by Chris Bostic
“We’ll get you some water,” I said. “Now move it out.”
I gestured toward the shower house for Noel to walk, and the man complied. With slow, jerky steps, he hobbled toward the building. Before we got all the way back, I spotted John. He carried a five gallon bucket in each hand as he stepped through the doorway to the bathroom.
He dropped them both on the sidewalk and ran toward us.
“Are you kidding me?” He looked from Noel back to me. “Guess you had to one up me on the prisoner thing, didn’t you?”
I was happy to hand over my captive to John. Though Katelyn’s brother wasn’t carrying a weapon, he made up for it with attitude. He roughly grabbed the man by the hood of his jacket and guided Noel back toward the shower house.
My mom was the next one out of the building, also carrying a pair of five gallon buckets. She set hers right next to John’s and hollered for Spotted Fawn as soon as she saw us coming. They both met us not far from the building, and instantly peppered us with questions.
“Hold on,” I said before they could finish. “I’m not telling the story five times.”
“Fair enough,” my mom agreed. “He looks a little worse for the wear. Dump him here and help us carry out more stuff. Katelyn can watch him.” She gestured toward the young soldier. “And the other prisoner.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, and hurried inside the building—that time with no qualms about entering the ladies’ room.
Broken glass crunched under my feet as I headed past a row of sinks on the left and stalls on the right. It seemed pretty much like a normal bathroom, minus the urinals. That gave me valuable insight into where I might have made the wrong assumption in the past. I’d always thought girls were just slow in the bathroom, primping for hours in the mirror, when it seemed like maybe they just needed more toilets. Urinals took up far less room than stalls, and the troughs at the ballpark even less. Not that I was a fan of the trough. I was almost willing to wait in longer lines for a little more privacy.
“Back here,” Austin called, pulling me from the fascinating revelation.
In the back, a few tiled stalls for showering stood off to the left. Austin was on the right peering through a giant hole in the wall like a cross between the Kool-Aid man and a peeping Tom.
“Hey, bro. Take these.”
He passed a bucket through the wall. My arm sank to the ground, and I had to grunt to pick the bucket back up off the floor.
“Feels like sand,” I said through clenched teeth, and took a second bucket.
“Fertilizer isn’t light,” John said, “and five gallons of it makes a good forty pounds. Just wait until we add the fuel.”
“That’s not in here yet?” I asked as I staggered toward the door.
I added my buckets to the growing stack, and rushed back inside a couple more times. The pile grew to the point where I wasn’t sure how we could possibly carry that many buckets. With nine in our group and some weaker than others, I did a quick count of the bombs. I came up with fourteen stacked outside on the sidewalk.
And that was before John brought out red plastic cans like the ones my dad had used to fill the lawnmower. That was my least favorite chore. I’d quickly grown to hate the mower, but as the youngest male I’d been assigned the job anyway. Though only a year older, Austin had paid his dues, and Maddie was supposedly too fragile to help out. Still, I would’ve given anything to go back to the way things had been, even if it meant wrestling with the world’s toughest pull start. I’d nearly thrown out my shoulder trying to get that beast to run, but Dad hadn’t the inclination or the money to replace it after he’d been fired.
“What’s that?” I asked John, though I was sure I knew the answer. It was more what he was planning on doing with those cans. We didn’t need anything more to carry.
“Diesel fuel,” Spotted Owl explained as he rounded the corner of the building, no longer needing to hold up the roof. “Pop those lids and let’s get it soaking.”
I was about to question him about whether that was a good idea, but knew we obviously couldn’t carry all the fuel cans and the buckets at the same time. I was even a little relieved to find out it wouldn’t add much more weight to the loads.
“It’s five percent diesel, ninety-five fertilizer mix,” Spotted Owl explained as he handed Austin and John the fuel containers.
“And if we run out of diesel?” John asked.
“There’s enough for this batch,” Spotted Owl, alluding to the possibility more buckets remained behind. “Besides, kerosene works too…but we’ve got more use for that stuff in the camp.”
