Marine Summer: Year 2041 (10 page)

I used the stick to prop myself up. I felt my right knee buckle as I tried to stand.

“Looky here, the pup is already done.”

“I’m not done,” I told him.

“Oh…well I’ll give you the count of three to get to your feet. One—Two…”

He rushed in again. I fell backwards, rolling under his swing, and climbed to my feet. I could hear our guys clapping and cheering behind me.

“Swing and a miss!” Buckley said.

I started shuffling to my left, my knees weak. I waited for his next offensive. I could feel blood trickling down my cheek from my left eyebrow. I wiped at the side of my face, trying to keep it out of my eye.

“Come on boy, take a shot!”

“You first!” I challenged him.

As soon as his left foot took a step forward, I ducked. I could feel the rush of air as the stick passed over my head, so I choked down on the stick like a baseball bat and started to swing, but I didn’t time it right. His return swing uppercut me before I could get my shot off, I felt my feet leave the ground. The last thing I remember was my head hitting the hard cold floor.

“Stay down. That’s an order!” Jenkins said.

I shook my head to rid the cobwebs, watching as he turned his back to me and raised his arms in victory. I needed to get up. I was his enemy, and he had just taken his eyes, or eye, off me. I scrambled to my feet, staggering from side to side as I tried to grasp my stick with both hands.

I think his arrogance allowed him to believe it was over, so he said to his men, “This is why we only train men…not boys!”

I charged him, his men pointing and yelling for him to turn around. But, before he could guard himself, I caught him with a blow flush on the right side of the jaw.

“Damn you, I gave you a direct order to stay down! Now you’ll pay!”

Hunching over, bobbing, it was my turn to mock him. “Like I paid your mother!”

He came at me with breakneck speed, same step, same move, and same swing. This time I stayed back, waiting for the second shot to go by before crushing the side of his jaw, I swung so hard it turned me completely around. Seeing his knee buckle, I took a shot at it, hitting him dead in the back of that knee and watching it collapse. Then, like I was back chopping all those trees at Fort Rice, I went to work with everything I had. Strike after strike, hacking at his side. I realized then I was doing some damage.

“Get him!” Buckley screamed.

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I jumped on his back and wrapped my legs around his midsection and squeezed with all my might at the same time I swung my stick around his neck catching it and pulling it under his chin. He was the bull and I was the rider, and someone had just opened the chute. The more he bucked, the harder I pulled. His arms started swinging about, trying to dislodge the stick from under his now choked off neck. When his attempts failed, he went for my ankles, but I had my heels dug in and he was close to passing out. I wanted him to feel what it was like when his eyes went black. It wasn’t pleasant.

As he fell to both knees, his back starting to hunch, I could feel him weakening. I knew I had him. Just a few more seconds and he’d be out cold.

“ATTENTION ON DECK!” resonated out through the bay.

Paying no attention to the order, I continued to choke Major Jenkins.

“Get that man off the major!” a man’s voice ordered.

Buckley and a couple of the others grabbed me, pulling me down. I tried to get back to Jenkins, but they held me back.

“Snap out of it kid, or you’re going to the brig,” Buckley said in my ear.

“What the hell is this?” the same voice asked.

I looked up to see the man who was speaking. Two silver stars rode high on each of his shoulders. It was the major general. The very man I had just been assigned to serve. I knew I was screwed. Even though I was victorious, it now meant nothing.

“Would somebody like to help the major to his feet?” he asked.

Major Jenkins was still down on one knee, holding his throat.

“So what in the sam-hell is going on down here? I hear this commotion from my office and I see an enlisted man fighting an officer. And all of you jack-wagons are standing around like you’re watching the fucking Thanksgiving Day Parade!”

“It was just an exhibition for the men, sir, a morale builder of sorts,” Jenkins said, his throat gurgling as he struggled to clear it.

“One of my majors getting his ass beat is a fucking morale builder…is that what you’re telling me, major?”

“Yes sir, let me explain…”

The major general interrupted. “Oh this I’d love to hear. I love fairytales. So by all means, please carry on, do fucking explain!”

“This young…Marine,” he emphasized, “is in the Suit Program. We thought it would be good for the rest of the men to see what it takes to be in that program. You know, what kind of Marine it takes.”

