Hammerhead (The Sergeant War Novel Book 9)

by Len Levinson

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  “Yes, Nurse Sackett.” Mahoney stood, winked at Captain O’Rourke, and followed her out of the office.

  They made their way through the corridors of the hospital until they were far from the MP office, and she stopped in a quiet section. Like all the corridors in the hospital, this one was all white with exposed pipes attached to the ceiling overhead.

  “I should have known better than to give you a blank pass,” she said. “I should have known you’d never get away with it.”

  She shrugged. “Well, you saved my life once. What else can I do?”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “I was only doing what I was supposed to do.”

  “If it hadn’t been for you,” she said, “I might have been killed.”

  Mahoney realized it was true because some trigger-happy GI probably would have, seen the German outfit she was wearing and opened fire, but he didn’t want to make her feel obligated to him. “Naw, any dogface would have done what I did.”

  “Well, you’re the dogface who did it.” She smiled faintly and placed her hand against his bicep. “I hope you have a good time.”

  Their eyes met, and he liked what he saw. She was pretty, blonde and healthy. He felt a strong desire to stay with her. “Hey,” he said, “why don’t you come into town with me? We can have a few drinks together.”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s not a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know why not.”

  “No, I don’t know why not.”

  She looked up at him with her pale blue eyes. “You know what’s going to happen as well as I do. After we have a few drinks, you’ll try to drag me to a hotel room someplace.”

  Mahoney grinned. “What’s the matter with that?”

  “Because I don’t go to hotel rooms with men.”

  Mahoney looked incredulous. “C’mon, if I don’t appeal to you—say so, but don’t give me no stories. I mean—what am I supposed to think—you’re a virgin or something?”

  “No, I’m not a virgin,” she said. She was having bad sexual feelings and was extremely uncomfortable. A high-pitched whine started up in her ear.

  He smiled and tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey—forget about it. If you don’t like me that way, it’s okay. I understand.”

  She felt like biting her fingernails. She also thought she was losing her mind again. “Listen,” she said. “I’ve got problems when it comes to sex.”

  Mahoney tried to joke and cheer her up. “What’s the matter—you like girls instead of boys?”

  She shook her head and chewed her thumbnail. “Mahoney, I think I’m going crazy.”

  He became aware that something really was bothering her, and held both her shoulders. “What’s the matter, kid?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Sure you can tell me.”

  “I haven’t told anybody.”

  He bent his knees so that his eyes were level with hers. “You can tell me.”

  “No I can’t.” She began to sob.

  “Listen to me,” he replied. “There’s more to us than you think. We’re not ordinary people. We’re buddies.”

  “No, we’re not,” she said. “Don’t lie to me, Mahoney. Don’t take advantage of me. Not now.”

  “Listen,” he said, “Do you remember that night in the woods?”

  “I remember.”

  “Well there’s something you don’t know. I had you sighted in with my rifle, and I was going to pull the trigger. You looked like just another kraut to me when something told me not to shoot. I don’t know what it was—maybe it was God—but something told me to go find out who you were, and that’s what I did.”

  She looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Was that really the way it was, Mahoney?”

  He locked his eyeballs onto hers. “That’s the way it was, kid.”

  Two nurses and a doctor turned a corner and headed toward them. They said hello to Claire, and she said hello back. The three passed and continued down the corridor.

  “We’d better get out of here,” Mahoney said. “Somebody’s liable to lock up the both of us.”

  “There’s a side entrance. We can go through there.”

  They walked down the corridor, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the walls. She didn’t know what to think now. She’d nearly spilled the beans to Mahoney, but she had to tell somebody before she went nuts.

  They came to the exit, and Mahoney showed his pass to the MPs standing guard at the door. They looked it over, recognized Claire, and let them pass. Mahoney pushed open the door, and they stepped into the freezing cold. Claire turned up her collar and took her wool hat out of her pocket, pulling it down over her ears. Mahoney put on his own cap and locked his arm in hers.

  “Let’s get a drink,” he said.

  “I can’t stand those places,” she replied. “They’re so noisy and awful.”

  Mahoney looked around. The hospital was in the center of the city, and jeeps rolled over the streets. Cafes, hotels, and stores could be seen, but you could tell there was a war on because there was no civilian traffic.

  “Where do you live?” he asked.

  “In a nurses’ dormitory. We can’t go there.”

  “Why don’t I get a bottle; and we’ll go to a hotel?”

  She looked sideways at him. “You’re not going to try anything are you?”

  “No, I’m not going to try anything,” he said, wondering whether he was lying or not. “We’re just gonna have a nice little talk like two friends that God has brought together, and I’ll probably get a little drunk, okay?”

  “Okay, but promise you won’t try anything.”

  “I won’t try anything.”