“Cool,” Austin said as he snapped the lid back on the first bucket. “And how do we blow them?”
“Blasting caps,” Spotted Owl said. “I’ll fetch those in a minute.”
“What about dynamite?” John asked.
“That would work better, but that’s not an option.” Spotted Owl finished filling a second bucket. “You remember Wood Duck? He worked heavy road construction, so he had access to blasting caps.”
“That was fortunate,” Katelyn’s mom said. She reached over to pick up a filled bucket and move it aside. Though she obviously strained, it wasn’t more than she could handle. Nevertheless, I saw blistered hands and aching backs in our future. And we had our weapons to carry too. Fortunately, we could sling those over our backs.
That reminded me of our other weapons. “Where are we leaving our hunting rifles?”
“I was gonna say the stables,” Spotted Owl replied, “but I think we’ll have to drop them here.”
“Along with the prisoners?” John asked.
“Prisoners? Like more than one?” Spotted Owl paused and looked up to see John pointing to Noel. “Whoa, he’s back!”
Noel raised his slumped head ever so slightly, and locked eyes with Spotted Owl.
“Now that’s crazy! Never thought we’d see that guy again.” Spotted Owl looked to John. “Any clue what he’s doing here?”
“He won’t talk. Zach found him hiding behind the dumpster.”
Spotted Owl patted me on the back. “Nice work. You’re really wracking up big numbers on the prisoner count.”
I ignored the praise. “I don’t know why he won’t talk. I mean he sounds really scratchy when he breathes, but he acts like he can’t hear a thing.”
“Too close to the bombs?” Katelyn’s dad asked.
Spotted Owl shook his head. “If he’d been that close, the concussion should’ve killed him.” He fastened the lid on the last bucket, and straightened up. “Well, we’ve got us a dilemma.”
“You’re not gonna kill me, are you?” the kid whimpered.
Everyone turned to him, seeing how he’d barely spoken other than to beg for his life back at the bridge.
“Of course not,” Spotted Owl snarled. “That’s something your people would do.”
“We’re just going to tie you up nice and tight,” John said with a sneer. “Maybe find you a nifty little gag and a blindfold.”
“Don’t leave me here,” he begged. Tears poured from below droopy eyelids.
“Why not?” John said sharply.
“I won’t tell nobody,” he pleaded. “Take me with you.”
“No way,” Spotted Owl said.
“You’re a blubbering mess,” Katelyn’s dad said, piling on to the poor kid to the point that I almost felt sorry for him. “We sure as hell don’t need you slowing us down.”
The kid sniffled. He raised his head a little taller, and more firmly said, “I’ll help you guys. I don’t want nothing to do with my unit.” He wiped his runny nose on his shirtsleeve. “I been wantin’ to leave, but they’d never let me. You guys done saved me.”
I traded a look with Katelyn, and noticed a similar sympathy in her eyes. Spotted Owl, ever the brute, wasn’t as moved.
“We don’t need two deserters. One was enough.”
“Believe…the kid,” a very scratchy Noel said, startling everyone. His voice was so rough he could
barely get out the words. “Only the…truly evil…don’t wanna desert.”
“I thought you couldn’t hear,” John said, getting right in Noel’s face. He grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to his unsteady feet. “Why you playing us?”
“Leave me. I’ll only…slow you down.” He coughed until his eyes bulged, and slumped back against the building.
“You didn’t answer the question,” Spotted Owl said, stepping next to John. “What are you up to?”
“I didn’t…” Noel began coughing again, and couldn’t stop until my mom offered him her water bottle. He took a couple drinks, but his throat was no less scratchy. “I didn’t sell…y’all out.” His dark eyes flashed accusingly. “You left me…in the woods.”
“After we were rocketed,” John said, taking the words out of my mouth. “Everyone else found their way back except you.”
“Did you…look?”
“We were busy,” I said, stifling the emotion as well as I could.