Standing there, hands on his hips and stern look on his face the major general spoke. “No, I don’t know. And I think you’re bullshitting me, major, just to keep your sorry ass out of the brig. And that man is an E-3. He’s too low ranking to be a suit.”

“His paperwork is upstairs, sir. We’re pushing it through,” Jenkins said.

“Are you bullshitting me—Major?”

“Only if I have to, sir.”

“Mmhmm,” he pondered. “You’d better, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Sir, I’d like to apologize,” I spoke up.

“Shut your hole, lance corporal, I want no further explanations. Major Jenkins, I want this man on the first Jeep out of here in the morning. Get his rank right, get his uniforms right, and get this godforsaken mess of a supply bay field-dayed [cleaned] before I run all of your asses till your feet bleed. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir!” Jenkins said, saluting the general.

“Carry on…all of you…carry the fuck on!”

We waited uneasily for him to leave, it was tense waiting and knowing that Jenkins just lost the upper hand. I personally thought he was going to kill me just as soon as the general cleared the bay.

“Well kid,” he said facing me, “you got moxie. I think you’re in over your head, but then again, what the fuck do I know. You impressed me. Thanks for the ass whippin’!”

I was taken aback as he offered a sincere handshake.

“Thank you, major, same to you.”

“And kid, you might want to get some rest. It will be kind of hard over there on your first day with that head aching.”

“It’s not that bad, sir,” I said.

“Oh, it will be.”

Then, I felt his fist clobber my chin and that familiar dark cloud started filling my eyes.

“Rise—and—shine—sunshine,” Buckley teased me.

I pried my eyes open, not knowing where I was, my head still foggy.

Rags took my open eyes as a sign it was okay to lick my face, which he had done every single morning since we arrived at Tiger Mountain.

“Down, boy,” I said. My throat felt horse and my mouth was dry.

“Can’t sleep all day. Reveille will be in about…oh, say, eight hours.”

“Eight hours?” I questioned him, I was lost. “It’s not morning?”

“Hell no, it’s dinner time. Get your ass up and get over here, Jenkins got us steaks. He felt bad for knocking your ass out.”

Then it dawned on me—I had so much to do to get ready to leave.

“Damn!” I said, attempting to rise up from my rack.

“Slow down, slow down, we got you covered. We sewed all your patches on your uniforms. All you need to do is pack, so don’t rush,” Buckley said.

Finally sitting up in my rack I asked, “How long have I been out?”

“Oh, about six hours. You’ll be fine. We had the doc come in and check you out.”

“I feel like I get hit by a truck.”

“Technically, you did, I’m thinking Jenkins and a truck weigh about the same.”

I tried focusing my eyes. Looking around the room, I saw the others sitting at the tables in the center of the dorm.

“Come join us,” Houserman said, a warm smile on his face.

“Yeah, these boys are biting at the bit to tear into those steaks, so you might want to get your ass over there,” Buckley said.

Considering what I had gone through, it was a nice gesture from Jenkins. Seeing all these men, the only Marines I’d known, enjoy a great meal and each other’s company, I couldn’t help but wonder what would come of them after tomorrow. Would our paths ever cross again?

Dinner, jokes, and laughing. It was a memory I’ll enjoy for a long time. As they retired one by one, I sat up packing, remembering where we had been and how we had gotten here. Then finally, I was the last to drift off to sleep.

It was oh-five-hundred hours. Buckley once again woke me.

“Shhhhh,” he warned me, whispering. “Time to go. They’re out there waiting for you.”

I nodded okay and quickly dressed, grabbing my rucksack and rifle and heading to the door. As soon as we passed it, Buckley clipped a leash on Rags.

“I’m sorry, son, he can’t go with you.”

“But Sarge…”

“No buts, kid. I’ll look after him for you. I promise,” Buckley said, reaching down to pat Rags’ head.

I knelt down to say my goodbyes. Looking into his sad eyes, I couldn’t help but think he knew what was happening. He jumped up, putting his front paws on my chest, and licked my nose as I scratched behind his ears.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” I said, my voice cracking. I could feel the tears swelling up and hastily choked them back. “I have to go.”

I shook Sarge’s hand. Turning, I started walking away. I could hear Rags whimpering behind me. The further I went, the louder he cried. It was breaking my heart, but I didn’t want to show weakness. Jenkins was up ahead waiting with my orders.

