by Nathan Jones
Above the cacophony from the men attacking him he heard Saunders and a few of his other squad mates shouting angrily, then the sounds of fighting that didn't involve him. It looked as if he'd accidentally incited a full scale brawl.
Considering they were in the middle of a military camp it took a surprisingly long several minutes for MPs to arrive and break things up. That felt like an eternity to Pete, who spent most of that time trying to duck blows. At least until his squad mates reached the Lancers attacking him and forced them to shift their focus to targets who could fight back.
But finally he heard the whistles and angry shouts to break it up. Considering the number of people brawling in the bar the few MPs shouldn't have been able to do anything, but Lancer and Chainbreaker alike were quick to back away when faced with serious punishment.
Before Pete knew it he was being dragged to his feet, as MPs tried to listen to people on both sides all giving their account of events simultaneously. But although Epsilon had his back, and Tanner put in a word for him, even Pete's supporters were forced to agree that he threw the first punch.
It looked like he'd be the only one getting tossed in the drunk tank tonight.
Pete wasn't the only one who'd come to that realization. In spite of the MP's protests Vernon pushed through the crowd to toss in a last parting shot as Pete was manhandled towards the exit over the protests of his fellow Chainbreakers.
“You know, there's a reason people call you the Kid,” the former sheriff said in a slightly nasally voice, dabbing at the blood streaming from his nose with a handkerchief. Yeah, the dude actually carried around a handkerchief. “And it's not just your age, Childress. You fly off the handle easier than a dollar store frying pan.”
Pete's response was much less eloquent and a lot more colorful, which might explain why the MPs were less than gentle in cuffing him into silence before dragging him from Tanner's.
In a way he couldn't complain. Spending the night in the drunk tank and maybe pulling extra work details for brawling wouldn't be a picnic, but at least it kept him away from Kathleen and her pressure for him to make a decision sooner rather than later.
Although after what he'd just heard about Alice and Rick, he was half tempted to find his girlfriend the moment he was released and get down on one knee. He'd already tossed away a good thing once, maybe it was time to show some gratitude and accept his second chance.
Which meant, come to think of it, that since he wasn't trying to avoid her and he'd finally made up his mind it really wasn't a good thing that he'd just landed himself into trouble.
* * * * *
The drunk tank was the informal term for the camp's prison, a crude but sturdily made structure of wood covered by metal sheeting, with chain-link fence doors in place of bars for the cells. There was barely room to lie down in each, with a simple cot taking up most of the space and the rest occupied by a bucket drunks could use to puke in or take care of other bodily needs.
And this being a military camp, once prisoners slept off their rowdiness part of their punishment involved cleaning up the mess they'd made.
Pete was in there for two hours without any news. That wasn't unusual, but for some reason he felt like the MP on duty was more chilly towards him than made any sense under the circumstances. It was hard not to worry more and more as time went on, doubt crawling in his gut that something was wrong.
When the MP outside the drunk tank finally did bawl him to attention Pete shot to his feet, standing rigid as booted feet approached his cell and stopped on the other side.
He'd been hoping for his immediate superiors, Corporal Reed or Sergeant Branson. Instead with a sinking heart he recognized Captain Tremblay, commander of 103rd Company.
Shoot. He was in more trouble than he'd thought. Pete hastily saluted, holding it as Tremblay leaned against the chain-link on one arm and peered through at him, eyes narrowed.
After almost a minute of silence, broken only by quiet murmurs and coughs from other parts of the prison, Tremblay finally sighed and closed his eyes. “Know why you're here, Private?”
“Brawling, sir,” Pete answered promptly.
The company commander snorted. “You wish.” He allowed Pete to puzzle over that for another half a minute or so before continuing. “Fred Vernon.”
“Yes, sir. I hit him after he provoked me.”
Tremblay sucked in a breath, as if this was all a huge inconvenience. “No, Private Childress. What you did was defame and then strike a commissioned officer.”
