by John Hart
Just then Izzy noticed J.D. standing. . .somewhere, he couldn’t be sure how far away or how close with his eyeballs zooming in and out, but JD was outside of the party circle with one of the elders he thought Rick had said was the Headman. Izzy started to point but then J.D. and the Headman or whoever he was were out of sight, and maybe he only imagined them there anyway.
Gregg just took another liquid hit from the pipe straw going into the jar and slurred, “Have you ever finished one of these things?”
“I think they’re bottomless,” Rick told him, then clapped his hands like a grand sultan and said, “Let’s get this dance going again, Izzy. C’mon, I’ll join you!”
The night moved on, endless it seemed with a bottomless keg. As the music played faster, Izzy began to wonder if there was some kind of herbal amphetamine infused in the psychedelic brew because by some miracle, or chemical infusion, they did not all pass out as they partied all night long. J.D. rejoined them at some point, insinuating himself as discreetly as he had disappeared.
The sky was starting to lighten. There were streaks of red and purple across the water as the tropical dawn began.
Izzy thought he was hallucinating when he saw a line of elephants coming toward him. Then he was sure he was hallucinating when several pigs were slaughtered in front of his spinning eyes.
Their heads were ceremoniously cut off, and he abstractly wondered if that’s how the Boogeyman-Ghost Soldier did his own whack jobs. Only, this was like something okay because it seemed respectful somehow when the pigs’ heads were reverently placed like headdresses on the great lords of the jungle.
Each elephant now wore a crown of blood and a pigs head as the elders bowed before their celebrated guests.
“They want you guys to ride an elephant,” Rick explained.
“But I don’t want to ride an elephant,” Izzy had the presence of mind to say. “Especially one that’s been. . .decorated like that.”
“Sorry, Doc, but you have to do it. It’s an honor.” Somehow Rick and J.D. were already up on their elephants and Rick was saying, “Come on, Gregg, come on up. Izzy come on, this is the chance of a lifetime. You will never do this in New York City.”
Izzy knew that without having drunk what seemed like a keg of the mind altering beverage he would never have said yes to even approaching an elephant. As he walked up, though, something remarkable happened. The elephant kneeled down and looked at him. Not in his experience had a creature looked at him like this, making contact like a sentient being. The elephant was measuring him up. He could feel it.
“I only know English,” he said and could have sworn the animal nodded in response. “I know you understand me. I would like to be able to ride you. May I?”
The creature reached out with its trunk. It touched his face, as gently as a mother touching a child. She scented his breath and shared her breath with him. He felt so much emotional contact and connection that he almost dropped to his knees but she caught him with her trunk and lifted him, swung him through the air and he felt as if he was flying, flying onto her back and there he was, sitting on her back and she was getting up.
And now they were all up and riding. Moving faster and faster and then running through the tropical dawn by the sparkling river with the sun and sky swirling around them while behind them he could hear the drums and gongs that seemed captured in his chest, building in intensity as they moved through the jungle at elephant level and speed. Izzy knew he was under the influence of the concoction he had been drinking, but he was absolutely sure this experience was like nothing humanly imaginable. Every sense was magnified. The thin dappled light between the darkness of overhead canopy and the colors all around were so intense he could hear them, taste them, smell them. The physical movement of the elephant was so magnificently, staggeringly huge as to be overpowering. Their trumpeting vibrated through the air and his body. The sheer enormity of power he felt with an elephant under his legs left him breathless.
He was riding the Lord of the Jungle who moved effortlessly through the trees and brush without any fear of any other creature. Izzy looked over to see Gregg and their eyes met. And in that shared gaze they knew this experience would forever be one of those that divide your life into everything that came before and then this.
26
The keening wail was the first thing to pierce Gregg’s consciousness, followed by an urgent shaking of his shoulders that felt dense as lead, as heavy as the head he couldn’t possibly lift.
“Get up!” It sounded like J.D.’s voice. Had to be a nightmare. “Goddammit, get up now.”
