by V. A. Dold
Last thing he wanted was to qualify as a sharp shooter. Shooting a man unarmed and unaware was not his style. His empathy would destroy him if he did that to another living being. A fully aware and threatening opponent was a completely different story. Aiming carefully, he made off center shots to guarantee he would remain in his position within his unit. Not making changes was just fine with him.
A complete lack of concentration aided him in achieving less than stellar accuracy. The squad leader looked at his used target and shook his head. “Private Le Beau, I don’t see sniper status in your near future.”
“I can accept that if you can,” Simon said as he grinned at his friend.
They both laughed as they trudged back to the barracks for cool showers and fresh uniforms.
Relaxing in his tent, Simon heard the VIP convoy as they returned. The squad had been expected two hours ago. It was late and the last rays of sunlight were waning. He rushed to check on his friends, the stress of worrying all day had been excruciating. “Sir, how’d it go?” he asked as he skidded to a stop next to the lead truck.
“You were right, Le Beau, There was a band of insurgents entrenched in town. Without the warning, we would have been blindsided. The injuries and loses could have been staggering.”
“Were there any injuries, Sir?” He took visual inventory of his friends as he waited for an answer.
“Yes, but only minor, we made it through without anyone sustaining major injury of any kind. We have you to thank.” He clapped Simon on the shoulder and headed to Major Patterson’s tent for debriefing.
He breathed a heavy sigh of relief, the team and VIP were all alive. He assumed someone in the chain of command had heeded his warning. Mark could not have commandeered the heavy transport without their command. Thankfully there were no casualties. He’d at least kept his friends safe. He stood with hands on his hips watching the team drive to the back of the base. I’ll accept that as a win, he thought as he raised his eyes to the sky in silent thanks.
Simon scrubbed his boots, giving them a good spit shine. His squad was relaxing around him in the barracks. Lights out was in ten minutes so everyone was winding down. The sight of Squad Leader Anderson as he came through the door had everyone scrambling to attention. Simon stood rigid at the end of his bunk with the rest of the privates.
Mark stopped in front of him, surprising not only him, but also everyone in the squad. Simon had a reputation of keeping his head down and avoiding trouble. But no one ever made the mistake of thinking he couldn’t handle himself in a fight. The opposite was the case, they respected his fighting abilities and also his desire to avoid confrontation.
“Private Le Beau, I have transfer orders for you.”
At first Simon looked at him a bit dumbfounded. What’s going on? Are they dishonorably discharging me? This is the payback I get for putting myself out there? “Sir, where am I being transferred too?”
“You’ll be a part of a special unit that consults the base on a variety of matters. You’re being transferred from the team, not from the base. Major Patterson wants to speak with you tonight and then you will be assigned a desk starting tomorrow,” Mark told him as they approached the Major’s office door.
The short walk from his tent to the Major’s office felt like miles. He didn’t want to be separated from his unit. His entire body broke out in a sheen of sweat and his pulse raced. This must have been what walking to the gallows felt like.
Entering, they both stood at attention and saluted.
“At ease, men. Private Le Beau, is the example of today’s success something I can expect from you in the future?”
“Sir, I can’t guarantee success. But I can give you and the men the advantage of preparedness. I can tell you what I sense from an area, but I won’t be able to give you specifics such as exact number of insurgents. Although, I can tell if it is a large or small number of people but nothing exacting, like a body count.”
“That’s more than we’ve had before. Come to my office at ten hundred and bring coffee. We will discuss how best to use the benefit of your ‘gift’ then.” He ran his fingers across his baldhead. “This is all new ground for me, don’t make me look like a fool, Private.”
“I will do my best, Sir.”
“Dismissed.” He saluted Simon and Mark then they turned to go.
Early on, the upper directive recognized the value and advantage Simon offered with his gift. He could evaluate the level of a squad’s readiness and the threat level of any area. He was used like a Geiger counter. When the leaders needed intel on an area regarding troop placement, Simon was sent in under heavy guard to sense the situation and evaluate the threat level.
Not long after he was transferred to the special Consultant’s Squad, a squad of one, Major Patterson summoned him again.
“Le Beau, I am promoting you to Special Adviser. You will be my personal tactician, reporting only to me,” the major announced.
From that day forward, Simon was protected more heavily than any VIP visitor. Major Patterson didn’t want his goose that laid golden eggs in harm’s way.
Chapter 2
Skin Contact
Drumming his fingers on his desk, Simon couldn’t shake the anxious feelings plaguing him. He was three weeks short of his first year anniversary in the service and his symptoms began to alarm him. He’d known for some time that he was reacting to the lack of touch and skin contact. In a world filled with marines and little else, he had limited ways to satisfy this particular shifter need.
Rubbing his hand up and down his thigh, he tried to still the sporadic twitch that had begun two days prior. It started as a small quiver, so slight, it was easily hidden. Now it was much too noticeable. If he didn’t find a creative way to fulfill his shifter needs for touch and physical contact, he was going to be in serious trouble. A Marine doesn’t get touchy feely with his fellow men.