It took a few seconds for Pete to pick his jaw up off the floor. “Commissioned officer?” he demanded incredulously.
The captain shot him a warning look at his tone. “That's right. A second lieutenant, to be precise. And the only reason you're not in it up to your eyeballs is because the commission hasn't come through for him yet.”
Pete's common sense momentarily deserted him. “With all due respect, sir, how did he get made an officer?”
He expected to be burned to a crisp for the question, but instead he got an icy glare. “Because he brought in two squads of volunteers, and that's how 102nd Company does things.” Tremblay poked a finger through the chain-link at Pete's chest. “Which isn't your concern. You should be worried about what's going to happen to you.”
Oh, he was. Striking an officer was no joke, no matter the excuse. “But he's not a lieutenant yet, right?” Pete said, trying not to sound too pleading. “And it was just a bar fight!”
“He's not, and it was, which is why you're not in it up to your eyeballs, like I said.” Tremblay sighed. “Unfortunately Vernon has friends, and apparently knows how to hold a grudge. So I decided the best solution to the mess you made is reassignment.”
Pete felt his heart sink. He almost would've preferred getting tossed in jail for a few months to being kicked out of the Chainbreakers. “Where, sir?”
Even before the captain told him, Pete could read from his expression that it wasn't going to be anywhere pleasant.
Tremblay let him out a few minutes later, to pack up and get ready to take the next vehicle out of camp. Pete would be passed around the grapevine on whatever convoy was going in the general direction he was headed, with no way of knowing when or how he'd make it to his new assignment. Which was pretty standard for traveling these days with fuel so scarce.
His squad mates were waiting outside the drunk tank when he emerged, and from their grim expressions it was obvious they knew what his punishment was. As they gathered around to shake his hand and clap him on the shoulder Pete felt a bit like he was at his own funeral.
“Please tell me I'm the only one who stepped in it for that brawl,” he said as Saunders wrapped an arm around his shoulders and started him back to their barrack tent.
His friend snorted. “Good news there. None of the dozen or so Lancers we beat the tar out of were officers, so the worst we'll get is latrine duty.”
“Good.” Pete meant it, but he couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Saunders's grip on his neck tightened encouragingly. “Don't worry, you'll be back with us in no time. Nobody's going to bury you over this BS.”
“Tremblay didn't seem to think it was BS.”
His friend hesitated. “Yeah, well Fred Vernon strikes me as the type who'd goad an idiot he doesn't like into taking a swing at him, right at the worst possible time for that SOB, just so he can use it as an excuse to torpedo the guy's career. He's the worst sort of festering sore in a unit, the kind that destroys morale and cohesion, and if he keeps it up soon everyone will know he's full of it and start mitigating the damage he can do.”
Pete wasn't happy to hear that. “Are you saying he played me?”
“I'm saying you went over there to publicly humiliate him, with the truth no less, and now you're on your way up to the land of eternal winter.” Saunders shook his head sympathetically. “Whether he played you or not, my friend, you're screwed.”
He nodded glumly. “Thanks for waiting for me, g
uys,” he said heavily, “but I don't have much time. I need to go say goodbye to Kathleen and Lily.”
His squad mates made some final sympathetic noises and a few clapped him on the back. Most of them were clearly drunk and probably planning on getting back to it, even though it would mean being up late.
Saunders accompanied Pete towards the civilian section of camp, though. “I really am sorry about this,” his friend said in a low voice. “What are you going to do about the girls? Aren't you practically taking care of Lily at this point? And Kathleen was pushing to get you to go home with her, right?”
“I don't know what I can do,” Pete answered grimly. He was dreading talking to Kathleen, sick at the prospect of having to directly face how bad he'd screwed up. But there was no help for it.
They turned the corner to the lane the girls' tents were on, with Kathleen's only twenty feet away. At that point Saunders gave him a last pat on the shoulder and turned to leave. Pete caught his arm to stop him.
