“Maybe,” said the spider commander. “I heard rumors Czerinski has figured out a way to cheat the Grim Reaper of his due. I plan to cheat Death, too.”
“The Grim Reaper’s power is in his scythe,” cautioned Camacho. “But he never lets go of it.”
“So the Grim Reaper can be killed?” asked the spider commander. “If I take his scythe? That is very interesting information. It means he is just a mortal creature, same as you or me. Well, mortal like me. You’re dead, or whatever.”
“You think you can cheat Death? Ha!”
“Who do you think will win the Knicks/Lakers game?” asked the spider commander, changing the direction of this uncomfortable conversation about death.
“The Lakers will easily beat the spread at home,” advised Camacho, confidently. “Tell Guido I am all in for the Lakers to win.” “You trust the word of a dead legionnaire?” asked Camacho. “Yes,” replied the spider commander. “With my life savings. If you fail me, I know where you live.”
* * * * *
“Sir, do you have a minute?” asked Guido, as he entered my command tent.
“Who is watching the front gate?” interrupted Sergeant Green, obviously irritated at Corporal Tonelli’s increasingly poor work ethic.
“Private Camacho,” answered Guido. “What?” asked Sergeant Green, accessing the front gate video camera. “Camacho is dead!” “We brought his imprint memorial along,” explained Guido. “Some of the guys missed him. It just seemed right.” “You are not authorized to deploy dead legionnaires!” replied Sergeant Green, replaying the video of Camacho talking to the spider commander. “Being dead on guard duty is worse than being asleep on guard duty! Get back there! Already traffic is backing up.”
“I can assure you that Camacho is quite alert,” advised Guido. “Go!” ordered Sergeant Green. “What if the spiders steal him?” “Sir, first I need to talk to you about Private Wayne,” insisted Guido, addressing me. “I don’t think Wayne is quite right.” “No kidding,” I replied. “How long did it take you to figure that out?” “Sir, his temper is off the hook lately,” explained Guido. “Cutting off the spider commander’s claw tip is just the tip of recent symptoms. Wayne needs to see a mental health professional before he kills someone. Even as I entered your tent, I noticed he was waving that big knife at one of those Teamsters agents.”
“If you want to tell Wayne he has to see a shrink, go ahead,” I suggested. “I’m not going to do it.”
“Sir, something has to be done.”
“It’s no big loss if he whacks a Teamster thug. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to Private Wayne. Thank you for bringing your concerns to my attention. Get back to work.”
* * * * *
Private Wayne was still working at the Walmart construction site as part of his punishment for slicing off the spider commander’s claw tip. I was not really all that angry with Wayne, but for appearances sake I had to impose some sanction. As I approached, Wayne was in a heated argument with Mr. Kennworth, the spider teamsters business agent.
“Czerinski!” shouted Mr. Kennworth, noticing me walk up. “You promised to end scab labor on this project.” “I did,” I replied. “What do you call him?” asked Kennworth, pointing at Wayne. “You should know better than to point at Private Wayne,” I warned. “It upsets him.” “I am a legionnaire,” responded Private Wayne. “Call me a scab one more time, and I will slit your throat!” “Scab!” Private Wayne drew his large jagged combat knife. “Enough!” I ordered. “Kennworth, you are under arrest for disorderly conduct.” I nodded to Sergeant Green and Private Krueger, who immediately grabbed the Teamster thug and carried him off, kicking and screaming. Because there was still no jail, I ordered Kennworth chained to the back bumper of my armored car.
“This is an unfair labor practice!” protested Mr. Kennworth. “How long do I have to suffer the indignity of being chained like a dog?”
“Until you Teamsters build me a jail,” I replied. I turned my attention to Private Wayne. “You need some sort of anger management counseling.” “I am not seeing any human pestilence shrink!” replied Private Wayne, getting even more agitated, but sheathing his knife. “No one said anything about seeing a shrink,” I said. “But now that you mentioned it, it might be a good idea to at least talk to a mental health professional. I myself have had very productive conversations with a shrink.”
“Sir, I am not crazy!”
“You have issues,” I advised. “That is clear. As I said before, you might even have an anger management problem. Is there anything you want to talk to me about? Have you lost a loved one or something lately? Broke up with a girlfriend?”
“No, sir,” replied Private Wayne. “I do not currently have a girlfriend.”
“Maybe you should get a girlfriend,” I suggested. “She might calm you down. In fact, the more I think about it, the better I like that idea. I am ordering you to get a girlfriend and to be happy.”
“Sir, I do not want to be happy,” said Private Wayne. “You cannot legally order me to seek out a girlfriend.” “I’ll make a deal with you,” I offered. “If you get a girlfriend, I’ll promote you back to corporal.” “If I get a girlfriend,” Private Krueger interrupted, “will you promote me, too?” “No! You will always be a private.” “But that’s not fair, sir,” argued Private Krueger. “Why not?” “You drink too much,” I explained. “And you have questionable judgment.” “I don’t drink any more than you do, sir.” “That may be, but I drink higher quality liquor. You will drink anything, even that Mad Dog stuff. I’ll make you a deal. Find Wayne a girlfriend, and I’ll consider taking you off punishment detail.”
