A simple story III : Part 3
#3 of A simple story III
Greg paid no attention to the road. He just knew that the taxi had headed north, crossing the rather foggy Golden Gate. But for the rest, he asked nothing of the driver who remained silent, having understood that his client only wanted one thing, that we leave him alone.
The taxi drove long enough before it left the freeway and onto the winding lanes of the side roads. The setting sun was facing, the car was heading west.
Greg had put his elbow on the door and let his tears slowly dry. The car slows down a bit.
" There are free rooms in this motel. Will that be okay with you ? We are at the end of the race. "
Greg finally looked outside. The car left the wooded valleys to arrive at a plateau by the sea. The houses, all low and mostly wooden, were old, but the roads were still in good condition. Greg saw that it was a small harbor. Outside, clusters of families roamed the streets in summer outfits. Definitely tourists. The taxi had stopped in a parking lot where a red brick motel was waiting in the sun. He was showing its availability. Greg opened the car door, got out and closed it, more calmly.
" It will be fine, thank you. "
Without further courtesy, Greg walked towards the reception. The driver felt a little more relieved and satisfied, the benefit of the race even allowing him to take a day off the next day. He just walked away with one last look at the rott entering the facility.
At the front desk, Greg glared at the papers posted on the walls, inviting the hosts to the local festivities most of which had taken place in the past. It didn't interest him anyway. He addressed the old woman sitting behind the glass, busy and focused on her knitting. From her hesitant English and her lack of interest in him, Greg understood that she was an old emigrant, divided between her joy of living in a better country and her sadness to know that she would never rest but in a foreign land, far from her roots.
« A room sir ? "
Greg forced himself to smile at the old mare.
" Yes. A few days. I do not how long yet.
For one person ?
Yes. "
Greg sighed for him. He used to sleep alone, long distance relationship requires. Now that little moment he shared with Francis was over for good too.
" Room 28, first floor, it's quiet. No smokers, no guests. "
The mare's gaze was explicit. It meant "no prostitutes".
Greg made her understand that it was not his intention, letting his card go through the machine and then signing the ticket. He had a week ahead of him to take stock.
The mare was no longer looking at him when she pointed to the nearest restaurant. Slavic specialties. In the back of his mind, Greg bet her family owned it too, but he didn't add anything.
He went up the stairs, opened the door and closed it. He let the thick curtains drawn, seeing the interior of the room well enough. A large bed, wide, too wide even now. The beige walls were clean, but they must have been done about 20 years ago. The whole room was like this. Clean but fitted out a long time ago. The carpet was thick and the only novelty was the flat screen TV. An update of the decoration would not be too much. Greg could hear traffic on the ring road from the bathroom.
He lay down on the thick bedspread. The mattress was firm, the bedroom well ventilated. So he let his tears flow again in peace.
Greg woke up the next morning, naked under the sheets, his body sweaty. His bladder forced him to stand up. Facing the gurgling yellow stream in the bowl, he sighed. He had nothing to do and he was too awake to go back to bed. He didn't bother to wash himself and put on his clothes from the night before. At that moment, he realized that he did not have his suitcase. He didn't even remember where he had left it, what airport or car trunk it might be at. You might as well get out.
Greg had been walking for ten minutes on the cracked sidewalks of the harbor. He followed the path of the river which brought him to an old quarter of wooden houses on stilts. They seemed to be in poor condition on one side of the shore, but on the other, they looked brand new and the people coming out were much better dressed than those who lived in the shabby ones. Obviously, the neighborhood was slowly growing richer. On the side of the road, a welcome sign adorned with an ordinary heterosexual couple smiling with their teeth too white not to have been touched up and welcoming tourists and newcomers reminding them of where they were if by chance they were there and had forgotten the night before.
Fort Bragg.
That name says nothing in Greg's mind. Undoubtedly an old fishing port which was slowly being converted into tourism and secondary accommodation. It was about two hours north of San Francisco, an acceptable distance for a daily commute by American standards. Since living in Europe, Greg had never been more than three quarters of an hour from the stadium. Greg paused for a moment at a traveling stand to exchange a few bucks for a garnished hot dog. It was still morning but he was hungry and he didn't want to sit down yet. Greg took a half-hearted bite into the bread and meat, mindlessly swallowing as he took a side road up the cliffs that surrounded the town. The streets were starting to fill up and he didn't want to see anyone. Especially not complete strangers who appraised with a disapproving eye the dirtiness of his clothes.
On the cliffs, the view was clear. To his left, the ocean beat the collapsed rocks, producing this sound so melodious and so banal. In front of him, the other shore. The small town slowly grew, spreading its new residential quarters on the plateau of the north shore. Two hundred yards to his right, an old but still valiant bridge linked the two banks. Greg continued up the side of the cliff until he reached the corner where the river finally flowed into the ocean.
A thin wire carried by stakes blocked access to the ledge. Regularly, a panel tied to the wire prohibited the edges of the cliff for safety reasons. There were very good reasons, but Greg ignored the warnings and crossed the wire, deliberately walking towards the ledge. Arrived at fifteen yards from the cliff, he put his ass on a large rock which had been put there on purpose by a whim of nature. Then he stared at the ocean, his gaze blank, his mind still on fire, his heart devoured by the betrayal he had suffered the day before.
" Hey ! "
Greg barely turned his head, guessing why we ended up calling him.
« It's dangerous sir, you should come back ! "
A young woman, pushed in front of her. She wanted to do well and help him, but he didn't want that. A little baby was crying in the stroller.
" Give me a break. "
His voice had been firm, but polite.
" It's dangerous sir. You need help ? "
It was the last thing Greg wanted. He shook his head.
" Give me a break. The edge is still far away and I don't intend to jump. "
The young woman hesitated. Greg had kept the same tone.
" I'll go get help. "
Greg growled to himself.
« Leave me alone I tell you ! If you come with the cops, I'll jump, I guarantee you ! And it will be your fault ! "
Greg's gaze could not have been more serious. The young woman understood it and she walked away, letting out a
" Jerk. "
Very audible and sincere. Greg replied with a stiff middle finger on his back. He resumed his position facing the ocean, slowly regaining a semblance of serenity in the face of the waves.
The brief encounter left him wondering and slowly Greg sank into shame of himself.
What did he need to behave so rudely towards a woman who only wanted to protect him from himself ?
The previous day that came back to mind.
Fred's death, the flight to the airport. Then the meeting with Francis and the truth about his betrayal. The violent punch he had given him and his flight, again. Then his arrival in the small town where he felt a dull hostility from the inhabitants.
But faced with a muscular, angry and filthy man, how could they have reacted otherwise ? How would he himself have reacted ? Greg chuckled to himself, thinking he might have tried to seduce him. The big smelly bullies were so erotic in his eyes.
This wit gave him a sincere smile that brightened his day. The sun was high in the sky and noon was to be approaching. He was thirsty and he was still hungry. However, he didn't want to move yet, it was still too early in his eyes.
He then heard a clearing of a throat. This noise, he would have recognized it anywhere and to be honest, he was not really surprised. He turned his head and saw Francis behind the security wire. A few yards behind him, Dave was there too, looking even more guilty than Francis.
" Well. »
Greg stood up and slowly walked over to his ex, trying to show on his face that he would know how to stay civilized this time. Francis understood it because he didn't back down. Arrived very close to him, Greg saw the bluish mark of the blow which he had carried on his ex. He was filled with deep shame.
« I... I'll talk to him first if you don't mind."
Greg's voice was calm and peaceful. It also showed remorse. Francis seemed satisfied.
« If you promise me you won't hurt him.
- I won't touch him, I promise. "
Greg walked over to Dave but avoided looking at Francis.
Arrived near the bear, Greg looked him in the eyes. Francis was watching them from a distance, and he couldn't hear a thing.
Dave ran his hand through the back of his neck, a sign of his deep embarrassment.
" I... Am sorry you found out like that...
It has been a terrible day for me, Dave. But this is not an excuse. I am... sorry for behaving like this.
