'A CONSTANT REMINDER'
Rated: M – for violence, language, and mature/adult situations
Summary: She longed to make a real difference in the world, and she's prepared for the cost of standing up and fighting for her future. She owns her own life now and she doesn't owe anyone an explanation. But she can only run so far, after all, everyone has a past.
(Any historical mistakes I make, I apologize for beforehand. This is a sort of historical-fiction, so any interruption in factual events should be overlooked.)
Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – the miniseries or the book – nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Company. All that is mine is Alice McRae and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.
The phone was cold against her ear and it would have been a welcome sensation if not for the voice attached to it.
"…acting out like this is not becoming. You are throwing your entire career away, you selfish child…" Without flinching, Alice gently hung the receiver back into the cradle of the payphone outside the bar. This version of affection from her mother was anything but foreign to her, and she had expected this reaction.
Taking a deep breath in the balmy evening, she smoothed her dark pencil skirt and walked into the bar, her head held high.
This was her choice, her life, and it was about damn time she took hold of the reins.
She had been in her fair share of bars and nightclubs, but this marked the first time a chaperone wasn't hovering nearby. This was also the first bar she'd been into since she got off the bus in Georgia. Once the thick heat had greeted her, she vowed she would treat herself to a drink as a last hoorah before her first day of assimilation with her company, which was scheduled for tomorrow – bright and early.
Smoke and music enveloped her frame as she made her way toward the wooden bar. It was crowded, noisy; everything was cast in a dim glow from the sparse yellowed light bulbs that were mounted along the walls.
She grinned to herself: no one knew her here. Technically, the only individuals who knew who she once was were her C.O., who she had yet to meet, and the Colonel in charge of her outfit…and they had every intention of ignoring it.
Squeezing her way to the bar, she surveyed the place. Space was limited – men in olive colored uniforms littered the floor, as did a handful of local girls brave enough to venture in.
Looking around discreetly, Alice knew there weren't any other women here that were in her unique position. She was technically a 'volunteer paratrooper' for the 101st. She'd secured the position from a contact she made while in basic training, an admirer really, who was able to bend the rules for her when she proved herself on the firing range. But Alice had no intention of packing up and going home when the men were shipped off eventually. She was going with them…and she knew once the higher-ups saw her shoot, they'd be stupid to let her walk away.
"What can I get for you, doll?" the older man behind the bar called after making his way over to her.
Her keen hazel eyes drifted over the bottles and she sighed, "make it a scotch, please. Neat". She could use a stiff drink after the lecture she'd received over the phone.
"You got it", he nodded, grabbing a short glass and pouring in the amber liquid.
A splash of scotch landed on the varnished bar top, Alice studied it, taking a breath and willing her mother's voice out of her head, "how much do I owe you?"
"It's all yours, courtesy of the trooper over there", he gestured to the end of the bar where a small group of men smiled at her, one tipping his glass in the air.
Bemused, Alice softly smiled; she hadn't been in the bar for five minutes. Of course, the women were outnumbered – and what women were here, all had dancing partners. Funny thing was, these men had no idea they'd be seeing her on base the very next day…which meant she shouldn't stay long. "Thank you", she nodded to the barkeep and stepped back, making her way over to the men to give her thanks. If there was one thing she was good at, it was making small talk and a quick exit before having to commit to a dance. The distraction couldn't hurt, she thought as she sipped her scotch and placed her heels one in front of the other to the beat of the music.
"Evening, miss", the man who had tipped his glass spoke first. He had light auburn hair and brown eyes, and he stood up as she held her hand out.
"Evening, Corporal", she nodded, taking care to address him by rank, shaking his warm hand, and admiring his grip.
"Name's Donald, Don Malarkey, miss", he was a few inches taller than her and incredibly polite, not to mention handsome. She had to silently remind herself not to engage him seriously – she was going to be fighting alongside him…plus, as her past had shown her, every man has a dark side.
"Alice McRae", she coolly offered her name to him, idly wondering if the addition of a uniform automatically made a man more attractive. Seeing his eyes shine at her in the dark bar, she prompted herself to keep it to one drink tonight. She had no business being flirted with, not when she'd be training with these men…and certainly not so soon after breaking things off with her ex-fiancé.
The man beside Don spoke next, his gruff Philly accent obvious, "do I get to make eyes with you if I buy you a drink next?" he nudged Don who turned red.
"I have a big day tomorrow, so I'm afraid Don here has bought my one and only drink for the night", she smiled in a well-rehearsed manner, her tone even and practiced. She naturally covered up her own accent.
