It had been the first time in a while since I'd been in a helicopter. Once my bag was stuffed in the secure compartment under the seat, I strapped in. The com- which allowed me to communicate with the pilot- was fitted in my ear. Now that I was ready, I told the pilot he could start off. The vehicle vibrated as the engine was put to work, and I felt gravity push down on me as it began lifting quickly from the ground. The sensation it gave reminded me of a rollercoaster ascending to the top of the hill. Now I just couldn't wait for the exciting trip down when my destination was reached, and the helicopter would drop. I remembered just how much I loved flying again.
The trip would be long, up to 13 hours, so I fitted the head phones of my mp3 player in my ears. I then leaned my head back, closing my eyes. The faint sound of rhythmic blades of the helicopter helped me to fall asleep.
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I was woken by the turbulence of the landing. The helicopter shook as it began to steeply descend, and I felt that tickly sensation in my stomach as speed and gravity worked together to make the organs in my body float upwards. At first it caused a lump to rise in my throat, but then I got used to the feeling and began enjoying it. My hands were gripping the edges of the seat tightly, and my head was pushed back against the headrest at the force of descent.
"Faster!" I laughed into the com, and I got a chuckle from the pilot back.
After about half a minute the helicopter was pulled up, causing it to slow and descend more gently. A few seconds later it shook and stopped, meaning it had landed. When the blades of the helicopter began to slow, and the engine powered down, I unbuckled the straps and stood up. My hair was a mess, so I pulled the pony tail out and redid my long, dark brown strands.
"Thanks for the ride." I said to the pilot.
"No problem." He replied. "Always great to have somebody who appreciates a little fun."
I chuckled at that and took the com out of my ear, setting it in the small box on the wall. Pulling the duffel bag out from under the seat, and swinging it over my shoulder, I walked towards the door. It slid open and I jumped out onto a stone platform. It was night, and in front of me was a barracks, which was my new home I supposed. Some windows were lit as the occupants were obviously still awake inside.
I felt nervous, and my heart began to gently pound in my chest. Questions started to swim around in my head about this. Would they accept me? Will I be welcome? Just how am I expected to act? How different will this be? I just mentally smacked myself and said that the only way to find out was to go inside. So, slowly, I walked towards the building.
I paused at the door, took a deep breath, and then reached for the handle. It wouldn't turn. Ugh, the key! Stupid! Nice one Kyra. You're so nervous you forgot about the key! Of course it's locked!
After smiling to myself and letting out a soft chuckle at how ridiculous I was being, I slipped the key into the lock. The door opened with ease after that, and I stepped in. It closed with a soft click behind me, and I found I was in a hallway. Four doors were on both sides and a staircase at the end. What, no welcoming part? I feel so loved already.
I wasn't sure where to go, but then heard voices from below. Staircase.
The metal staircase led down to a room, which I guessed to be the sleeping quarters or perhaps the lounge. So, very quietly, not wanting to draw attention to myself, I made my way down.
The voices grew louder. It sounded like someone was playing a video game and shouting threats at the computer. Others were talking, and I thought I heard someone softly speaking passages from the Bible, which I recognized. Then there was the familiar sound of a rifle click, so I guessed somebody was inspecting their gun. Rock music blared from a radio. They obviously are keeping themselves entertained.
A loud crash made me pause, and I heard somebody yell loudly, "Watch where you swing that thing!" I started down again until the room finally came into view. I stopped just a few steps from the bottom.
What I saw were 7 men, all doing their own thing in what I guessed right to be the sleeping quarters. Directly in front of me, a few feet away from the staircase was someone cleaning his rifle on a bed. To the right, a black man with a baseball bat was hitting tennis balls thrown by an Asian. A younger one, about 22 or 23 years old, was mopping the floor. Lying on his cot was another black man playing a hand-held video game. Sitting in a chair near the radio was someone reading the Bible. The last person was pacing back and forth, just kind of talking to himself, because no one appeared to be listening to him.