“Here, kid, this is all I can give you,” Jenkins said, handing me four magazines. “You probably won’t need them, but it’s better to have them and not need them.

“Thank you, sir.”

He gently placed his hand on my shoulder and stepped next to me.

“You are a Marine. Keep your head up and don’t take your eye off the enemy. And for what it’s worth, if Buckley doesn’t take care of that mutt, I will. When this is over, you come back and claim him.”

We exchanged brief smiles. He patted my shoulder and sent me on my way.

It was lonely tram ride back to the main gate. I was the only one in the car. I’ll never forget walking out of that hatch, the cool air filling my lungs. I should have been happy, but leaving Rags, Buckley, Houserman, and the others, I wasn’t so sure. What if I never saw them again?

“Corporal!” the driver called.

I nodded and entered the jeep.

“Where are we headed?” I asked.

“About two hours southwest of here. Your new home will be just northwest of Mount St. Helens.”

I remembered reading about Mount St. Helens in history class. It had erupted sometime back in the late 1900s.

What kind of base is near an active volcano
? I wondered to myself.

The trip was uneventful, just a simple supply convoy delivering who knows what to who knows where. I think I counted six trucks and a couple of other Jeeps.

We pulled down a long dirt road hidden just off the highway. As the trucks turned left, we made a right. The driver pulled the Jeep up in front of a little building in the middle of nowhere. I looked around, not seeing much more than trees and shrubs.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“It’s your new home,” the driver said. “Good luck, corporal.”

I grabbed my gear and stepped out of the Jeep, my ax clanging against the side.

“Where do I go?” I asked him.

He didn’t answer, just pulled away.

I circled around to the back of the building, cautiously looking for the entrance. There was no door, nothing.

A buzzing sound behind me caught my attention. Looking up, I saw that a small camera was tracking me. It was tucked neatly between two branches of a tree, just above the first fork.

“Identify yourself!” a voice said.

I adjusted my angle and could see a small speaker.

“Corporal Butler, reporting for duty,” I said into the speaker.

“Orders!”

I dropped my gear off my shoulder. Unzipping the compartment on my rucksack, I pulled out the folder and held it up.

“Orders!” came across the speakers again.

I opened the folder, pulling out the paperwork within, and held it up for the camera. The flash of a red light from inside the camera lens startled me.

“Stand fast!”

I tucked the paperwork back in the folder, stowed it back in my rucksack, and waited.

I stood there for what must have been three hours, and nothing happened. I tapped on the camera lens. I yelled at it, “Hey!”, trying to get anyone’s attention. Still, nothing happened.

So I pulled my ax out and started swinging it. Stretching my arms, trying to get some exercise, anything to break up the boredom.

“Put the weapon away!” the voice said over the speaker.

“Excuse me, am I in the right place?” I called.

“Yes!”

“Where do I go?”

“Here!”

“Here where? There is no door.”

“Here!”

I was getting frustrated. I thought they were fucking with me.

“Where the hell am I supposed to go?” I asked, my agitation starting to show.

“Here!” the voice said angrily.

I searched all over that tree, looking for anything. I climbed on top of the small building, but found nothing.
Is this a game, a trick?
I thought. Still standing on top of the building, I noticed a twinkle in the bushes to my left as the sun broke through the clouds and its rays exposed a reflection.

“Hmmm. Interesting,” I said.

I jumped down off the building and snatched my gear up. With the rucksack on my back and my rifle attached to the strap, I cautiously searched through the brush. In fact, it wasn’t brush it all—it was camouflage. The bush thicket was about two feet thick and hid a small hatch. I tried turning the handle, but it was locked in place. Then the hatch made a beeping sound followed by a pop that caused me to jump back and raise my rifle.

“Put the weapon down!” the speaker crackled.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, easy for you to say,” I responded.

I dropped my grip on the rifle, letting it sway on my belly in the harness. Reaching out, I tried the handle again. This time it opened.

“Enter!” the voice commanded.

It was pitch black inside that hole. I couldn’t even see a few feet in front of me.

“What the hell?” I mumbled.

