Title: Don't Drink The Water, Chapter Four
Archive: Not without Permission of the Author
Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.
Summary: Suspicions confirm that there's a traitor in their midst; Scream and His Squad fight to save a friends life.
Warning: This story is rated NC-17 for coarse language and sexual situations. Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; and while not over graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.
Camp Freedom
01500 Hours The Following Day
They stood standing stiffly at attention, the heat of the afternoon sun beginning to cool, but remaining just hot enough to bake one's scalp beneath the hard Kevlar-covered helmets and send torrents of sweat, running in rivulets down hard muscled bodies hidden beneath modest BDU's. Discomfort, being rated on an increasing scale of one to ten, exceeded the maximum, but in light of the grim look on Captain Baron's face, not one single sole flinched. Those who felt light-headed were literally too afraid to lose consciousness.
After what seemed an eternity, the ecumenical minister ended with a brief prayer and squad by squad they made their way past the nine memorials, small monuments made of sandbags, boots, dog tags and rifles meant to honor their fallen comrades; PFC's Downy, Barrows and Thompson; Privates Dean and Wolpert; Sergeant John Addison; the Medic, Corporal Roberts and Sergeant Jack Bauer from the E.O.D. Something tangible to mourn over while the remains of their tortured bodies were returned home to their families.
It was a somber Squad that returned to their barracks and sat quietly on their bunks contemplating the tragedy of the prior evening. Even Dim, ever the deep and philosophical one, found himself speechless for a time; he noticed Angel sitting at the head of his bunk, eyes closed, hands clasped tightly in his lap, his lips moving slowly but silently, but didn't say a word.
Angel opened his eyes and found them watching him. "I was praying for their families." Angels responded. "They're gonna need them."
"Yeah," said Smoke, his face looking downward. Feeling the weight of the other men's stares, he looked up suddenly. "What? 'Ya all think I'm a heathen, right? Think I don't got no feelings?" He turned abruptly on Dim. "And what you looking at, white boy? Huh?" Smoke said angrily, getting up from his bunk in a hurry.
"Whoa! What the hell did I do?" Dim yelled as he jumped up from his rack and took several steps towards the other man.
Tariq quickly grabbed Dim and pushed him back towards his bunk, while Angel stepped in front of Smoke.
"Get your ass out my face!" Smoke yelled, giving Angel a light shove. "I'm gonna kick-"
"FEMALE?"
Tariq shoved Dim back and yelled, "Cut the shit, Dim! It's too fucking hot! "
The tent flap parted slightly and the heads of Doublewide and Mrs. B slipped thru the opening. "Y'all want an audience, or should we just come back later?" Brenda drawled.
"Oh just come in!" Dim snapped and flopped down on his bunk with a truly pissed off expression on his face, as Tariq held the flap open for them.
"Hey! They ain't supposed to be in here-"Smoke began.
"Who appointed you tent monitor?" Brenda asked. Smoke just sat back down and sulked.
"Wow. You guys sure know how to make a girl feel welcome." Doublewide cracked.
She gave Angel's footlocker a shove with her foot and seated herself.
Dim, ever the gentleman, gave his own locker a shove and nodded to Brenda, who made herself as comfortable as one could be, perched upon a hard metal footlocker.
"We could only see and hear the fighting from where they had us waiting last night, but it sounded pretty bad…" Doublewide began.
"It wasn't pretty." Tariq commented grimly. "We got ambushed, plain, and simple."
"Got caught with our dicks swingin' in the wind." Smoke clarified.
"Nice!" Dim snapped, shooting Smoke a disdainful look. "They are ladies you know!"
"Bite me!"
"Gee…. thank you for that picture, Smoke." Brenda replied and for a moment they all laughed.
"Glad you guys are okay." Doublewide said softly, Brenda nodding in agreement.
"What do you guys think about the rumor?"
"What rumor?" Dim asked.
"That's whack!" Smoke said, lying back on his bunk.
"What rumor?" Dim asked again.
"I don't know," Angel responded. "They know when we're coming, it's just-"
"What rumor!" Dim snapped
"She means the one about there being a traitor in the camp." Tariq said, nodding at Doublewide.
"Whoa!" Dim replied loudly and sat upright on his bunk. "What traitor? Who's a traitor?"
"Shush, Dim!"
"NO! What are you guys talking about, a traitor? Who says-"
"Sergeant!" Angel said jumping quickly to his feet, followed by the rest of the squad, except for Dim, who managed to trip over the footlocker beside his bed and land on his ass.
Silas looked at Dim and simply shook his head. "I'm not even gonna comment." He took several steps towards the middle of the tent. "So," he said, crossing his arms on his chest and looking around. "Seems there was a meeting and someone forgot, on purpose, to invite me. Any reason why?"
Mrs. B spoke up. "No meeting, si…uh, Sergeant, we…uh…"
Silas peered at her and nodded encouragingly.
"Well, we knew that the rest of the platoon had been in Baquobah last night and we just wanted to see that everyone was alright sir, that's all… really."
Silas looked around again and with a shrug of his shoulders, said, "Okay. That's reasonable."
He turned as though to leave, then shook his head. "Oh. Except for the fact, that we have woman in a men's barracks. Hmmmm….. I'll just have to stay and make sure nothing suspicious goes on." And with that he sat himself on the end of the empty bunk beside Smoke.
