Dog Tags: A romance anthology featuring military and canine heroes

by Kate Kinsley

  “Go figure. Can’t believe we’re still having to use pay phones and calling cards over here,” Gabriel said with a scoff.

  Bastien laughed. “What’s the alternative? They give you all satellite phones?”

  “Seems fair enough,” Gabriel responded, and he let out an amused chuckle. “Well, hey man, it’s about time I grab a snack, watch some Nip Tuck, and get some sleep.”

  “Nip Tuck? Again? Didn’t we watch that shit in Afghanistan the first time around?”

  “Call it reminiscing, I guess. I felt the need to give it a re-watch.”

  Bastien laughed. “Alright, you enjoy that, buddy. You give Zook a treat from me tonight, alright?”

  “I don’t think so, man. Can’t be giving him any bad habits. You give him all the treats you want to when he’s retired. Say bye, Zook,” Gabriel said.

  Bastien heard slobbery breathing over the line for a moment.

  “Bye, buddy!” he said, trying his best to stifle the usual high pitch he always used when talking to Zook—or any animal for that matter—to save himself the embarrassment and the shit talking.

  “You take care of yourself, alright?” Gabriel’s voice came back over the line. “I’ll call more frequently too. It’s just been crazy around here.”

  Bastien put a hand up, shook his head. “No way, Gabe. You got enough to worry about over there. I’ll be fine. You just keep yourself safe ... all of you.”

  “Will do, my brother. And hey, how about crab cakes and IPA at that place you took me to last time I was in your neck of the woods? That place by the ocean. Deal?”

  “Yeah, Annapolis. Of course, bro. My treat!”

  “Damn straight it’ll be your treat,” Gabriel responded with a chuckle. “Talk soon, Bass.”

  “Talk soon,” Bastien said, and hung up the phone, setting it back on his cluttered nightstand. He stared at it for a while, wishing he was there with his two best friends, doing what he was born to do.

  Bastien would never admit it to Gabriel, but he cried that day after getting off the phone. Bawled would be more like it. And he smoked his bowl and drank his beer and ate his junk food—all the things that helped him to forget—and continued the cycle he knew so well.

  He hadn’t touched or taken any prescription pain medication in years, though he dealt with pain on a daily basis. There was no zero on the pain spectrum for him anymore. He hated the way the pills made him feel soulless and empty, so he tried to stay away from them. And there were many days of great pain, for certain, most often when the headaches would come—the repercussions of his skull fracture—but most days the pain was manageable. Without the marijuana, he wasn’t certain he could say the same. He had no issue with his marijuana usage though. The drug seemed to expand his thoughts, his awareness strengthened, empathy, compassion, and reason intensified and fully realized. When he smoked, different perspectives became his muse. It triggered something in him that drove him to see things from the points of view of others. It made him feel not so alone in the world for a spell. More than anything, it took away the throbbing headaches and his self-obsession. It allowed him to understand and empathize with the plight of others. It was a reminder that he had it shitty sometimes, but many others did too. Pain and despair were not solely his to bear.

  No, the weed didn’t bother him, never had. The alcohol on the other hand, well, alcohol had been his double-edged sword since joining the army. He didn’t grow up liking it. Hated it, in fact. He only ever managed heavily chased vodka shots and Corona here and there for the sake of the party. He loved weed then too but had to quit for the years he served. Once he got into the military, he got so busy and so into what he was doing that he didn’t miss the pot so much, but the alcohol took its place. And like any good military member, when he wasn’t working, he was boozing it up with his squad mates. It helped to quell his nerves and the social anxiety, and he never drank alone, so he reasoned there wasn’t a problem.

  The real problem came when he was a few months out of inpatient, his head still stapled and mind still a fog. He began to drink for other reasons—darker reasons—and he drank alone, because alone was all he knew back then as his squad mates continued on with their careers a thousand miles away.

  Chapter Two

  A few weeks later, Bastien approached a corner store at the end of his street, one that had become like a second home to him over the years. The groaning engines of cars passing through the intersection behind him had him on high alert. He glanced back, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, his hands in his pockets balled up tightly. He thought of his side arm back home. How he wished he had his concealed carry permit, so he could have it on him at times like these.