Gregg tried to roll over and felt himself literally hoisted to his feet. His head bobbed back and forth while the shaking continued. Somewhere in the distance the wailing continued while J.D. harshly commanded, “Wake up. Wake the fuck up! We have to get out of here.”
“Huh?” Gregg managed to groggily respond. Nothing seemed real.
Then Rick’s voice was part of the bad dream he must be having, demanding, “Izzy, snap out of it! C’mon, Doc, here, I’ll carry you. J.D. can you help drag Gregg out? Oakley, grab their gear. Careful with Izzy’s glasses.”
“Sir, yes sir. Good thing they at least passed out in their clothes.”
“Shit, did Izzy just throw up all over himself?” J.D. again.
“Yeah but maybe not a bad thing to get some of that stuff out of his system. God, J.D. I’m glad you’re not such a lightweight; thanks for the assist. We’ll throw them both in the river to wake them up, get Izzy here cleaned up once we hump it the hell out of Dodge.”
The familiar voices merged and mingled while Gregg had a sense of being half-carried, half-dragged out of the Holiday Inn where they had a room. But then the voices changed to a foreign language and the nightmare was worse because children were crying, women were wailing, and men shouting. The cacophony of their joined rage and confusion and fear and sorrow beat at Gregg like stones all over his aching body, then at his back as he was being moved faster and faster while the voices retreated and then—
The cool whoosh of water. Someone dunking his head in and out while he felt the warm relief of pee leaving his body. Then his stomach was heaving and everything in it was coming up his throat and out his mouth while the dunking continued.
When he opened his eyes he was laying on the jungle floor. Izzy had been deposited beside him, almost close enough to be Siamese twins joined at the arms. Gregg started to try to get up but he hurt all over and shut his eyes again, trying to get his bearings and hoping his head would stop pounding.
There was movement around him, hushed voices, but he could make out Rick saying, “What do we do with them now, J.D.? You’re the doctor. I’m just an officer with a couple of dead Mnongs on my hands and a village that thinks one of my guys did it.”
“Normally, I’d say give them two aspirin and tell them to call in the morning after they sleep it off, but we need to make tracks before some of those villagers decide to take matters into their own hands. I don’t think anyone there is in the mood to have a civil discussion about what might have actually happened or set up some kind of trial with an investigation and a court appointed lawyer. For a minute I wondered if we were going to get out of there alive.”
“Me and my guys wouldn’t have let anything happen to you docs, and if they do come after us we can make that go away pretty quick, but I don’t want it to come to that. I feel bad enough already the Headman and his Mrs. got taken out in their sleep.” Rick made a distressed noise. “The idea that one of my guys did that is bullshit. What a mess.”
“I didn’t see the results but I gathered it was pretty brutal. Any thoughts on what might have happened?”
“Fuck yes. It’s just another perfect fucking Chinese psyops bullshit ploy to crap morale and dump more crap on my guys. How convenient they left those US matchbooks behind from their stinking little bag of tricks.”
“So you think it’s got something to do with that whole crazy
Ghost Soldier thing we’re dealing with?”
“What else? It’s so fucking obvious a blind man could see what happened—and god it makes me feel like some stupid new guy not to have seen it coming myself.”
“Hindsight’s always 20/20,” J.D. said like some compassionate doctor would. “But I’m not sure what you’re beating yourself up about. What did you miss?”
“Simple. The plan was to drop you guys off so we could go on our hunt, and frankly, I wasn’t counting on having to go too far. I know the areas where they’ve been doing their dirty work and they’ve been progressively moving in this direction. And, I know what I’m looking for—I’ve seen the boot tracks, I’ve seen the shell casings, I’ve seen the wires and the stakes and it all points to some high level assassins who really know their shit. I also noticed there’s a pattern with them going after some of the newer LRRPs, so I made sure my guys had fresh uniforms—”
“I thought these were newer trainees here.”