"Big day, huh?" the man prodded. The dark haired man had probing eyes – it made Alice feel like he could see right through her.
"Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?" another man spouted, his nose pink from alcohol, his blond hair sticking up from being in his cap.
"Can we see your glass slippers?" a dark eyed man snarked nearby.
The man with the accent squinted at them, "what the hell are you two talkin' about?"
"Cinderella", pink nose shrugged in an obvious manner, patting his hair down but not making any progress to tame it.
"Skip's right, Bill", brown eyes nodded, "like from the book. Ah, but we should 'a known better than to quote books around you though".
"Lay off, George", Bill said with a sideways glance.
"Sorry about them", Don spoke, his eyes on Alice.
She shrugged, "it's alright. I just came over to thank you for the drink." She downed the rest of her glass gracefully and nodded. It was time to make her exit, "thank you, Don. It was a pleasure meeting you". She eyed the other three, addressing them, "Bill, Skip, George…it's been entertaining".
"You're not gonna stay for a dance?" Skip guffawed, looking bewilderedly at his friends.
"Jesus, Skip", Don laughed awkwardly, rubbing his neck as Alice tucked her hair behind her ear.
"Who's up for a dance?" another man sauntered up, smiling.
"Tab, this is Alice. She's ditching us because she has a big day tomorrow and cannot stay", George informed the new arrival.
"Even though Don bought her a…what the hell were you drinking?" Bill asked, eyeing her glass, "apple juice?"
"Apple juice?" Tab laughed and looked pointedly at her, "you not twenty-one?"
"Hell, a pretty girl like her can order whatever she wants", George shrugged, his nose down in his pint glass.
"Apple juices all around!" Skip called out to no one, giggling.
Alice was entirely amused by the attempt at flirting by each and every one of them. She'd been a target many times of casual flirting – but an assault flirtation by five men? This was a first. It was overwhelming if she was being honest. Suddenly it felt as if she was 'on-the-clock' and that came with the responsibility of laughing at everyone's jokes, letting them all have a dance, and keeping her accent in check in order to sound 'more presentable and lady-like'.
That was her old life though – and she didn't have to play by those rules anymore; she didn't have a contract to fulfill. She also reminded herself that these men saw her in a nice dress now, but once they took a look at her in her olive drabs, she won't be treated this way anymore.
She smiled softly at Don's face; he was obviously embarrassed by his comrades.
She thought it was a little bit of a shame, he seemed like a decent man – but now, given her status as a Private in the United States Army, there was no way she could have anything to do with him.
Bill leaned in closer, "where are you from, doll-face?"
"Cutting to the important questions there, Gonorrhea?" George barked.
Tab grinned, "what's it gonna take to get a dance with you?"
"I'd apologize again for them, but they would just do something else", Don offered, cutting in front of Tab to stand closer to her, "Besides, I'm sure you're used to guys tripping over themselves to get a dance with you".
Alice smiled tightly at Don's bashful compliment. She was unsure of how to respond to him, so she turned to Bill, "it was scotch, not apple juice." Skip raised his hand to the bar tender and Alice intercepted him, "I promise I don't need another." He pouted at her and she continued, "like I said, big day tomorrow." Her eyes skipped to Don's and held them there, he was very cute, "I'll be seeing you". Smiling, she turned and walked away from them, wondering how surprised they'd be when they saw her the next day on their turf. She'd leave them speechless.
OOOOOO
Alice was up before the sun the next day. She had been assigned to private quarters when she first arrived, just over a day ago. The Colonel in charge, Colonel Sink, had wanted her to acclimate to the heat before assigning her to the general barracks. Plus, today buses of transfers were arriving – Alice would be grouped in with them.
Colonel Sink was by no means an unpleasant man, he was, however, unconvinced that the Army needed a volunteer to train with the men – no matter how recommended she came. Alice promised herself after she met him, that he'd eat his words once he saw what she could do.
When she signed up for this, she intended to go the full nine-yards, give everything she had, and commit to this fully. She had left her career and her life for this – for something that meant she could make a difference.
Making a difference meant making sacrifices. Walking into the barbershop on the corner of Camp Toccoa, she knew what had to be done. The morning air held a crisp edge to it and Alice tried to savor it – she knew before long, it'd be hotter than hell out here.
"This was a direct order?" the barber asked her once he'd gotten her into the large, black leather chair.
"Yes it was", she answered calmly, eyeing her shoulder-length honey blonde hair. It wasn't actually an order, per se, but Alice knew it was for the best – she could read between the lines.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked again.
