This place reminded me of west Texas, and I hated west Texas. It had the same heat, dust, and occasional howling wind. However, west Texas never got this humid and Texas, even its ass-end, had much better highway maintenance than did this place. I cursed and steered left, choosing the lesser of two potholes. My M1025 jolted over the hole and my team laughed as they bounced around inside. I really shouldn't have been driving since I was technically in charge and being behind the wheel was a distraction, preventing me from thinking of other things like threats and how I didn't need this shit since we were all Short. It was just that I didn't trust the other three to do a better job. So, here we were, moving down a shitty road, in a shitty country, making the best of a shitty situation.
What I didn't understand was how we came to be alone. Our vehicle was the only one on the road. I remember we had begun as part of a convoy, but it had vanished. I wasn't even sure when or how that had happened. Regardless, we had to get to our destination, so I drove on.
The road was very bad, but I preferred that to being freshly repaired. You would think repairs would be a good thing but, in reality, an IED was probably at the bottom of a solitary patch and an IED could seriously ruin your day. I was also happy there weren't any large garbage heaps in sight. They, too, spelled trouble. Normally I could depend on my right seater to scan for suspicious things like that but, no, Hernandez was turned around, facing aft, yakking with Jackson and Collins about their plans when we pulled out to go home next month.
Fuck. A flat dark spot up ahead. Were we under observation?
"Hey, guys, how about doing your jobs? A little security awareness?" I called out.
They ignored me. I steered far around the patch. I saw two more ahead, dark against the weathered gray. Shit.
"Hey, fuck-heads, I got a bad feeling about this! Jackson, get on the gun."
"Oooo, Han Solo getting bossy," Collins laughed, but they otherwise did nothing helpful and the M-240 attached to the roof gun-ring went unmanned.
I couldn't go over either of the black repairs. If I threaded them, I took the risk getting caught between two blasts. Fuck that, bad idea.
"Going off hard-top," I called so they could brace for the rough ride. They were suddenly silent, all looking at me.
"We trust you, Stan," Jackson said, patting my body armor encased shoulder.
"Yeah, Corporal Kernig, you got this," Hernandez added.
"Safer in your hands than God's," finished Collins.
What the fuck is wrong with these guys?
The heavy vehicle lurched as I went off-road to the right. Fuck, a pile of trash. Where did that come from? I steered further right and grit my teeth. We all jostled over the rough ground.
Suddenly, I saw the classic IED directly in our path: an artillery round with a set of wires running away from the fuse recess. I knew it had been packed with explosives and the wires attached to a blasting cap on my side and a bad guy holding a detonator somewhere on the far side. We were still out of its blast radius. I yanked the wheel. No response.
I yanked the other way. Still nothing.
I hit the brake. It went to the floorboard without resistance.
WHAT THE FUCK!?
"X-ray, x-ray, x-ray!" I shouted, giving the command for emergency exit. When you heard that, you un-assed wherever you were. In a building, get out. In a vehicle, dive out even if it is moving.
My guys just sat there, fat dumb and happy, smiling.
We had closed to a few meters from the IED. I killed the engine but we kept rolling.
We were on it. I put my arms up and screamed, knowing we were all about to die.
Then I woke up.
My throat hurt, raw from the scream. That had been real. I looked around, I was in a dark room, bathed in clammy sweat and my heart hammering in my chest. I was safe. It was just The Dream again. I was... memories flooded into me... on temporary duty. An Air Force base. A new radio. A day of hot sex with a hotter woman. I realized it had been fortunate she had gone home.
I ached for a cigarette, but I'd quit after getting back to the States. If the bad guys couldn't kill me, I was damned if I would do the job for them. I drew a shuddering breath, really missing the beer I failed to buy earlier that day.
The squawk box hummed and a woman's voice sounded. "Hey, 328, you okay up there?" She knew my name, but I guess she was making a point by not using it.
I stepped over to the intercom.
"Hey, Martine. Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little..." I let the sentence die and released the button. This wasn't something I talked about with my buddies much less a near stranger.
I pressed the button. "How did you know it was me?"
"You got a neighbor a couple of doors down. He called it in." I glanced at my watch. 0430 on Saturday morning. I had reported aboard the base about twelve hours earlier.
Probably some kid staying up all night on his game console since he can sleep in,
I thought.
"You sure you're okay?" she asked with perhaps a trace of real concern showing.
"I'm good. Thanks for checking on me."
"Just doing my job, Sergeant. Goodnight." She clicked off.
She was CQ, Charge of Quarters for the night. I had spent the day banging her friend and housemate whom I had met when I was assigned my room. Martine wasn't happy about that, but at least she was professional about things even if she was holding a grudge.
328 and sergeant.
I chuckled.
What's she gonna call me when I get to her house?
Madeline, the girl, had invited me over. She didn't give a reason, just come on over. She had toyed with my phone the previous night, I presumed to plug in her address.
I checked my phone. She had created a new contact, complete with phone number, address, and selfie. She had put it under "!Hottie Maddie".
The phone chimed and a text window appeared.
Speak of the devil
.
>>Chrissie said you didn't sleep well. R u ok?<<
My thumbs flew.