He looked up as he heard the office door open. A new Marine he hadn’t met smiled and handed him a flier. A huge smile broke across his face as he read the announcement, he was in luck, a serviceman's appreciation dance was being held Saturday night in the rec hall. Perfect, this was exactly what he needed. The rec hall was nothing fancy but it was functional. It was really just an extra large tent with a solid floor. As he read on, he honed in on the bottom line. The women from the base as well as nurses from the military hospital would be there. He had every intention of dancing with all of them if he had any say in the matter.
Simon was going to dance and enjoy himself for the first time in almost a year. The women for the most part were attractive both inside and out. Problem was, dating within the ranks on his base was discouraged. He was denied his one possible easy option for contact, up until now anyway. He’d watched the women closely, getting a quick sniff whenever possible. A wolf never knows where or when his mate will appear. So far, no luck in the love department. But through his observations, once they shed the drab military colors and severe hair requirements, they became quite fetching.
Glancing at his watch, it was time to head to the rec hall. The dance was scheduled to begin at nineteen hundred hours. He wanted to be at the door as they opened, there wasn’t a minute to lose. Whispers could be heard as he passed small groups of women, the ladies were naturally drawn to Simon’s literal animal magnetism. He hadn’t even selected a table for himself when the first nurse approached him for a dance. Back home in Louisiana he’d made it a point to not take advantage of the young ladies who would flock to him, as they did to all his brothers. Using that kind of control over an unsuspecting human female was just wrong as far as he was concerned.
He was walking his fourth dance partner back to the table when he sensed the disgruntled emotions coming off his friends. They mistakenly perceived Simon dancing with every woman as hogging all the available attention. That wasn’t what he had in mind at all. To smooth their ruffled feathers, Simon steered a small group of lovelies to his friends sitting at a table in the corner. “Gentlemen
, I would like you to meet a few of the ladies here tonight.” He introduced each, one by one. “Ladies, please join us, I’m sure these gentlemen would love to ask you to dance as well.” On his suggestion, the level of discord lowered dramatically.
As the DJ began the next song, Simon stood and offered his hand to the lady sitting nearest him. He was on the dance floor relishing the contact of a woman in his arms. At every opportunity he ran his hands up her arms. Slid his palms along her exposed skin. It was like a feast for his wolf’s soul. As he walked to and from the dance floor, changing out dance partners, he made it a point to hold their hand. If he sat a song out, he had a lady perched on his lap. He was soaking up the contact, storing it away like a camel stored water.
The DJ finished the final song, signaling the end of his night. Simon felt great. It was a total recharge to his wolf’s soul. He may have found a solution to his problem and he just might make it through his remaining three years without too much discomfort. He prayed there would be dances on a regular basis.
Over the next six months, things went well. He had just filled his first cup of coffee from the pot in his office when the anxiety returned. He’d kept it under control, no twitching or spasms for almost a month. His hopes to hold out until another social were dashed. Before he’d had the opportunity to recharge with a dance or social, the twitch returned more severely than before. Frantically Simon shoved reports off of his desk calendar. There had to be something he could attend.
Dismay flooded him, the next dance wasn’t for another four weeks. Rubbing his jaw with his palm, he searched for a solution. He couldn’t chance waiting that long. Luckily, he was on rotation for a weekend pass that coming weekend and between now and then he would think of a way to make it work to his advantage.
He stared at the clock, willing it to read sixteen hundred. It was finally Friday and he had a forty-eight hour pass burning a hole in his pocket. The spasms had gotten so bad his right knee bounced like a nervous teenager at his first prom. ‘Click,’ the hour hand struck four p.m.
Simon shot out of his chair and almost ran for the door. He’d researched the town for options. There was a massage parlor in the American section and that would be just the thing the doctor ordered. It only took thirty excruciating minutes to get to town and locate the parlor. He jumped from the Humvee. “I’ll meet up with you fellas in a few hours at the bar.”
“See you in a few,” they hollered as they roared away.
A tiny bell tinkled as he opened the door. Wow, they actually post their services on the wall like a fast food joint. Surprisingly, unlike the United States, here you could buy that happy ending right out in the open.
Up there. On the price menu. In black and white. He was reading the offered services and prices when an elderly woman came from the back room. Thankfully, she wore a nametag, Naba. Simon wasn’t here for sexual favors, he needed a set of hands on him for as long as he could get them. According to the list of options, massages were available by the half hour or hour. He glanced away from the wall to who he assumed was the manager. “Naba, how many hours of massage can I get immediately?”
She stared at him wide eyed for a moment. Aw, hell, I scared her. He quickly opened his wallet to show he had money. Held it towards her as a sign of good faith. The sight of his bulging wallet had her pulling her hand from the security alarm. Whew, that was close.
In broken English she said, “Three hours all I have today.”
Simon grabbed the edge of the counter as his legs went weak. The thought of three solid hours of hand to skin contact had him trembling.
Naba yelled to the back room curtain. Within seconds, three frightened young women emerged. Speaking their language, she must have explained what he wanted. Their expressions turned to warm smiles and the closest took his arm.