The resultant silence was deafening.
"Hey, don't let me stop you from talking," Silas commenting and he began shaking the sand out of his helmet. He shook it several times but could still hear a few stray grains rattling around. He began to strike the helmet against the side of the bed frame, with a loud 'Bang! Bang! Bang!' He looked up and saw they were all staring at him. 'You know a better way?" he asked.
They all shook their heads.
Seeing that he wasn't going to coax another grain from his helmet, he tossed it onto the bunk and leaning down, elbows on his knees and chin in his hands, frowning. "So you suddenly all lose your voices or just scared to talk about shit you shouldn't be talking about, in front of me?"
"Hard not to talk to each other about something like this, Sergeant." Tariq spoke up, his voice slightly defiant. "It affects everyone here. We have to be able to trust each other."
Silas took a deep breath and pressed his lips together. "Agreed. It's pretty goddamned difficult to believe that the man, or woman, sitting beside you, who you've trusted with your life, could be capable of being a traitor, isn't it?"
The group murmured their assent.
"Without any hard evidence, all talking about it does is cast more suspicion, and that's not good for morale. You can't go into battle questioning the man or woman, sitting beside you; whether or not they're gonna be there for you when you go into battle. You can't fight like that. "
He stood up slowly. "After what happened last night, they'll be a very serious investigation; you'll probably all be questioned eventually. For now, keep that to yourselves. Okay?"
"Yes, Sergeant."
"Yeah, Sarge."
"Good. Get yourselves to the Mess. I'll see you all back here at 18:00."
Camp Freedom
Rawhide One Barracks
0:900 the Following Day
Tariq was not having a good morning. He'd spent a half of an hour prior to breakfast looking for his compass and the map that the Sergeant had given him last night when they'd met to discuss today's duty, only he couldn't find it. They were going back into Baquobah, again, to deliver eviction papers, then to assist with several evictions, and then back to the small village beyond to question the surviving villagers and search for any signs of further insurgent activity.
He was lying on the plywood floor, half of his body hidden beneath the bed frame, when he heard a shuffling sound and then a loud 'thud' as something heavy and metallic fell to the floor. Instinct took over as he tried to get to his knees, but somewhat distracted, he rapped the back of his head against the underside ofthe bed frame. "Shit!" he yelled, then quickly but carefully slid out from under the bed and crouched beside it, ready to spring if necessary.
He was surprised to see a traditionally dressed middle-aged Iraqi, wearing a checked gutrah. and ogal and a light colored dishdashah . He was carrying a metal crate filled with army issue linens and blankets. Annoyed that he's been disturbed by something so trivial, he let out a short exasperated grunt and gave the Iraqi launderer a look of utter disdain, before he got to his feet, and sat down heavily on his bunk. He grabbed his A.L.I.C.E pack and began angrily pulling objects out and tossing them down beside him.
"Perhaps you should remain on your knees." Sulayman said under his breath in Arabic, as he began to move to the first bunk on his right, where he removed the blanket and sheets, then placed the newly laundered items in a pile in the middle of the bed.
Tariq quickly turned his head. "Excuse me?"
"To make Salat. To ask the forgiveness of Allah, praise be to him, for your sins." He replied. "Ismy Sulayman. Ma ismok? Tariq, na'am? "(My name is Sulayman. Your name is Tariq, yes?)
Tariq gave the man a hard look. "Worry about your own sins, old man, and I'll worry about mine."
Sulayman moved on to the next bunk. "How does one choose to fight his own people?" He asked in Arabic. "To join with the infidel, and perform abominations-"
"Inchev!" (Shut-up!) Tariq yelled, wheeling around to face the older man. "I'm not one of your people! Now shut-up and get out!"
"I will pray to Allah, that you are shown the truth; Allah is most merciful. He forgives-"Sulayman said gently, take several steps towards Tariq.
"There's nothing to forgive! Now get out, I said!" Tariq shouted, pointing towards the entrance flap and taking a step back.
But Sulayman kept moving forward. "La-KHAF! Don't be afraid! All will be forgiven."
He replied, placing a hand on Tariq's shoulder. "Al-HUM-du-li-lah!" (With the grace of God.)
Tariq spun quickly to the left, grabbing the man's forearm with his right, knocking the hand off his shoulder. He pressed the arm downward, grasping his wrist in the opposite hand and spun the man around shoving him towards the entrance.
Sulayman turned and bowed his head. "Ann eazinak!" ( " I am most sorry")
"IMSHEE!" Tariq yelled angrily, stepping towards Sulayman, his fists clenched tightly and ready to strike out, when Lieutenant Hunter burst into the tent.
"Just what is going on in here? "He looked at Sulayman whose face had grown pale when the Lieutenant had walked in, then at the young soldier whose face was bright red and full of anger. "Private Nisseri, is there some sort of problem I should be aware of? Or should we just wait while you sort things out with the 'little Iraqi Washerwoman, here? "
"NO pra-ah-balem, Captain. I go get laundry." Sulayman said slowly, feigning a complete lack of competence with the English language, but knowing enough to give Hunter a promotion.
"Yeah," Hunter replied, staring at Nisseri. "You go do that, Saddam," as Sulayman slipped out of the tent.
Hunter continued to stare at Tariq. "I'm watching you." he said softly, then spun on his heel and walked out of the tent, Tariq following behind.