Back again, and for a bit longer this time. Thank you to all my reviewers and anonymous readers. Sort of messing with a dialogue/description balance in this chapter. Who knows - it's an experiment!
Warning: This chapter might contain bad dialogue or bad writing or both or... you get the idea.
XXX
Da Nang, July 4, 1969 19:00 hours
"Temp, you promised!"
Murdock massaged his forehead. The headache started as a hot needle behind his right eye. Painful, but tolerable. Take one tolerable headache, add Private Cross and her persistent whining and the result was a bright cluster of agony pulsing behind his skull.
If you're listening God, a little fast-acting laryngitis wouldn't go amiss.
"Babe," Face said as the pouting redhead tugged on his sleeve, "something came up. I have to be ready to go at any time."
Murdock sighed and wiped down his sidearm with a rag. Face greased a lot of wheels to get some proper intel and supplies for their impromptu mission in a very short period of time. It seemed that nothing was beyond his reach, except perhaps a potential girlfriend who wasn't a shrill, petulant harpy.
"But babykins, I'll weawwy miss you," Cross cajoled.
Murdock holstered his .45 abruptly, thereby forestalling the temptation to use it.
Face murmured something that elicited an ear-splitting giggle. He slapped her on the backside, gave her a push towards a nearby hangar.
"Back in a bit," he tipped a wink at Murdock and followed the curvaceous private.
Rather than respond and risk further outbursts from Cross, Murdock turned his attention to a map of their target zone. It was dotted with villages so tiny they had no names, only numerical designations.
"Thought you had some R&R owed you, Captain."
He peered over the map and found Lieutenant Dixon, her face freshly scrubbed, eyes red, but otherwise composed.
"Hey there Pixie," he said, adjusting his cap. "Subject to the requirements of the service, you know." He nodded towards the Huey.
"Indeed," she said. She took a hesitant step closer. "I came to apologize for the cut-and-run this afternoon."
He shook his head. "You left the paper behind - I know."
Katie looked down at her boots. "He wanted it, you see. Infantry. Combat. He accepted what might come of that."
"Doesn't make it easy."
"No," she flicked her eyes toward the sun, which was dipping low in the cloud-flecked sky.
Murdock watched her closely, recalling the way she nearly grasped his hand across the chessboard. He reached for hers now, slowly, hesitantly. It fit in his palm like a bird in a nest.
"Don't," she said, but made no move to reclaim her hand. Her eyes remained fixed on the horizon.
"Why?"
"Don't." she repeated, looking anywhere now but at his face.
"You know," he sighed, "you're a nice girl. I bet you make a great cup of coffee, a killer apple pie and drive a pickup. You were probably in the 4-H club, sang in the church choir and wore a blue dress to your prom." He stuffed the map in his pocket and took her chin in his free hand, turning her face to his. "In other words, you seem like my kind of girl – but I'm only guessing here because you won't let me get to know you."
Katie closed her eyes briefly, momentarily banishing his handsome, angular face, his puzzled expression. When she opened them again, his brown eyes were still searching for answers.
"Why?" he repeated.
"Why?" Katie echoed. "I'll tell you why I don't want to get to know you, or anyone else here. It's because any of you, at any time, could end up in my hospital looking like a hundred plus pounds of ground beef. That's why." She gently extracted her hand from his grasp. "And for the record, Captain, I drive a Mustang."
"How are we kids?" Face asked, inconveniently reappearing with the look of a cat full of cream. His blue eyes flicked between Murdock and Katie. "You giving him a hard time lady?"
"Oh boy," the pilot muttered.
"He's about to run a dangerous op honey, would it kill you to be kind to him?" Face persisted.
"Honey?" Katie raised a single brow.
"Yeah," Face continued, "honey, doll, sweetie – whatever. Loosen up."
"Lieutenant Peck. I am a US Army nurse, not a candy striper. You may refer to me as Lieutenant or 'Dixon', if you prefer."
Murdock sucked air through his teeth. "Uh, Face-"
"No, I got this Murdock," the blond assured him, holding up a hand. "Now," he said, readdressing Katie, who folded her arms. "the least you could do is show a little gratitude."
"Gratitude." Katie repeated.
"Jesus, is there an echo? Yes, gratitude!" Face retrieved his pack from the ground near the Huey and tossed it into the cabin. "Instead of four days spent in blissful relaxation, we're going to be humping through the jungle on a suicide mission." He turned to face her again. "And it's all down his soft heart, his soft head, and your big blue eyes, sister."
"That'll do Lieutenant Peck!"