For a while I stood there in complete silence, hoping that somebody would notice me and I wouldn't have to walk up and introduce myself out of no where like an idiot. However, they all seemed quite into their personal little playtime hours after a full day of rounds. I realized that I would have to draw attention to myself if I didn't want to just walk in and make them all jump, because some strange woman just walked through their living quarters.
After gathering a bit of courage, I stepped down another step, purposely making a bit of noise. The only person who noticed, however, was the man sitting a few feet in front of me cleaning his rifle. His head turned towards me, attention drawing from his previous task to finding the source of the noise, and we made eye-contact.
I got a good look at his face. He had short, black hair, and a rugged look about him, with the stubble of an unshaven face completing that look. The ruggedness attracted me, and judging by the look of his arms from the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, he was quite fit too. His eyes caught me the most though. They were a hazel green color, the green standing out sharply and making it hard to look away. They were so unique that I found it would be easy to just stare at them and probably get lost for hours. The thought of me being a sucker for a pair of nice eyes made me laugh on the inside. I saw his gaze wander over my face a little, for he was looking me over as well, curious as to why a woman just appeared out of no where in a barracks full of men. He made me feel a little more comfortable, simply because he noticed me, but my nerves still showed. The other men in the room still hadn't acknowledged my presence yet.
I heard somebody on the staircase behind me and turned. It was Sarge, and he gave a brief smirk in my direction. Now I felt a lot better knowing that the man who recruited me was there. He had come to introduce me himself, which really helped my nerves. He turned his attention to the men in the room.
"Men!" He boomed.
They all came to attention and their eyes noticed me immediately, being the small figure standing next to the much larger one of their commanding officer. Sarge put his hand on my shoulder, causing my brow to furrow uncomfortably, and I glanced at his hand.
"This is Kyra, our new comrade. Also called Ice. Now I know you will all make her feel at home here. Make her feel like part of the family, because she will be with us for a long time I hope. Play nice gentlemen." And with that, to my own discomfort, he left. I was disappointed that his introduction was so short, because the more he told them, the fewer questions I would have to answer later on.
There was a long uncomfortable silence, and it wasn't helping my nerves. Then, the attractive man who was sitting in front of me stood up and held his hand out.
"I'm John, you can call me Reaper. Welcome to the squad Kyra." He said with a pleasant smile. I shook his hand, so thankful that he broke the silence.
Then the black man with the bat walked up to me. "I'm Danton, Destroyer." I shook his hand too. He had a shaved head, and the sagging features of one who didn't smile much. I figured he must be the serious type. It was also easy to tell that he was the larger and fitter man of the squad. In fact, they all were fit. Even the young rookie I had seen mopping the floor had a visibly generous amount of muscle on him, though he was still a stick compared to the others.
After two men had already come up with the courage to introduce themselves, the others stepped up as well. The Asian man walked up to me, giving the same introduction as Reaper and Destroyer. His name was Mac, which was short for his real name, which was so long and foreign that I was gaping when he spoke it, trying to process the gibberish that just skittered through my ears. He had short cut black hair, and a decently fair face. He was also short, almost my height.
The youngest came up next. His name was Brandon, but they all called him Kid because he was the youngest of the group. He had short cut brown hair, which would be wavy if it was grown out, I could tell, because it was quite a curly mess. He had chocolate brown eyes, and looked quite innocent for a Marine. Either he had an easy background, hasn't seen action yet, or both.
Goat- the man who had been reading the Bible, and also looked to be the elder- introduced himself. His real name was Richard, but for some reason they called him Goat. Probably because he was older and more sage than the rest. That wouldn't surprise me, because he certainly had the hardened, stern features of someone who had been through a lot. He had a true military style haircut, trimmed at the sides and grown out a little bit on the top, along with a pair of piercing blue eyes. I felt, somehow, that I could relate to him. There was that look in his eye that was familiar to someone like me. He's been through it. He's lost things, and they've wounded him so deep that they never show, and never go away. I'm so familiar with that feeling that it could be family.
