He laughs and I growl at the standing joke about why we protect this end of the camp. The story goes that there are werewolves and ghosts here. Why werewolves and ghosts? The stories are complex and legion. Suffice it to say that according to tradition, the rifle magazine we are issued with doesn't contain ordinary bullets, but silver bullets. No one can prove or disprove the story because the magazines are sealed and have five rounds deep in the magazine, held down by a nail passed through the magazine and kept in place by a lead sealed wire passed through a hole drilled through the nail. You have seen those sorts of locks on fire alarms and such things. The joke is of course that how do you get that nail out without a pair of pliers to remove the lock wire? We never got an answer to that. The army is super efficient at not telling you things that are kind of important.
I grab my weapon, climb the stairs to the guard tower, shake Johnathon awake, send him off to bed and settle down to watch for the next two hours.
I have just recently read a memoir of a US Vietnam Veteran who said that at Observation Posts, he would count the trees and bushes before sun went down and then re-count them every 10 minutes or so. If there were suddenly more than the number he had counted, he would open fire.
I decide to count trees, bushes whatever. Being in the Karoo with low scrub makes life a tad difficult, but I count peaks of which there are thirteen. I do it twice just to be sure. Definitely thirteen. I drift off on a tangent, thinking of my rather delicious dream and wondering what would have happened if I had not been woken by the Sergeant for my stint in the watch tower. I feel a definite stiffening below. I consider having a quick wank to make the shift go faster. I remind myself that I am on guard duty, keeping the loup-garou out. I smile shake my head and decide before relieving my tension, I will just count bushes.
I count and discover that I am one bush short. Twelve bushes. I count again. Same number. The Vet did not say what to do if your number of bushes goes down. I consider this issue for a while. I don't think fast at 2:30 in the morning. No one that I know does which accounts for unwanted pregnancies and public violence charges.
I count again. Still 12. I decide that the use of the search light to find the errant bush is warranted. I swivel the light around the bushes look all pretty strong and healthy. I swivel the light down onto the cleared path outside the fence and find, standing directly in front of me is a figure. Male. Huge penis, visibly erect. Not a pretty sight, but the wolf head kind of makes the whole thing unpretty to the point of terror.
I swivel the light away and back. It is closer to the fence now, and I swear it is smiling. I solve the issue of how to remove the wire. Sheer terror helps I guess, I rip that wire out of the hole in the nail, I rip the nail out of the magazine and bullets click reassuringly into place. Now, I hope that the story that the NCOs had sold the silver bullets to pay the bar bill are not true. I cock the weapon and look up, the loup-garou has crossed the outer fence and is almost casually strolling toward my tower. Under normal circumstances I am a terrible shot. Terrified, I become lethal. I blast off two shots at the thing's chest and it staggers back, looks at the two holes in in its chest, it smiles and manages to look even more terrifying than before. It starts to move, fast and is half way up the side of the tower in a moment. Fuck knows how it is climbing the smooth cement, but it is, mouth open, grinning and drooling. I fire off two more shots, right down its throat, it keeps coming, as it reaches for the lip of the tower I use my last bullet and fall backward. The loup-garou disintegrates into fine white powder, getting in my mouth, my nose, my eyes.
I struggle to get up and then a voice from behind the powder growls, "You went to sleep with a cigarette in your hand again. I told you I would empty a fire extinguisher on you. I was merciful, only half. Now clean up your mess, I am trying to study here. I want to pass, even if you don't."
My college room mate throws the fire extinguisher at me, I dodge and it lands on the powder covered bed beside me. I sigh, get up, and start tidying up. The evening studying is not going well, in fact I am getting nowhere fast so I reach for the ultimate cure all, my bottle of rum. Just one tot and then back to work. Somehow the single tot turns to double, then to triple and then somewhere late in the evening, the bottle is empty and I am no longer interested in studying. Sleep seems to be the ultimate curative. I crawl over to my bed and pass out.
I wake to a sort of roaring sound, a bad smell and lots of heat. It sounds as if the whole place is on fire, but I write the whole episode off as another pesky dream, turn over, stick my head under my pillow and try to sleep. The siren is what finally persuades me to take part in whatever stupid dream this is. I pinch myself just to prove it isn't a dream and end up in one of those circuitous arguments that says, well if you are dreaming, you can pinch yourself and you will feel pain, so what good does that do? I give up and stagger to the door. Fortune favours me for once. I trip over my discarded tee shirt and end up stumbling toward the door. My hands hit the door first and I recoil in shock. The door is hot. Not summer hot, burning hot and I realise that I am head deep in smoke. I collapse to the ground, untangle my tee shirt from my feet and wrap it round my head. I get the door open and a huge waft of smoke rolls in. I slam the door closed and head for the window, hoping to get some air, but my last lungful was not of air, but almost pure smoke and I find myself curling up against the wall under the window. The blonde comes to mind as I slowly descend into blackness. I remember smiling at her flashing me and think to myself that this is not as good a dream as the original one starring the red coupè as well as the blonde.
I waken in warm, antiseptic conditions. I look around. Hospital.
"You awake?" I look around. A nurse looks over at me from another bed.