Really ?
Yes. My relationship with Francis had been on the wane for a while now, before you... I understood that your presence basically only accelerated things, but that our separation was only a matter of time.
I regret all the same that it happened like this. Above all, I wanted Francis to tell you, before going any further with him.
Further ? "
Greg eyed the bear curiously. He smirked stupidly, like a teenager talking about his boyfriend while denying the obvious.
« I... I love him, Greg. I can't imagine my life without him. I resolved to ask him the... Big question.
It's serious then...
Yes. I have a good relationship with him and my daughter also likes him very much. I... also wanted to thank you. After all this time, I realized that I had never really done it.
Thank me for what ?
For helping me. That night, I mean. It was next to nothing to you, but, in the hallway, you were a big help to me.
It's normal. I would have done it for anyone. I know how difficult it is. Have you heard from Reese by the way ?
No. Lost view. The video you circulated really hurt him.
To the point of having to leave high school, yes, but he's the only one at fault, I won't mourn him.
I'm sorry for Fred too. I never bonded with him too much after that evening...
Thank you. Tell me Dave, I would like to know...
Yes ?
What do you think of him ?
Francis ? All... He's a nice boy, cute, he hides his game well in bed... We have a lot in common. And especially...
Mostly ?
I... It's silly... But I can't imagine myself without him...
It is not stupid. It's just that you love him...
Yet you were the same, weren't you ?
Not totally, Dave.
Really ?
I liked Francis. In a way, I still love him. In bed this guy is great, but... I realized one day, when I thought about my future, that he was not necessarily part of it. It was on that day, I believe, that things started to change. "
Greg kept a tired smile on his face, he put his hand on the arm of the one-eyed bear in friendship and forgiveness. Dave was deeply moved.
Greg came back to Francis. He sat down on the rock again and invited his friend to do the same. This time his back was to the ocean, Francis had scruples about breaking a safety rule in this way, staying as far from shore as possible.
" First I want to apologize Francis. You are not a dirty faggot.
- Of course I am. I'm a man and I suck cocks... "
Greg couldn't suppress a nervous giggle that he struggled to control.
" You know what I mean. I'm sorry to have released such horror.
- I forgive you, Greg. I want to apologize for my lack of courage. I should have spoken to you more candidly and earlier. "
Francis lightly rubbed his sore cheek, smiling as well.
« He's good, isn't he?
He is. We met by chance almost a year ago at the exit of a cinema. He invited me to his home. I accepted and... This is where it started.
Was that also when you knew ? That this was going to end between you and me ?
Practically. We all have our qualities and our faults, and with you the qualities prevail, at least during the day... At night, however...
I snore, I know.
You don't snore, Greg. It's worse. The first time you came to my house, my neighbors thought there was an earthquake. The Big One, even. "
Greg smiled frankly, looked Francis straight in the eye. His mood was genuinely better and he wanted to communicate this to his ex.
" Since we are there unpack everything... Do you know why I preferred you to take me doggy style ? "
The question challenged Francis as it was absurd. He understood the ironic nature of it when he saw Greg's smile.
" No.
- Like that, I couldn't see your ears... I never got used to your ears... The rest, I love it, but your ears... "
Francis sneered. He realized that Greg was teasing him. One of his favorite ways to empty his bag without excessive drama, just to further ease the tensions that existed between them. Francis decided to participate in the game.
He was also in the mood to empty his bag without shame or hatred or regret. Their smiles and eyes expressed their respective sarcasm.
« It doesn't matter, all you wanted was my cock in your ass...
And when I took you, I closed my eyes so as not to see your ears...
What do you want, no one is perfect... Even me, you see.
It really surprised me. The sweet little boy so clean on himself who does a big mess on his best friend.
I deeply regret that you know. The good thing is...
Ah yes ?
Now Greg, I understand how you must be feeling, about everything you've done to me. The remorse for having behaved like this.
It is true. It's not pleasant, is it ?
No. And now I'm going to have to live with my whole life.
You'll see, over time, you get used to it. I would like to know...
Yes ?
It was in our agreements... We fuck whoever we want, but we don't hide anything, and we don't see that person again afterwards...
Do you want to know why I saw Dave again afterwards ?
Yes. "
Francis shrugged.
" I do not know. There was something between him and me. I didn't think at first that it would get so serious between us. When I noticed it, it was too late, and I didn't dare talk to you about it.
-You... Sometimes thought about the future ? To our future I mean ?
Yes, Greg. And... I must admit that the more time passed, the less you were present in my future.
You don't have to be ashamed of this Francis. I too felt the same.
Really ?
Yes. It was that day that I understood that it was not going to last between us. Papa Ed once told me that it is time that tells us if the person we are with is really meant to follow you through your life. This is not our case.
No.
It does not matter. The time spent with you has been very pleasant. And since we put everything on the table...
I wanted to ask you something...
Yes ? "
Francis blushed a little.
" I love Dave. Enough to prepare myself to ask him the question. The big one, you know. "
Greg smiles even more. He was careful not to say that Dave had made the same remark to him. He then saw fully that the two men had a bond deep enough to bind to each other. A bond he had never shared with Francis or anyone. Deep down he was happy for his friend.
" I want to get married. With him. I haven't asked him yet but...
When it's done, don't forget to let me know. Early enough that I can organize myself and come.
Greg, do you want to be my best man ?
Really ? Are you asking me that ? "
Greg's surprise was great.
" Yes. I understood your reaction and I don't blame you...
So I accept.
Thank you... "
Francis then hugged Greg. For Dave who was still a few yards away, it was a sign of sincere reconciliation. Greg returned to the path followed by a Francis satisfied to move away from certain death. Greg looked at his two comrades on the way back to the small town.
" By the way, I would like to know...
Yes ?
How did you manage to find me ? I threw away my phone and had never been to this place before. "
Greg was looking at Dave, who gave him a look at Francis who was smiling mischievously.
« Hey, let's just say I have friends who know how to deal with the security of banking transactions and card payments ...
Then we looked in the local streets if they had seen a pissed off rott around. We were lucky, a lot of people remembered seeing an angry dirty bully one. We just followed up on the complaints.
I see. No one is safe, eh ?
No one has ever been, that makes all the difference.
I am really pitiful...
Why that ?
My best friend just died, and all I think about is the safety of my money.
Fred was a nice boy. I don't think he blames you.
Do you have news ?
I contacted his parents. They are devastated. If I understood correctly, the funeral will take place next week, but it will be a symbolic ceremony, they were unable to recover his body.
It's sad.
I will go.
Me too. My coach is going to yell at me for missing the first game but I can't let Fred go like this.
I don't know if you can go. Your parents are furious with you, they've been trying to reach you since you left. In my opinion, you will be grounded... »
--
It was a beautiful day. Outside, the sun flooded the street with its light and the blue of the sky did not suffer from any white spot. The temperature was rising quietly as the sun left the horizon for its millennial journey. The inhabitants of the house on Nail Street did not take advantage of this beautiful day which was beginning. One of them was lying on the bed, on her side, her knees bent and her arms curled up on her chest, her cheeks and pillow wet with tears. She was forcing herself to keep her head blank. It had become an imperative for her as her pain was so intense. She didn't suffer from any injuries, but Daisy wished she had been shot in the stomach instead of the excruciating void that inhabited her. She had known this emptiness for the first time when an officer came to her house years ago to tell her that her brother would only come home to go and rest forever with his comrades, the victim of a land mine in a useless and bloody war. She remembered that she had spent entire days crying for him on the floor of the apartment she then occupied. She would have been unable to do anything to organize his funeral. Fortunately, the military authority took charge of everything. She remembered that they had been very considerate after the fact. It was the duty of the army after all. Train a soldier, send him into a war and get himself killed there and then bury him while making his family believe it had been useful.