  “I don’t think I could take it if you did.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  They came to a little café, and he told her he’d go in and get a bottle of something. She told him she’d rather wait for him outside, so he went in alone, and the place was full of GIs outnumbering women about twenty to one. Somebody played the piano poorly, and everybody was shouting. He asked for the boss, and a chubby man with a walrus mustache was pointed out to him. Mahoney strolled toward him and said he wanted to buy a few bottles of wine, a chunk of ham, some bread, and maybe some fruit if he had it. The owner said he had no fruit, but some very nice cheese had arrived that morning. He quoted Mahoney a price which was ridiculous, but Mahoney said, “All right, I’ll take it.”

  The owner walked into the darkness, and Mahoney looked out the front window to the sidewalk. Claire was still there, standing in the light of the streetlight, looking forlorn and hesitant, and he wondered what was eating her.

  The owner returned with two bottles of brandy and the food wrapped in newspaper. Mahoney paid him, took the stuff, and went outside.

  “Where’s a good hotel?” he asked Claire.

  She looked distraught. “Mahoney, I’ve changed my mind,” she said.

  “Whatsa matter?”

  “I’m afraid.”

  “What’re you afraid of?”

  She held the palms of her hands to her temples. “I’m afraid I’m going crazy.”

  “C’mon,” Mahoney said, “we’re gonna have a drink and something to eat. You tell me your troubles, and I’ll tell you mine. We can cry on each other’s shoulders.”

  He hooked his arm in hers, and she didn’t resist. She felt like she had no strength left in her body. Her feet tripped over themselves, and her knees knocked. Mahoney whistled Frankie Carle’s “Sunrise Serenade.”

  On the next block Mahoney spotted a hotel that didn’t look too bad. He dragged her inside and approached the desk, where a dried-up old man was reading a newspaper. Claire looked away and hid behind her collar as Mahoney signed the register and paid for the room. She’d been in a lot of hotel rooms with a lot of guys, and it was always embarrassing.

  “Let’s go,” he said, taking her arm.

  They
climbed two flights of stairs, walked down the corridor, and entered the room. It was at the corner of the hotel, overlooking the street, and Mahoney looked out the window at the GIs on the sidewalks and jeeps parked at the curb.

  The room had a bed, dresser, chair, and closet. The radiator put out enough heat so they could take off their coats. She sat on the bed, and he collapsed onto the chair, slicing bread and ham with his switchblade knife. She noticed his enormous shoulders and muscular arms. She could sense his tremendous physical strength.

  The owner had half-pulled the corks out of the bottles, and Mahoney yanked them out the rest of the way. He passed one to her, and she moved closer to him, sitting on the floor at his feet, where the food was. She took a slice of ham and bit off a piece, while he ate and drank noisily.

  “This vino’s pretty good,” he said. “Really hits the spot.”

  She said nothing. He made a fat sandwich for himself and chomped it down while she picked daintily at the food. She wasn’t very hungry, but she felt safe with Mahoney. He’d saved her life once and he was a good guy.

  “Well?” he said, chewing the sandwich. “You were supposed to tell me why you’re all fucked up.”

  “I can’t tell you just like that,” she replied.

  He upended his bottle and his Adam’s apple bobbed around. Then he removed it from his lips and looked down at her. “Have you always been strange like this?”

  “No.”

  “How long?”

  “A little while.”

  “What’s a little while?”

  “A few weeks.”

  “Oh—so it’s something new?”

  She looked down at the floor. “Well actually, it’s been going on ever since I was fourteen.” She sighed. “I don’t know how to tell you.”

  “Why don’t you just go ahead and say it? What’s the big deal?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Sure you can. You’ll feel better if you do.”

  She knew he was right. Many times in her life she’d felt better after she’d gotten things off her chest. “Well you see,” she said, a catch in her voice, “I’m a nymphomaniac.”

  He smiled. “No shit!”

  “It’s not funny!”

  “I know it’s not funny because I’m a nymphomaniac too.”

  “You can’t be a nymphomaniac. Only women are nymphomaniacs.”

  “Well, I’m a man nymphomaniac, and the way I handle it is that I just do it whenever I can. What’s the big deal? You’re worried about what people think of you? Fuck ’em.”

  “It’s different for a woman,” she said.

  “So you just have to be a little sneakier about it. Anyway, I doubt whether you’re different from most other women. Whenever women get laid and like it, they think there’s something wrong with them.”

  “I’m much worse than that,” she said. “I’m really mentally ill.”

  “Cut it out. You’re no crazier than any other broad.”

  “Yes, I am. You don’t know the full story.”

  “You mean there’s more?”

  “You’re laughing at me,” she said. “You think it’s a joke.” Her eyes filled with tears and she began to cry. She covered her eyes with her hands, and he slid off the chair and sat beside her on the floor, putting his arm around her shoulders. He kissed her cheek lightly.

  “Hey—come on,” he said. “Don’t cry. Old Mahoney didn’t mean to make you cry. It’s just that I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a little screwing around. Everybody does it. How do you think all of us got here?”

  “I’m disgusting,” she said and began to sob.

  “You’re not disgusting. I think you’re terrific.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you knew the truth about me.”

  “Sure I would.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.”

  “You promise you won’t get mad and hit me or anything like that?”

  “What do you think I am?” he asked. “I don’t go around hitting women.”