Noel reached over to pull up his pant leg. A bloody shirt was wrapped around his lower leg. “I laid in a hole…all night.” He reached up to unzip his jacket. His hands were so unsteady it took a moment, and he only lowered it far enough to expose the top of his bare chest.
“At least you’re not dead,” I muttered, but instantly regretted it. I looked away, ashamed at the outburst.
“You bandaged your own wounds,” Mom said somberly. “And we left you.”
I turned back to see Noel nod. The deserter didn’t shed a tear. Instead, he looked at his lap. “You can…leave me…again. Just come back.”
“He could watch the prisoner,” Katelyn’s dad suggested.
“Unless that kid has some use,” John said, though I wasn’t sure that Katelyn’s brother actually believed it. “We should find out.”
“Fine,” Spotted Owl said. “But we’ve gotta hurry. We’re way behind and only getting later.”
“Spill it,” John told the kid.
“Private James Bullinger,” he replied. “First Calvary. Fort Benning, Georgia.”
“Not that military crap,” John said, but Spotted Owl jumped in.
“So you’re from the same base as Noel.” He turned to the deserter. “Those details check out?”
Noel nodded. “First Cav was posted…there too.” He cleared his throat. It didn’t help much with the scratchiness. “But I don’t…know him.”
“So what’s the deal, Private?” Spotted Owl asked. “Why’d your people take the bridge?”
“They’re rolling out tonight at dusk. Gunships and armored vehicles.” He looked at Spotted Owl, and showed no remorse. “As long as it took to fly up here, I thought we were too far out front…but the officers didn’t listen. They never listen.”
“Where are they massing at?” John said, no doubt knowing full well that the answer was supposed to be Cherokee.
“Outside this little town, in some Indian reservation or something.” He shrugged and didn’t completely melt from the sharp, questioning glares from the group. “That’s all I heard…honest. I’m not from around here, and grunts don’t get to see maps.”
“Anything else?” Spotted Owl asked. “Seems like you don’t know much, and that’s not worth a whole lot to me.”
“I’m not supposed to. I’m supposed to do what I’m told.” James scratched his head. “But I did overhear the guys in my squad talking to some drivers. They said something about having to cross the Ocalufty bridge…first thing tonight, at eighteen hundred hours.”
“Oconaluftee River,” I whispered to Katelyn. “By the Visitor Center.”
“That’s where we’re heading. We’re going right toward them.”
“I think that’s the idea,” I said with a shiver.
Before I could follow up, a boom rumbled from off to the south. It carried over the hills like thunder, but close enough that the ground shook underneath us. A second blast followed from even closer, shaking the roof of the shower house.
“Are we too late?” Austin asked Spotted Owl. He seemed itching for a fight, which unsettled me. Spotted Owl’s reply was more distressing.
“That’s not our guys.” He pointed to the buckets, and nervously looked back to the sky. “At least not our bombs. We have all the ANFO.”
I spun to run for cover, but I was a second too late. The scream of jets broke overhead like the rush of a freight train. More blasts rumbled in the distance.
CHAPTER 25
Thankfully, we didn’t need to hide.
“There’s no more time,” Spotted Owl said as the jets wheeled off to our right and faded away. The roar of the engines and the blasts faded too, but not the dread in my belly.
“How about we take the kid and leave Noel?” John said, though as much of a statement as a question.
“Nah. Bring ‘em both,” Spotted Owl said. He zeroed in on Noel. “You better keep up. We’re not stopping for you.”
Spotted Owl hurried off to grab the blasting caps as the rest of us started picking up the buckets. I overheard John tell his father, “I don’t like this one bit.”
“It might work out better than you think,” the older man replied.
I wasn’t sure how, but didn’t want to get involved in any drama. Instead, I slung the military rifle over my shoulder and nestled it to my side next to my backpack. I considered leaving the pack, but figured it wasn’t taking up too much space. How could it when there was little more than another granola packet, a half-empty water bottle and a small first aid kid inside?