Daisy winced at the memory that came to the surface. It was all the more painful because now it was her son that she was losing. Her only child, gone forever, the only one she could have had. Her life was over and another began, which she knew promised to mourning, sadness and remorse. It was the most difficult to live with. If she had said "no", Fred would still be alive. His obstinacy in committing to his future had won the day. He would have had to wait a bit. If he had, he wouldn't have been sent into this foolish and distant conflict. But eight years before, he had shown his determination to commit as soon as possible and despite the memory of her brother, she had given in. She had felt the power of his determination and she had given in. A mistake that she would carry in her soul until the end of her life.
Daisy had spent the night alone like the day before. Too marked by grief, she had not left her bed. John was too ashamed of him, too scared to stay with her. He spent his nights in what had been Fred's bedroom, mourning too. She was also furious with him. It was also his fault after all. He had done nothing to dissuade Fred. Daisy also believed that his unhealthy will to make Fred a man at all costs was involved. John was in his son's room, no doubt aware of his responsibility too. She could see his intense pain on his face the few times they passed each other. Good. At least he was aware of his fault too. It was already that, because nothing and no one would bring Fred back.
Across the hall, John was lying on his dead son's unmade bed. His cheek was marked by the seams of the mattress. The room had been empty since he left for college, but they insisted on keeping it that way if Fred ever had to come back, even for vacation. Which would never happen again now.
This finding made John even more bitter, feeling his throat once again attacked by the acid from his empty stomach for two days. How to eat to stay alive when you learn that your beloved and only son was dead ? John was using his hand to make a makeshift pillow, one eye scouring the walls every now and then, looking at the pasted pictures, the model helicopters the boy had started putting together since childhood. John winced. It reminded him how much he had missed such important moments in his life having to earn a living in Central America. He was still thinking about it. He had left a crying little boy and found a distant teenager on his way back. It had been a shock. Fortunately, things had improved with his final return and he and Fred were able to find each other. Even though John was still thinking about the moment his son admitted to being who he was. He had been so scared that day. But he hadn't tried to find a way out. He had stood on his feet and bravely stood up to his father. Fear in his eyes but standing.
Yes, he was aware that he would have preferred things to have turned out differently. That Fred would never have had to fear him. But it was done, nothing could change the past and despite this hitch, the two men had taken the same path for their reunion.
John closed his eyes. It was so painful. The worst part was that he was aware of his responsibility. What idea had Fred had to get involved ? He had his doubts, his fears. But he saw it in his son's eyes. His decision was made. He could have stopped everything with a simple "no" over and over, he knew. But he also knew that his relationship with his child would have been shattered if he had.
He bit his lip. What choice had he had in the end ?
To see him go, then die.
Or force him to stay until he becomes an adult but then lose him forever ?
John was too sad and outraged to complain about the choices available. But he also knew it. Real life was like that. We always had the choice to decide for ourselves. But a flaw in the contract had made it possible that the possible options did not necessarily offer a happy outcome. It was the biggest scam ever and he saw it now.
He stood up, indisposed by the seams on his cheek and hand. His gaze fell on a dresser. He saw the baseball glove that Fred had only used for one season. The mechanical engineering books his mother had picked up from a secondhand market and given to him. Fred was 11, but he had read them all eagerly. Him, at that time, he was either on the drilling platform or in the brothel on the coast emptying his most carnal needs.
John looked at the photo of his son next to the glove. He wore his army uniform very well. At that time he was still a simple soldier. He could have remained so throughout his contract because Fred did not hide the bullying and mockery of his heterosexual "comrades" from him. He knew he must have fought against them. But whether he won or lost sometimes didn't matter. He had shown them that he didn't let it go, and after a year he had at least earned their respect. Not all of them, but you can't have everything in life. He had been able to show his strength of character and show his competence to his superiors who had just granted him additional rafters on his shoulders.
John had never told him, but he too had fought for his son, besides that day in the bar. Some of his "friends" had publicly expressed their disgust of fags, and had wanted to console John when they found out about Fred.
John had told them that it was not worth it, that he loved and accepted his son as he was. The conversation had escalated, alcohol helping. John had the easier part when he was able to announce that his son had resolved to enlist in the military in order to pursue a higher education, while many of the other boys spent their evenings aimlessly drinking booze, wandering about from odd jobs to odd jobs, when they had them.
Fred was queer, yes, but as John hoped he behaved like a man. That alone mattered to him.
John growled. It was also because of this that his son was now dead. His old values from another time had engulfed his son like cruel and inexorable sands. He was sure of it, and he knew he would have to live with that burden now.
John then felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He found the vibration inappropriate and picked up the phone to find out who dared to disturb his grief.
An unknown number. More telesales. John refused the call and put the device on the mattress. He had barely had time to get back on the bed when the phone vibrated again. He was tempted to let the call end on the answering machine. But he knew it. In the sale, this only encouraged them to call back later. You might as well get rid of it now.
" Give me a break. "
John was about to hang up when a familiar but distant voice answered him.
" Dad... It's me... "
John cut the call, suffers blocked.
It was not possible... Fred was dead... Who could... A bad joke... It could only be that... The device vibrated again. Even mention of unknown number. John felt the anger take over him.
" You bastard ! So you have no respect !
- Dad... It's me... Fred... "
The voice was a little distorted, but it sounded like it, indeed...
" I'm alive, dad... They fucked up...
- It is not possible... »
John sat down on the mattress, his gaze fixed on the device. He felt it. He was losing his mind.
" It's true, dad... It's me Fred... I'm fine... I almost really died, dad... But I am alive... I... Am sorry you believed me...
It is not possible...
It's me, dad... Fred...
It is not possible... I am in the process of...To go crazy...
No, dad... It's me... "
Fred was crying with joy. Like his father, he had difficulty speaking.
" No you can not ! He is dead ! You can't be him !
- Dad...listen... I'm alive ! It is true ! They screwed up badly, that's all ! "
On the bed, John was starting to smile in spite of himself. This voice was so close to Fred's. But he didn't yet know if it was true. His tears that flowed on their own showed his deep wish that it was the truth. Only one way for him to find out.
« No, you can't be him ! He only knew what I asked him to be ! "
On the other side of the line, the stranger said nothing. He was breathing, wondering what John meant by that. He understood quickly and answered with the same voice flooded with tears of joy.
« I am what you always wanted, dad. A man. As I wanted too. "
John didn't hold back, he knew it was true. He didn't know why or how, but he knew it was true. Fred was alive. He slid to the ground, on his knees, his legs unable to support his body. The bedroom door opened on his wife, her eyes hallucinated. John realized that his voice had carried to his room. She had come, fearful, incredulous, hoping.
John could only move his head up and down, holding out his phone. Daisy clapped it to her ear.
" Fred ? »
She let out more tears when she heard his voice.
" Mom ! On my god I'm sorry ! It's me ! "
Still incredulous and happy, Daisy paid no attention to anything but the distant voice of his son alive and safe. John had his head up, his arms at his sides, looking at the ceiling and through the heavens with his eyes misted with tears.
« Oh, my God... Thank you... Thank you, thank you... »
Neither Fred nor Lopez realized the danger. Positioned in front of them, Swift saw the rebel behind his friends and he raised his gun to fire. But Fred and Lopez were in his sights and he couldn't risk shooting. It was when he saw the corporal raise his weapon that Fred understood that something was wrong. Instinctively, he threw himself aside. Lopez didn't react quickly enough and he quickly had the rebel on his back, who knocked him to the ground. Lopez tried to resist but he could only get to his side as the rebel drew a large blade from his belt. The faint moonlight prevented Swift from aiming properly and Fred had let go of his colts by throwing himself aside. He only had a knife left on his belt, which he grabbed mechanically.
The rebel was about to strike Lopez who had rolled over. The latter was trying to keep the blade from slitting his throat by holding the rebel's wrist, but the rebel had a better footing and he was sure to win.
The latter couldn't react when Fred's foot hit him on the cheek. Fred was no longer thinking. He acted automatically. The shock had forced the rebel to let go of his blade and he had nothing left to defend himself when Fred literally fell on him, knife in hand.
