by Allen Gamboa
“Wish you had some of them cookies,” Ricky said as he chugged the rest of the bottle. “Baylie, be a dear and wake me up when we get there.”
“Uh huh.” Baylie jerked the wheel hard to the right and Ricky slammed his head against the window.
“Damn, Baylie!”
“Sorry, there was a dog in the road.”
MORE THAN A WHORE’S PANTIES
CREECH AFB,
NEVADA
Morgan sat on his bunk in the connex box that was his makeshift room; plywood covered the walls and floor. He had a mini fridge and a microwave. There was a cheap rack that held his clothes and uniforms and a small makeshift desk and folding chair. Two portable fans were running on high, desperately trying but failing to cool down the small space. A travel poster of some tropical island was the only thing on his walls. The sergeant sat clad in only flip flops and work out shorts writing on his computer. There was a knock on his door and he gently dumped the laptop onto his bunk and stood up to answer it.
“Sergeant Morgan,” Captain Galvan said, removing his hat. “Can I come in?”
“Sure, sir.” He pulled the door all the way open so the officer could enter. As Morgan shut the door behind him, he noticed Galvan was still dressed in his BDU’s. “Make yourself at home,” he said, offering up the folding chair.
“Thanks, Sergeant.” Galvan sat down. “Living like you’re back in Africa?”
“Temporary. I guess they’re building us new living quarters. Lotta good that does me now.” He pointed over to his mini fridge. “Drink?”
“No, thanks. I have dinner with the wife.” He wiped some sweat from his forehead. “What’s with this weather?”
“As Old Top Piper would say ‘Temperature’s been up and down more than a whore’s panties’.” Morgan chuckled as he sat down on his bunk.
“Got that right. You worked with Sergeant Piper?”
“Short time; I was armory sergeant back at Camp Marshall. Top Piper was my boss. Great guy.”
“Yes, he was.” Galvan nodded. “He was my drill instructor. Tough bastard. Anyway, I stopped by for a reason.”
“Sir?”
“Kubicek.”
“Oh, yeah.” The sergeant nodded. “Figured you couldn't get him out.”
“His congressman uncle, or daddy, or whatever, has his hand so far up the Joint Chiefs’ ass he could probably tickle their tonsils. The lieutenant is going on the mission, no question. That’s why you are too, Sergeant Morgan.”
“Sir?”
“I need you on this. I need people I can rely on. Hell, I want to come home from this too. Shit, my wife will kick Colonel Hamil's ass if I don’t.”
“I can’t trust Kubicek,” Morgan said, crossing his arms.
“No one can. They put pressure on Hamil and forced him to give the okay. Apparently, someone has a future mapped out for our boy.”
“Last officer like that got my men killed and me a fucked up shoulder.”
“I understand, Sergeant. That’s why I stopped by to tell you myself. Kubicek is going with us but he’s not stepping off the chopper. Whoever wants him on this mission gets that, but Kubicek doesn't step one foot off the deck of that bird.”
“Best you can do?” Morgan asked.
“Best I can do.” Galvan stood up. “My hands are tied.”
“I get it, sir. I appreciate you trying and coming by.”
“Wish I had better news,” he said as he pulled open the door. “We start loading tomorrow at 1000 hours. Chopper will be leaving soon after for the Boxer.”
“Then I will see you at 1000 hours, sir.”
“Tomorrow, Sergeant. Get some shut eye.” Glancing back at the computer, Galvan said, “Writing your girl?”
“No,” Morgan smirked. “Sister. She’s the only real family I have. Well, good night, Captain.”
Galvan nodded. “Good night, Sergeant Morgan.”
I DIDN’T KNOW YOU COULD EVEN READ
CREECH AFB,
NEVADA
“Last tour, I promise.” Hale sat on his bunk in a room similar to Morgan’s. A laptop set on his lap as he Skyped his wife. “Galvan is letting me burn up some of that leave at the end of the month.”
“You better get your ass home then.” The pretty brunette on the screen smiled trying to hide her worry. “You haven’t been here in months.”
“You know what you married into, T.” Hale winked.