He passed through the curtain to an inviting back room. Automatically he scanned the space for danger. Not a threat to be found. The soft candlelight and incense soothed his wolf almost as much as the hand on his arm.
Each of the lovely women gave him a one-hour massage. The oils used felt amazing on his skin. As he was leaving, Naba allowed him to purchase a small bottle of the oil, some candles and incense. He would find a way to use them and stay within his marine regulations.
Head held high, he heard the little bell tinkle again in farewell. The past three hours had been one long continuous massage. Simon was now the parlor’s number one customer.
The next morning as soon as breakfast was over Simon excused himself and returned to the parlor for another long massage.
The ladies loved him. All he wanted from them was a good old-fashioned massage with no extras required. He was tucking his shirt in, as he emerged from behind the curtain. Every woman lined the reception area. The tallest woman, Mysha, approached him. “Mister Simon, please come back. We want to massage you everyday.”
“I would love to come here everyday, sadly I cannot. I can only promise to return as soon as I have another weekend pass.” With a warm smile, he touched each woman’s arm as he walked to the door.
Reluctantly he tossed hisknapsackinto the back of the Humvee before he joined the squad returning to base. It was back to the grind for all of them.
Settled into his desk, he breathed in the aroma of his fresh cup of coffee. He hadn’t even gotten his first sip when Major Patterson called him to his office.
“Le Beau, do you have a distance limitation on your human radar?”
“Yes, Sir. I have experienced that ten miles is the maximum distance I can sense.”
“I need an area twenty miles east evaluated.” He rubbed his baldhead absentmindedly. As if mumbling to himself, “I need to make sure you’re out of harm’s way.” His scalp was turning red from the scrubbing he was giving it. “Can you sense through metal?” He eyed Simon like a bug again.
Simon cupped his chin and rubbed his fingers across his lips to hide the fact he was trying not to smile. “I can sense through anything, distance is my only limit.”
“You will stay inside a tank for maximum coverage. That, or God forbid you might be hit. A squad I can replace, you I can’t. Your squad will move out at twenty hundred hours. I want stealth, you will only go twelve mile east and sense the situation from a distance.”
Oh man! I tried to protect my squad and I’ve put them in even more danger. They are going to be on the frontline every time I’m sent out.
“Be at the staging area at nineteen thirty. I will brief your squad leader. I expect to debrief you the moment you return from the operation.”
Simon found it a bit embarrassing that he was required to ride inside a tank, but his Major wouldn’t take the chance that he’d meet a bullet up close and personal. Inside the armored tank it was almost impossible for him to incur an injury.
He sighed as he walked with the squad to load up. His friends didn’t understand why he was relegated to the inside of a tank and ribbed him incessantly.
“Hey, Le Beau, do you need help getting into your booster seat?” one of them jabbed.
“Sure, I could use a diaper change too,” he shot back. If you can’t beat them, join them. He hoped the ribbing would end quickly.
An hour later Simon joined Mark in Major Patterson’s office. “Sir, there is a small band of fighters eighteen miles east. The aggression level is medium to low. I would guess they are forced enlisted who are trying to avoid combat.”
The Major was silent as he processed the intel. “Good work, Le Beau. The squad will be off duty tomorrow. Anderson, I want you here at ten hundred. Dismissed.”
The squad fell into a routine, night excursions to gather intel followed by a duty free day. Within a week the ribbing about his tank rides ended. They appreciated the intel he provided. The men knew many of them would have been injured or dead without Simon’s unique ability.
A month later
Simon and his team were on a recon mission to an area twenty miles west of base. “Halt!” he yelled over the roar of the engi
ne. Everyone stood silent, awaiting orders. Simon may not be the squad leader but he ran the show when they were on a mission.
Something is very off in this area, he couldn’t quite place what it was but it was not friendly. The men were on high alert. Utilizing hand signals he sent scouts out under the cover of darkness.
The enemy was hunkered down in a pile of rocks west of their string of vehicles. Simon studied the situation thoroughly to verify the aggression level. If he ordered a sloppy hit on civilians, his gift of empathy would make him suffer horribly. Satisfied, he guided his men in. On his signal the small hive of fighters were hit with mortars. Once the debris cleared, Simon took a minute to scan the area.
Exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, he called all clear. He gave a silent prayer of thanks to the Goddess. Another mission completed without injury or casualty to his men. It was a heavy burden to bear for one man, but he felt he had to do what he could to keep his friends safe. He never considered the cost he was paying with his control and his wolf.
Simon tapped his pencil on the desk, I need skin contact, as quickly as possible. The spasms and anxiety were coming more often. After several months of ops, he noticed the more missions he went on, the more insurgents he was responsible for killing, the further he slipped into himself. As his need to seek out human contact became more and more often, the effects became obvious. Fighting his wolf for control had become more difficult. And the massages weren’t sustaining him as long as they used too.
He worried he was going to turn wolf in the middle of the base. He shuddered like a junkie in withdrawal as he lay in his bunk that night. He dreamt of a lovely dove gray and white wolf with cute little tan trimmed ears. She had the most stunning eyes, the kind that look right into a man’s soul. She captivated his wolf.