“Yes and no. Maybe new to my unit, new to this group of Special Ops, but they’ve had plenty of experience, hardly new kids on the block. They definitely have more training than the troops that have been chopped up so far. But the bastards one-upped us again. Had to have followed us to the village and while we were partying they were probably setting up traps, then flushed us out by murdering the Headman and his old lady in their sleep. Man that sucks. I really liked him. Her, too. And now here we are with two passed out casualties that probably don’t know how to shoot more than a hole in their own feet while those psycho Chinese bastards are probably laughing their asses off while I figure out what the hell to do next.”
There was a long pause and Gregg nudged Izzy to see if he had amply revived to also be listening in on the conversation between J.D. and Rick. Izzy nudged him back.
“And you’re sure it’s the Chinese and not one of our guys, Rick? I hate to say it, but matchbooks from a cowboy joint in San Antonio and a Vegas nightclub does look pretty suspicious.”
“What the fuck kind of question is that? Hell no!” Rick thumped something with his fist. “It’s bad enough to have to try defending us to the Mnong, but I shouldn’t have to do it with you or any of the CID snitches the brass probably sent to sniff our tails. The LRRP’s have had a little more outside company than usual lately and I don’t think for a minute any of us are part of a three hour tour. What a bunch of paranoid panty waists who think they get to call all the shots from some nice safe place with air conditioning. We’re the ones getting the Ronco Veg-O-Matic slice and dice treatment in the field, and they have the gall to even suggest such a thing? Just one more reason for me to bag the bastards responsible and put an end to this once and for all.”
“Sorry, Rick, sorry, man. You’re right, that’s not fair. It’s just that as, um, shrinks we have to consider all possibilities. . . .”
J.D. trailed off and Gregg could sense his attention shifting their way. He also sensed that J.D. somehow knew they were awake and he was expecting them to back him up. Gregg did not know what J.D. was capable of but he did not want to risk retaliation. Neither did he want to risk defecating on himself. After everything he’d heard his fear factor was racing through his entrails with ample speed to crap his pants.
Gregg suddenly “came to” with a miserable groan and that much he didn’t have to fake.
“God, I feel sick.” Gregg leaned over and didn’t have to fake dry heaving either. “Where are we? Where’s the john? I gotta go.”
“John?” Izzy muttered, “Who got Dear Johned? Where’s Rachel?”
“Well, lookee there,” Rick said with a dry laugh. “Our sleeping beauties back to join the land of the living. The toilet’s the nearest bush, Doc. But I wouldn’t go too far.”
A strong arm helped lift Gregg from the ground and the one silver bracelet remaining on the wrist told him it was J.D. doing the lifting. Verification came in the form of a whisper next to his ear.
“I’m going to walk you out just a little bit and you’re going to pretend I don’t tell you anything I’m about to tell you. Nod if you’ve got that.”
Gregg’s first instinct was to grab Izzy to go with him but Rick beat him to it, pulling Izzy up and declaring, “might as well take them both to save some time. Here, put your glasses on, Doc.”
Whatever J.D. had been about to say in private was exchanged for, “You guys packed the medic bag. Anything in there to help this situation?”
“We just brought the usual. Morphine, Dexedrine, Valium, and Thorazine, and some IM Benzo.” Gregg groaned like he meant it, and boy did he. “Don’t think that’ll help the situation, though.”
“I brought toilet paper,” said Izzy.
“Well you sure don’t want to forget something as important as that,” Rick snickered and leaned Izzy against the nearest tree. “Listen, let me go just a little ahead of you to make sure there aren’t any traps. J.D. maybe you could grab the goods for our m’ladies here? Back in a flash.”
Rick plunged ahead and J.D. whispered, “Whatever you guys do, do not get out of my sight. Got that?”
At their nods, J.D. followed Rick’s instructions to grab the toilet paper, giving Gregg just enough time to whisper to Izzy, “We’re in trouble.”
Izzy agreed with another quick nod, then signaled a zipper to his lips just as J.D. returned with the bag, and Rick emerged with an, “All clear. Found you a good bush and everything, just watch out for snakes and the usual.”
Once they were at the appointed bushes, Gregg turned to J.D. and Rick, and sniffed, “A little privacy please?”
