Tomcat

by David E. Meadows

  “—he funded the grant,” she finished.

  Stapler realized he was staring and turned to the Marines.

  “What seems to be the problem?” he asked, ignoring Sheila and Karim.

  “Gunny, this woman threw rocks at us. Called us a bunch of cowards.” Private Sterling, one of the three Marines said. The other two Marines, Private Cathy “Catsup”

  Kellogg and Cowboy Joe-Boy Henry, stood slightly behind Sterling.

  “They weren’t rocks. They were pebbles, and all I was trying to do was to get them to stand up and tip lit.”

  “Let me show you, lady, what the difference is between a pebble and a rock.” Catsup offered, stepping forward.

  Sterling put his arm out and stopped her.

  “Leave her be. Catsup.” Sterling said to her. “She’s a civilian.”

  “You know it only takes three muscles to smile, girl,” Sheila sneered.

  “And you know it only takes eight for me to make a fist and beat the shit out of you,” Catsup retorted, stepping forward, handing her M-16 to Cowboy who. not expecting the nine pound weapon, nearly dropped it.

  “Can it Catsup.” Stapler ordered.

  “She’s a bitch is what she is,” Catsup Kellogg said.

  Catsup was she only one of the two female Marines to survive the crash. Cathy was her real name, but everyone called her Catsup because she was the slowest runner in the squad and always having to catch up with (hem. She was a private with nearly eighteen months in the Marine Corps. She was a tough nut for one so young.

  Stapler felt his face growing red. “Okay, that’s enough.” His face turned red when he got angry. The Marines knew it, and he saw them step back. He took a couple of deep breaths to cage the anger before he faced the young lady. Early twenties, he figured. Designer shorts and a Hilfiger label on her white, short-sleeved shirt. Timberland boots with pink socks and sun-bleached blond hair that obviously had taken a lot of lime spent for a just-right ponytail arrangement. The sweat stains under her arms caused the shirt to be transparent there, also.

  Where did she find the time to shave? The gleam on her face told him she had sunscreen tucked away somewhere.

  No wonder his Marines were distracted; even he was.

  “Ma’am, these Marines work for me. They do what I tell them to do. Do not throw rocks at them. Do you understand?”

  Sheila Forester took a couple of steps back, bumping into a smiling Karim. She jerked away.

  “And just what is it you’ll do if I don’t?” she asked petulantly.

  “Madam, do not throw rocks at my Marines.” He pointed toward the helicopters. “Out there, they have just lost some of their fellow Marines in a battle. They are uptight and trigger-happy, which means if you should throw a rock at the wrong time, they may — accidentally, of course — shoot you. Personally, I would hate for that to happen. A lot of paperwork is involved when we accidentally shoot a civilian — not to mention the inevitable letter from some Congressman. Plus, if they should kill you, then they’ll have to bury you, and that’s a hell of a lot of work for tired Marines. So. please, we are working as hard as we can to arrange a backup rescue. It will take time, and during that time, you can help us by staying, out of our way.”

  “Yeah, that could happen, Gunny. I know I am sure up-; tight right now and can’t seem to keep my finger off the trigger of my gun,” Private Sterling added., Stapler glanced and saw that Sterling had his gun across his chest, its barrel pointing upward.;

  “They wouldn’t dare shoot me! You are telling him to shoot me. Wait until I get back home. I’ll have your nuts: for garters! Karim, you hear that? He wants another of your kind to shoot me.”

  “Sheila, you’re making this hard on them and us.

  You’re making yourself look foolish. He didn’t say they were going to shoot you. He said that they are so uptight right now that they could accidentally shoot you.”;

  “Oh, shut up!” She stepped forward toward Stapler, [cutting her eyes toward Sterling, who stared unabashedly | at her face, trying to look mean with his eyes deliberately wide above pulsating nostrils. Sterling shifted his M-16’ slightly. The movement was not lost on Sheila Anne; Forester. Sterling looked as if he was waning for any opportunity to use his weapon. Stapler knew better.