"It's not an amputation, its just hair. Cut it", she shrugged lightly, "Katherine Hepburn did it ten years ago, I've no idea why it's still shocking".
The barber picked up his scissors, "it's because you're a pretty girl".
"I think you should be more shocked that this pretty girl volunteered for the paratroopers", she quipped quietly.
"Fair enough, little lady", he smirked and started on cutting off her hair.
Alice could care less about the length of her hair. Frankly, it was a reminder of who she once was, a token of her life she had chosen to walk away from.
Sitting still in the chair, she tried shrugging off the annoyance of being called 'pretty'. It was meant as a compliment, she knew that…but for everyone in her old life, it's all she was valued for. Hell, it was what she got paid to be: nothing but pretty. Before her mother had moved them away from her father, he taught her that her actions always spoke louder than her words and that she was more than just a pretty face.
For all of her years away from her father, she had grown up using that motto. Her mother never shook it from her, not that she didn't try.
"All done, Private", the barber nodded sometime later.
Alice looked at her reflection. She now understood why people referred to it as a 'pixie haircut'. If anything, it made her look more feminine. A smirk slid onto her face – she had never had her hair this short. It was oddly liberating. She liked it. "Thank you", she said, her fingers playing with her hair, unused to the sensation.
"You are welcome", he nodded, "and may I say that I think it suits you".
Alice laughed, "thank you, sir."
"You do look familiar though, I have to say, I thought that right when you walked in".
"I get that all the time actually, you'd be surprised", Alice responded and handed him the charge plus a tip, "thanks again!" With that, she slipped off the barber cape and out of the shop before he could put two and two together. It was a question she'd received all the time, but that was her past.
She wasn't the glamorous pinup anymore.
She was simply Private Alice McRae, U.S. sniper.
OOOOOO
"I expect you to understand this, considering your…gender. Your showers will be at nights, away from the men". Captain Sobel, her Commanding Officer, spoke down his nose at her. He'd already put her to the test that morning, running the mountain they called Currahee twice already, a couple of hours apart, followed by relay drills and field tests. Why he was making her redo tests that she had accomplished while at basic training was something she didn't know. "Fraternization is off limits", he barked, "based off your history, it's only a matter of time before someone identifies you. Do not engage with the men unless it is necessary. If you're caught in bed with one of them, I'll dismiss you so fast that your head will spin". Suppressing the urge to raise her eyebrows at his insinuation that she was loose, Alice stared straight forward, ignoring the fact that Sobel knew who she was and that he'd probably viewed her photos. "Other than that, you will be moved into general barracks this afternoon before range drills. You need to get used to living with the men. You asked to be a paratrooper, now it's time you know what you've gotten yourself into."
"Yes sir", she responded, focusing on the pain coming from her cramping feet.
"I know you think you're pretty good with a rifle, but you've got competition here at Toccoa." Sobel nodded, his eyes staring her down. "Your pretty face got you in here, and I'm sure there are a hundred ordinary women out there that can shoot better than you can", she clenched her jaw at his words, "you're gonna have to put your money where your mouth is, McRae".
"Yes sir."
"Your things will be moved to barracks this afternoon." He stepped closer to her then, his voice low and foreboding, "I'm serious about the no fraternization policy. Even with that short haircut of yours, you're still a target here. I expect you to keep your legs closed." Her silence was short before he spoke again, "Go get a rifle and get yourself to the rifle range. I'll be introducing another group of transfers there - find them. Dismissed".
After saluting, Alice got out of Sobel's office as fast as she could without running. Her heart was pounding in anxiety at the little lecture she'd just received. She wasn't about to go and get a boyfriend here – that's not what she was here for! The implication that that's what she had in mind was downright insulting.
Alice could feel blisters already starting to form on her ankles inside of her stiff jump boots. The men at camp hadn't seen her yet, she'd been at drills all morning, plus her arrival hadn't been 'announced'. It was like she was any other transfer – so as she jogged through the barracks buildings to go retrieve her rifle, she was discovered and the cat calling started. Beginning as a low hum of surprised and confused comments, it quickly evolved to laughs and pointing.
Alice shoved down her emotional response to the display. She was here for a job, to start a new life – one that she owned – and she owed nobody an explanation or apology.
Ducking quickly into the weapons garage, she walked right up to the private manning the counter.
"I need an M1 Carbine, thirty-cal", she requested confidently.
The lanky private stared at her unmoving, "are you supposed to be here?" he asked in a southern drawl.