“I thought I did, Rollie. It’s been harder than I imagined. Now with the baby coming…” His wife frowned then looked off camera for a quick second then back at the screen. “Being an Army brat you think I’d known better to marry a G.I., ha.”
“Once you saw me in my class A’s, you couldn’t resist.”
“It wasn't your uniform Rollie; it was your chest in that damn too small shirt. I just wanted to rip it off you.”
“Yeah, well you looked hot in that waitress uniform. That little skirt…”
“Don’t get me all worked up, flyboy.” His wife smiled wider. “My sister should be here any minute to take me to the doctor’s.”
“Way to kill the mood, T.” He chuckled. “This just a baby check-up?”
“Yes, sonogram is Friday. Theresa is going to take me.”
“Thank God for your sister. Wish I was there, T.”
“We've been through a lot, Rollie. It hasn’t been a cakewalk.”
“No, ma'am, no cakewalk. There’s no one else I’d rather make cry on the other end of this damn screen than you.” He smiled feeling the emptiness inside him start to well up. “I love you, T.”
“I love you too, Rollie. Hurry up and get your ass home. I’m horny as hell.” She grinned.
“Me too.” He nodded happily. “Love you. I’ll call you early in the morning.”
“Rollie,”—she smiled sadly—“be careful. Don’t make me fly over there and kick someone’s ass.”
“Careful I can do. Love you.” His wife’s screen went blank. Hale shut off his computer and slid it off his lap onto the bunk. Damn, he really missed his wife. That was the downside of talking to her. It made him miss her that much more. A knock on his door broke him from his somber mood.
“Yeah, yeah.” Hale stood up, stretched, and headed for the door. “Who is it?”
“Landshark.” A voice squeaked from the other side.
“Then by all means.” Hale opened the door to find Morgan standing outside carrying a six pack of beer. “I was really hoping for a candy gram. Come in, Morgan.” Hale turned and walked back to his bunk. Morgan followed him inside, shutting the door behind him.
“Like what you’ve done with the place,” he said, glancing around at the bare walls of Hale’s room.
“Duley borrowed my Farrah Fawcett poster. Probably never get it back.”
“Nor would you want to.” He put the beer down on the table and sat down in a folding chair. “I brought some refreshments. I thought we’d have a little pre-mission drink.”
“Sounds great. What you got?”
“Pabst Blue Ribbon.” Morgan pulled a can out of its holder and tossed it to Hale.
“PBR.” Hale popped the top. “Nothing but the best.” He raised the can to Morgan. “Thank you. I needed this.”
“No problem, Hale.” Morgan took a drink then grimaced. “Nasty. I guess taste ain’t the point.” He glanced down at the beer can. “You ready for tomorrow?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Always. Don’t feel like I’m truly myself until I’m doing this shit. Sitting around waiting drives me nuts. My ex-ol’ lady used to hate when I was home. I drove her bat shit crazy. Couldn’t wait to get my ass back to the unit.” He took a drink. “How ‘bout you?”
“I used to be like that.” Hale set his beer down on the floor. “Lately I’ve been having second thoughts. Gone too long from the wife and now we’re having a baby…”
“I pegged you for a lifer.”
Hale chuckled and scooped up the beer can. “I dig the life but I’m not a lifer. Hel
l, I have a Bachelor's in History. I’ll be looking for a teaching gig after this tour.”
“History teacher? Damn, Hale, I didn’t know you could even read.”
“Ha, I can even spell.” He finished the beer and motioned for Morgan to toss him another one. “It’ll make my wife happy and my kid will get to know her dad.”
“Looks like you have it all planned out.” Morgan tossed him another beer.
“What about you?” Hale asked.
“Me? Hell, I’m a lifer. Don’t tell anyone ‘cause I’ll deny it. I’ve been doing this so long I don’t think there’s anything on the outside I’d rather do.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Morgan pulled a beer from its plastic holder. “I might get tired of it someday; then it’ll be time for that hammock on the beach and hula girls feeding me drinks all day. Until then, this is me.”