  Sheila’s lips curled in disgust, her blue eyes disappearing as she narrowed! beneath scrunched brows. She stepped back. “You wouldn’t dare! I’d have you in a court of Jaw and in jail within a day.”, “I am really feeling uptight. Gunny, is this how they said it would be just before you go off your rocker’ Your fingers twitch. Your mind wanders from one fantasy to another … all of them involving killing something or someone.”

  “I know you’re scared, miss. We all arc to a certain extent.

  But screaming and hollering a! us isn’t going to get us out of here any quicker. Look around you. We’re all in the same boat. We have a lot of things we need to do right now, and I would consider it a personal favor if you would leave my Marines alone while we do them. When we know how we are going to get out of here, I will ensure you are one of the first to know. Un then, would you mind directing your questions to me or the lieutenant?

  Okay?”

  She looked around and started to say something, thought better of it, and stayed silent but angry. She stamped her foot. “Oh, screw it! You don’t understand!”

  She turned and stomped off toward a tent Stapler had failed to notice earlier. The tent had been set up under a small ledge that stuck out near the left side of the office.

  After a few steps. Sheila stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Hey, bitch!” she shouted at Private Kellogg. “It only takes four for me to Hick you off.” She raised her middle finger at Catsup before resuming her angry steps toward the tent.

  Catsup jumped forward, only to have Sterling and Joe Boy grab her by the arms. “Let me go! Let me go! Just give me ten seconds with the bitch!”

  The two M-16s slung across his shoulders bounced back and forth against Joe-Boy’s head. “Damn. Catsup!

  You’re hurting me.”

  “Ignore her, Catsup,” Stapler cautioned in a low voice, shaking his head. “The same goes for the rest of you.

  She’s a frightened young lady, and probably once she calms down, she’ll regret this incident.” Stapler didn’t believe a word he said, and he knew they knew it.

  The two Marines released Catsup, who took her M-16 back from Joe-Boy.

  “Guess I better not shoot her right now,” Sterling said, a hint of humor in his low voice.

  “You’re a sick man, Private Sterling, but 1 think we got our word across,” Stapler said, continuing to watch the two civilians as they headed toward the tent. Now, why didn’t he notice that tent earlier?

  “Let me,” Catsup muttered.

  Karim trotted to catch up with Sheila Anne Forester.

  Why is he her shadow? Stapler asked himself. He hoped the young black man could keep her out of trouble and off their backs. About halfway to the tent, he saw Karim reach out and grab Sheila by the arm. Whatever the young woman said to him as she shook off the man’s hand caused Karim to touch his chest as if he had been accused of something.

  “Guess not, Private Sterling.”

  Stapler turned and faced the three Marines. “You three get back to your positions, and don’t leave them for a bunch of small rocks. I’d rather have you fire a few rounds over her head than leave your positions and give, someone a chance to blow your head off. Understand?”

  “Thanks, Gunny. That is definitely something I would; like,” Catsup Kellogg said, laughing.;

  “Catsup, get back to your position.” ‘

  Sterling hung back as the other two left.:

  “Good work, Gunny,” the Marine said. “Most would have lost their cool and joined the argument.”

  “Thanks, but you did your part, too. Sterling.” Sterling was part enigma and part stability. Older — about twenty-; eight — than the rest of the squad members, Stapler
had’ developed an affinity for the junior Marine. Even so, Sterling remained a mystery. The few times Stapler tried to dig some additional background out of the older private, searching for things not normally found in a service record, he discovered Sterling was never evasive, but neither did the he volunteer anything about himself. Sterling had not been in the squad long before other members treated the older private like a father figure or an older brother. When they hit the town or the club, Sterling usually hit the library or curled up with a good book. In Jamaica, the man disappeared only to resurface later with a sack full of museum literature and several books on Jamaican history. Sterling never seemed to receive letters, nor could Stapler remember ever seeing the Marine write one. But the Marines were America’s equivalent to France’s Foreign Legion. Some joined to disappear.

  Maybe Sterling was one of those.