I crouched down and peeked my head inside. A couple of hands seized me and jerked me in. I tried to wrestle myself free, but couldn’t see what I was wrestling with. I felt cold metal on my cheek; when I managed to get ahold of the thing that had my shirt twisted up, I felt a powerful smack on the back of my hand.

“What the fuck?” I screamed.

“Not even if you buy me a drink,” a voice said from the darkness.

“Huh?” I said, thinking to myself,
This is odd
.

I felt myself being dragged. A small light appeared at the end of the dark tunnel. Now I could see what was gripping me. It was a Suit.

Looking up, I saw three Suits. The dark metal, intimidating and cold, stood over me. Smooth lines and no edges, black visors smooth with the contours of their helmets. Muscular physiques stamped into the upper torso plates all the way down through the legs, joints covered by more black armor.

“Are you Drew Butler?” the one above my head asked, its digital voice resonating through the small domed cave.

“Yes, sir!” I answered.

“Then get your ass up. We got work to do!”

I rolled over to my side and watched as all three walked through an arch at the back of the cave.

“Come on, rookie!” one of them called.

Unsnapping myself from the rucksack, I clambered to my feet.

“Today, rookie!” I heard one call.

I caught up to them in a long brick lined wall tunnel as they entered a small open area with a ledge overlooking a pool of water. A small bench and a locker were set to the right side.

“Drop your gear there, on the ground in front of it.”

“Yes, sir.” I said.

“Quit calling me sir. See the paint on my arm?” He pointed. “What’s that stand for?”

“Sergeant,” I answered.

“No shit, now quit calling me sir.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, rookie. Sheesh!” the sergeant said.

I threw my gear next to the locker and joined them on the ledge, standing next to the sergeant. He placed his metal paw on the small of my back and pushed me to the ledge. I could feel my feet sliding on the soft dirt floor.

“Whoa, whoa…”

“Don’t be scared, rookie, I won’t push you off…yet.”

“What is this?” I asked.

“It’s a cave lake. See the door on the other side? That’s how we enter the base.”

Peeping over the ledge, I could see a metal platform extending out over water. Two Suits were standing guard, one on each side of the dark silver door. It was dimly lit from this height.

“How do I get down there?”

“You jump, rook, you jump!” the sergeant answered.

“Jump! Are you kidding?”

“Nope. It’s the only way down.”

“Are you chicken?” another asked. I looked at his arm. He was a corporal like me.

“How far down is it?” I nervously asked.

“Oh, 50, 70…maybe 100 feet. Don’t really know. I’ve never measured it,” the sergeant said.

I tiptoed to the edge. It looked like black ice, with no bottom in sight. My knees felt weak and my stomach started to turn.

“We can call it quits right and you can hitch a ride back to Tiger Mountain,” the Corporal said.

I had to think. I’d never done anything like this.

“Okay, let’s take him back,” the sergeant said.

“No! I can do it…I think,” I said.

“You got one second,” the sergeant warned.

It was like being in slow motion as I stepped off that ledge dropping into the abyss, all the lights a faint blur. Their laughter coming from above sounded like ghosts echoing down a long hallway. The water seemed miles away. I clenched my eyes tight. My body stiffened. I waited for impact. And then time caught up with me as the cold rush of the water stole my breath. I felt the impact through my entire body as my feet sliced through the water’s surface. I felt like a deer trying to climb a ladder with no rungs; I was reaching for things that weren’t there. I could see the light of the platform, but when I moved my eyes away from it, I could see just nothingness, an empty void.

Letting myself go limp, I resurfaced to hear, “He did it. Let’s go pull him out of the drink.”

Pull me out?

“Aren’t you guys jumping?” I yelled up to them.

“Nah, rook, we’ll use the stairs behind the locker,” I could hear the Sarge saying.

Now what? I need to get to the ledge. I could barely feel my legs. My arms weren’t responding.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw lights approaching, moving fast. Reaching up I grabbed the edge of the platform. I couldn’t even pull myself up; I was spent.

“I got him,” the corporal said.

As I looked to my right, the cold stopped bothering me; I was just fascinated. The corporal was running down the path to my right, faster than anything with two legs I’d ever seen before. I could see from his lights that the path he was on was about to end, but this didn’t stop him. Like a big cat jumping at its prey, he sprang up in the air, soaring at least 20 or 30 feet across the open water, landing right in front of me.