Reaching within herself and finding the fighter ready, she spoke back, "I'm here on orders, I've no time to mess around." Her Bostonian accent broke through the careful façade she'd had drilled into herself for years. In the back of her mind, she knew her father – wherever he was – would have been proud.
The private smirked, "ok, miss, what do you need?"
"It's Private McRae", she corrected fluidly, not bothering to cover up her accent anymore, "and I need a thirty caliber M1 Carbine, extra rounds if you can".
He gathered up what she needed and set the rounds and the rifle on the counter between them, "there ya go, Private." Alice reached forward and easily slipped the rifle around her shoulder, pocketing the extra rounds. "Good luck out there, girl".
Alice nodded her thanks to him and as she gripped the strap of her new rifle, she felt right at home. She didn't need luck.
With her M1 over her shoulder, she made her way hastily towards the sprawling shooting range. She could see the existing company getting their weapons ready; the targets placed a ways off from them. Her heart sped up at the sight – she couldn't wait to shoot.
A group of transfers stood at the edge of the range, their figures fidgeting. An armor of indifference clouded her features; she squared her shoulders and deliberately walked toward them, standing at the back of their group.
A few of them turned their heads when she walked up, their gazes stuck on her as they elbowed the man to next to them and whispered. She ignored them, instead she counted how many yards laid between the men and the targets, how the wind was blowing, if she would be able to use a scope or not…
"You here for rifle practice?" a voice questioned for her left. She turned to him and his eyes widened. He looked young – tanned skin, dark hair, and large eyes – he swallowed, trying again and covering up his surprise at her being female, "you gonna shot?"
Alice knew she should get used to this sort of greeting, after all, this was far from normal. "No, I'm just standing here with a rifle, sweating in this heat…for fun".
The kid smirked, "Can't knock a sense of humor, I'll tell you that. When did they let you in?"
"Couple days ago", she answered, her eyes raking over the company, searching for the men she met last night, "what's your name?" she turned back to her new friend.
"Private Alex Penkala. You?"
"Private Alice McRae".
"Nice to meet you, McRae", Penkala nodded.
"Likewise, Penkala", she responded.
OOOOOO
"Your head hurts because it's too far up your ass most of the time, Skip", Tab sniggered.
Bill tightened his boots, squinting into the sun, "I tried to cut you off, but you wouldn't have any of it".
Skip sighed, "hey, I might be hungover but at least I didn't get rebuffed last night by a skirt", he grinned miserably up at Don, who was cleaning his rifle. The company was set up on the range, ready for afternoon target practice.
"You would call that rebuffed?" Don scoffed, "I chatted her up. Plus you heard her, she had something to do today. She couldn't stay."
"Chatted her up my ass", George shook his head, "she told you her name and then left".
Don's shoulders dropped as he looked to Luz, "we talked more than that!" he insisted.
"Wait, you mean the part when you apologized for us embarrassing you? Does that even count?" Skip asked. Don leaned down and flicked Skip's ear, "ow, Jesus, that hurt".
"Whoever she was, I doubt we'll see her again", Bill hypothesized, "she did not look like a local girl".
"Who 'passes through' this town, anyway?" Tab offered, "she was like a mirage."
"Check it out fellas, new meat arrived today", George announced.
Don looked over to the small group of men approaching the rifle range. They wore fresh OD's and eager expressions, holding their M1's awkwardly, like hockey sticks. "Another group of transfers?"
"Fresh off the bus", Skip nodded.
Captain Sobel's figure loomed in the distance. He stalked over to them, stopped them and began talking in a low hum.
"Poor bastards have no idea what they're in for", George shook his head.
Sobel barked at the group and they began to jog towards the company – all but one. One figure stayed behind and Sobel pointed to a target set up all by itself roughly fifty yards away from the rest of them.
"Someone's already on the shit-list", Skip sniggered, "I wonder what that guy did to piss Sobel off".
"Fucking breathe the wrong the way and you'll piss that jackass off", Bill muttered.
"Easy Company!" Sobel called out, "we will not be using scopes for today's exercise. Put them away. Today we will be testing your ability to hit a long distance target without aid. Should any of you find yourselves in a position to take out an enemy, you should do so without waiting for a sniper." He eyed the group and glared over to the lonesome transfer who was also waiting for his order. Holding his arm up, he got out of the fire zone, then dramatically wove him arm down, signaling they were free to fire.
Don kept his breath even and trained his eyes on his target. Squinting at the red circle in the very center, he pulled the trigger on his M1, preparing for the kickback of the weapon in his hands.