The next contestant was the second black man. I don't know what it was about him when I saw him, but he reminded me of those high school guys who still had that sort of kid-ish attitude. His real name was Lee 'Shawn, but they called him Duke. When he introduced himself, he did the handshake that usually only friends do when they meet. Where you slap hands and then pull each other in to pat them on the back. He kind of dragged me through it though, because I was taken by surprise that he introduced himself in such a way. It amused me that he was so open and friendly, and it was nice to have somebody here that would be comfortable to hang with.
The last was the guy who had been pacing and talking to himself. He had semi-long blonde hair, which he had slicked back, and he had a… dirty look I suppose. He made no attempt to hide the looks of attraction he shot my way. The way he smiled and strutted his way up, and the way he introduced himself just screamed perverted. His name was Dick, and they called him by his last name, Portman. He didn't make me feel comfortable at all, but I had dealt with guys like him before. As long as he didn't touch me, there wouldn't be any cat fights.
Now that I had been introduced to everyone, I could finally pick a spot and start unpacking. Unfortunately, however, the only free cot was the one next to the perverted Portman, and this I didn't like at all. I dropped my bag on the cot and looked passively at him when he chuckled. He winked and pulled a big grin. I just rolled my eyes and opened the bag.
"You know, babe, if you get scared at night, ol' Dick will be happy to make them monsters go away."
I paused and looked up at him, raising an eyebrow at such a cheap way to try and gain my sexual interest. He was just another one of those idiots. I hate people like him. Most of the time I just ignore the comments and let them embarrass themselves with cheap remarks. If they want to look like a dumbass, by all means, let them do so. Just makes me look better to the witnesses around.
"Shy? Come on baby, just testin' the waters." He said, trying to get my attention again.
"My water's deep and cold, Portman. I'd be careful of sharks." I said coldly.
A few people became silent when they heard me speak for the first time. I noticed over Portman's shoulder that Reaper had paused from cleaning his gun and was looking at me. My tone and use of words had caught his interest, and he wanted to know how this would turn out, for Portman rarely chose the wrong woman to mess with. I seemed like the wrong woman to disrespect too. Unfortunately, Portman didn't seem to get the idea. He laughed and took one step to reach my cot and leaned forward.
"Let's not get off on the wrong start here, babe. I was only tryin' to be friendly." His hand tried to touch my arm.
I pulled a knife from my bag so fast it took him a while to realize that a blade was even at his crotch. Duke couldn't help it and burst out laughing, which drew everyone's attention. He was pointing at Portman and laughing so hard I thought he would hit his head on the cabinet while falling off the cot. Some laughed also, while others just smiled and shook their heads at Portman's stupidity.
"The name's Ice, and if you try to get any friendlier then I'ma have to stab a bitch."
"Alright, just get that thing away from the family jewels." Portman said shakily.
I kept an apathetic face, staring him down with eyes that drove the most naïve of people up the wall while they tried to figure out why they were so cold. He backed up and I knew he wouldn't be bothering me for the rest of the night.
Duke had recovered and looked at me. "I'm liking her already." He said to no one.
Feeling in a much better mood after threatening somebody, I returned to the unpacking.
After ten minutes everything was put in place, my blades hidden throughout 'my space', so if there were any disturbances during the night I could have a weapon instantly. There was a small photo album I always took with me, and it had pictures from high school, family outings, and friends. I liked to take pictures of me and my friends together. There was one of my three friends and me which I treasured. We were at the park and sitting under the little space of a slide. Desiree, a black girl, was leaning against a post and holding up the 'eastcoast' sign. Jackie, Filipino, was sitting in my lap, crushing me with her big ass. Donna had her back against mine, and we had our heads together, making silly faces and holding up 'peace' signs. The one I treasured the most though- and kept protected, never taking out of its plastic shield- was the one of my family when it was whole. My mom, dad, brother and me. Then, of course, there were random pictures of me with my brother, and occasionally my friends.
The album was placed in a small locker next to my cot, along with my endless supply of music and other personal items. There was a miniature dresser on the other side which would hold my clothes.
I sat on the cot and pulled my own hand held video game out of the locker. It was an old PSP I had since I was a kid, and it still played pretty well. I turned it on and the sound instantly caught Duke's attention.
"Hey, what's that?" He asked, putting his own game down and coming over to me.
