his cigarette into a puddle and toeing it out before putting the butt in his pocket.
He'd just finished when two little girls ran at him. He scooped them up, laughing. "You guys ready to go back?" he asked them, twirling them around.
"YES!" they both squealed.
Donovan was walking over with the rest of them. I moved over, opened the van door, and watched them all get in. Once they were all in, I slammed the sliding door and made sure it was shut. Once I got in, slamming the door, I started the van.
"You guys ready to go home?" Steward asked. They all cheered as I backed out. "When you get back, tell your mom and dad I let you eat lots and lots of candy!"
More cheers.
Some of them started yawning on the ride. Donovan and Steward kept them awake with songs. One by one I dropped them off, Donovan or Steward walking them to the door.
At least it gave the parents, members of 15th FSB, time without the kids, at least for a few hours.
Finally I dropped the last kid off and headed back to 15th. I'd drop Donovan off at the company area, drop Steward off at 3/67, then take the van back. I'd left my little compact in the parking lot of the vehicle depot. Take a drive back to the company.
Then lay in bed the rest of the night staring at the ceiling.
Bryan Adam's (Everything I Do) I Do It for You came on the radio when I pulled into the parking lot beside the chow hall. Donovan jumped out, coming around the driver's side of the van. I rolled down the window.
"You sure you don't want me to come along, Chief?" Donovan asked me.
I shook my head. "No. I kind of need the solitude. Been a rough week."
He'd driven me and 1SG Ramirez around quite a bit, so he knew how bad it was. He just nodded. "See ya Monday, Chief," he said, reminding me that Division had given everyone a four day weekend, part of a new policy that said all 3 day weekends would be 4 day instead.
I shifted the van into reverse, backing up. "Where do you want dropped off?"
"You sure you don't need company to the van depot?" Steward asked me when I stopped before turning out on the street.
I sighed. I'd wondered when he'd work himself up to it.
I took off the sunglasses, turning and looking at him, letting him see the scars.
"Wow, cool," He said. "That natural or contacts?"
That startled me. "Natural, now."
He just nodded. "Cool. You've got beautiful eyes. It fits you."
I knew he could see the surprise on my face.
He just shrugged. "Can I have a cigarette?"
I just nodded dumbly, digging out my cigarettes. He took them and the lighter from my hand, cupping his hand over the flame to shield my eyes from it while he lit them. He snapped the lighter shut and handed me a cigarette first, then my pack and lighter.
"Donovan mentioned you were light sensitive, that's why you wear the shades," He said, shrugging, "Figured I'd spare your eyes."
"Thanks," I said, taking a drag. I put the van back into gear and pulled out.
We were silent a ways down Battalion Avenue until Steward broke the silence. "Scars don't bother me none, Chief, know why?"
I shrugged. "Scarred chicks are your kink?" I guessed.
"Nope," He said. "Don't bother me 'cause I'm a tanker. I got driver's lip, the LT, he's got a TC smile, gunner's got gunner's eye," he laughed. "Combine, she took a direct hit from a T-78, right to the hull, rocked her hard enough it lifted our port side track off the sand and spun us. Made our ears bleed. Thank God for the helmet's hearing protection."
I slowed down at the light, checked my watch. 2310.
"Still, Richards, that's the gunner, he nailed that fuck..."
I cleared my throat and he looked at me. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. "Language."
He nodded. "He nailed the tank that hit us, probably right before they gave us another shot. Put a three inch deep dent coated with copper on the hull though. New armor on the A2 series held, no spalling."
"Good thing you were in an A2," I said.
"We were with Second Armor at the time," He said. "Only the best for Patton's Death Dealers." He glanced at me, "That's..."
"Your unit nickname," I smiled at him.
"You have a nice smile," He said.
That made me blush.
"Might as well drive me to the depot, I'll ride back with you," he suddenly said after I went through the intersection.
"Why?" I asked him.
