Kilo-61 (Damned of the 2/19th Book 19)- Ongoing

Briefing the Newbies

Midnight Diner
Middle of Goddamn Nowhere
South Dakota, United States of America
6 April, 2002
0015 Hours

The bell rang on the door of the diner as I pushed my way through the door. Donaldson, one of the Navy Guys, the LT, and the Deputy Director followed me in, everyone else outside and waiting in the vehicles for the signal to join us. The woman behind the counter had brown hair, pulled up in a bun with tendrils that had escaped during her shift. Her eyes were a little red from tiredness, and she frowned slightly as she pulled her iPod earbuds out.

She was seeing a guy in a suit, and three guys, one woman, all in military uniforms, the four uniformed people carrying assault rifles and wearing body armor and gear. The Navy Commander and I were wearing a beret and a softcap, respectively, while Donaldson and the LT had helmets on. The whole thing sunk in for her and she straightened up from leaning on the counter to standing up straight.

"Good evening, Ma'am," Donaldson said, moving past me. "Is your cook on duty?"

She licked her lips again and shook her head.

"Just you here?" Donaldson continued. She nodded, looking at the side exit.

"Excellent, Ma'am," Donaldson smiled and walked over to the register, waving at her to follow. "Ring us up for forty meals with coffee and soda and about fifteen desserts if you would." He picked up a menu and looked at it. "Ring up the steak special plate and the pie, if you would."

"I don't have anyone to cook that," She said. I was walking through, checking under each table. The Navy Commander disappeared into the men's bathroom, the LT into the woman's bathroom.

"It's all right," Donaldson smiled. "I just want you to take your Soduku book and go sit all the way over there. Just listen to music, make sure we don't tear the place up, and mind your own business."

She swallowed thickly and nodded as I pushed open the side door and looked out. A couple of beat up trucks that probably didn't run, a half-disassembled Firebird under a light, and a garage.

"Gonna check the outbuildings," I said as the Commander and the LT came out of the bathrooms.

"Commander Kingston, back up the  Corporal," Donaldson snapped.

Kingston grinned, slapping the foregrip of the M-4 into his palm so he was holding onto it with both hands. "No problem."

I could hear spring insects chirruping as we headed toward the garage. It was mostly cattle and sheep ranches around us. I could smell the memory inducing scents of cattle country as we both walked around the vehicles and the garage, scanning around at the territory, looking under and inside the vehicles, and checking the surroundings.

"So where have you been since '97?" Kingston asked. "Last time I saw you was on the evac."

...the Navy vessel pulling alongside of us as we bobbed around in the Indian Ocean waves...

"Retired," I told him.

"Forced you out?" He asked me, lifting the tarp with the barrel of his rifle and then thumping the toe of his boot against the barrel. Empty.

I just nodded.

"You know I had to go before the Joint Services Senate Committee, right?" He asked me.

I just nodded.

"That was a cluster fuck, that was for sure," He muttered as we walked around to the door of the garage. "Any heads up you can give me on what we're walking into?"

I shook my head and grunted as I lifted up the old padlock to look at the keyhole and then dropped it. Before he could say anything I lifted my rifle and drove the buttplate twice against the lock. It popped open and I undid it.