"Medal of Honor Allied Assault." I answered indifferently.
"No way, you still have one of those PSP's?"
"Yep." I said shortly, trying to say as little as possible to avoid conversation. He didn't seem to notice my obvious attempt to evade the chit chat.
"Awesome, I haven't seen one of those in forever. Have you ever beaten the game?"
"Yep."
"You've got to tell me how to beat it. I'm stuck on this one level-"
"Man, you've been stuck on that level for weeks." Interrupted Destroyer.
"Hey, no need to embarrass me in front of my new sister. That level's harder than it looks." Duke defended.
I looked at him after hearing his choice of words. He called me his sister. Was he mentally retarded or just naïve, because he didn't seem to catch my obviously uninterested behavior? Oh well, why pass up the chance to make a friend? I guess I could use one.
He moved from his cot to mine and patted me on the back in a friendly gesture.
"See, all it took was a video game and we're awesome siblings already." Duke bragged, then sat down and leaned over the game. I selected the level he was stuck on. A few minutes later and he was already shouting threats at the computer and leaning with the first person shooter.
"Damn, Ice, you're one hell of a shot!" Duke said.
Suddenly there was a crowd around me. Kid, Destroyer, Mac, and Reaper were watching. It was the undercover mission, where you had to pose as a German officer and destroy some submarines.
"I could never get into the hangar cus they started shooting when I showed the papers." Duke explained.
I explained the process he had to go through as I played it out. It was actually pretty simple, which was probably what confused him.
"You're kidding me! That's it?" Duke exclaimed in shock.
"Yeah." I chuckled slightly.
"You'd think a Marine would know that Duke." Destroyer commented.
"Yeah… well… things are less simple when you're a Marine, so the simple things suddenly aren't so simple."
Everyone was quiet as they watched me do the rest of the mission. When it came to blowing up the submarine and I had to get smart in order to keep myself hidden, and Reaper decided to make a comment.
"Sneaky bitch knows what she's doing."
I gave him a dirty look at his foul name-calling, and looked like I was about to pop him up the side of the head.
"It was a compliment." He quickly defended.
"Don't go getting' your panties into a twist Sally. I'm only messing with you." I said sarcastically.
"Don't worry about them Ice, they're all party poopers." Duke said.
"Bitch." I heard Reaper say with a growl.
I glared at him again.
"Don't get your panties in a twist Sally. I'm just messin' with you" He mimicked.
It took a few seconds for me to take in that he was joking around, but I finally got it and laughed, patting his cheek.
"Good job Reaper. You'll come along just fine." I said.
His face went from a smile to embarrassment when I patted his cheek like a little boy. A few people snickered at him, and I almost felt bad for embarrassing him.
"Yeah Reaper, you'll come along just fine." Destroyer said, ruffling Reaper's hair.
"Fuck off!" Reaper said, pushing his hand away.
I returned my attention to the game, blew up the submarine, and easily beat the rest. The music on the radio then changed to the boring rambling rap I hated so much.
"Psshh, let me put in my own music. Take over." I gave Duke the game.
"Hey, that's good stuff right there!" He protested.
"Have you ever heard the expression: music is like candy, you throw away the rappers?" I threw back.
I rolled off the cot and took my CD case out of the locker and started to flip through it, walking over to the radio. This is more like it. I put in Jet's Get Born album.
I took the game back and played while silently speaking the lyrics. For about two hours it was like this, then it was 9:00 and I had a sudden urge to use the bathroom.
"Hey, where's the bathroom?" I asked.
Duke then smacked himself and said 'gah' really loudly. "We never did give her a tour of the barracks! Reaper, show her around will you."
"Me? Why me?" He asked in disbelief.
"Because, she almost likes you as much as me." Duke answered.
"Then why don't you show her around?"
"The game, somebody's gotta play it or she'll die. She hasn't died yet. It would be a shame for her to get killed now."
Reaper just gave him a look like he was crazy, but, he knew that Duke was Duke, so he would still have to show the new girl around anyways.
"Fine." He said in defeat.
The game was out of my hands before I could feel it gone as Duke took it. I rolled my eyes and got up, following Reaper.