  “Well,” she said, her shoulders quaking as she sniffled into her handkerchief, “When I was captured by the Germans I went to bed with a German SS officer.”

  Mahoney stiffened. “You did!”

  “He made me.”

  “Oh.”

  “He said he’d kill some wounded Americans if I didn’t.”

  “Ah.”

  “But then he killed the wounded Americans anyway. So then I killed him. I stabbed him in the back while he was doing it to me.”

  Mahoney placed his big hand on her head. “That must have been horrible.”

  She lost control of herself, weeping and slobbering, her whole body shaking. Mahoney picked her up, carried her to the bed, laid her gently upon it, and stretched out beside her.

  “Hey, that’s okay,” he told her, giving her a squeeze. “You only did what you had to do, that’s all.”

  She turned toward him, her face streaked with tears. “But I liked it! The first time he did it to me I liked it—because I’m a sick and depraved person!”

  “No, no, no,” Mahoney said soothingly. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were under a lot of pressure. You probably were afraid he might kill you, weren’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “So something snapped in your mind. You got a little crazy. But you’re safe now. Everything’s all right. You haven’t done anything you should be ashamed of.”

  She buried her face in his chest. “But I liked it!”

  “So what?” he asked, hugging her reassuringly. “People react in a strange way to things when they’re under stress and strain. If I were you I’d just forget about it.”

  “I CAN’T FORGET ABOUT IT!”

  “Not so loud.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Listen—you know what you should do? They say that when a horse throws you, the best thing you can do is get right back on him again. That way you’ll get rid of the fear right away. So you should just get yourself laid and forget about all this stuff. Become a normal person again.”

  “I’ve never been a normal person!” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt and chest. “I’ve always been sick and depraved.”

  “So’s everybody. You think you’re the only one? Listen, here you are crying and having a nervous breakdown, and you’re making me horny. So what does that make me?”

  “Mahoney—you promised!”

  “I’m not doing anything,” he said hastily. “I’m just trying to be a good buddy, that’s all.”

  She pressed her face against his chest and hugged him. “Oh Mahoney—what am I going to do?”

  “Stop worrying so much. You’ll be all right.”

  He held her tightly, murmuring soothing sounds, and touching his fingertips to her curvaceous rear end. He inclined his head and kissed her hot forehead. Then he kissed the tears flowing from her eyes.

  “I feel so awful,” she wailed.

  “I’ll take care of you. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  He kissed her wet cheeks, desire pulsating through his body. He could feel the swell of her breasts and the pressure of her thighs. He knew she must be able to feel his erection by now.

  “Mahoney, we’d better stop this,” she said.

  “Why?” he asked, brushing her cheek with his lips.

  “Because I can’t take it anymore.”

  “Look into my eyes,” he said.

  They looked into each other’s eyes, and hers were wet with tears.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m not just another Joe,” he said. “I’m the guy who saved your life because God told me not to shoot. If you can trust anybody, you can trust me, can’t you?”

  “I guess so.”

  He sat up on the bed. “Okay, you’ve got to relax, understand? Roll over onto your back and just let yourself go.”

  She was in such an agitated state th
at she did exactly what he said because she didn’t know what else to do. He looked down at her beauteous figure and tried to prevent himself from diving on top of her.

  “Now close your eyes.”

  She closed her eyes.

  “Make yourself completely limp.”

  She saw her toes angle to the sides and her shoulders sink into the mattress.

  “Take three deep breaths.”

  He watched her breasts rise and fall three times.

  “Now whatever happens, just stay calm like you are now, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He bent over her and touched his lips to hers. “Stay calm now.”

  She didn’t twitch or tighten, and he rubbed his lips gently against hers, from side to side, barely touching her. He could feel the hot breath from her nostrils onto his lip. He increased the pressure slightly and touched her lips with the tip of his tongue. Her breath became heavier, but still she lay quietly. He inserted his tongue between her lips about an eighth of an inch and just let it rest there.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I thought I told you to relax.”

  “How can I relax when you’re doing what you’re doing?”

  He raised his head a few inches. “You’ve got to relax and let the good feelings come through to you. Your problem is that you’ve got yourself all worked up about sex, and you’re going to become a psycho case unless you come back down to earth. You used to like this stuff, didn’t you?”

  “I used to love it,” she said.

  “Then you can love it again.”

  He touched his lips to hers and ran his fingers through her hair. It felt good to her, and she thought maybe he was right. There was no harm trying. She couldn’t be any worse than she was already.

  “Just don’t go too fast,” she said.

  “I’ll take it as slow as you like.”

  She lay still with her eyes closed, and he licked her lips. He inserted his tongue into her mouth and flicked it at her. It was like fanning a smoldering fire. She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around his head. He slid on top of her and pressed his erection against her stomach.

  A bolt of jagged lightning lit up her brain. “I’m afraid!”

  “Just let go,” he replied.

  He grabbed her fanny with his hands and kissed her passionately. She felt as if glass was breaking apart in her mind. The hell with everything, she thought. I don’t care what happens to me now.