Twenty or so shots later, the popping sound on the field came to a halt as Sobel yelled for them to cease-fire.
"How'd you do?" Bill asked him.
Don tried gauging his target, "no idea. I'm not getting any better at long distance without my scope".
"Ten bucks says Shifty from third platoon hit the mark every time", Skip wagered.
"Rifles down, Easy Company!" Sobel yelled. He crossed the field and walked along the line of targets, plucking one from its mount.
"Told you", Skip whispered, seeing Darrell 'Shifty' Powers smiling to himself and knowing it was his that Sobel grabbed.
The men watched as Sobel walked past each and every target, not picking up any other. He then jogged over to the transfer's target that he'd placed away, separated from the company. He stopped at it, stared, and then grabbed it forcefully.
"Huh, go figure", George muttered. Sobel stalked back to the men and looked over his shoulder.
"McRae! Over here!" Sobel yelled, "bring your weapon!"
Don looked up from the grass of the field, his gaze spotting the lone figure approaching the company. Why did that name sound familiar? The figure walked confidently towards the company with the rifle at their sides, like it was an extension of their body.
Don's heart stopped for a second as he made out the transfer's features and light hair. It was a she…and he'd paid for her drink the night before. "Holy shit", he murmured, stupefied.
"You've got to be kidding me with this", Bill shook his head.
"Sink let a bird into the 101st?" Skip whistled beside them.
"Not just any bird…it's Don's girl from last night", Tab said.
Bill scoffed, "not a chance…is it?"
Don nodded, knowing her face, "it is her".
"She cut her hair", Skip murmured.
George looked from her figure back to Don, "now we know why she couldn't stay and fraternize". Don's stomach clenched at the word…fraternize…now he'd never get a chance to dance with her.
Alice reminded herself to breathe evenly as she walked across the field, in front of all the men, and stopped in front of Sobel. His eyes were hard on her, "this is Private Powers' target". He held up one target to her, the grouping on it was impressive; this Private had lots of practice with a firearm. Beside her, she could feel the men's stares and she was wondering why Sobel was making a show. "And this", he held up the other, "is yours". Alice looked at her target. It was immaculate apart from the tight grouping in the very center. She had hit it dead-on. It was curious – she had never associated a good shot with a punishment, but something in Sobel's glare told her that was about to change.
"Fucking hell, look at that", Tab whispered to the men beside him. A murmur broke out among the line of men at the target.
"Quiet!" Sobel barked, his voice echoing across the field. "Private McRae's shot is notable. So notable, I think we need to put it to the test." He turned to her, "I'm going to hang up a new target and I'm going to time you." He grabbed the M1 from around her shoulder, "I'm going to fieldstrip your weapon, you are going to reassemble it and fire all rounds at the target – and you will hit it every time. You will accomplish this task in under five minutes. If you do, the company will have the afternoon off." The murmurs began again, "If you fail, then everyone here fails with you and you will ALL run Currahee again today and twice tomorrow".
Alice clenched her jaw and quickly did the math in her head. She would be able to accomplish this, she was sure of it, but that didn't make this challenge an easy one. One tiny slip up and everything could go wrong, "Yes, sir".
"Challenge accepted then", Sobel smirked. Alice bit her tongue – like she had a choice in the matter. From his place along the line, Don's breathing sped up. He knew Sobel was a son of a bitch, but putting that kind of stress on a transfer who was already sticking out like a sore thumb was unbelievable. His heavy heart went out to Alice, who was standing rigidly, watching Sobel place a new target on the mount and jogging back. He glared at his C.O., who was obviously taking delight in this sick game. How was this fair? Sobel then began to fieldstrip her M1 and Don watched his hands like a hawk, making sure he didn't catch him pocket a piece to sabotage her. It took Sobel a good seven minutes to strip her rifle and Don shook his head. Sobel stood up and gestured to Alice, "alright Private", he looked at her, "men, gather round!"
"This a spectator sport?" Bill muttered darkly, as the company made a school circle behind Alice.
"I didn't mean to cause a stir", Shifty appeared at Don's side, his face worried.
"It's not you, Shift", Don shook his head.
Sobel pointed at Frank Perconte, "Perconte – keep time for McRae". Frank took a step toward Sobel and brought his wrist to his face. Alice stood still, her eyes studying the stripped rifle in front of her as she tried to block out the group watching her, Sobel glaring at her, and all superfluous noise. All pieces here miraculously were accounted for. Taking measured breathes, she noticed Sobel did her no favors – no pieces that went together were placed near one another. She focused and stared, and quickly plotted out the fastest approach as the group silently waited for the motion to begin. After twenty seconds, Frank nodded, "GO!" Sobel yelled at Alice.