Eyes bulging, uttering a savage cry, Fred landed on the rebel's body and punched, thrusting his knife into the enemy's chest who quickly stopped moving. The stabbed man struggled less and less, his breathing slackened and his mouth was now letting a large river of blood flow. Fred himself was still standing on his victim, his gaze fixed on the blade which sank into his chest. He still held the blade and still felt the faint beat that communicated from the heart to the steel. These beats quickly ceased but Fred could still swear to feel them, like a phantom movement.
It was several seconds before Fred was himself again. His rage subsided. Beside him, he saw Lopez stand on his elbows, gazing at the corpse, no doubt fearing to see him fidget again. The sight of his healthy soldier allowed him to calm down more quickly. He looked at the inert body beneath him and saw that he still held the hilt of the knife.
He let go then, terrified, disgusted, getting up quickly, unable to look at anything other than the man he had just killed.
For the first time in his life, Fred had just killed. He remained silent, standing in shock. He didn't really regain consciousness until Swift put a hand on his shoulder.
" Congratulations, Sergeant. "
Fred looked at him, not seeming to understand him.
" Why ? I... Just killed a... "
Swift knew what was going on. He also knew how to handle his boss.
" No, sergeant. You just saved a man's life. "
Fred looked at Lopez who was thanking him. Then his gaze was caught by Swift, who was leaning over the body of the last victim. He clearly saw him slit his throat with his own knife. Fred winced in disgust.
" What are you doing ???
- I'm taking my precautions, sergeant... "
Swift returned to the bodies of the four inert rebels and did the same.
« So, I'm sure they're really dead. You must think I'm freak doing this, but I'm just careful. My two friends died for believing they had killed their opponents... I will not make their mistake... "
His job done, Swift came back to the sergeant and put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.
" The work is not finished yet, we must make sure that no further surprises of this kind await us. Then we will look for something to enlighten us and equip ourselves to leave here. "
Cautiously, the trio scanned the hangar. Ionescu and Findell had been sent to find Garcia on his stretcher. There was nothing left but the house with the painted door to check. The latter had no windows and only one front door.
« How about we throw a grenade in there ?"
Swift growled.
« Are you mad, Lopez ? If there are explosives in it, we are dead.
So, what to do ?
Watch and learn... Put yourself on this side... "
Fred and Lopez were to the right of the house, while slowly Swift approached the door from the left. He had taken off his combat jacket and was holding it in his hand. Slowly, he opened the door, holding his jacket so that it hung down as little as possible. The door opened and nothing happened. Swift looked inside but couldn't see anything. No one came out and no weapon fired. Swift entered and leaned against the left wall, but no further movement occurred. The corporal was now certain that no one was there. He reached out to try and smell what might be in the house.
Quickly, he realized that the house was used as a warehouse because of the many shelves that were there. To the touch, he could smell bottles, metallic objects. Then his hands felt more familiar objects. He pushed a button and light came from the flashlight.
" It will be useful to us... "
Swift took four more lamps and handed them over to Fred and Lopez who had come in at his call. Exploration was going to be faster and more efficient. The three men quickly spotted a large metal plaque on the floor, an access door to a cellar.
" We will save that for the end. The most important thing is to equip ourselves. We're already going to the other house. "
The trio passed Findell and Ionescu on the way, who each also received a lamp.
" You're going to leave Garcia against the house, and then you're going to each explore a shed. We need food, water, medicine if possible. And equip one of the vehicles. Check the fuel carefully. "
Swift entered the first house first, the one that had received a grenade. He was a little surprised to find four more bodies there.
" Six, at most... "
Fred couldn't help but make this slightly unfair comment. Swift noticed the sarcasm as he sliced through the inert throats.
" Even the best can be wrong, so me...
No, you're right, I'm sorry, corporal...
I couldn't guess the presence of these three additional birds.
I know. And the grenade shot was awesome.
This is only the basics, sergeant. Now let's see what we can get out of this place. "
The three men searched the house. They recovered documents, but being written in the Arabic alphabet, they could not decipher them. Swift pointed to a screwdriver and proceeded to dismantle the laptops that had remained intact on the table. Fred saw him extract the hard drives or memories.
« It could just as well be a enrollment list or a laundry note... »
A map displayed on the wall seemed more interesting to them, however. It had remained almost intact, and above all it was more precise than theirs. Lines, acronyms, numbers were written there.
« What do you think, sergeant ?
Considering the location of the acronyms... Looks like a map of the minefields in the area. And these points on the roads, the places of ambushes or roadblocks...
Well observed.
With that we will easily be able to avoid unpleasant surprises. We need it ! Lopez, take it and fold it. Pay attention to it, because it is our passport for home. "
Lopez couldn't be told more.
Outside again, they saw Ionescu and Findell gathered around Garcia.
" What's going on ? "
Ionescu still had scissors and a syringe in his hand.
"I found something to make a new bandage for Garcia, Corporal. But his condition worsens. I just gave him morphine.
Did you find something to cure him ?
That's the problem, look at it... "
Findell gave the sergeant vials and boxes of medicine.
" Shit...
Did you understand the problem ? Everything is written in Arabic. I don't know what it is, or what the dosage or concentration is. If we give Garcia any of that, we can kill him.
No way to poison him. Are you saying his condition is getting worse ?
Yes, sergeant. His leg is infected, he is at risk of sepsis. I disinfected as best I could with medicinal alcohol but it is only effective on the surface.
What cruel irony... We could probably cure him with that, but we could also kill him. Corporal...
Yes, sergeant ?
How long are we from the nearest base ?
Now that we are going to have a vehicle... Two days, if we keep driving. Three if we take the mountain road.
The advantage of taking it ?
You saw him like me. No roadblocks, at least permanent.
Do we have weapons ?
Currently not. We couldn't find an armory. This shed serves as a bedroom and this one houses food. The last is a garage.
Which vehicles ? Fuel ?
Of all kinds. A truck, a hummer, three jeeps. And lots of jerrycans.
I want to see them. "
Findell led Fred to the vehicle hangar.
« So as not to waste time, corporal, go see what's under the trap."..
- Aye, sergeant. Lopez, you come with me. Ionescu, you stay with Garcia. "
Swift obeyed. The boar kept a smirk of contentment to himself. The sergeant reacted well, he got back to the course of things and he saw nothing wrong with his orders.
Fred entered the hangar. Findell hadn't been mistaken, there was enough to get to the southern base quickly.
« Shall we take the Hummer, Sergeant ?
I do not think so. We could all fit in, but this stuff is too fuel-intensive. The truck... Do you know how to drive it ?
No, sergeant... And I believe neither Lopez nor Ionescu have their heavyweight license...
Neither do I. There are still the jeeps... We're going to take two. Three men in each. We'll load them with the right amount of water, food and fuel.
Will we have enough to rally the base ?
If we don't drive too fast, yes. We will take turns driving. Check that these two Jeeps are roadworthy, and then sabotage the other vehicles, just to give ourselves some time just in case.
Sure, sergeant. "
Fred then realized that the Jeeps carried the rebel emblems on the doors.
« And also find white paint. As well as a brush. And a white sheet.
- What for, sergeant ? "
Fred slammed his fist on the hood adorned with the Islamist symbol.
" To avoid being stupidly killed. "
Fred didn't give Findell time to reply and he returned to the unexplored house. He could see that Swift and Lopez had opened the hatch without too much difficulty. A strong light emanated from the stairs. Fred had no difficulty reaching Swift and Lopez who were in the basement. His attention was above all on what was there. The cellar was very large. At least four hundred square yards at first glance. There was a gently sloping hallway at the other end that led to a door no doubt hidden further into the desert. The size was sufficient for two trucks to pass each other.
The interior of the room was an incredible pile of materials and weapons. Explosives too. Enough to blow up dozens of buildings. Along the walls, rocket launchers, flamethrowers, and entire AK 47 cabinets, with enough ammo to outfit an entire battalion.
« It's impressive, isn't it ?
You said it, corporal... And to keep all this there were only nine men ?
It's very smart of them. More men or heavy weapons would have attracted the attention of our intelligence services. This is only meant to be a desert castaway relief depot.
