Blackbeard by Roo
"I see a red door and I want to paint it black…" The Rolling Stones
"Daddy I need to go," squirmed Charlie, looking up at him, abandoning his upturned sandcastle ring of turrets in the sand. Jack was okay with being at the beach and all the sand. This sand and the smell in the air were different to 'over there'. There were moments though, when he froze for a moment on hearing certain tones or foreign voices. Besides, it was good to get away from the house and the base once in a while.
"Okay." Jack looked round for Sara but she was busy talking to some friends on the beach. As he went past with Charlie he gestured towards the tourist toilets, and she nodded.
Jack didn't have a problem with it until he got closer and realised that it being a nice day and all, the toilets had been well used by the many visitors, and to him the smell was overpowering. Some of the lights were out; it looked dim in there too. Sweat trickled down his back.
"You go in Charlie."
"No! I don't want to go in on my own daddy."
"I'm right outside son."
"No!"
"We'll find another one."
"I need to go now daddy."
Jack had no other option; he breathed through his mouth and hustled Charlie into an empty cubicle.
Crap, the washroom was even the same vile green colour, with metal doors, and tiled floors that could be hosed down easily…. Jack latched onto the only out of place thing- Charlie. Memory smell, colour and noise assaulted him as he waited for Charlie.
Afterwards, as he lifted Charlie up so he could air dry his hands on the blower; he nearly dropped him as someone slammed the metal cubicle door shut. No! Not again! They're coming for me again! his brain screamed.
"That's it we're done," he said tightly and dragged Charlie out protesting.
Sara was waiting for them outside.
"What happened? You've been ages," she asked sharply, looking at both of them. Charlie looked scared and Jack looked like he'd just run a marathon.
"Next time you take him," was all Jack said as he passed her stalking off back to the beach.
And she wondered what possible dangers there could be taking 5 year old to the rest room. It had never bothered him before. Sara had managed to find an English-Arabic phrase book and was trying to work out what Jack said. But it wasn't easy trying to match what he said with her phonetically scribbled spelling with actual words in the dictionary. She wanted to help him, but knew he'd hate her going about it this way. She didn't know what else to do.