Sixth - Prequel to Oleander: One of Us Series

by Faulks, Kim

  Cold, mechanical…and Gready’s father came back to me…white walls…white walls and a woman screaming over and over.

  I knew them then…knew what beasts waited for me in the dark. Knew what held me down all those years before—and what would come for me…as it would come for the others.

  Purple hair cut through the feeling. Purple hair filled my mind.

  Stephen Lowman. Hater of children…

  The words filled me for no reason. The closer I came to those words the stronger our connection. Agony flared across my chest, the pain so cruel it were my own.

  But I knew it wasn’t…I knew it was hers.

  “It’s okay,” my whispered words were harsh, still I tried to reach her. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

  There was a flinch…breath stilled, panic reared. I felt her turn, searching a crowded mall. She was hurting…hurting far more than I ever could.

  So alone now…so utterly alone…her words resounded through my soul.

  “I’m here…” I whispered as the barracks door swung open and the dim shadow stepped through. “I’m here Purple Hair…I’m right here.”

  The thud of heavy steps cut through the space, and the deep growl of Master Sergeant Searle filled the air. “Recruit Jaydin.”

  A shudder tore through me. But I couldn’t see him yet…I wasn’t quite here. She needed me…the girl with the purple hair…the girl who was all alone.

  “Son, can you hear me?”

  I lifted my gaze, sparks and shadows…that’s all I saw.

  “Did you have some kind of seizure?”

  “No,” I murmured.

  “Then what the Hell was it? A damn meltdown? Just lost your shit in the middle of Family Day for all to see?”

  “In front of Gready’s father you mean?”

  Sparks and shadows…they were all there…snatches of power inside my head—others…just like me.

  “You think I give a shit about a pompous piece of shit like him? I gave blood, sweat and tears for people like him. I lost mates who were like goddamn family for him. He might be the President’s man, Jaydin. But that gives him zero fucking leeway here…him or his goddamn son. You hear me, recruit?”

  I lifted my head, really seeing him now. He wanted to like me—he was trying to care.

  And in a heartbeat that feeling of others like me was gone, like a rug was snatched from under my feet, and I was falling, cast aside in a world filled with cruelty. I felt hollow then and so alone—more than I had my entire life.

  “Goddamnit, you’re not making this easy, are you? I’m trying to do my best to push you through, son.”

  I looked into the Master Sergeant eyes and found the same thing I always found…distance, sorrow, fear.

  “Come on, on your feet recruit.”

  The fresh scent of grass filled me as I shoved from the ground and pushed to my feet.

  The screen door swung open, and then slammed closed behind us with a bang, and the hard smack of boots echoed.

  “Recruit Jaydin.”

  I flinched as Staff Sergeant Huckle’s command cracked through the room, and snapped to attention. “Sir, yes Sir!”

  “You’re requested to attend Commander Matthews office at zero-eight hundred hours tomorrow. You know where that is, recruit?”

  “Yes Sir,” I answered.

  There was a savage glare from Huckle to Searle before the Staff Sergeant gave his superior a curt nod. But for me there was only a smirk.

  I was gone…just like that—one stupid fucking mistake and I was out of here. Home came to life inside my mind, and there was an emptiness now. Four walls and a roof…nothing more than plasterboard and wood.

  There was no family there, no love or kindness.

  Today proved what I’d known all along, that no matter who’s flesh and blood you carried—family really meant nothing at all.

  Chapter Six

  “Recruit Jaydin.”

  I flinched at the sound of my name and tore my gaze from the black and white images splashed across Commander Matthews wall, and came back to the man. “Yes Sir.”

  “How are you feeling, son?”

  The question took me by surprise. I scrambled for the right words and kept my spine ram-rod straight. “Fine…thank you, Sir.”

  “Dr Gready expressed his concern regarding your welfare. He hoped that nothing he did triggered your…attack.”

  Attack…such a careful word. “Thank you, Sir. I think…I think the day just got the better of me, Sir.”