  Sterling smiled and departed, heading toward the three barrels he had grouped together for his makeshift barrier.

  The slight wind changed, carrying Sheila’s words “… one time. A fluke. It will not happen again. So, you … “

  And the wind shifted again.

  “Gunny,” shouted Lieutenant Nolan from the door leading inside the office.

  Stapler glanced at the soap opera near the tent, watching the young man stare after the hot-tempered woman as she stormed the last few feet toward the tent. Her tight cheeks moved-the sides of her shorts up and down like a well-oiled set of pistons. “Damn.” he muttered, breaking his stare and looking to sec if anyone had noticed.

  Bearcat slapped Stapler on the shoulder. “She affects everyone who first sees her like that, Sergeant. A nice eyeball orgy, but the baggage of her personality brings it more into the right perspective. Reminds me of a black widow. Look what she’s done to that young black stud.”

  Corporal Heights ran up. “Gunny.” he started, his breaths coming in short, quick gasps.

  “Gunny!” shouted the LT louder, motioning Stapler toward the building.

  “Come on, Corporal, walk with me as you catch your breath. Then you can brief me.”

  The three strolled toward the office building. A wall of smoke whiffed down and through the compound for a moment, engulfing the two men. They emerged on the other side wiping the tears from their eyes.

  “Stuff really bums.”

  “Yeah,” Stapler replied. “What you got?”

  “Not a thing. Gunny, for two to five miles in all directions.

  There!-% nothing out there. There should be. but neither Jones nor I see anything.” Heights pointed past the burning helicopters. “There are two hills that way about a halt mile. They’re covered in rocks I think that is where our attackers fired on the choppers. Wouldn’t surprise me if some are hiding in (here, watching us. waiting to see what we’re going to do.”

  Stapler pulled his binoculars out of the leather satchel and scanned the area where Heights pointed.

  “You see the rocks. Gunny?”

  “I think I do. Corporal. You could be right. Keep an eye on them. Regardless of what we think, we’re being watched. 1 think when we landed, we surprised them.

  They weren’t expecting us. and we weren’t expecting them, so most likely they’ve gone back to decide what to do now. Let’s hope they decide 10 leave us alone. “

  Stapler put away the binoculars.

  “The only other thing we saw was a road on the other side of the hill leading through the cliffs. Looks as if it has been used recently,” The two reached the door to the office.

  “Gunny, get in here,” the LT said, shutting the door and hurrying back inside the main office area.

  “Corporal Heights, I’ll be with the lieutenant, helping him contact Base Butler. You get with the oil riggers and outfit them with the weapons they have here. Get a count on the ammo available. Detail two from the perimeter to get water and food for the men. I want each Marine to drink a liter of water right away. It’s too hot to stay out here. Stagger fifteen-minute breaks for each of them.

  After everyone has had a break, initiate a two-hour rotating watch. Keep the troops busy. Keep their minds occupied.

  We are going to have to stay here until rescue comes.

  Tonight, I am going to take a couple of Marines and go bring Alpha base back — if they’re still alive.”

  “Will do, Gunny,” Heights replied, raising his hand to salute before remembering this was a gunnery sergeant.

  As Heights turned to leave. Stapler reached out and touched Heights on the shoulder. “Corporal Heights.”

  “Yes, Gunny?”

  Stapler removed his hand. “You’re number two, now.

  There’s the LT, me, and then there is you.”

  Heights nodded. “I know, Gunny,” he said somberly and then ran off to take charge of the perimeter.

  Good Marine, thought Stapler. Take care of the men and women under you first, and they’ll take care of you. He knew the thoughts of every Marine here were haunted by the faces of their dead comrades out there. Those emotional thoughts would haunt them even after they recovered the bodies and buried them. To do it before dark would endanger those still alive. Before he departed for Alpha site, they would recover the bodies.

  Stapler opened the door and entered. The lieutenant was rising from the console.

  “What happened?”