“Watch out for them, okay?” he said quietly. His friend gave him a surprised look. “I mean I'm not saying try to take my place or anything, but they're two girls in a camp full of soldiers.”
“Chainbreakers,” Saunders pointed out.
Pete shrugged uncomfortably. “I don't think anyone would really try to hurt them. But just, just do what you can for them while I'm gone, okay?”
His friend nodded solemnly. “I promise, man. Anyone who bothers them will have the entire squad pounding him to a pulp within seconds.”
Pete nodded and let his squad mate go, staring after him as he walked away. He knew he should hurry, that he barely had time for proper goodbyes anyway, but in spite of the time constraints he dreaded walking the several yards to his girlfriend's tent to tell her he was moving over a thousand miles away.
He knew what that meant for them.
After a minute he sucked in a breath, shoulders tense, and strode over to Kathleen's tent, slapping the entry flap lightly. “You awake?” he hissed.
The words were barely out of his mouth before his girlfriend flew out of the tent, barefoot and in her sleeping sweatpants and undershirt with her glasses nowhere in sight. She threw herself into his arms and held on tight.
“Thank goodness you're okay,” she murmured, obviously mindful of the people sleeping around them. Especially Lily in the next tent over. “I heard you got in a fight and got dragged into the tank. What happened?”
Pete steeled himself. “Let's go in your tent.”
Kathleen frowned, sensing from his tone that it was serious. With a hesitant nod she led him into her tent and plopped down on the bed, pulling him down beside her. Then she waited patiently, gray eyes crinkled with worry staring deep into his.
So he told her. About Vernon, and the fight, and about learning from Tremblay that the former sheriff was now an officer. He paused to gather his courage before finishing with the news that he'd been transferred, but before he could continue his girlfriend spoke up.
“Does this mean you're kicked out of the Army?” she asked, sounding more hopeful than bothered by the idea. But then, considering her invitation to join her at her family's farm, his fall from grace would fit nicely into her plans for the future.
That was an unworthy thought. Pete shook his head. “I've been reassigned.”
The young woman stiffened, backing away slightly. “Where?”
Pete took a deep breath. Here goes. “Saskatoon, Canada.”
Kathleen's frown deepened. “I've never heard of it.”
“It's in Saskatchewan. Farther, uh, north.”
“So a pretty miserable place?” she pressed.
Pete snorted. “In nuclear winter? Yeah, I'm guessing so.”
The young woman grabbed his hand, eyes sparkling. “So don't go! Even if you didn't get kicked out you can still leave, right? You said Faraday never really set a length of time for your enlistment, that it was all pretty confused in the middle of fighting.” She squeezed his hand. “Forget Saskatoon and come live with me. With us: Lily will be over the moon at having you around all the time.”
Pete ground his teeth in frustration. That sounded great, especially compared to wintering in northern Canada, but it was impossible. “I've been reassigned. I either leave as ordered or go AWOL.” She opened her mouth to repeat her earlier point, and he continued grimly. “There's no way I'll be able to convince anyone to call my term of enlistment complete when I've only been in the Army for a little over a year. Besides, I'm being punished for striking a superior officer . . . now's the worst possible time to make a request.”
Kathleen had taken her hand back as she quietly listened to him, gray eyes wide and unblinking as the reality of the situation finally dawned on her. When he finished she didn't say anything.
Pete shifted awkwardly in the uncomfortable silence. “I'm sorry.”
Still his girlfriend said nothing, sitting beside him on the bed with her lower lip trembling slightly. Pete couldn't think of anything else to say, and given the situation he wasn't about to try to take her hand again or put an arm around her.
Whatever he may feel, news of his reassignment was pretty much announcing their breakup. She couldn't really follow him to Saskatoon, even if she'd wanted to, and by the time he was settled in there she'd probably have no interest in joining him and he'd be selfish to ask. A long distance relationship would be pointless for the same reason, since she couldn't easily visit him and there was no way he'd be able to come back to Lafayette after this.