  He looked down at the open file on his desk and flicked over a page. “Impressive marks on the range, son. Master Sergeant Searle speaks very highly of you.” He lifted his head, cool blue eyes met mine. “But we have ourselves a problem. The evaluations don’t just end when you leave the field, or the classroom. We have an obligation to make sure every Marine we send into the field is equipped to handle everything life could possibly throw at them. Once you walk through those doors…once you leave this facility, you aren’t just a man anymore, you’re a Marine, for the rest of your life. There’s a clear distinction out there between us…and everyone else, and I’m afraid I just don’t know if you’re cut out for it.”

  My heart was thundering, filling my head with the roar. There was a tiny shake of my head…no, please no…

  “But, I take recommendations from Master Sergeant Searle seriously. I can count on one hand where he’s spoken for a recruit like yourself. He chooses his battles wisely, and that is the mark of a damn fine Marine in my book. So, after many discussions, I’ve decided I’m not making a decision…”

  My breath stopped, mind raced.

  “You are,” he answered, and leaned back from the file. His perfect uniform creased as he rose. Everything about the man screamed Marine, from his buzzcut to the hard, toned body. “You’re taking control of your own future, son. I’m giving you two choices. You can drop out with the others who couldn’t make it, or you can graduate now in front of me and be out of here on the first plane tonight.”

  Heat lashed my chest, licking and searching all the way along my throat. Lips parted, and air rushed in. I swallowed, again and again, and searched his gaze. “Out where?”

  “To the one place where they won’t care if you have a goddamn breakdown, cause you’ll fit right in with the others.”

  “Where?” The word was a whisper.

  He held my gaze as he answered. “Sangin.”

  A tremor raced along my body. Sangin…I knew the place. The other recruits whispered about it. More likely they prayed…anywhere but Sangin…anywhere but that shithole. Once you go there you don’t come back the same…if you come back at all.

  And that’s the decision the Commander was giving me.

  Leave…or die.

  Goosebumps raced, sending chills along my spine. The burning in my chest turned brutal and raw, and for a second, I couldn’t speak.

  Home waited at the edge of my thoughts. Home, where the people crossed the street to avoid me. Home, where a mother just gave up—unable to give anymore of herself. “Graduate.”

  The Commander’s brow rose. “Say again, son?”

  I tried to stifle the tremor in my voice as I lifted my gaze and answered. “I said, I’ll graduate.”

  Chapter Seven

  2019, Sangin Afghanistan

  The low boom of mortar fire pierced a dreamless sleep, dragging me closer to the surface…and closer to Hell.

  I cracked open my eyes to watch dust and grit fall from the cracks in the ceiling, and shifted my ass on the bare mattress. The boom came once more, this time fainter…moving away. Sleep. My eyes watered as they closed. Out there was someone else’s problem…for now.

  Purple Hair hovered in the background. I wanted to dream of her…dream of the one good thing I had. But she stayed in the background as the faint thud of boots slipped through the cracks…coming closer…closer…closer—and then stopped.

  The groan of the hinges caught my breath…go away…just go away…and the
exhausted grunt followed. “Sixth.”

  “Fuck off.”

  There was silence, but he didn’t leave. “Dude, we’re up.”

  I cracked open my eyes and stared at the dust-choked air. “What the fuck time is it?”

  “The time? Time to rise and shine, dickhead.” There was a rustle and a thud before something big and heavy was thrown through the air. “That’s what goddamn time it is.”

  Reflexes carried me. Punching out my hands to catch the pack. Muscles trembled with the weight before I dropped the damn thing to the ground.

  “We got bad guys to catch,” Hartman turned away, but his steps stilled like they always did. “And you, my friend, have got asses to save.”

  Fuck the bad guys. The words resounded. Fuck it all…every shit-eating, mortar throwing bastard in this place. But it was the saving that had me. It was the saving that gripped me like a lion with a kill and never let go.