Especially since we are still far from the territories under our responsibility...
Want to see the creepiest ?
What's this ? »
Swift led Fred to the explosives store.
" Only C4. These motherfuckers get their supplies from us...
There are bullets that get lost...
It is common knowledge that all the arms dealers on the planet supply to both camps.
A good trader does not play politics...
This is also true here. What are we going to do, sergeant ? "
Fred sits down and thinks for a few minutes. His mind was racing. The attacker's death was no more than a twist in a corner of his brain. Fred had more to do than bemoan his plight. All the while, however, he didn't realize that the emotional shock was only muted. Swift looked at him, knowing full well that he would eventually resurface. But for the moment, the sergeant occupied his mind in a useful way and he intended to encourage him in this way.
" It is out of the question to leave such a deposit intact. But we can't blow it up now. If there are patrols or reinforcements on the way, we will have them on our backs.
It is almost certain.
Did you find any detonators ?
No.
I will have an idea, but...
Always say.
Do you have mining experience?
A little.
We are already going to take up weapons to protect ourselves. We are going to leave our M 16 useless and take these machine guns. One for each man. Garcia included.
And then ?
Explosives and ammunition don't mix well... We are going to distribute the loads along the walls and I will make spring hinges. We will place them at each door, with a grenade as a detonator. Once closed, the door will not be able to open without releasing the grenade...
So the rebels are going to blow up this place.
As soon as they get the silly idea of opening the door, yes.
It is clever.
The air is so clean here that you will see the smoke from the explosion for hundreds of miles, judging by how many explosives there are here.
And that will warn us where appropriate... Decidedly sergeant, I blame myself more and more for having misjudged you...
You will suck my cock later, if you want. But that won't go any further, you're not my type... "
Swift couldn't suppress a sardonic smile from responding to Fred's.
As requested, Findell and Ionescu prepared two Jeeps. Swift went to one of the hangars and came back with clothes.
"We're going to put this on top of our uniforms. We are going to soak but with it we will go unnoticed in case of meetings. Our priority is to get home as quickly as possible, and to avoid the fighting. "
None of the men complained.
"It's not that I'm happy with that, but I really prefer to avoid fighting with you by my side. I have carefully examined the four bodies which are outside. You both managed to empty 4 magazines and didn't hit those suckers a single time. My bullets killed them, not yours. You would miss... No, you missed a cow in a row. »
Fred and Lopez couldn't help but to smile, scratching their necks, barely ashamed.
-
The drive home was very stressful. The detours made on the roads to avoid the roadblocks had lengthened the distance and the group had had to give up stopping for a few hours to rest as Fred and his men had hoped. Fuel was not lacking thanks to the jerrycans and the legendary fuel efficiency of the Jeeps. But the group was worried about Garcia. The latter suffered more and more from his leg. The latter, despite Findell's efforts, was becoming more and more infected. More and more, Swift came up with the idea of stopping and cutting the diseased limb himself. He had had to do it three times in previous campaigns, but the fact that two of the amputees had not survived the operation prompted him to reserve this option only as the very last outcome.
In addition to all this, it was necessary to reckon with the Sun. The outfits stolen from the dead concealed heads and faces, but the powerful luminosity of the reverberation on the surrounding sand was sometimes torture to their eyes despite the fabric.
Finally, the six men lived with the stress of seeing the rebels spot them and kill them without further trial. Ionescu couldn't swear, but it seemed to him that he saw a thick column of black smoke rising far behind them on the evening of the first day of travel.
As expected, the group took the option of the mountain to reach the territories under the control of the local government. The road was winding, and very narrow. Fred congratulated himself on not having taken the truck because it seemed obvious to him sometimes that the vehicle could not have crossed certain too narrow passes.
Towards the middle of the second day, Fred had the vehicles stopped.
" We're going to stop for a while. You have to prepare the vehicles.
What do you mean ?
We are a few switchbacks from the last pass. Then there are the territories under our control.
It's not too soon.
Swift, take the paint and the sheet that is in the other Jeep...
To do what ?
I don't think our army is going to like to see two cars coming towards them with the rebel emblems... "
Fred picked up the paint and brush, and began sketching out a large white star over the green eagle.
« Lopez, fill in that star and do more on the doors. Tear the sheet in half and hang them on one of the mirrors. If with that the soldiers of the first checkpoint don't understand that we are not hostile... I'll see how Garcia is doing. We will eat something then and we will leave. Take the opportunity to piss, we will not stop. "
Fred went to the last vehicle. Ionescu made sure that Garcia's head remained continuously moist and protected from the sun.
" How is he ?
Not good, sergeant. He is hurt. So badly that he passed out. I can't give him a morphine shot again because of his breathing, he risks embolism if we keep drugging him like that.
How long will he be able to last ?
I can't say for sure... I am a first aid worker, not a doctor. But what if we haven't arrived tonight...
We'll get there before.
It is true ?
Yes, we are only two or three hours from the base.
So much the better. But...
But ?
I'm afraid it's already too late for his leg. Necrosis is increasing hour by hour.
It might be safer to amputate...
No, sergeant. If we had the necessary material and enough to make a fire to cauterize, we could take the risk, but under the current conditions, that would amount to killing him. He will hold three hours. No doubt six even, but not more.
All the more reason not to hang around then... "
Fred walked back to the first vehicle. Lopez had just finished painting the last star.
" Change of program guys, we're going straight away. Garcia is not doing well and I don't want to send him home in a box. We start right away, if you want to pee, it will be while driving ! "
Fred didn't give anyone time to protest. Garcia's life at risk was well worth putting his cock in a bottle anyway.
For Lieutenant Parker, there was nothing worse than finding himself guarding a checkpoint in the middle of the desert. But when he got there, he realized that in reality, the worst thing for a soldier was not the heat, the sun, the sand or the possible proximity of enemies, but rather boredom.
It had been a week since his unit had been assigned to guard and watch the mountain road. The orders were simple : once spotted, the enemy had to be destroyed before it reached the plain. Three soldiers kept their eyes fixed on the road and the pass from the watchtowers erected on the edge of the camp. But for a week, they had been watching a large rock mass devoid of water and vegetation, but full of sand and dust. The worst part was that they knew that the other three units before them had nothing to do. And they still had three weeks to stay here. Suffice to say that morale was not good. He tried to forget this information the gaze carried away from his post. The lion growled, annoyed as never before watching the desert void.
Next to him, Private March was thinking exactly the same thing. But he would have liked to have continued to think so when he saw a cloud of dust pass the mountain pass, and descend towards the valley.
" Lieutenant !
Yes, March ?
I have a contact ! Three vehicles... No, two. Six or eight men on board. They come towards us... "
Stone groaned to himself. he wanted action, and he was going to have it. He yelled at the nearby watchtower.
" Cartman and Kenny, in position !
Wait, lieutenant...
What's going on ?
Their vehicles... They wear our emblem... And there is... A white flag attached to each...
Are you sure ?
Absolutely. "
The lieutenant quickly went through the possibilities. It could be a trap. Or fleeing rebels wanting to surrender. In the first case, he put the lives of his men in danger. In the second, they could be the source of interesting information.
Caution was needed anyway.
« Cartman, Kenny, put the shields in place and position yourself behind. Point your guns at them, but shoot only at my command.
- Aye, my lieutenant. "
If there was a trap, the concrete and stiff kevlar shields would be able to withstand a machine gun. Even the blast of an explosion would have a hard time killing the men behind.
Protections were quickly put in place on both sides of the road, offering the soldiers the possibility of crossfire without them risking shooting at each other. The two Jeeps approached more and more but they slowed down as they approached. They had no intention of forcing the roadblock, it was obvious.
The vehicles stopped between the shields. The soldiers were very nervous, watching for every suspicious movement. The Jeeps passengers hardly dared to move. Then the driver of the first vehicle gently raised his arms in the air, imitated by the others.