The three soldiers turned and found Hannibal, cigar clamped between his teeth, M-16 slung over his shoulder. BA followed behind, eyeing the Huey warily.
"What's going on?" Katie looked at each of the four men in turn.
"Don't worry about it, Dixon," Hannibal exhaled a stream of smoke and patted her shoulder. "Lieutenant Peck's a bit tightly wound. He was hoping to work on his suntan."
"No," Face mumbled, "Lieutenant Peck wanted a four day break from being shot at."
Katie looked up at Hannibal, studying his expression. His eyes sparked against his tanned skin. A trail of smoke curled from his cigar. His teeth flashed white and even as he gave her a reassuring smile.
"This isn't on the up-and-up," she concluded. "This is personal."
"Oh believe me honey – it's not personal, not to me. This is Hannibal's White Whale," Face said.
"Actually, Faceman, the Moby Dick analogy isn't quite correct-" Murdock started.
"Shut it fool," BA snapped and then turned to Hannibal. "We lookin for this kid or what?"
"What kid?" Katie looked at BA, who glanced at Face. Face looked at Hannibal. Hannibal looked to Murdock, who was still rambling.
"-and in a way, Colonel Smith's testing the boundaries of authority is part of the universal human experience," the pilot concluded.
Suddenly feeling all eyes on him, Murdock smiled beatifically and adjusted his cap. He caught Katie's stern expression and his smile faltered a bit.
"You seemed so upset," he said quietly.
"Captain-" Hannibal warned.
Katie looked over at the colonel, her mouth agape. "This is about my brother?"
"Dixon, look," Hannibal patted her shoulder again. "We do this kind of thing all the time. We're going in to do a little recon to see if we can't find out what happened to the rest of his platoon."
"I'm coming," she said.
"No you're not!" Face and Murdock said in unison.
Hannibal closed his eyes briefly. "Dixon, you're not combat trained."
"Nor should you be," Face added. He held up his M-16. "This rifle is almost as big as you are."
"I've been shooting since I was seven years old, Lieutenant – not that it matters," she readdressed Hannibal. "Sir, I'm coming. If there are still soldiers out there, they might need medical attention."
"We're all EMT trained," Face said.
Katie ignored him. "What can any of you do? Forbid me? Order me to stay here? What were your orders regarding this mission, Colonel?" she looked at Hannibal expectantly.
Hannibal studied the diminutive nurse. The delicate points and angles of her face were offset by a determined expression. She couldn't be more than 5'2" and 110 pounds soaking wet, but there was a wiry strength to her. He could see naked disapproval on Murdock's face, tempered by concern in his dark brown eyes as he too stared at Dixon. Face didn't seem overly concerned, and clearly expected his commander to refuse her.
"You'll stay with the chopper at all times Dixon," Hannibal said sternly. "You'll find medical supplies in there. Grab a firearm and keep it with you. You'll take your orders from Captain Murdock. You're our medic."
"Are you kidding me?" Face said as Katie pushed past him. He scowled as she accepted a .45 pistol from BA and threaded it onto her belt, then shouldered an M-16. "What do you think you're going to do with those, honey?"
"Listen 'honey', I can shoot a turkey in the head with a .22 rifle at eighty yards, and I'm looking at a really big turkey right now," Katie said, pausing to pat his cheek before climbing into the Huey and settling in the copilot's seat.
BA giggled, an incongruous sound that broke the tension and even conjured a grin from Face.
"Gentlemen, we're losing light. Let's get underway," Hannibal said, pitching his cigar and climbing aboard the chopper.
xxx
Cambodia/Vietnam Border, July 4, 1969 22:00 hours
Stars bobbed on the surface of the inky pool of night. A sliver of moon drifted above the trees as Murdock settled the chopper in a tiny clearing a few klicks from the Cambodian border. Where most of his fellows dreaded night ops, the intrepid captain loved the dark, the challenge. Inside the cabin his passengers navigated a separate dark world as each slept as best they could before time and circumstance would rob them of such luxuries. Lieutenant Dixon was the first to nod off, her face shedding at least fifteen years as she slept. The two tails of her hair and the childlike fullness of her upper lip offered a strange contrast with her tired fatigues and the dull gleam of the pistol at her belt. Though he wouldn't have allowed her to accompany them, he would take any measure to keep her from harm. He stretched out a hand to wake her and then thought better of it.
Better you sleep on sugar, until we have need of you.