  “You ever thought…” Hartman’s words were like sandpaper to my soul. “You ever thought we’d be like this?”

  Sweat ran in rivulets along my neck as I lifted my head. The answer welled inside me, hovering at the back of my mind where I kept all the secrets. Still I lied. Because lying to each other was all we had left. “No. No one did.”

  There as a slow nod, before he stepped through and let the plywood door swing shut. I rolled, went to wipe the sleep from my eyes and gave up.

  No matter how much you wiped, cleaned, polished and scraped, the end result was the same. Heat. Insects. Sweat-stained uniforms, and fucking stench.

  There was never enough over here. Never enough water. Never enough shade. Never enough breeze to carry the stench of piss and shit away.

  I turned my thoughts inward, and not to Purple Hair, but to the other two that pressed against my thoughts like a heavy arm. One filled with fire, the other with shadows.

  Our connection was stronger now, and it’d been ever since that day in the barracks—five long fucking years ago.

  Five years to feel, but to never have. Five years to stand out here and know there were more just like me…on the other side of the fucking world.

  The low boom of a mortar came again.

  There was no such thing as peace out here.

  No such thing as getting out of this alive…for most of us.

  But I knew where my future lay, and it wasn’t in this shithole forever.

  I shoved against the filthy mattress and pushed to my feet, holding onto a memory.

  An open field waited for me—somewhere. An open field where flickers of light beside me were others.

  Others like me.

  Others with gifts.

  Others searching.

  I held onto that knowing, just like I held onto Purple Hair and lifted my hand to the back of my neck. Crusted flakes of sweat and dirt came away. I needed a shower, needed more than this…

  I bent low and snagged the strap of my pack as a mortar detonated somewhere outside the wire, and then reached for my rifle.

  My rifle. The words slipped across my mind as I straightened. My rifle…my weapon. A thick shard of mirror was nailed into the wall. I stared at the stranger in the reflection.

  My weapon. The flare of silver glinted as I reached for that part of me…the part that hovered far too close to the surface now. The part that saw more than normal eyes ever could.

  The part of me that saved asses out here…and earned me the name of Sixth. I was their sixth sense, their guardian on the wall, and lately their guardian in front.

  The pack settled on my shoulder. Muscles tensed, weight aligned, before my body settled into the rhythm.

  I stole a breath and then grasped the handle. The mattress wouldn’t be lonely for long. The next wave would come in, and a tired, filthy Marine would take my place, just as in seven days I’d take his.

  Seven days out there. Seven days scouting, invading, checking for fresh IED’s and staring at brown mud brick houses. Seven days of Hell.

  The thud of my boots echoed as I punched through the door and stepped into the heat. A crack of laughter died mid-way as one of the POG’s broke mid-stride to watch me. Personnel other than Grunt, is what we called them. They were the lucky ones, the pencil-pushers, volley-ball-hitters, part-timers while we…while we went outside the wire every day.

  They watched me…every single one—some with a mixture of distrust, others with awe. They didn’t know me—didn’t know any of us grunts. They didn’t know what we dealt with out there…didn’t know anything at fucking all.

  But the weight of their stares were nothing compared to others in my squad. The ones that clung to the hope that I’d get them through one more fucking day out here, without getting their asses blown to Hell.

  “Sixth.” The call came as I stepped under the edge of the tent.

  I nodded to Hartman, nodded to every soulless gaze as I grabbed a tray and a plate. Mince slopped and spread out as I heaped a spoon full on my plate and moved along. Vegetables were next. It didn’t really matter what they were. I was past caring, past tasting.

  “Sixth.” My name rang out as I turned.

  “Guardian,” came next.

  I nodded to each one and lifted my gaze. Each of them looked at me. Each one desperate to be remembered.

  I never forgot them—even the ones I couldn’t save. Never forgot a face—never forgot the moment I knew it was too late to change time. They haunted me…they always haunted me.

  The packed-out chow hall was standing room only, Marine green as far as I could see. Metal scraped against the ground as Corporal Tucker rose to his feet. “Sixth, over here.”