He jerked his thumb behind us. "3/67 barracks is a ways behind us," He smiled.
"Why didn't you say something?" I asked him, hitting the blinker, "I'll turn..."
He shook his head. "Wanted to spend some alone time with you."
I turned off the blinker, knowing I was blushing deep enough that my ears, the back of my neck, and my chest were burning with embarrassment.
"Why?" I asked him, straight out.
"I don't know," he said, then sighed. "I'll take that back. I know why, but you'll probably think it's dumb."
"Well, try me, Steward," I said.
"You're different," He said. I glanced at him, saw he was blushing, "We were in the thick of it. Sometimes, at night, I'm back there. Combine stinking of B.O. and prop charge, feeling it buck around me, here the clanking of bullets off her hull. You understand what I'm looking at sometimes."
"Yeah," I said softly. I hit the blinkers, turning into the depot lot. "I'd understand, Steward."
"Thought so," He said. "Chuck, by the way."
"Heather," I said softly, pulling into a parking space and shutting it off.
"That's a nice name," He said. He sounded like his voice was trembling.
My hands were as I put it reverse and pulled the e-brake.
I got out, slapping the lock on the door, and watched as he did the same. He followed me to the front door of the office, where I dropped the keys into a box. When I turned around he was standing in the rain with his hands in the pockets of jacket.
"I get cold easy, too much time in Combine. She's warm," he laughed.
"Come on, let's get in the car, Chuck," I said, waving at him. I keyed the fob and the little compact booped at me, the door locks audibly popping. We rushed over, climbing in, and I started it up.
"Get it rolling so we get some heat in here," I told him, throwing it into reverse, hitting the wipers and headlights, then letting off the clutch.
I pulled out, hitting the road behind the motorpool row. On the right was the field, empty until it hit the field exercise sites. After a few blocks I kicked on the heater, filling the cab with warm moist air.
At the light I saw an MP jeep that had been heading toward us turn to our left, heading toward the III Corps HQ building.
"Thanks, this is much better," Steward said, reaching down and shifting the seat so he was leaned back a little. He exhaled smoke out the gap in the window.
When I saw the 15th FSB motorpool coming up I made my decision. I downshifted, hit the blinker, and pulled in behind the back gate.
"Got a girlfriend, Chuck?" I asked, killing the ignition and turning off the lights.
"No," he said. "Not married either," he said.
"Good," I said, popping my seat belt. I stubbed out my cigarette and leaned over.
I kissed him, hard, reaching down and hitting the seat incline so he went all the way back.
When the kiss broke he stared at me, breathing heavy.
His eyes opened wide when my hand pulled open his button fly jeans, reaching inside, and pulling out what I wanted.
"I like to be gagged, Chuck," I told him, looking him in the eye, "So gag me."
I lowered my head.
For once, I didn't have to tell a man twice.
When I finished I sat up, wiping my mouth, and smiling at him. I took out my cigarettes and he took them from me.
"That was good, Heather," he said, the put two cigarettes in his mouth.
"Don't thank me, Chuck," I told him. He looked at me over his hand as he shielded the cigarettes and lit them. "Don't ever thank me for anything like that."
He nodded.
"You got anywhere to be?" I asked him, starting the car. He went to put it away and I put my hand over it. "No, leave it out. I want to see it. I like looking at them."
He just nodded, reaching over to tuck the cigarettes in my pocket. He looked at me and I put my shoulders back. He gave my fat tit a squeeze, then leaned back.
"No, Heather, I don't have anywhere to be," he told me.
"Mind going to my room? I live in the barracks," I told him.
"Gonna sneak me in?" He asked.
"Yeah," I said, my voice rough and husky. I took a minute to flex my jaw. "Bigger than I expected," I sighed, "I love this feeling," I noticed him thicken up and flashed him a smile. "Like seeing that too."
He chuckled.