I picked up a bucket in each hand and walked away from the shower house, but not far.
Katelyn saw me leaving. She grabbed a bucket and came over to stand with me while the rest of the group took their time getting ready.
I dropped the buckets and nervously bounced from one foot to the other. My eyes kept going to the sky, which was turning more of a steel gray by the second. Off to the west, a little hint of orange hugged the top of the mountain, but it wasn’t my favorite shade. This color meant lights out, and nothing about the darkness reassured me anymore.
“I thought we were in a hurry,” I muttered.
“They’re coming.” Katelyn switched her bucket from one hand the other, and ended up setting hers down too. “This thing weighs a ton.”
“More like forty pounds,” I deadpanned.
“Okay, smartass.”
“I’m just telling you what your brother said,” I protested, and felt bad for the tone I’d used.
“Like a jerk.”
“You know I’m kidding,” I said weakly, but it appeared she wasn’t convinced.
“Yeah, right.”
“I smiled when I said it,” I explained. “That’s the code. It’s a joke when I smile.”
“I must’ve missed that, but it’s good to know.” She looked at me with narrowed eyes. I felt a lie detector behind them, and hoped I passed. Apparently I did, because she said, “I guess I should be glad you’re back to joking around. It’s my fault for walking on eggshells around you.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” I said. “But thanks. I know it’s been hard on you too.”
“My mom always says that. You ever do that thing where you just repeat these like really old sayings, you know, like a penny for your thoughts?”
“All the livelong day,” I quipped, and corrected myself. “Actually, no. And a penny wouldn’t go very far nowadays. My dad always said precious metals was a good place to keep your assets, but there’s hardly any copper in a penny anymore.”
“That’s what I mean, right there,” she said. “We are who we are because of our parents, right?”
“Yeah. So does that make me half the man I used to be?”
“See? You can quote. And it really is good to see you joking around.” Katelyn took a slow breath, and lowered her voice. “You know, I think you’ll be twice the man you were before. Even though you don’t have to, I think you’ll step up for all of us in so many different ways.”
“I do have big shoes to fill,” I joked with another common saying, but felt the weight of that one bear down on me. Combined with the other thoughts, the mental load grew heavier. Ever since that night before, my life had become like I was carrying dozens of buckets around. IED buckets. I just hoped one didn’t go off and blow me apart.
“I’m hanging by a thread,” I whispered, once again hiding behind jokes and platitudes.
From underneath her helmet, Katelyn’s eyes sparkled in the fading light. Slipping a hand into mine, she went to nestle her head against my shoulder—and forgot about the body armor. Her helmet thunked off my shoulder. I stifled a chuckle and held still as she laid her head against me more carefully. The steel plates of my armor and the nylon webbing that served for padding inside her helmet couldn’t have been comfortable. But I wasn’t going to complain if she didn’t.
“It’s really getting dark fast,” I whispered as I fished a hand under her helmet to massage her neck.
“It seems darker tonight already.”
“Yeah, I reckon so,” I replied. “It’s kinda like there’s a haze.”
“You think? I thought it was getting cloudy.”
“I’m not going to argue with you, but you’re wrong.” I punctuated the statement with a smile.
“Glad to know you’re kidding,” she said when she noticed my grin.
“Yeah, I’m not joking.” It was definitely hazy, I thought. Probably from the bomb blasts, either there or the ones farther to the south, but I didn’t mention that. Instead, I said, “It’s past dusk, and I think we’ve got a long way to go. So much for meeting the other group, if…”
Katelyn seemed to realize that I was hinting at the more recent bombing, and wisely didn’t take the conversation down that route. She looked up at me, and said, “Then what’s taking so long?”
“They’re probably still arguing over the prisoners. I never should’ve caught Noel again. Or that other kid.”
She stared at me curiously. “You taking credit for capturing him too?”
“Well I did see him first,” I replied with a little added swagger. When Katelyn harrumphed, I added, “I’m smiling, babe.”