"The bathroom and showers are all over there." He said, pointing to the door at the corner of the room. "You also got the lounge through that door over there, and everything else is upstairs." He stood there, probably waiting for me to use the bathroom before starting the 'tour'.
"I can hold it." I said apathetically.
He smirked and started up the staircase, with me following close behind. The first door he stopped at was on the right side of the hall.
"That's Sarge's room. Don't ever go in there unless you got a death wish." Then he stopped at the other door and opened it, standing by the frame and letting me walk in first. Wow, a gentleman.
"This is the kitchen. It's where we eat mostly, unless you want to bring food downstairs. From that point it's your responsibility to clean up your messes." He took me around the kitchen, showing me where everything was, and then took me back into the hall and to the next door.
The other two rooms were a living room (or briefing room), and an armory with the smaller and more basic weapons in them, along with uniforms. It was where they changed and geared up for missions. The barracks was a simple one, with the basic needs for everyday life. Knowing the place made me feel much more settled and comfortable. I could sleep soundly tonight.
When I re-entered the sleeping quarters there was a loud shout from Duke, still playing my game. He looked at me. "Sorry Ice, I kinda killed you."
"Whatever." I said back, then forced everybody off my cot.
"You got all day tomorrow to continue that game." I said to Duke, who wouldn't give it up.
"Just this last level." He said.
"Don't make me have to fight you for it."
He laughed. "Seeing how you handled Portman, I think I'll pass."
At the corner of my eye I saw Portman glare. He gave it up and I put it back in my locker. I pulled the sheets back and slipped in, turning the lamp off by the bed.
"Goodnight ya'll. Goodnight Ice." Duke said from his bed, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes again.
"G'night." I almost whispered in reply, not accustomed to saying the word. Everyone else did their own quiet thing until eventually all the lights were out and everyone was asleep.
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Stricken dumb with fear, I reached for my belt and searched for whatever was hooked on me. It felt like string, knotted together in places. A net, caught on the buckle. I couldn't untangle it in time, nor cut it. Was there even a chance that I could break free?
Seconds passed lazily as my mind went hazy due to the lack of oxygen. My fingers were becoming less and less lifeless as they tried to free me from the net. The lungs in my chest ached too much to bear. To make things worse, a lump resided in my throat at the realization that I was going to die. I stopped tugging at the belt and just stopped moving altogether. There was little I could do, and eventually I blacked out completely, floating like a dead fish in the water.
My eyes shot open and met the moonlit room. For a few seconds it felt like I was back in Texas in the recruiting camp. Then I sat up and looked around, finding that the sleeping forms around me were men.
I had broken out in a cold sweat from the dream. It was strange to have a dream about that after so long. That was nearly a year ago when it happened, and I've never had a nightmare about it before. I wondered what triggered it. The sheets under me were damp with my sweat, so I threw them off and hung my legs over the bed, holding my face in my hands for a few moments to reinstate my thoughts and train of memories. To be reminded of that day when I nearly died left me quivering and feeling slightly sick.
Eager to calm my nerves, I stood and walked toward the stairs, heading for the kitchen. The room was lit by the full moon shining outside the small windows near the ceiling to help me avoid bumping into someone's cot. My bare feet protested against the cold, abrasive metal surface of the stairs as I went up, trying hard to make as little noise as possible. Duke's snoring made doing that a little easier. I was even quieter when passing Sarge's room.
I entered the kitchen and turned the lights on, closing the door behind me. Taking a glass from the cabinet, I fixed myself some cold water and sat down at the dining table. After downing it, I set it down and wiped the lingering sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. I then rested my head on my hand and closed my eyes, breathing a deep sigh to let out all the feelings of discomfort from the dream. Mentally it did help.
The door to the kitchen suddenly opened and I jumped to attention, not knowing who to expect. Someone peaked in, and I recognized him as Reaper. I relaxed a little and sat down, staring back down at my glass. He entered and closed the door behind him, heading for the refrigerator in silence. A minute later he walked over to the table with a glass of milk in hand.
"Mind if I sit?" He asked quietly, and I shook my head.