  Of course, this neighborhood wasn’t dangerous, and this corner store had never been robbed to his knowledge, but that didn’t matter to him. He saw it all in his head playing over and over again. A car pulling up and masked men coming out, holding their guns to Tamesha’s forehead, demanding the contents of the register. He saw himself unable to do a thing.

  He opened the door for an elderly woman who came from the gas pumps, and she thanked him with a smile. He passed through after her and Tamesha greeted him warmly. She was in her late fifties with the smile lines to prove it.

  “Hey Bastien, how you doing, baby?” She leaned forward over the counter, her freshly manicured nails clicking against the glass.

  Bastien grinned and shot her a wink and a wave. “What’s up, Tamesha? I’m living the dream over here. How are you doing?”

  “Same doo doo, different day. You know how it is,” she said through that toothy smile of hers as Bastien eyed the hot dogs on the roller grill. “CeCe started school back up again. So, you know it’s like a mad house at home right now.”

  “Oh yeah! This is her last year, isn’t it?” Bastien asked, meandering toward the chip aisle.

  “Yessir. Her last semester, actually. I can’t even believe it’s finally here!”

  “And what’s next for her?” Bastien asked over his shoulder and grabbed a bag of Funyuns. He then made his way back toward the beer case as the older woman juggled her sixty-four ounce soda from the fountain to the counter.

  Tamesha put a finger up. “Uh, one … a job,” she said, and she put up a second finger. “Two … her own dang house!” She laughed and then rang up the older woman.

  Bastien chuckled as he grabbed a case of Bud Light and moved to the candy aisle next. His eyes bounced between Snickers and Reese’s for a moment before he grabbed both and continued with everything toward the counter as the older woman proceeded toward the exit.

  “No hot dog today?” Tamesha asked, chuckling, as she began to ring things up.

  Bastien grinned. “You know me too well, I think, Tamesha.”

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with that, honey. I just wish you’d remember what I told you about them hot dogs.” She raised her brows and passed him a knowing look. “Just saying. Do yourself a favor and get some Taco Bell or something.” She glanced around before leaning in. “Anything but that garbage,” she said in a hushed voice and passed a nod toward the roller grill. “You’re better than that.” She smiled wide. “That’ll be $27.80 today, baby.”

  Bastien pulled his wallet out and dug in. “Well, I’m boycotting Taco Bell until they bring back the Frito burrito, so …” He shrugged, handing over two twenty-dollar bills as Tamesha laughed in response.

  She passed him his change and gave his hand a light squeeze. “You take care of yourself, you hear? And have a good weekend.”

  “You too,” Bastien responded with a smile. “And go Ravens!” He winked at her as he lugged his stuff toward the doors.

  “I know you mean, ‘Go Steelers,’ Bastien. You don’t gotta hide it!” she called out after him.

  He turned back and shook his head, the smile still wide on his face, before heading out the door.

  Bastien’s phone rang from his pocket as he crossed the intersection. He shuffled the plastic bag over to the same han
d that carried the beer, and dug out his cell. He noticed all the numbers on the screen and then the time—late for a call from Gabriel—and he answered.

  “Hey, Gabe. Everything alright, dude?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Did I catch you at a bad time?” Gabriel’s voice sounded different to Bastien. Defeated.

  “No, you’re good. I was just grabbing some things from the store. On my way back home now.” Bastien checked the time on his phone again. “It’s late there, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, 11 pm. Zook’s zonked out. I just can’t sleep.”

  “Tough day?”

  “Tough week, man. These guys are like ghosts over here, popping out when you least expect it.” Gabriel hesitated, as if in thought. “Hard to fight an enemy you can’t see.”

  “Something happen?”

  Gabriel hesitated once more, his breathing over the line intensifying.

  “What’s up, Gabe?” Bastien continued.

  “Edwards was hit by a sniper a few days ago,” Gabriel said solemnly.

