Time/Date Error (Damned of the 2/19th-Book Six) - Done

Just 30 Days

FSTS-317/NATO Site-93 AKA Atlas
Secure Area, Fulda Gap
West Germany
27 October, 1987
1540 Hours

When Foster tapped the bottom of my boot to wake me up, I'd been napping in the "Clinic" that previously had been the female room. I groaned theatrically and moved my softcap, turning my head and squinting to stare at the person who had dared wake me from my naptime.

"What?" I grumbled.

"Chief Henley called, he wants you and Stillwater to pick up the preggos from Graf, take them up to the barracks to get their personal effects, then drop any of them less than eight months pregnant at Darmstadt and take the rest to Rammstien so they can start their convalescent leave," he told me.

Wow, all in one breath.

"Ugh," I told him putting my softcap back over my face.

"You need to go. Two of them are in their ninth month and Henley wants you there in case they go into labor," Foster continued, tapping on the bottom of my boot.

"Ugh," I tried again. "Tell Stillwater to take Nagle or Stokes, hell, take Groom, take Satan for all I care."

"Stillwater said to wake you up," Foster tried again. "He said that if you aren't out there in ten minutes he's going to kick you dead in your axe-wound. His words, not mine."

"Fine," I grumbled, sitting up. I yawned and stretched, while Foster walked out of the clinic. I hopped down and checked the locks on the med cabinets. How Stillwater had convinced Henley to let us stock a pharmacy worth the Class-III meds, I had no idea, but the fat old reprobate had made sure they were kept under lock and key.

My XM-16 and my M-3 were laying on the table and I grabbed them up as I swept out of the room, hitting the lights on my way out. The whole crew was in the main room of The Fort, most of them reading books, a couple laying down, and Stillwater talking with Groom.

"...use Bradley-19 to get up to the barracks. That plow will take care of things, and I can walk in front of it so you don't go flying off the edge of the road," he was telling her.

"Look, just because I'm knocked up doesn't mean I'm retarded. I remember my Blackbrair Ridge training, I can stay here," She snapped. "I'm only three months, I don't wanna go to Darmstadt."

"Tough shit," He answered, ignoring my little noise is displeasure. He didn't need to swear, but I hadn't had any luck cutting down on it. "You're pregnant, you aren't staying out here. Henley said to bring you back, and I agree. He and I have enough blood on our hands, we ain't adding no baby to it. Get. Your. Shit." The last was punctuated by the crunching of his knuckles.

Groom knew when to stop arguing. She turned around and swore, walking toward her cot. Stillwater shook his head, moving over to me. He was in full battle-rattle, like we were about to charge the Soviets across the 1K Zone, but that was normal for him.

I'd seen him sleep in his Kevlar and LBE before. He'd gotten really weird the last few months, but nobody was sure why. All we knew was that back in March he'd been walking down the hallway, sober, on a Saturday morning, and then he was gone. Nobody knew where he went and he had been listed AWOL for nearly a month. He showed up one night, wearing Sergeant rank, and never mentioned where he had been. I'd asked Henley and he'd told me to mind my own business in his less than charming way, that Stillwater hadn't been AWOL, the CO and XO were just mentally deficient.

Half of the reason I did a body inspection on him when he returned to Atlas was to check him for new scars.

I found several not quite healed wounds.

I also didn't tell anyone.

"Cromwell," he started.

I held up my hand, stopping him. "I get it. Just dreaming I was dead and nowhere near here."