There was a long, uncomfortable moment of silence. I tried to keep my mind off of it by finding an interest in the textured paint on the ceiling. It soon became boring, so I looked back down at my empty glass and thought to stand and refill it. But the uncomfortable atmosphere made me not want to move.
"What's your excuse?" He suddenly said, and I looked at him questioningly. "For not being able to sleep."
I turned my eyes back to the glass, contemplating on whether to answer. It really wasn't something I wanted to discuss with him. I don't know him at all, so matters like mine are none of his business. I didn't say anything, and he took the hint, letting another long silence follow.
"I get those kinds of nightmares too, sometimes." He stated quietly, and I fought the urge to look at him again. His eyes are very calculating, which threaten to dig their way through my wall. I'm not a master at hiding emotions, but I'm good enough for the common person. He's not common.
"A lot of times they're about my childhood. I wake in a cold sweat. Just like you."
I slowly came up with the courage to look him in the eye. He was trying to make a point, and the straight forward tone he used made it clear. I waited for him to continue.
"I was like you at one time. I haven't changed much, but… I have broken out of my shell enough to make friends. You're not the only one here with a tough background."
Now I knew what he was trying to do. He wanted to draw me out of my cold little shell, get through to me by trying to understand my past. Maybe be my friend. It angered me. I hated it when people tried to get through to me, because there was no way they could understand. It's none of their concern anyway.
"My background is none of your business! Don't try to make it yours by saying you're like me!" I said callously, standing and walking toward the sink again to refill my glass. Really it was just an excuse to put distance between us.
He knew he had been walking on razor blades with the subject, and it was a mistake. He should have picked a less delicate topic. All he really wanted was to possibly get me to open up about something, and he should have known that I wouldn't. After all, he used to be like that too, and I still barely know him.
"I didn't mean to get into your business. I'm sorry. It was stupid." He tried to mend the small wound he put in the relationship.
For a while I leaned on the counter in silence, going over his apology in my head. No, it wasn't the incident at boot camp that I was reluctant to share. It was something far more painful from my teenage years.
"You wouldn't understand, that's all." I said simply, staring into the glass of water.
"Try me." He challenged, and I looked at him. He seemed dead serious, and I began to wonder what made him so confident.
"I don't like talking about it."
"Alright, I understand."
There was another moment of silence and I had the sudden urge to tell him about my nightmare. I wanted to tell someone about it, and somehow he seemed like the right person to do so with. He's the kind of person that would actually take me seriously, and possibly understand. I wouldn't say this to someone like Duke. He'd try to make it seem like nothing and joke about it to make me feel better about the experience, which never works.
"I almost drowned a year ago." I said abruptly, catching his attention again. He waited for me to continue. "It was during basic training. One day, when running the obstacle course, I went into the tunnel. It was flooded with water from the heavy rains, and filled with all sorts of things. My belt got caught on a net halfway through and I couldn't get loose. So I passed out until the soldier behind me pulled me out. I was in hospital for a week. That's what my dream was about."
I heard Reaper shift in his seat and clear his throat, drawing my eyes to him. For a second I saw an expression on his face I couldn't determine, but it disappeared instantly to an indifferent look. He didn't say anything for a while, but stared at me endlessly. I was starting to grow uncomfortable under his gaze, for he wasn't blinking. Like he was off in some other place, but his eyes never left mine.
"So… who was the CO in charge of your safety on this day?" He asked.
"Me and the others called him Grana. He was discharged after that incident."
That look dominated his features once again, and he looked away to drink from his glass. Though I was curious about the expression, I didn't want to trouble my mind thinking about it.
"What about you? What woke you up?" I asked, not wanting to be the only one spilling past experiences.
"Nothing." He answered quickly, suddenly unwilling to look in my direction. I wasn't going to have any of this 'hiding' bullshit after he tried to pry it out of me.
"Your hair's wet. You were sweating."
"So I was hot."
"You're not very good at this are you?"
He looked at me again, questioningly.
"Good at what?"
"Nevermind. If you don't want to share, fine." I finished, jumping up onto the counter and taking a mouthful of water.