“Sounds great, Morgan.” Hale leaned back against the wall and thoughtfully tapped the top of the can with his fingers. “I hate to bring down the room, but I heard the captain include our favorite Lieutenant in the mission. I guess he couldn’t get command to budge.”
“Nope.” Morgan took a quick sip and wiped his mouth. “Hamil tried, but I guess Kubicek's got some big ass connections in D.C.; Galvan did tell me the L.T. was going to spend his mission time babysitting the chopper.”
“Well, that’s something. Hopefully he doesn’t shoot up our ride home.”
“Right?” The Army sergeant nodded. “It’s a weak win, but I’ll take it.”
“Gotta take your wins when you can.”
“Agreed.” Morgan chugged the remaining beer. He set the empty down and belched. “That was rough.”
“That was more than rough, damn.” Hale frowned.
“Sorry. I had pickled garlic pasta for dinner.” He waved his hand in front of him. “Anyway, the captain just informed me we are loading up at 1000 hours.”
“Nice. Not often you get a mid-morning start.”
“Yep. Either crack of dawn or the middle of the night. The team oughta be happy about that. I know I am.”
“They’re chomping at the bit, Morgan. There’s no holding them back now.” Hale rolled his beer can around in his hands. “I think they’re up to it. Time to put all that training to use.”
“I’m glad we got those extra choppers and a QRF. I’m no pussy but that was looking like we were going in with our asses hanging out.”
“Me too. The whole ‘no back-up’ thing wasn’t sitting good in my gut. Now it’ll be a cakewalk Sergeant. Easy.”
“Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I know if some fucks killed my kid I’d want payback.” Morgan slowly stood up and dropped his empties in Hales’ garbage can. “Well, I better get my happy ass over to see Cross and the others.”
“Thanks for stopping by, Morgan.” Hale climbed off his bunk and threw his empty can into the small garbage container.
“No problem Hale.” He started to pull the front door open when he suddenly turned back. “Hey, your wife know you’re wearing her T-shirts?”
“What?” Hale glanced down at the Van Halen concert shirt that was stretched too tightly across his massive chest. “It’s mine.” He frowned.
“They make them in adult sizes?” He laughed.
“Aw, fuck you, Morgan,” Hale said, shaking his head.
“Night, Hale.” Morgan chuckled as he stepped outside.
“Yeah, see you in the morning, you dick.”
HOLIDAY ROAD
PASSADO, MEXICO
THREE MILES FROM THE COMPOUND
10:00 PM
“What time is it?” Ricky asked from the passenger seat of the black Impala. Baylie glanced at her wrist clearly annoyed at the Brit.
“It’s ten Ricky.” She squinted through the dust covered windshield at the dim lights of the small town before her. “Next place we stop, buy yourself a watch. Probably cost you five bucks.”
“Why, luv? I got something better than a watch.” He sat up straight in the seat, a cough syrup headache slowly starting to build in his head.
“What’s that?”
“You. I just ask and you always tell me.” He rubbed his temples.
She sighed. “I gotta stop that.”
“Where are we?” Leeland yawned from the back seat.
“Passado.” Baylie turned on the wipers and watched them smear the dirt around on the windshield. A tiny squirt of wiper fluid only made it worse.
“That’s a few miles away from your friend’s place,” Tanya said, drawing the blanket up to her shoulders.
“Great. Drive into town and find a place to pull over.” Leeland sat up and shrugged into a fresh bowling shirt. They all had stopped at a hotel, showered, and changed clothes earlier that day. The inside of the car was starting to smell a little less like a locker room. “I have to piss like a racehorse.”
“You give yourself too much credit, Leeland.” Baylie smiled.
“Shut up,” Leeland growled. “Just find someplace.”
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch!” She looked over at Ricky and winked.
“Baylie, if you were a man…”
“I know you would kick my ass, yeah, yeah.” Baylie exhaled heavily as she tried to see out the muddy glass. “I’m going to pull over here. I have to clean the damn windshield. I can’t see crap. Leeland, maybe you can find a dark corner to take a leak in.”
“Baby, can’t you wait until we get to the compound?” Tanya asked.
“Tanya, honey, I ain’t showin’ up at mi amigo Salazar's place with a piss hard-on. That wouldn’t make a good impression now would it?” Leeland said patronizingly.