  “Oh my God, dude! Is he ... is he ...” Bastien couldn’t get the words out; they were trapped in his throat.

  “No, no. He’s not dead, thank God. He lost half his jaw though, man. It was ... it was a hard day. A hard thing to see.”

  “I’m sorry, bro. I wish I was there with you guys. I can’t stand not being there.”

  “I’m glad you aren’t,” Gabriel said matter-of-factly. “I’m glad you’re safe. I wish I was stateside with you right now to be honest.”

  “You got what, five months left? And then we’re going to get good and drunk and forget all about that place.”

  “There’s no forgetting this place,” Gabe replied. “You know that.” He drew in a breath. “And five months ’til the end of this deployment. What about the next one and the one after that?”

  “Your contract is up in a year, no? Just get out. Nothing’s saying you have to keep serving. You’ve done your part. You could come to B-More. I could use a friend here, you know.” Bastien chuckled, but his face read pain.

  Gabriel scoffed. “Yeah, and do what, Bass? I’m a soldier. That’s all I know.”

  Bastien nodded, knew all too well the feeling of worthlessness that getting out of the Army brought. “And you always harp at me about what’s next. I’m in the same boat, dude. I thought I was doing twenty years then retiring to Florida with a hot wife.”

  “That’s only because this is your life now, Bass, whether you like it or not. That’s why I stay on top of you about it. Unfortunately, the army is out of the question. So, yeah, I push you because I want you to find that new path. Or forge it if you have to.”

  “Well, I took that damn C.O. test a few days ago. Passed it.”

  “Really? That’s great, man! You gonna start applying for jobs now?”

  Bastien hesitated, letting out a heavy breath. “I don’t know. It’s just—it’s weird, because I genuinely don’t want to be a corrections officer. I don’t even know if they’d take my broken ass. But it’s just like, I feel pressured to do something.”

  “I’m sorry, Bass. I never meant to pressure you.”

  “No, no, not you. It’s in my head. I’m pressuring myself. I want to be doing something, for sure. I don’t want to be sleeping my life away like I am. Drinking and all that shit. But I just don’t know what I want to do. I mean, I want to be over there with you guys. I want to be wearing the goddamn uniform still.” Bastien reached his apartment complex, entering his building, but he lingered in the foyer.

  “You know I wish you were too,” Gabriel said. “Well, really, I just wish we were stationed together back in Germany, tearing up western Europe.”

  Bastien’s shoulders relaxed, and he laughed. “We were complete fucking morons,” he said as his eyes caught the wall of mailboxes. He found his own and sighed.

  “Yeah, but we were two morons having a blast,” Gabriel said as Bastien opened his mailbox and found it overflowing.

  Bastien let out a long sigh before dumping the envelopes into the plastic bag with his Funyuns and candy bars, and he said, “I still can’t feel the left side of my foot.” He chuckled as he closed and locked the box.

  Gabriel cracked up into the phone loudly as Bastien climbed the stairs and reached his apartment. Through the laughter Gabriel said, “You’re lucky we didn’t all have cameras back then like we do now! Video of that wreck would’ve made you famous.”

  “Thank God we didn’t!” Bastien said with a grin, working his way into his apartment. “I’m still paying off the credit card bill for that stupid scooter.”

  Gabriel yawned, chuckled. “Well, shit. Mission accomplished. I’m officially tired enough to sleep.”

  “I’m that boring, huh?” Bastien quipped.

  “Mind numbingly,” Gabriel replied, laughing.

  Bastien loaded the beer case in the fridge along with the candy bars and snagged one of the beers.

  “Don’t jump into anything with that C.O. shit, man. It’s great you have a backup or an alternative or whatever right now, but you still got your G.I. bill. Free money. Free education, man,” Gabriel said as Bastien walked with the beer and the bag of Funyuns toward the couch.

  “I know, I know,” Bastien said as he plopped down onto the couch. He cracked the beer open, took a stiff chug, and Gabriel snickered in response.

  “Just give yourself some time to figure out what it is you really wanna do. What your true passions are,” Gabriel said, and it was followed by another yawn. “Not to sound like Dr. Phil or anything.”