“Good god,” Rick groaned, “far be it from me to insult your delicate sensibilities. Come on, J.D.”
With more riding on their stolen moments than modesty, Gregg didn’t waste a second dropping his pants with Izzy close enough to pass the toilet paper, at least that was the impression meant to be conveyed.
“What are we going to do?” Gregg said urgently, in a hushed whisper. “We’re basically part of the patrol now and I’m not sure we can trust J.D.”
“No more than he probably thinks he can trust us if he’s got the villa bugged. No wonder he doesn’t want us out of his sight. He’s probably afraid we might rat him out to Rick.”
“Yeah, Rick is maybe the best shot we have to get out of here in one piece, especially if traps have been set. I’m not sure how much J.D. knows about those things or even if it matters where we’re concerned. Fuck, I just don’t know.”
“You guys doing okay over there?” called J.D.
“Fine!” Gregg called back. “Just give me a few, okay? I’m going as fast as I can.” Then to Izzy he whispered, “I swear it’s like he’s got antennae or a sixth sense.”
“I know, I know,” Izzy muttered. “I hate being so paranoid. I. . .Oh! Fuck. I just remembered something. From last night.”
“What, what is it?”
“I could be wrong. I was so messed up, I hope I’m wrong but. . .I think I saw J.D. with the Headman. Rick asked where he was and I looked and saw him off to the side, but then I looked again and he wasn’t there, I—god, I hope I just imagined that. Maybe it was just part of tripping on that stuff.”
“But if you weren’t? I mean, Rick was with us for as long as I can remember before passing out. J.D., he comes and goes like some kind of phantom. And what about those match books? Could J.D. have planted something to implicate Rick’s guys, just to get us out of there? You know he had to be planning something to make sure we didn’t get left behind while Rick went after the freaks that J.D. considers his. No way would J.D. want Rick to get credit for doing the job he was sent in to do.”
“Are you guys having a damn tea party or what over there?” Rick called. “Another minute and I’m coming over for some curds and whey.”
Just then a spider the size of a tennis ball dropped on Gregg’s forearm.
“Oh shit!” he yelped and sprang to his feet, waving his arms furiously to get the spider off.
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“Careful, don’t step in it,” Izzy warned, and Gregg could only wildly wonder when life had gotten to a point where he didn’t even care if he stepped in his own shit on a jungle floor if it got him one step closer to home.
He and Izzy had nothing solved, but time was up and, as he bent over to accept the tissue Izzy held out, Gregg finished by whispering, “If push comes to shove we could tip Rick off about J.D. maybe being with the Headman last night, but we don’t know that for sure and I don’t think J.D.’s going to let us out of his sight, so for now I don’t know what else we do besides do whatever Rick says since this is his turf and he’s probably our best means of getting the hell out of here.”
“Agreed.”
“Other than that”—Gregg passed the roll—“You and me, Izzy, we is all we’ve got.”
Rick seemed to have come up with some kind of plan in their short absence, as upon emerging he clamped them both on their shoulders.
“Listen, I already had a word about this with J.D. and he understands we don’t have a lot of choices at this point. We’ve already lost more of the day than I’m comfortable with so we need to push through as far as we can while it’s still light. No offense but you guys held us up before, and you’ll be holding us up now. With a bit of luck, I can get to a place I can radio in for some transport tomorrow to get you out of here but we’ll need to make camp tonight. I know this is probably scary for you, especially with the possibility we’re being followed—”
“Followed?” Izzy repeated, his apprehension spiking even higher. “You—you mean the Mnong? Actually, I’m not so afraid of them.” They liked him, knew he hadn’t killed the Headman, and Izzy would much rather take his chances with them than whatever was in the jungle at night. “Maybe Gregg and I should go back to the village.”
“Sorry, but you can’t go back there. None of us can. And double sorry but they aren’t the ones I’m concerned about following us with you guys around. Honestly, this is worst case scenario since you docs are so obviously not one of us that you could be bait—”