"Sorry. I'm just not ready to talk about it yet." He tried to defend.
"Alright. Change of subject then."
There was another moment of silence, and I looked at him expectantly to select another topic. The conversation turned toward daily life here, in the barracks and with the squad. He explained little things like the routines they went through every day. I learned a few things about all the members of the squad, which definitely would help me in the future.
Destroyer had a pretty rough background. When he was 10 his little brother was killed in a gun fight between two gangs. At 14 he lost his parents when somebody robbed the house. A fire was started, he got out, but his parents didn't. For the rest of his childhood until he was 18, he lived on the streets. Joining the Marines was the best way to vent his anger without getting sent to jail. That was basically his life story. It explained why he looked serious all the time.
Duke had a steady life. He went to school in Maryland and joined the Marines after he graduated, simply because it was the life for him. It was what he wanted to do, kind of like me. That's also probably why he acts more like a kid, while the people who have had bad pasts tend to be more serious.
Portman was the same, only he had a history of doing girls his whole life. It was no wonder he's such a pervert. He joined because his dad wanted him to. He figured his son was too 'wild' and 'out-of-control' and decided Marines was the perfect way to set him straight. Portman found a joy for it, so he stayed in.
Mac, well, there wasn't much known about his past. The only thing he said was that he joined because it would make his father proud to serve the U.S. military. Nothing else was said.
Goat had a rough background too. His mother died at his birth, and he didn't have a father, so he was automatically sent to an orphanage. No one adopted him, and so he turned to God for a father instead. He's been an extremely devoted Christian ever since. Reaper said that he cut a cross into his arm every time he committed a sin. Though it was a little disturbing, I found it understanding. It sure made sense of why he was constantly muttering prayers or reading the Bible.
Kid, they never had a chance to find out his background. He's a fresh newbie like me, only he looks much younger, which is why they call him Kid. However, I could see it all over him that he had potential and some talent. If he didn't then why would he be here?
Then the subject turned to me. He started asking me questions about myself again.
"So, how long have you been in the Corpse?"
"A little over a year I guess. I have a brother who joined up a year after I did, but I haven't seen him since. We keep in touch."
"Is he your only sibling?"
"He's the only family I got left. My mom was killed when a drunk driver drove her off the road and into a river when I was 14. My dad was killed in a plane crash coming back from Europe a few months before I joined."
I was shocked that I had told him this. It just slipped out of my mouth without a thought, and I stopped dead and stared down at the floor, cursing myself. I'd never spoken of it before. He's gotten under my skin a little. That's why I have avoided conversation all together years before, but somehow he's wormed it out of me.
"I'm sorry." He said solemnly. "I know what that's like."
I glanced up, feeling I had just opened up a door to his past which he was willing to share, at the expense of a peak into my own background. I might just have found out why he was so confident in understanding me.
"Did you lose your parents?" I asked quietly.
He nodded and I shifted, realizing that we did have something in common. Maybe we're not so different after all, and that's why I opened up to him. I sensed that distanced part of his personality that was correspondent to mine. "They were killed when a tunnel collapsed."
"Oh, where was that?"
He hesitated. "Olduvai."
Olduvai, that's on Mars.
"I'm really sorry. That must have been hard… to lose them both at once." I said.
He shook his head. "It was a long time ago. Don't worry about it." His voice then changed as the subject shifted. "So, how long were you and your brother recruits?"
"Oh… well, things weren't as easy for me as they were for him. He got assigned almost right out of basic training. I had to fight to get noticed."
"Well, women are rare in this job. I know why they would pass you up."
"Yeah. At least someone recognized my talent. How long have you been serving?"
"Going on four years now." He answered after a moment of thought.
"In RRTS?"
"Yeah, mostly."
He looked up at the clock on the wall and stood, cleaning out his glass before setting it in the sink. Then he turned to me.
"You should get some sleep. We've got to head to the gym first thing in the morning for sparring, so you'll need your rest."
I looked at the clock and nodded in agreement. We must have been talking for an hour now, and it was one o'clock in the morning. After saying goodnight once again, we returned to our beds and went to sleep.