Kilo-29 (Damned of the 2/19th, Book 15)

Part 6

Site Kilo-29-Civil Defense Motor Pool
United States of America
Winter, 1993
Day One-Night

The Major had stopped, and was just staring at me as I stood there staring at the Air Force Sedan. The scrapes on my shins stung, my right shoulder burned from over-exertion, and my forearm throbbed in time with my heartbeat. I was exhausted, even though it had only been a few seconds of fighting. His mouth was working while I held the field dressing in my mouth and unbuttoned my cuff on the injured forearm. My knees felt shaky, and my stomach was upset, making my feel like I was going to throw up, even though all I wanted to do was curl up and sleep.

It doesn't matter how much you've trained, combat is exhausting. You train so you have the endurance and stamina to fight longer, but you're still exhausted at the end of it. You need to keep going, push through the exhaustion, and you can bounce back pretty quick if you've trained right.

In my pocket was a small squirt bottle of iodine and a small tube of bactine, I made a mental note of them then I went back to tearing open my field dressing with my dentures, shaking my arm to let the sleeve fall down and expose the wound.

"What happened? Why is Sergeant Ant wounded? Why aren't the doors open?" The Major asked.

...he's been plotting with them against you, you know it, Ant, don't trust him... Taggart whispered in my ears. ...kill him first...

I pushed her voice away, looking at the injury and tearing my eyes away from the sedan. The meat on the outside of my forearm had a half-moon on either side of it, and I squinted at the injury. The holes were deep enough to bleed, but the wound didn't look right for an animal. I'd taken a dog bite across my other forearm, and it had been all the way across, straight line teeth marks. The holes were also straight, not round. I pulled out the bactine and the iodine, smeared first one then the other on the wound, then pressed the pad of the field dressing on the wound.

What the fuck had bit me?

..his minions are moving behind you...

...I know, Bomber, watch my back...

I moved backwards toward the duffles, elbowing one of the Meatheads hard in the gut as I went by, masquerading the motion as trying to wrap the field dressing around the wound with one hand and my teeth.

"Hey!" the Meathead said

"Move." I grunted, sitting down on the dufflebag and finishing wrapping my arm as the Major questioned Donaldson.

Goddamn it, he had a name now.

...you're a sucker...

Shut up, Nancy

I tied it off with my teeth and looked at my legs. They were scraped, but not the claws I expected. They didn't look right, they weren't keep and steadily gushing blood, and the scars on my left leg hadn't been sliced through like I had expected them to be.

Donaldson was telling the Major about the mannequin and the bullet holes, and the Major was making him repeat it, but I ignored it while I opened up my rucksack and pulled out my first kit. I'd learned the hard way to make sure that I had access to as much medical supplies as I could. During Desert Storm I'd swapped boxes of .45 caliber ammunition to specific units to get bags good enough to do surgery in the field if we had to. Most units had switched to 9mm, and the only .45 had been coming out of Europe, and were grabbed by whatever units still had .45's, making them high priority. You'd be amazed what people will trade you to "accidentally" drop a few boxes of .45 ball off of the truck.

I poured iodine on the scrapes, then bactined them. Donaldson was telling the Major and the other Meatheads about the thing, even though they were calling bullshit. I ignored them, grabbed my shit, and headed back toward the Gypsy Wagon.

Not a half-second after I'd dropped the tailgate and thrown the two dufflebags in the back the Major yelled at me.

"Sergeant Ant!"

I ignored him, dragging forward an ammo can and pulling it open. Inside were the foam pads Heather had cut for me, and I knew inside were two tools I wasn't sure if I wanted the Major to know about.

"Sergeant Ant!" Great, the goddamn monkey was yelling louder. I wasn't deaf, just ugly. I turned away from my truck, looking at him as I picked up my ruck, yanked the straps to close the top, and hucked it in the back.

"Yes, sir?" I asked.

...don't trust him, he's plotting to kill you...

Shut up, Dana

My head was pounding as I watched him walk toward me. I was aware of the weight of my knives, and a hot copper filled my mouth in rush.

I dug out my pills and shook two into my mouth, crushing them between my plastic teeth as he started speaking. "We drove for over 10 hours to get here, my men are tired and I don't want them sleeping in here. Get the doors open, Sergeant."

"I can't, sir. The Civil Defense terminals are down, and I need to rest before I take a crack at the military side." I told him, feeling the saliva thinned paste making my gums and throat tingle.

"That's not possible, there's nowhere for my men to bed down, so you need to open the doors. How hard can it be?" He asked. My head was throbbing harder, the back of my skull feeling like it was going to split open.

"Sir, already I've noticed that this bunker is something different. Your meathead and I already ran into booby traps, and there's evidence of fighting in the corridors." I told him with exaggerated patience. "I'm not completely aware of the dynamics yet, and I don't want to proceed until I have a better idea."

He crossed his arms on his chest and made a pinched face. "Sergeant, go get the doors open."

I straightened my shoulders and spine, standing straight up from my usual slouch, and stepped up into him.

"Sir, I respectfully advise you to wait until I can get some rest." I stared down at him. Six foot tall isn't really huge, but I'd learned how to use my presence over the years. "Don't push me on this, sir."

I watched his eyes, seeing him take in my eye patch, the scars on my face, then saw his eyes flick downward and I hid a smile as I purposely clenched my hand, the knuckles crunching.

...KILL HIM NOW!... Nancy yelled from behind him, her hand coming up with the Gerber that was in my boot, her lips drawn back in a snarl, her eyes glittering with rage and malice, the scar on her face a living thing...

I squeezed my eyes shut as I turned away from the Major, turning back to my truck.

