***RECEIVED AN HONORABLE MENTION FOR @WATTPADMILITARYFICTION'S CONTEST 'LAST MOMENTS' ON 8/31/2023 & FEATURED IN @WATTPADMILITARYFICTION'S ANTHOLOGY***
After deserting the army with a pal, U.S. combat troop Melvin Anderson seeks refuge in Saigon's "...
Title: In the Alley With Soul Contest: Last Moments Host: Ambassadors of Wattpad's (Former) Military Fiction Profile Word Count: 2493
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MELVIN ANDERSON WAS A deserter. Now of all the names that his comrades had spit at him—whether it be in the showers when they let the water soothe their mosquito bites or beneath Vietnam's unblinking sun when their superior was no longer within earshot—this one almost felt like an honor to Melvin; yet for the man aged twenty-three, he knew better then to relish in his new title prematurely, for although he may have escaped one enemy, another awaited him.
"Stay down, Mel," Gene advised in a whisper as he crouched down in the dark foliage next to their former base. Heeding his warning, Melvin joined the man at his side and bent his knees.
"They must've come from one of the bars."
No sooner had Gene's observation reached Melvin's ears, three men appeared on the trail leading to the base, the grass beneath them having been grinded to dirt by the many trips taken by M-48s. The moonlight fell over their sweaty, white faces, and made the ammunition in their exposed bandoliers look like a line of stars. They walked unsteadily, no doubt under the influence of one of the most enticing pleasures of Saigon's nightlife. Gene and Melvin watched the three blitzed officers—Melvin assumed they were officers as most men that looked like them were—and it was only when he saw Gene reach toward his pocket that he tore his eyes away.
At first, Melvin thought his mind was playing tricks on him, that what stuck out of the side pocket of Gene's tight-fitting trousers was not the grip to what appeared to be a Colt Woodsman pistol; however, this thought of his soon vanished, for the pistol was in Gene's left hand before Melvin could question whether or not he needed a pair of peepers.
"Let's keep moving," Gene's voice dropped low like Melvin's stomach, and instead of following his friend, Melvin stayed put and asked pointedly: "Where'd you find a gun?"
"I got it from the same guy who gave us these civilian clothes," Melvin lost sight of Gene's dilated pupils for a moment as they rolled to the back of his head with his answer, but the two eventually regained eye contact. Part of Melvin was sorry they did, for the look painted across Gene's face was a reminder that they were still at war, but this time, it was their own brothers in uniform on the enemy line.
"Got any more questions? 'Cause we've got to cut out if we want to stay unnoticed by those men—" Gene started to turn away from him but Melvin pulled at the sleeve of his button-down shirt.
"Wait, Gene."
Only a second passed for Gene to face him, and another for him to ditch his impatience with Melvin and replace it with a toothy grin on his lips that the streaks of moonlight slipping through the tree canopy above them highlighted. Melvin unfortunately recognized that smile as it was not ordinary; instead, Gene's smile was the same one he wore whenever he thought another chance of getting high was on the horizon and he'd do anything to quicken its ascent.