“No, baby, it wouldn’t,” Tanya said, smiling and thinking ‘fuck you’. Tanya would play the faithful girlfriend for now. Leeland had become more and more unstable during this trip and she didn’t feel like being stuck in nowhere Mexico with a mouthful of broken teeth. “I can’t wait to meet your friend.”
“He’s a good guy, Tanya, you’ll like him.”
“I’m sure I will.” She forced a smile.
“Here. I’m pulling over here,” Baylie said over her shoulder.
“Where is here, luv?” Ricky asked.
Baylie just looked at him and shrugged. “Mexico.”
“All right,” Leeland said as the vehicle came to a halt against a curb. “I’m gonna find a place to take a piss, anyone else gotta go?”
“I better squeeze the ole lemon while I can.” Ricky adjusted himself and reached for the door handle. “Baylie?”
“I'm good. Squeeze away.”
“Let me out, Baylie.” Leeland said, pushing against the back of her seat. Annoyed, Baylie shook her head and shut off the car's engine. “Hurry!”
“Might want to get your prostate checked, Leeland,” Baylie said as she opened her door and stepped out into the dimly lit street. Leeland just growled at her and reached around for the seat release and gave it a hard jerk. “How about you? Gotta piss, Tanya?”
“No, baby.” She pulled a lipstick tube out of her purse. “Go ahead, I’m fine.”
“Okay, be right back.” Leeland smiled. Baylie watched as the big man struggled to get his bulk out of the back seat. Once out of the car, he smoothed out his bowling shirt and made sure his handgun was still secure in the waistband of his jean shorts. “Keep an eye out,” he told Baylie as she slid back into the driver's seat.
“For what?”
Leeland glanced around the block. A few street lights barely illuminated the sidewalks of the small town. He could see several buildings in various states of disrepair along with shacks that he supposed the locals used for homes. It was a very depressing sight indeed. Leeland noticed the makeshift sidewalks and streets were covered in litter, and a horrible stench of rot seemed to hang in the air. If Leeland didn’t have to pee so badly, he would have climbed back into the car and drove straight to the compound.
“Place smells like shit,” Ricky said, sidling up to Leeland.
“A little bit. Lookie here.” Ricky pointed ahead of them. “We have us a pub straight away. They gotta ‘ave a loo.”
“A loo? Speak like a man, Ricky. We call it a ‘john’.” Leeland could see the flickering sign for the cantina up ahead. “Come on.”
“Maybe grab a drink too,” Ricky said hopefully.
“Hey!” Leeland yelled back at the car. “Going to the cantina, we’ll be right back!”
Baylie seemed annoyed and just waved him off.
“I’ll buy the first round.” Ricky slapped Leeland on the back.
“Big spender, Ricky,” Leeland said as they walked toward the cantina. There were almost to the swinging entry doors when a blood curdling scream tore through the hot August night. Both men froze in their tracks at the sound. Ricky instinctively reached for his .38 but Leeland stopped him. The big man slowly shook his head. They waited a few seconds and it was quiet again.
“What the ‘ell?” Ricky said in a whisper.
“Probably drunks.” Leeland tried to be stern but his voice wavered a little. The scream had totally freaked him out but he wasn’t about to puss out in front of his little English buddy. He’d almost let go of his bladder at that moment. “Let’s find that bathroom then get a quick shot or two.”
Ricky just nodded and followed Leeland through the swinging doors of the building. The motley duo once again stopped in their tracks.
“Where the ‘ell is everyone?” Ricky stepped backward a few feet. The whole cantina was completely empty. Several tables and chairs were broken and smashed on the floor. Bottles and drinking glasses lay broken and shattered in puddles across the tile. On the wall in a corner of the room, a television set played a test pattern without any sound. The soft whirring of four ceiling fans slowly circulating stale, warm air around the broken and vacant bar room made an ominous sound.
“Leeland?” Ricky’s voice cracked as he slowly drew his handgun. This time his bowling shirt clad buddy didn’t stop him. “Leeland?” Ricky’s voice grew higher.