Which meant, like it or not, this was probably the last time he'd see her for a long time, if ever. Kathleen seemed to realize it, too, given how she was fighting her own emotions and trying to stay aloof.
Finally she spoke in a wavering voice. “You know, all this time I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
Pete blinked. “What?”
She looked away, but not before he saw a tear slide down her cheek. “Ever since the Gulf burned, listening to the awful things happening to the rest of the country. I kept looking at my family, our farm, our safe and comfortable life, and thinking our good luck couldn't last forever. That eventually something terrible had to happen to us just like everyone else. I've dreaded it.”
He wasn't sure whether to be flattered or annoyed that she considered losing him to be the first bad thing that had happened to her since the Gulf burned. But he forgot about that as she continued. “What about Lily?”
The question hit him like a blow. “You'll take care of her?” he asked anxiously.
Kathleen gave him an almost contemptuous look. “Of course I will. I mostly have been anyway, since she's around me all the time and you're only here when you're off duty.” She wiped at her cheek, then tried to disguise the motion by poking his chest with her finger. “I meant how's she going to take you leaving? You know she cares about you and this is going to devastate her.”
Pete hung his head. He was well aware of that. “I'll talk to her.”
“That's a start.” The young woman stood and turned away. “You should hurry, before you lose the chance.”
That was a clear dismissal if ever he'd seen one. It was also a horrible way to end things. Pete hesitated, wanting to reach out for her. “Kathleen . . .”
She kept her back to him. “We had what we had, Kid, but we both know it's over now. Let's not drag this out.”
The words stung, that she could drop their relationship so casually after fighting for all this time to convince him to take the next step. That she didn't seem to feel the same heartache he did about it. But he supposed he had no one to blame but himself.
“I'm sorry,” he said again. Kathleen didn't respond, and he wasted no time escaping the small tent. And not just because he was short on time and had another painful goodbye to prepare himself for.
Outside the tent he paused and stared up at the sky, a bitter taste in his mouth. Forget his choice about whether to stay a Chainbreaker or settle down with Kathleen, everything he'd wanted was
being taken from him. And all due to his same, stupid recklessness. He hadn't learned anything from his mistakes with Alice after all.
He wasn't sure which he felt more strongly, guilt or self-pity.
But before he could wallow too long in either he became aware of a dark shape standing in the shadows between Kathleen's and Lily's tent. He jumped, cursing softly.
It was Lily. “I heard,” the girl said in a quiet, sad voice as she stepped into view. “Is it really true then, you're leaving?”
Pete sighed and crouched so they were closer to the same height. “I don't have a choice.”
“Yeah I know, you have to follow orders.” The girl sniffled. “But can't you ask them to change their minds? You could tell them I need you.” Another sniffle. “I do need you.”
“It's . . . not that easy.” He closed his eyes. “I made a serious mistake, and I'm lucky the Captain only reassigned me instead of punishing me with something even worse.”
“Oh.” In the dim light he couldn't really read her expression, and could only barely see the glimmer of eyes full of unshed tears. But it was easy to tell her mood from her forlorn tone. “What will I do?”
The words hurt, the knowledge that he was abandoning her. But he didn't have a choice. Pete reached into his pocket and pulled out the small bag he always carried with him for safekeeping. It was full of valuables and a few coins of various precious metals, mostly silver.
“Here,” he said quietly, offering it to her. “This is all the pay I've been able to save up, when they actually bothered to pay us. It's not much, but it should help. Kathleen is going to take care of you, and Epsilon will look out for you as much as possible. You'll be okay.”
“It's not fair,” the girl said with a sniffle, furiously wiping at her eyes. She only reluctantly took the bag from him.
“It's not,” Pete agreed. “But life isn't, and complaining usually doesn't make things any fairer. We just have to keep going and do the best we can.”