We got back to the barracks and I led the way up the stairs. I opened the door at the end of the hall, feeling a little flutter of nervous fear I'd never felt before. I put on my sunglasses so I wouldn't get blinded by the hallway lights and checked for anyone wandering the halls.
It was empty. The CQ was probably in the Day Room watching TV. I turned, waved him after me, and hurried to my room. We got inside before anyone saw us and I pushed him toward the bed, stripping off his clothes as we went. When his legs hit the edge of my bed he sat down, and I knelt down to pull off his shoes, socks, and jeans.
When I looked up at him I licked my lips. I knew he could see me in the light let in by the blinds. I pulled my jacket and shirt off, throwing them to the side, then pushed his legs open. As I lowered my head, I reached back and undid my bra. Right as his hand came down on my head and pushed, gagging me.
I stripped naked, working my mouth and tongue, letting it push into my throat, then pulled my head free with a gasp. He looked at me as I held up the condom I'd pulled from my jacket pocket and tore it open with my teeth. I put it in my mouth and lowered my head again, using my lips and tongue to unroll it onto him.
"Christ," He gasped, "Never had that done."
I pulled my head free again and stood up.
"Holee shit," he said, "You're goddamn beautiful."
I pushed him back, climbing on top of him. "I'm hungry," I growled.
"I can tell, your eyes glow brighter," He said, cupping my breasts and squeezing at the same time I reached between us and found what I wanted. "Wait," he looked up at me. "Are you ready?"
As answer I lunged down, all of it sliding in until I was sitting on him.
I rode him, there, in the dark. Practically holding him down as I took what I wanted, what I needed. Afterwards, he rolled me over, good for a third time, one that lasted longer. Afterwards we sprawled out on the bed.
"That was amazing," he gasped, covered in sweat. I just murmured and nuzzled him. "Do you want me to stay the night?"
I just threw my arm over him and pushed. He laughed. "All right," He got still, "Is this gonna be regular? I think I'd like that," I just squeezed him tighter and made a soft sleepy growling noise. "I like that idea," he said. He was drifting off too, tired from our exertions.
It was nice, falling asleep next to him.
But cold woke me up. Freezing cold. He was shivering, even under the blankets and against me.
Hell, even I was cold. My teeth chattered as I opened my eyes, sitting up.
Was the window open?
I saw her immediately. Leaning against the wall.
Short. Five foot two maybe. Probably 125 pounds. Wearing BDU's. Short brown hair in a page-boy bob. She had blue eyes and a Cupid's bow mouth. Her LBE and Kevlar vest were open, and as I looked at her blood started to spread from a hole in her brown T-shirt. My brain automatically told me that the bullet had hit the bottom of her lung. She was drowning. When I looked up at her face again, it was slightly bluish. Bloody froth oozing from her nose and mouth. She had a scrape on one cheek, bloody, and tears had left clean streaks down her face.
"Heya," She burbled. "Betcha don't know me."
My blood ran cold, and it felt like freezing iron spikes had been driven below my collar bones.
"But I know you," She said, and smiled with gore slicked teeth.
"Westlin," I whispered.
"Better get off that stick, Cromwell, and get ready," she gurgled. She turned and walked away. "Things are going to get ugly."
I jumped out of bed, my feet hitting slick ice. I landed on my fat ass with a meaty smack.
"They're sick now. They'll be dead in two days. More will follow," She gurgled from near the door. I stared at her and she smiled, blood spilling over her bottom lip and running down her chin. Bubbles, air she'd pulled in, sparkled in the dim light. "It's go time, troop. Blackbriar will figure out Dishinco Texas is sick in five days. By that time, well, you'll see."
Steward groaned and muttered, rolling in the bed, and I looked out, terrified he'd be dead too.
No, just sleeping.
When I looked back, she was gone.
I got up, moving to where she'd been standing.
She'd left drops of blood on the floor.
When I touched them and looked at my fingers...
they were bloody.
She was real.