  “Who the fuck is Dr. Phil?” Bastien questioned.

  Gabriel chuckled. “Alright, man. We’ll talk soon.”

  “Talk soon, dude. Say hi to Z for me. And stay safe out there!”

  “You got it,” Gabriel said, and there was a click over the line.

  Bastien dropped the cellphone to his side. He sipped his beer, popped a Funyun into his mouth, and then turned on the television. The news was the first thing to come on, and not so surprising to Bastien, they were discussing the war, showing B-roll of a life he sorely missed. He flipped the channel quickly, settled into the couch, and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

  Chapter Three

  It had been a month and a half since Bastien last heard from Gabriel and Zook, but this wasn’t something terribly out of the ordinary. That didn’t mean he didn’t worry though. He just understood what life in a war zone entailed and how calls back home often took a back seat to missions, weapons and vehicle maintenance, after-action reports, bombs, and firefights, and when all that was said and done, some time to find peace in the middle of hell through a good book or a movie, TV shows, and magazines.

  Bastien did find himself eyeing his phone often and thinking about the two of them and his other friends in harm’s way. He avoided the news on TV as best he could but scoured the internet for articles about his old unit’s current activities. He found little to nothing. He knew that if shit really hit the fan, he wouldn’t have trouble finding a story on it. He feared finding out in such a way, but looked impulsively, nonetheless.

  Baltimore began to get cold this time of year, the way it always does when summer becomes fall for what seems like a week before winter peeks out its ugly head. Bastien found the cold unbearable, always had, and much preferred the dry heat of the desert. He found himself up early for the first time in forever and figured it was due time he sent a care package to Gabriel and Zook again, considering his last one was sent at the beginning of their deployment.

  He wore a beanie and his leather jacket as he shopped for them, feeling very much like a Marylander as it wasn’t really that cold. He found some magazines he knew Gabriel loved—Hot Rod, Alternative Press, Pro Wrestling Illustrated—and a few Stephen King books, Gabriel’s favorite author. He got Zook treats, of course, the healthiest ones he could find in case Gabriel decided to actually give them to Zook. He figured at the very least, Zook could get them for an end of deployment treat. Gabriel wasn’t that
heartless.

  Bastien grabbed Gabriel’s favorite treat too—Lindor white chocolate truffles—along with a few DVDs that had just come out, most of which Gabriel had likely never heard of. Pop culture didn’t carry much weight in a war zone.

  Once he arrived back home, Bastien threw the previous night’s sleep shirt in a large envelope, and wrote on it in black marker: For Zook. He then put the envelope with all the stuff he had picked up into a box, and for a moment he eyed the tequila bottle on the counter. He thought about emptying out a few complementary shampoo bottles and adding a little end-of-deployment treat for Gabriel to the care package. He eventually thought better than to risk Gabriel getting in trouble, and taped the box up as it was. As he did this, his phone rang from the counter.

  He raced to get it, hoping it wasn’t a fucking spam caller as it had been so many times over the last month and a half. He saw the familiar list of endless numbers on his cell phone and his heart leapt into his throat. He pressed answer and held the phone to his ear.

  “Hey, buddy! Long time no talk. How’s it going?” Bastien said excitedly.

  The line buzzed and clicked, but nothing else.

  “Gabe, you there, man?”

  “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Fucking Top was just giving me some fresh shit.” Gabriel’s tired voice came over the line. “I think he’s getting a divorce or something. He’s been a real cunt lately.”

  Bastien laughed. “First Sergeant Hannigan a cunt? You don’t say. That dude always had a stick up his ass.”

  Gabriel let out a breath. “Yeah, well, it’s gotten worse.”

  “You doing alright otherwise, bro? You sound tired.”

  “I am,” Gabriel replied. “Fuck am I tired. But only a couple months left. Can’t fucking wait to smell that sweet American air again.”

  “Hopefully, for your next duty station, they’ll bring you back stateside,” Bastien said as he moved toward the couch and took a seat.

  “That’s what I’m hoping. I love Germany, but I’m ready to be home.”