  Nolan shook his head. “Gunny, we got a problem. I mean a big one. The Army says we are three hundred fifty to five hundred miles too far for them to send in their Chinooks. They don’t even have this site on their charts. And they don’t even have their yet. The helicopters aren’t scheduled to arrive for another two days.” He paused and then, in a disbelieving voice, continued, “Gunny, they want us to move closer.”

  Stapler nodded. From the corner of his eye. he saw Bearcat move. The man bent over the desk to reach across the top and pull a drawer out. He removed a pint bottle of Jim Beam whiskey. Bearcat didn’t try to hide the tilt of the bottle as he took a deep swig, “Well,” Bearcat said. ‘“Looks like we may have to drive out.” He coughed twice and took a another swig, “Drive out?” Lieutenant Nolan asked.

  “Yeah, drive out. It won’t be the first time we’ve driven out of here. About a hundred miles southwest of here is a small oasis. We have enough provisions to get to it and, once there, we can replenish our water supply. We’ll have to be careful about the gasoline. Humvees get about twelve miles to the gallon, and that old beat-up Volvo truck of ours is about the same. We have two. This one and a flatbed at Alpha site. Speaking of Alpha site, Lieutenant, what are we going to do about my men stuck out there?”

  Lieutenant Nolan looked at Stapler. “Gunny?”

  “I’ll have to go to Alpha site tonight, sir. and bring them in,” said Stapler. “Do you have a rigger who can show us the way?” he asked Bearcat. Then, before the oil rigger supervisor could answer, Stapler added, “Before we go. Mr. Jordan, have you established contact with them to make sure they are safe—” He nearly said “alive.”

  “All right?”

  “Yeah, I did that before you and the lieutenant called your people. They have not been attacked and haven’t seen any. of anyone near them. But if we wait until tonight, they could be overrun by then,” Stapler reached up and tugged his left earlobe. After several seconds, he dropped his hand. He saw the two men staring at him. He had to slop that habit. Stapler cleared his throat and said. “There is always that possibility, but if we go now and they are watching. I doubt we’d make it back. Let’s hope they don’t know, about them being stranded out there. If we do it at. night, then we stand a chance of avoiding contact with them. I recommend you give them another call and tell them to keep down and out of sight until we get there.”

  “Okay, Sergeant, I’ll do that.” Bearcat screwed the cap back on, started to put the bottle in the desk drawer, but stopped, “i better keep this with me,” he said and slipped the half-full bottle into his back pocket. “Never can tell when someone might get wounded and need a nip.”

  “They
have any arms at Alpha site?”

  “A couple of pistols are about all, Gunny. One or (we of them may have one of the company’s M-sixteens. We really don’t check on who is carrying weapons and who isn’t out here.”

  Stapler grunted and turned to Lieutenant Nolan.

  “Lieutenant, we have an observation position on the hill behind us. Jonesy is manning it. Corporal Heights is taking care of the men, rotating them through a stand down long enough for water.” He looked at the rig supervisor.

  “Mr. Jordan, I have asked the corporal to break open your weapons and issue them out to your men and women. If you can help him with that, I would appreciate it. You have a better idea who would be the best to have the weapons, since we may not have enough for everyone.

  It would help if we had the status of water and food on hand. We don’t know yet how long we’re going to be here before they send more helicopters.”

  Bearcat pulled out a small notebook from one of his shirt pockets and as Stapler talked, he made notes. Finished, he flipped it shut and tucked it back in his pocket.

  “We can do that, Sergeant,” Bearcat acknowledged.

  His eyebrows bunched together forming a V as he talked.

  “We’re in a pretty tight mess, aren’t we?”

  Stapler nodded. “Yeah, we are, Mr. Jordan. We surely are.”

  “Thanks for being honest. It will take a couple of hours to get this information together. Let me know if you think of anything else. We are more than just a rough bunch of riggers. Got a lot of talent for such a small group, and we’re close knit — have to be to live out this far from civilization. So, whatever you need, you let me know.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Jordan,” Stapler replied. He motioned the lieutenant to one side.

  Bearcat nodded a couple of times before he motioned to the nearby riggers to come outside with him. They stopped on the small porch outside the slightly opened door.