  He grabbed his plate and then stepped to the side, and for a second I couldn’t move. Dirt and heat were a lump in the back of my throat. I wanted to shake my head. I wanted to whisper…no, Sir. But after five years I knew better. I gave a nod and stepped into the vacant seat. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Guardian,” another Marine murmured as he past.

  I lifted my gaze as I sat and gave the kid a nod. “Marine.”

  And then in a rush everything returned to normal. Forks clattered against the sides of plates, and the low murmur of voices filled the uncomfortable silence.

  They needed me—and that weighed on my conscience—for no one should need anything more than faith in his goddamn place.

  “Can’t believe the bastards are back there. Seems we take over one part of the city, only for it to be taken back. Word on the street is they’re shipping in kids right under our nose and using them as decoys. What do you think, Sixth? You think that’s what they’re doing?”

  I heaped the food into my mouth and tried to just for once taste something. I swallowed and answered, “I don’t know Murph, maybe. Word on the street changes every goddamn day.”

  “Let him eat,” Hartman snarled. “Can’t even swallow his damn chow without you lot into him.”

  “It’s okay,” I murmured. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t anywhere near okay.

  None of this was.

  Shadows descended as the Master Sergeant stepped into the mess. “Let’s go ladies, we’re moving into live fire. So drink plenty of electrolytes and get your asses on the bus.”

  There was a moan from the back of the hall.

  New recruits. They were always the same.

  Give them a year of this shit and they didn’t moan anymore. That’s if they made it at all. I shoveled the last forkful into my mouth and stood. Others piled in around me as I stacked my plate and grabbed three bottles of electrolytes and made for my pack and rifle.

  “Move it!” Gunny roared outside.

  We rushed forward, head now in the game as I stuffed the drinks into the top of my pack.

  “Hey, where’s he going?”

  I ignored the call. Hushed voices answered as I headed to the front. We were the first carrier, the first for everything, and as the passenger’s door swung open I heaved my pack and rifle inside.

  I was already turning to that part of me, the part th
at knew more, saw more…felt more and lifted my foot, high, caught the edge of the step and heaved myself inside.

  “We good?” Snowman muttered and stared straight ahead.

  “Yeah, we’re good,” I muttered and hauled myself into the front seat.

  Snowman turned his head to stare into the side rear-view mirror, waiting for the signal, before two thuds came against the back of the truck.

  He leaned forward, punched the button of the stereo and Aerosmith blasted loud enough to send a throb through the door under my hand.

  He was right, there was something wrong with the world today…very…very wrong. This was our song…our fucking motto…and we were the decked out green horse slipping into Troy all over again.

  Only Sangin was our Troy, and we were here because…we were here because…why the Hell were we here again?

  Air brakes hissed before we lurched forward, and we were moving, leaving the POG’s behind to finish their tournament’s and hog the damn phone while we were headed for the streets filled with rubble…and kids turned missile carriers one more Goddamn time.

  Steven Tyler belted out song after song as we roared along the dirt roads toward what was left of the city. The 3rd Battalion 7th Marines came here years before and took the Helmand providence back from the insurgents. But it hadn’t been forever, and now we were back once more fighting to protect the same people...people who hated us.

  Silver glare glinted from the side mirror. I stared out at the barren wasteland and waited for the fragments of action. Purple Hair hovered in the back of my mind, slipping closer…

  A shudder tore free…for a second I was so damn cold. My teeth gnashed, the vibration slipping between the bass of the song to fill my head. She was cold. Purple Hair was freezing back home…what month was it? Was it winter, back there. Whatever it was, back home she was somewhere…and she was cold.

  Tick…tick…tick…

  The sound filled my head. But it wasn’t my sound…it was hers, and underneath the frigid tremors was something else…fear. My stomach tightened. My senses were flooded…the world neon bright…the air smothering…and in an instant I tasted more than I had in a thousand mess hall diners.