The lieutenant calmed down a bit. Descended from his perch as the jeeps approached, he stood behind the shields, assault rifle in hand. The stranger's voice was strong and above all clearly Western. Which relieved him.
"I am Sergeant Frederick Kaplan. From the 6th airborne, material section. Number O-8514712. "
Private Kenny, who was closest, was surprised to hear an American voice. A glance at the lieutenant told him that he was asking him to verify this. He approached slowly, the barrel of his M-16 still pointed at the stranger and lifted the tagelmust with it.
Fred's face was smeared with dust and baked by the sun, but it was obvious that he was not a rebel. Another soldier removed Swift's scarf. The lieutenant then ordered to lower his arms and approached cautiously.
« What are you doing here, sergeant ?
- My men and I escaped death in the Chinook 45-DX crash, my lieutenant... Do you have a doctor here ? One of my men is seriously injured... "
Isolated in his tent which did not protect very well from the outside heat, the captain was struggling on his desk, in fact a simple board, to write yet another report that would probably never be read. The radio next to him spat out. He takes it in his hand.
" Corporal Kenny for Captain Stotch.
- Speak, corporal. "
The leopard tried to keep his attention on his report. It often happened that he was asked for trifles, he did not want to lose his concentration which vanished a few seconds later.
" Call for help at the gate, captain. A seriously injured person. "
The captain-medic jumped up and immediately turned to his satchel, his radio still in hand.
" What's the problem ?
- One seriously injured, broken and necrotic leg, captain. "
With a gesture, he ordered his two nurses to follow him. They had already seized a stretcher and left a few seconds after the captain. From the radio came the first really useful information.
" Patient dehydrated and unreactive. Severe sunstroke, left leg necrotic. Has already received six doses of morphine in the past two days. Weak breathing. "
In front of the tent of the field hospital, a jeep stopped. The doctor threw himself on the injured man and made the first observations of the emergency.
" In the tent, immediately. "
Medics carried a long unconscious Garcia onto one of the canvas beds and prepared the first pockets of serum, quickly seeking and finding veins to puncture and rehydrate him urgently. The doctor recorded the data as it was taken, preparing the antibiotics and adding them to the bags of serum.
« Blood pressure 6-12. Weak reaction, Glasgow at eight. "
In other words, deeply unconscious and in danger.
Outside, the survivors had taken off their rebel outfits one by one, grimacing under the hot sun and seeking shade.
Lieutenant Parker watched the group, as did the soldiers at the camp who stood ready for anything. Fred came to meet him and greeted him more legally.
" Sergeant Kaplan, lieutenant.
- Where are you from ? What is this group ? "
Both soldiers knew that answers had already been given. Fred knew that the officer was mentally shaping the information for his own superiors.
"We survived a crash, lieutenant. We ran into an enemy base on the way, we were able to grab some equipment to get back here. "
The lieutenant listened as his subordinates transmitted the first data to the main base.
-
With impressive calm and dignity, Colonel Richard Vincent got out of the Jeep that had brought him from his camp to the medical section which was set back from the main base. Followed by his two aides-de-camp, he entered the medical tent and notified the survivors. The sergeant and corporal seated, their faces somewhat sunburnt. Three other soldiers were taking rest, lying on the bunks. He knew that there was one last man in a sterile room nearby.
Three hours before, the tiger had been notified that 6 soldiers had survived the destruction of the missing Chinook. A mad hope had animated his heart at the idea of perhaps seeing his son again. But this hope was quickly extinguished by reading the list of survivors. His son was not there. But maybe...
At the sight of the colonel's arrival, Fred and the others couldn't help getting up and greeting the newcomer, despite the fact that their condition of wounded or sick gave them the right to deviate from this rule. Vincent greeted them quickly and ordered them to sit down.
" As you were gentlemen, I think you deserve it.
Thanks, colonel...
I'm glad you made it. Sergeant, you can be proud of yourself. You have brought home the men who were in your charge.
Thanks, colonel.
Our services will make good use of the documents you have taken. From the menu, above all. It's a wonderful take you made there.
It's nothing, colonel...
You may be delighted to learn that since yesterday morning, observation satellites have shown us that instead of the deposit you told us about, there is only one large crater left. I imagine you had something to do with it, right ?
It is quite possible, my colonel. It's crazy what you can do with a few used hinges and springs. "
Fred couldn't help but smile mischievously as he looked at Swift, who returned the compliment.
" You... Have news from... "
Fred knew why the colonel had come. His smile faded as he put his hand in his left pocket to pull out a plate. When Fred had gathered them, he had put the lieutenant's plaque in a pocket apart from the others, without thinking. Maybe because he was the only officer in the group.
He handed the plaque to the colonel.
" I'm sorry, Colonel... "
Vincent took the plate, ignoring the fact that Fred was taking out the others. The colonel's aide-de-camp took them, the latter not being able to take his eyes off what he had in hand. He left without a look or a word. Nobody held it against him. Everyone knew that Vincent was trying not to crack in front of his men. But as soon as he was isolated in his office...
Once the colonel was out, Fred asked the doctor about the health of the others. The weasel was giving Fred a head. He had his mask under his chin, having no reason to make himself sterile yet. He and Fred were standing on the other side of the thick plastic sheet that separated them from Garcia, who was lying in a real bed with crisp sheets, eyes closed and breathing slowly on his own.
" It's sad for the colonel...
I know. Lewis was his favorite son. I heard that he fought against him when he wanted to get enlisted. He did everything to dissuade him from doing it, but once he became an adult, what else could he do ? Fortunately for him, he has other children...
And Garcia ? "
The doctor smiled, an encouraging hand on Fred's shoulder.
" He's going to live. But I had to amputate it, I'm sorry. The infection was too widespread.
The main one is reached. And the others ?
They are fine. Apart from the usual problems of dehydration. They should be able to get out in two days.
Thank you Doctor. "
Fred went back to his bed to rest. Rest... Finally... No sooner had he put his head on the pillow than he closed his eyes and fell asleep at last.
When he woke up, it was early afternoon. The heat was unbearable. Swift and the others were asleep. Fred got up to go drink. He had barely finished his drink when the doctor walked towards him with an embarrassed look...
« What's going on doctor ? A problem ?
We... can say yes... The administration communicated your files to me to update your data and...
And ?
I don't know how to say it...
It's serious ?
Not really, it could have been worse... But in a way, yes...
What's going on ?
Well... you're dead. "
Fred didn't understand. The doctor wore a dismayed and sorry face.
" We are... dead ?
- You were pronounced kill in action two days ago. I don't know how this is possible because of the verification procedures, but your files have been closed and your families have been warned... "
Fred put his head in his hands...
" What the fuck... My parents... My friends... But in what condition are they ??? A phone ! I need a phone ! Right now !
Now ? But it's barely dawn in the country !
My parents think I'm dead ! I am their only child ! And they must be crying for me as I speak to you... I need a phone !
Take the one from my office.
Thank you... And warn the others, that they too can warn their families... "
Nervously, Fred dialed his parents' number. He had to do it three times, forgetting each time a telephone code. The bell rings, for Fred too many times. During this wait, Fred remembered something. He put his hand in one of his pockets and pulled out his cell phone. He put it back in place, shaking his head, cursing his distraction.
" Give me a break ! "
Fred's father had never been subtle...
" Dad... It's me... »
-
Fred had barely hung up when Ionescu, Findell and Lopez rushed over, jostling each other. Fred noticed Swift's absence. If Garcia couldn't be there due to his medical condition, the fact that his corporal was not present intrigued him. Fred went back to his bed where he found Swift reading.
" Well ?
What ?
Aren't you going to call ?
To do what ?
To warn your friends, your family... We have been declared dead in action...
It's useless.
What do you mean ?
I have no one to warn.
No one ?
No one, sergeant. I have no family or friends. Can I finish this book now ?
Do as you like... I need to tell Garcia's family, he won't be able to do so for days. "
Leaving the boar alone, Fred stepped out of the infirmary and headed for the administration tent. Planting himself in front of what served as a counter, he put his hands on the table to make himself look more aggressive than he was. Fred had learned that in order to be served quickly in life, it was better that the bureaucrat opposite fear a little for his health.