"Don't be a fool and send your own men. You don't know how to use this equipment, and if your men lock me out of the system, we'll be stuck here till a rescue team is dispatched in like a week or two." I warned him. Having my back to him made between my shoulderblades itch. "Some of these have security charges, the explosives will blow your men in half, destroy the code box, and seal the doors. Just leave the alone." I warned.

"Sergeant Ant, I'm ordering you." He started.

"Doesn't matter." I told him, pulling back open the tailgate on the Gypsy Wagon. I pulled out the bottle and opened the top with my thumb and forefinger. "It isn't going to change reality. If I try to do this without getting some rest, there's a good chance that I'll screw it up and get us stuck."

"Don't force me to write you up, Sergeant." The Major snapped. "I'll press charges, and don't think I won't."

...kill him, kill him now...

...quiet, Taggart...

"You do what you have to do." I smiled at him. "Write up, file charges, whatever you have to do, sir." I didn't look at him, instead shook another pill into my mouth. "Just don't forget to add that thanks to your decisions you've locked us inside a fucking bunker."

I smiled, showing the teeth the Army had given me, and put the bottle back in my pocket.

"Painkillers?" He asked.

I ignored that. "Tell your men to bunk up by the trunks. Get chow into them, post guards." I told him, using the same tone I used on my men.

"Sergeant Ant." The Major said.

"You don't have to listen to me, Major." I told him. "After all, I'm sure you have years of experience dealing with hard sites." I finished facing him and smiling.

"I'm ordering you one last time, Sergeant, go and open those doors." He warned me.

"Sir, I respectfully refuse your order." I told him, using formal tones.

"Is that your final word?"

"It is, sir."

He turned around and stalked away, and I sighed, going back to my bags. What the hell was he going to do, bend my dogtags and make me do stand to in the shower on a frozen mountain in Germany?

I changed quickly into my PT grays, then sat on the tailgate drinking out of a bottle of water and watching the Major. He was busy scribbling on a clipboard, and I knew he was writing up my insubordination.

...kill him now. he plots against you. he plans to kill you like Lieutenant Colonel Felding tried to...

...shut up, Dana...

Her voice vanished but I could hear women singing to me, faintly, going over my sins, my mistakes, my failures. They were faint, but getting stronger. I reached into my side pocket of the rucksack and pulled open the pill box I pulled out, using both hands to open it, and dropped the pills into my mouth, washing them down with a drink of water. I closed my eyes and I could hear the alarms of the Blackhawk and the tearing snarl of heavy weapons fire in my mind, my teaming cursing. I shoved the 7 day container back in the pocket and pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling that cold trickle down my back as my body flooded with combat chemicals. The Fates got louder, a chorus of women I'd failed over my life, that I'd disappointed, that had needed me and I'd dropped the ball.

I dropped down and started doing pushups, wide armed so that I had to strain, that it made my wounded forearm throb, made my damaged shoulder erupt into pain. I ignored it, ignore the Fates, and kept doing pushups to get my heart rate up, to get the medication into my system faster.

Boots stopped in front of me and I recovered quickly, my knees coming up and letting me stand straight up. The Major stood in front of me, holding out his clip board toward me.

"Sign this." He stated. I took it and glanced it over. He was counseling me on my disrespect for his rank, my refusal to carry out his lawful orders, and my insubordination in my actions and manners.

I smiled, drew a line below what he wrote, and simply wrote: "Service Member warned officer that tampering with equipment and not following instructions may result in severe damage to facility and jeapordize completion of mission objective. Service Member instructed officer that service member was not in condition (after suffering injury attempting to overcome officer's bad decisions) to follow through on orders given, and refused to follow orders that would result in possible injuries or death to fellow soldiers as well as possibly damage the possibility of completion of mission."

Then I initialed it, signed it, and handed it back with a smile. The Major read it, and stared at me, turning red.

"Think you're funny?" He asked me. The Fates were practically howling that I was a failure, a murderer, a coward, a failure. Nancy, Heather, Taggart, and Dana were whispering in my ears. to kill him before he killed me.

I shook my head, more at them than the Major, but the Major took it as me answering him. "You think this will matter?" he asked, tapping the part I'd added to the statement. "I'll still see you court martialled." He said.

"Not till we get out of here." I replied, grinning at him.

The howling was staring to diminish, the pushups had burned off the combat hormones and chemicals from my system and pushed the medication into my system.

"Now go do what I ordered." He told me, and I laughed.

"Answer is still the same." I told him. "I've been up for over 72 hours." I admitted. "I drove from Washington DC straight, and before that I was in briefings about what little they know about Kilo sites." I went to shake another pill into my mouth.

He grabbed the pills from my hand.

I lunged up, snatching it back before he could even get it to his face and took two steps to the side, snarling at him.

"Don't touch touch my goddamn meds."

"What are they?" He asked, taking a step back.

"None of your goddamn business." I told him, realizing I was crouched down and straightening up, trying to relax. "Look, sir. I'd rather it didn't be like this." The chemicals finally kicked in, and I felt weary, wanted to climb under my truck and go to sleep, and wake up after a few hours. I yawned when he started talking.

"I'd rather my orders were obeyed." he told me, and I yawned again. The Fates had gone silent, back to wherever in my head they slept. Nancy was murmuring, but now it sounded like she was trying to get me to go to sleep. Heather's voice joined hers, singing softly to me.

The Major was still talking as I walked over to the truck, pulled the tailgate down, and sat down on the tailgate.

"Set guards." I yawned again, leaning back against the dufflebags. "I already took my meds, sir." Another yawn, I leaned back, closing my eyes. "I'll be out for a little while. Feed your men, bed down."

"Sergeant Ant, on your feet." He said, pulling on me. I was limp, boneless, and I didn't even bother pushing him away, just yawned again.

He kept talking, but I was already being pulled down by the drugs.

I dreamed of Desert Storm and the hospital.