Soundlessly lunging forward, Alice grabbed the first bits and began to reassemble her M1 flawlessly. Her heart pounding in her ears, her breathing shallow, her mind was flying a mile a minute as she expertly fitted together the rifle.
From the group, Don watched her work, his heart hammering. This girl was good. She knew this weapon intimately. It was evident as her fingers worked fast, flying over the pieces scattered on the grass, and negotiating them back into their places.
Alice swore she felt as if she was inside of an hourglass, feeling the sand slip through beneath her, counting down the time she had left. Reaching for the last piece – the clip of bullets – she realized: Sobel had emptied the clip. It was empty and therefore, useless. Sobel smirked from above her.
Thanking herself for her foresight, Alice suppressed a grin, and pulled out a full clip from her pocket. Flinging it into the air, she caught it right side up and inserted it into the rifle. Shifting to one knee, she cocked the weapon and breathed out, steadying her sight.
Time stood still.
BANG
BANG
BANG
Her muscle tense, it went on like that until she heard it:
PING!
"That's five minutes, sir!" Perconte announced, breathless.
Her heart stilled for a second as she studied the target in the silence that followed, and gingerly placed her rifle on the cool grass. Her hand gripped the soft, damp earth as she sighed out quietly.
Stunned, the men were motionless behind her as Sobel sent a private to retrieve the target.
Alice stood and looked to Sobel, who was studying the target now. Don had the intense urge to run to her and hug her for her bravery.
"I have the right mind to fail you, McRae", Sobel spat and Alice clenched her fists, "you used an extra clip that wasn't part of the exercise. But seeing as you hit your mark, I'll allow it this time. Next time, I won't be so understanding." His face was stone on hers, "Easy Company, dismissed".
Wordlessly, the men retrieved their weapons, as Alice shouldered hers. She took off towards barracks before anyone could speak to her. Her heart was hammering angrily in her ears. Sobel had made a fixture of her with that 'exercise' – even though she succeeded, it was condemnation. With that display, he branded her; she's a freak.
"She sure took off fast", George remarked.
"No shit", Bill whistled, "can you believe her?"
"What the hell is Sink thinking letting a girl into the paratroopers?" Tab wondered aloud, "does Roosevelt have a daughter we don't know about?"
"She'll be a walking target", Skip nodded.
"Nothing but trouble", Frank agreed.
Bull Randleman approached their group, "did you see what she just did? Maybe she's worth the trouble".
Joe Liebgott walked by with Donny Hoobler, "looks like your nights just got longer, Malarkey", Lieb sniggered.
"I don't think she'll be looking for a date with any of us", Hoobler's insinuation was obvious.
"Yeah, good luck with that one, buddy", Joe agreed.
"Didn't know a girl could shoot like that", Shifty said quietly.
Don had had enough, "that girl's shooting just got us an afternoon off", he defended, his eyes finding her figure in the distance.
Breathing heatedly as she walked, Alice shook her head. She just wanted to help her country, help the war effort. She always kept up with the news and she knew things were only getting worse – and she wanted to help in a productive way. Not by smiling and pouring drinks, giving dances to soldiers - but by her God-given talent of shooting. She should have known better though. Nothing was ever easy for her; she could never hope to blend in.
"McRae", a voice caught up to her, breathless, "that was something back there." Penkala studied her focused expression as they walked, "where'd you learn to shoot like that?"
It hadn't been the first time someone asked that, and Alice knew it sure as hell wouldn't be the last, "my father."
She didn't elaborate further as they both walked past the barracks of the other companies. By now, the entire camp had heard of her arrival with the rest of the transfers and men were sticking their heads out of windows and crowding the doorways as she walked by. Whistles and masculine laughter followed her pathway to her barracks. Loyal as ever, Penkala kept pace with her the entire time, his posture tensed.
"Hey baby!" a large blond crooned at her as they walked by.
"Fuck off!" Alex spat back.
"What – you already got a claim on her?" the man hollered back.
"Penk, just leave it", Alice whispered, exhausted. Alex glared at the man defiantly before turning around and walking with Alice once again. He glanced over at her, worried. She could see his face, his concerned expression. Adjusting her posture, she nodded slightly and murmured softly to him, "thank you".
It would be lovely to hear what you think/what your perceptions are so far. More to come in the works.
xoxoxo