The latter began to protest but seeing the stripes of sergeant, the soldier displayed a more respectful attitude.
« Yes sergeant ?
- I need a phone number. One of my men is in the hospital and cannot tell his family himself that he is alive even though you killed him with a tampon... "
The slender hare remained silent for a second.
"If he wants to complain, he'll have to go to headquarters when he can, sergeant. They are the ones who made the shit. We are content to suffer the consequences. "
The soldier's voice was calm, firm and respectful of Fred's rank. The latter was taken aback and straightened up, losing all desire to be arrogant. The hare smirked somewhat, tapping on his keyboard.
" His name ?
- ... Garcia. "
Fred looked at a piece of paper which he took out of his pocket.
" Beltràn. Sixth Airborne. "
The gray hare entered the name and the index card gave him what he needed. Fred wrote down the family's phone number. Then he asked.
« Can you look on your machine for another name ? Corporal Swift, same unit. "
The soldier did so. The slightly rotated screen allowed Fred to see his subordinate's file.
« Is there anyone to call ? His file is empty ! "
The hare scrolled the page, then shook his head.
" Indeed. It's rare to see this section empty.
Can you see an older version of the file ?
A moment... "
The soldier quickly searched and an older version appeared. It had two names, both from the army. Fred remembered the sentence Karl had said a few days before.
" My two friends died for believing they had killed their opponent. I will not make their mistake. "
The KIA mention after the names confirmed this. Killed in action. No wonder Swift behaved like a gruff corporal. He too had lost relatives.
" The file states that his parents are dead. No more family either. This is why his file is empty. "
Fred closed his eyes for a moment, understanding his subordinate better. No family and his only friends who died not too long ago. Fred looked at the desk and took a sheet of paper and wrote a number on it before pocketing it, then thanked the soldier who was already focused on his previous task.
Once out of the tent, and finding the aisles too crowded for his liking, Fred searched and found a quiet spot behind some solid buildings. He took out his phone and dialed a number.
The bell rang and someone picked up. A young boy, it seems, with a strong Hispanic accent.
" Que tal ?
- Hello. Am I at Estella Garcia's ? "
Fred heard in the background the usual noises of a large household. The boy spoke hesitant but understandable English. By his voice, he must have been less than 8 years old.
" I can speak to...
- Who are you ? Mama is at church. "
Which was hardly surprising, Fred thought.
" I'm Sergeant Kaplan from the military. I... is there someone with you kid ? "
Fred felt that speaking with the child in hesitant English would be too painful. The boy seemed to understand this as a more mature voice replaced him.
" Who are you ?
Ah, hello sir. I'm Sergeant Kaplan, and you are ?
Jorge. What do you want sir ?
Jorge, you... am I with Beltràn Garcia's family ?
Yes sir but my brother is dead. Mom is praying for his soul. "
Fred felt the general sadness of the family.
" Jorge, I have good news. "
Fred smiles fully.
" There was a horrible mistake. Beltràn is your brother ? "
On the other end of the line, disbelief had replaced sadness.
" That ? What do you mean ? Yes he was.
- No sir. He is alive. I am his superior. The army made a horrible mistake. Your brother is alive ! "
Fred visualized in his mind the joy that was beginning to flood his interlocutor.
" I can speak to him ? I want to talk to him !
- He's resting for now, sir. He's too tired. It is the most important. He's alive and he'll talk to you when he can ! "
Fred now heard the cries of joy and the prayers. He smiles.
" Senor, you are a saint ! "
Fred didn't take it the wrong way.
" Mama will be overjoyed !
- I'll leave you, sir. I will give you the number to call later, they will give you more information. "
Fred gave the number and repeated it, imagining the poor administrative staff who were going to take all the rage of the families who were going to complain with reason. Then he left the Garcia family to his joy.
He returned to the infirmary. Swift was on his bed reading again. He walked over to his bed and stood, holding out the piece of paper he had in his hands.
" What is that ?
- Call that number. "
Swift looked at the paper without touching it.
« Whose number is that ?
Call that number. Now.
I'm not going to bother reading it to do such a pointless thing.
Shall I give you an order, corporal ? "
Fred's tone had changed. Swift felt that it was best to obey before pushing Fred to his limits. He stood up and picked up the sheet, looking at the number listed.
« It won't be worth it, I'll do it, just to get rid of you."
Swift grabbed the doctor's phone on the desk and dialed the number Fred gave. He waited for someone to pick up, wondering who he would have on the line. Probably some kind of shrink or something. Fred walked away to the door, his back turned. A ringing sounded from Fred's pocket. He took out his cell phone and picked it up.
" Yes ? "
Swift heard this « Yes ?" In two ways, with a slight lag. He looked at the sergeant who was only showing him his back. The corporal didn't understand at first, but quickly he felt a violent rush of tears.
He was somewhat surprised. He had been in the military for years, and he believed he had buried his feelings for good. He felt an unexpected wave of emotion that overwhelmed him completely, bringing back a pain he no longer believed he could feel. In a combat situation, you had to know how to silence your most human sensations, but he had long since lost the desire to rediscover these sensations once the danger had passed. He liked having to stay like a rock, solid and arrogant. Strong and brave.
And here are the latter reappearing. Without any control, putting him back to face his weaknesses, his simplest and most important needs. Karl turned his head to look again at his sergeant who was behind him, his phone still in his ear but not saying a word. Karl sure it was up to him to take the first step.
" It's me... I'm fine...
Glad to hear you say it.
I...glad to hear from you too. "
Swift hung up, then hugged Fred.
" My friend... "
He didn't like to tell it afterwards, but he couldn't hide it either. Karl cried, unable to contain his newfound emotions.
-
The last hours of the day had long passed. The moon bravely tried to resist the artificial light on the base, the generators filling the air with their loud rumbles. Karl didn't like either of them. That is why he had isolated himself behind the dunes, alone, in the company of a six pack and a loaded pistol, as far as possible from noise pollution. From where he was he could hear the wind blowing and getting cooler and cooler. Crazy country. Ravaged by yet another civil war where his government had been taken since the hostage-taking and the execution of its ambassador. Impossible to win and impossible to escape without losing face either. Karl was too young to have done Vietnam, but now he understood the dangers in this dry jungle. The surveillance of the camp was of good quality, he saw it. But no one was safe from failure. He was in uniform, sitting on a large rock on the ground, the pistol within reach. He had been trying for a while to think about the last few days despite the cries and orders barked by the superiors on the other side of the dune.
He looked up then, his gaze drawn to the halo of an approaching lamp, taking his gun in his hands.
« You can lower your gun, corporal, it's me. "
Fred walked over, empty-handed outside the lamp.
« Don't you think you're too far away ?
- I think more and more that I am too close still. "
Fred was next to Karl, gazing at the beers. He noticed a large stone nearby. He put down the lamp, took the rock in his arms and slowly rolled it towards Karl's before picking up the lamp and sitting down. He didn't ask his corporal if he could keep him company. The latter did not move. Fred put out the lamp and the two men remained in the dark. Karl looked at Fred, obviously wondering if he was going to try something. He quickly understood his embarrassment.
" I told you, you're not my type. "
Fred was smirking. Karl seemed relieved, however. Fred felt his pockets, pulled out a cigar and lit it and began to smoke, inhaling the acrid smoke with pleasure. Knowing that his corporal did not smoke, he did not suggest one.
" These last few days have been... remarkable. "
Karl thought that Fred had come to comfort him again, but it was visible that the sergeant was also on the heart. Something Karl understood.
" You said it.
Thinking of leaving ?
I ask myself the question more and more. I'm nearing the end of my career, sergeant. And I'm still a goddamn corporal. Barely able to lead a gang of kids who thought enlisting was like playing tag.
That's what struck me, yes. You are 38 and just two rafters on your shoulders.
And you, what do you have ?
23.
And already two golden chevrons. How many years of service ?