Instead, Murdock unbent his long legs and climbed out of the pilot's seat. He shook Hannibal, who seemed to need no time to throw off the cloak of sleep. He was immediately sharp and roused his reluctant companions. Murdock produced the map from his pocket and spread it out between them. He watched as Hannibal indicated a tiny dot on the map and made a few elegant sweeping gestures of his hand, something Face and BA appeared to understand. According to their latest intel, the chopper would be relatively safe for a brief period in this small clearing and the young pilot was supremely confident in his ability to defend it, if necessary. The three men opposite him had until dawn to complete their reconnaissance. After that, the risk of capture increased exponentially. BA and Face busied themselves loading up their gear with practiced ease and little noise. Hannibal leaned across the map and grinned at Murdock.
"All right Captiain," he whispered, "just as we discussed back at Da Nang. If we're not back by 05:00, get the bird out of here. Keep Dixon out of trouble."
Murdock saluted, feeling a strange half-smile tugging at his lips. He watched as the three men filed stealthily out of the chopper and melted into the surrounding jungle. The night was steamy, and in a matter of minutes his clothes were stuck to his skin. He sat with his back against metal and laid a rifle across his lap. The headache incubating in Da Nang had transcended pain and was forcing his mind down strange avenues of thought.
What could have been minutes or hours passed as Murdock sat, his ear cocked to the night. A lazy breeze stirred in the treetops harmonizing with the thrum of insects and the deep, even breathing of the drowsing Lieutenant Dixon. Eventually, he was able to orchestrate the pulse of his headache along with these sounds and the stars swooped overhead as his eyes watered with pain.
"Lightly stepped a yellow star/To its lofty place/Loosed the Moon her silver hat/From her lustral Face," he said aloud with a pronounced Texas twang.
"All of Evening softly lit/As an Astral Hall/Father, I observed to Heaven/You are punctual." Katie finished the poem sleepily. "Dickinson."
The pilot jumped, banging his head and then clambered into the cockpit.
"She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel! For thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head, as is a winged messenger of heaven."
"It's too early for Shakespeare – or late." Katie yawned.
"Just a bit?" he pleaded, grinning.
She yawned again. "I wonder that you will still be talking, Signor Murdock, nobody marks you."
Ah, the lady prefers "Much Ado About Nothing", I should have guessed.
"What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?" he replied in a dramatic whisper.
"Is it possible disdain should die-" Katie stopped. "What time is it?"
"That's not right," Murdock retorted, then shook himself and peered at his watch. "03:00 hours."
"Why didn't you wake me?" Katie demanded, righting herself.
"No need," Murdock shrugged. "I assume you went to college."
She can't be more than twenty four years old and a second lieutenant. Too young to grease her way through the ranks.
"I did," she confirmed, peering out of the windshield into the dark.
"University of Iowa?" he guessed.
"Yale. Nursing. Psychology minor."
"Ivy League. Clever girl."
"Not so much, I just did all my homework," Katie shrugged. "I thought we were supposed to be quiet." She insisted, a bit irritated he'd somehow segued into probing for personal details.
"Chocolate or vanilla?" he asked gravely, the dim interior of the cockpit hiding the twinkle in his eyes.
"Strawberry – really now Captain," Katie folded her arms.
"One more?" he pleaded.
"You'd better make it a good one."
"Wait – you're AWOL, aren't you?" he asked, alarmed.
"Yes."
"Er… that shouldn't count as my question."
"And yet, it does," she said.
"No, I mean, when you get leave will you -" he twitched nervously. "Have you been to Hawa–"
Katie put a finger to her lips before he could finish and cocked her head, listening.
Murdock did the same, and heard nothing. Breeze, check. Insects, check. Strange clicking noise, check. He stretched an arm behind his seat and produced a helmet. He placed it on Katie's head with all the ceremony of a coronation. He leaned in close.
"Stay right here Lieutenant," he whispered and planted a quick, almost brotherly, kiss on her forehead. He crept out of the cabin with surprisingly little sound, despite his long limbs. He poked his head back in momentarily. "That's an order."
Katie frowned as he crept away from the chopper, slow and low to the ground. Her heart hammered against her ribs as he melded with the dark.
Time slowed to a crawl as the heat and clamor of the jungle closed in around her. She stuffed down the urge to flee the bird and waited, counting every bead of sweat coursing down her back. He'd been gone impossibly long, twenty minutes. Then thirty. Then forty.
The snap of gunfire came with the creeping dawn. Katie clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. She crawled back into the cabin, donned her medical kit and threaded ammo pouches onto her belt. Her M-16 rifle leading the way, Second Lieutenant Kathleen Dixon disobeyed a direct order, hoping in her heart that the tall, manic Captain would be alive to scold her for it.
XXX
Thanks for sticking with me this far!