Three. I have started my fourth well.
You're just 14 years behind me then. "
Karl smiles. the darkness did not allow Fred to see him but it could be heard in his voice.
" Your parents are proud of you, aren't they ?
Yes, fully. Especially my father.
Not your mother ?
She still has in mind the memory of her brother. My uncle was killed in action. I was born after his death. It is a great regret in my life that I never got to know him.
From where he is, I bet he must be proud of you too.
I imagine so. "
Karl bent down and untied a can before handing it to Fred, who took it.
" It's still very fresh.
- In an hour or two, it will be even more so. "
Fred opened it before starting to drink it.
" Damn country where we die of hot during the day and where we die of cold at night. "
Fred agreed.
« I would like to know something corporal ...
Yes ?
I keep asking myself the question. Did I do well ?
Do you have doubts ? It's okay to doubt, you know.
I can imagine. But did I make any mistakes, corporal ? You have more experience than I ever would have. "
Karl drank in turn.
"You did well, I have to admit. You hesitated but you knew how to ask. That's what I like about you. You are not one of those new officers fresh out of West Point filled with certainties. With them, we are sure to go to disaster. Of course, the guy has to gain experience, that's normal. But what you didn't know, you didn't even try to make it look like you knew. And that's what you saved the guys for.
Yes almost...
Almost ?
Beltràn has one leg missing now.
Those are the occupational hazards, kid. "
Karl stopped. Fred looked at him.
" It's okay, I'm a kid compared to you. "
Another sip of beer followed the first in Fred's stomach.
" I'm not even an officer and I never will be.
You want to go ?
Yes. I had my doubts but now I am certain of it. My contract finished, I'm leaving. Without regrets.
To be fair, this is the right decision for you. "
Fred looked at Karl, who ignored his gaze.
" You're not cut out for the uniform. I see that. Why did you get enlisted ? To show you were brave ? That you had it despite the fact that you ... well you are what you are ? "
Fred caught the hint.
" I did it for the money. My parents couldn't afford college and I didn't want to go into debt for 20 years before I even got them. "
Karl smiles.
" There are many reasons for getting enlisted. There are some better than some and some worse than the others. Among them, heartache, the drunkard's bet and finally, money. "
Fred remained silent. Karl was right.
" We're risking our lives here. I've always hated army ads that show these young people with big smiles hitting each other on the back, like during a student vacation in Cancùn.
- I too must say. But hey, it's hard to sell an engagement with pictures of explosions and crushed limbs. "
Karl must have agreed.
" Most guys won't know this. Not themselves directly. But it's a job that changes us even more radically than we think. Did the doctor give you something ? "
Fred was surprised.
« Why would he do it ?
Sergeant, I'm not blind. This adventure has marked you. It's normal, we almost died.
I ... no.
Ask him then. Talk to him.
Do you think I need it ? "
Karl smiles to himself.
" Of course. It's been three times since you didn't touch your knife in the mess. This is not by chance in my opinion. But you are right to go. Not because you're ... Do you mind if I'm frank ? "
Fred nodded, can in mouth.
" You are not made for the army. You have qualities for, yes. But you are not made for it. You know how to lead, you are responsible. You don't try to run away from difficulties and you listen to your men. That's what you came here for too, right ? "
Fred agreed once again.
" Not all of these qualities make you a soldier at heart. You will be perfect as a team leader, in an office or on the field. But with a gun in your hands, you suck. "
Fred had to agree again.
« Are my shots so bad ?
Oh hell yes. It went well this time but on other occasions it will kill you. Or worse, you will hit a comrade. Stay away from guns, that's the best service you will give them. How the hell did you get your rank with that ?
Mmm it's simple. We were in Maryland at the time. My supervisor was arrested for theft and trafficking of material. His corporal too and of all the guys who were left, I had the best record and my superiors knew my organizational skills. I got the job, promoted. Nothing sexual as you see it. "
Karl choked on his beer, laughing. He wiped his stained chin. Fred was happy with the effect.
" You are not the first to ask this question more or less frankly. Personally, I don't care. I learned that anyway, we will never be loved or even accepted by everyone. I also learned to be respected by my work and my fists. I took beats and I gave some too. This is what matters.
For the others, I don't know, but we are sorely lacking in people of your caliber. I will almost come to say to myself that it should not be taken into account.
Because you take it into account ? "
Fred's gaze was focused on Karl's. the night prevented the two men from seeing each other properly but both knew the intensity of their respective gazes.
" Let's say this trip makes me think about it. "
Fred smiles.
" So I already achieved a goal. "
Fred opened a third can.
" I'm giving you an order, corporal. This is my last. If I want a fourth, I order you to prevent me by all means. »
Karl nodded.
« Understood, sergeant. "
Fred emptied half of the can down his throat.
« What's your biggest problem ? Apart from your latent homophobia of course. "
Beer in hand, Karl let it hang between his legs, head bowed, thoughtful.
" I have quite a few, sergeant. Simple and complicated. Young and old. The fact that I'm still a corporal at my age and have never been higher than your rank before.
I saw that in your file, yes. But they don't say why you've been degraded or versed in material.
- Well, let's say unlike you, I'm hardly a diplomat and I don't like sucking cock even if it's for my own good."
Fred winced. But a sardonic grimace, perfectly understanding the double meaning.
" For me, it's just for fun. I don't mix work with that anymore. Too complicated then. "
Karl growled. It was the kind of extra information he hated, but given his previous joke, it was fair game.
" Let's say sometimes I want the best for my men and I can be too passionate. Or too stubborn for my good. I understand the need for hierarchy but I don't like it when it is diverted from its original purpose.
- Does this also include your addiction to amphetamines ? "
Karl looked at Fred again, somewhat scandalized.
« That, sergeant, is a problem solved. I do not want to discard but I had to pay the consequences of orders from my superiors who then covered their buttocks well.
Mmm that hardly surprises me. I also had to face this problem.
Really ?
Yes, at the end of my first year of contract. We had been imposed a maintenance and repair mission in an impossible time by our lieutenant at the time. I'll skip the details but he had the infirmary provide amphetamines to meet the deadlines.
And how did it end ?
Bad for the lieutenant. When the doctor-colonel found out, he got rid of him and imposed a complete rest cure on us. We went to bed one Monday to get up the following Thursday. Man, I had never wanted to pee so much in my life ! "
Karl chuckled frankly. Fred got up to take a few steps to stretch his legs.
« And you sergeant, are you going to do something ?"
What about ?
About the fact that you don't want to touch a knife anymore. »
Fred stood still, his gaze lost.
"I told you, I see it at the last meals. "
The corporal stood up and looked Fred straight in the eye.
" You haven't done anything wrong, sergeant. Just your duty as a soldier saving poor Lopez's life. It happened to me too, to kill. "
Fred was looking where Karl's eyes were, but it was too dark to see them, and he didn't want to turn on his lamp. Not now.
" I... "
Fred's tension was palpable.
« I didn't want it ...
I know sergeant, and that's to your credit. You are not an assassin. You are not a killer. You stood up for your man. Fix your thoughts on it. I did the same the first time I killed. We never forget it. I happen to think of all the people I killed.
Did you kill a lot of them ?
About ten. But everyone counts and everyone is dead because it was them or me. It's the same here.
I imagine you are correct.
Of course I am right. Experience speaks, kid. "
Fred nodded in turn.
« I... I would find it good to talk about it I think.
Do it. If I outranked you, I would give you the order, believe me.
Fortunately then, this is not the case. "
Fred winced.
" But thanks. I will do it. "
Fred inhaled deeply to try to let go of his stress. He took out his cell phone and looked at the screen.
" I also wonder how I'm going to tell my friends that I'm alive. I can't imagine just updating my Headbook account, and I don't know what to say on the phone. "
Karl smiles.
" This I will let you find alone. I am not the most qualified for this. "
In the dark, Fred saw Karl's outstretched hand. He knew it was a revolution on his part. He didn't hesitate and hugged him, adding a new friendship to the hierarchical relationship.