“Yes, sir! Right away, sir!”
* * * * *
The newly constructed Blue Lizard Tavern was located by the perimeter fence to accommodate both human and spider soldiers. It also catered to construction workers, miners, and bikers. Privates Krueger and Wayne entered the tavern with high expectations. It was a busy night, and they immediately checked out the females lined up at the bar. Krueger pointed to a female green spider perched on a bar stool. “Check out that hottie. I think she just winked at you.”
“I’m through with green females,” advised Wayne. “They’re all frigid.”
“Not that one,” said Krueger. “She sizzles. How about her friend? She looks exotic.”
Wayne eyed the second female spider. She was a biker babe from one of the construction crews. Her denim jacket was covered with cement dust. “I won’t date females that have more tattoos than I do,” commented Wayne.
“Have a few more drinks,” replied Krueger. “You won’t be so particular at closing time. Body art on babes is hot, especially on alien babes.”
A female scorpion was seated next to the biker babe. Her tail twitched rhythmically to the beat of the music. Krueger nodded at her enthusiastically.
“No!” said Wayne. “Female scorpions are way too erratic. I tire of being stung.” “I’ve developed immunity to their venom,” bragged Krueger. “If you don’t want her, I’ll take her.” “She will kill you,” warned Wayne. “And if you live, your wife will kill you.” “I can’t be killed,” boasted Krueger, gulping his drink and approaching the scorpion babe. “If I could be killed, it would have happened a long time ago.”
“Czerinski thinks I am crazy,” mumbled Wayne, to himself. “At least I don’t have Krueger’s death wish.”
“Where have you been all my life?” asked Krueger, patting the female scorpion on her tail. “You’re looking hot tonight.”
The female scorpion, acting on reflex, jumped up and stung Krueger on his shoulder. He writhed in pain on the floor, convulsing in spasms. Foam frothed from his mouth. EMTs were called to transport Krueger to the Legion aid station.
Private Wayne looked about for a place to sit and not be bothered by drunks. Arthropodan marines sat nearby, so he moved to a seat on the far side of the room. Wayne was not in the mood to start a fight yet. Despite his precaution, Wayne was recognized by the spider
Military Intelligence officer. The spider officer sat at Wayne’s table. “I did not invite you to sit,” advised Wayne. “Leave now.”
“You used to be a Special Forces marine commander,” commented the Military Intelligence officer. “I can restore your former rank and status if you wish to return to the Empire. Your experience and talent are wasted on the Legion. The Empire will give you the respect you deserve.”
“I will think about it,” replied Private Wayne, accepting a free drink. “Is your commander still upset about his missing claw tip?”
“A little, but as you well know, we do not hold grudges like the human pestilence. That is why he dropped charges.”
“Tell your commander I am sorry,” said Wayne.
“You may tell him yourself,” replied the Military Intelligence officer. “I do not believe this National Cemetery business of the human pestilence for one minute. Are those dump trucks loaded with gold ore? What is the human pestilence smuggling out?”
“There is no gold in Blue Rock,” advised Private Wayne. “Thank you for buying me a drink. Leave now or I will cut you.”
“I should inspect those dump trucks more closely,” commented the Military Intelligence officer. “Okay, I am leaving. But you and I will talk again.”
As soon as the Military Intelligence officer left, a female spider sat down next to Private Wayne. She snuggled in real close and said, “Hello, big boy. My name is Pepper. Buy a thirsty girl a drink?”
“For you, anything,” answered Wayne, enamored by her beauty. Pepper was the most beautiful black spider Private Wayne had ever met. Her shiny exoskeleton had a movie star gleam to it. Wayne was captivated by her charm, poise, and beauty. After brief small talk, they left together. Perfect timing, thought Wayne. Not only had he found the most beautiful female in the galaxy, but he would present Pepper to Czerinski as proof he had mellowed and did not need to see a shrink. He would get his corporal stripes back as promised. His luck seemed to be changing for the better – almost too good to be true.
* * * * *
I ordered Private Wayne to meet with Captain Priscilla Percy, a highly respected and experienced USGF Legion psychiatrist. He protested, saying he had found a girlfriend as I had requested, and would bring her to meet me. I told Wayne he still had to meet with Captain Percy.
Although Captain Percy hadn’t been able to help me much, I figured it was worth a try to have her conduct at least one session with Private Wayne. I suspected she really didn’t care for me or my lifestyle choices, but that was no reason to think she wasn’t good at her job. Maybe she could assist Wayne by helping him get in touch with some of his feelings that maybe were causing him to act unpredictably – and dangerously.
* * * * *
“Private Wayne, you are the first alien I have treated for mental health problems,” advised Captain Percy. “Your commanding officer, Major Czerinski, thinks you may have some anger issues. I am going to ask you to participate in some simple tests that may help identify the root cause of these issues. I am going to show you some ink spots, and you tell me the first image you associate with each ink spot. Understood?”
Wayne nodded compliantly, although he resented this invasion of his privacy. Orders were orders. “Very well, let’s begin.” Captain Percy held up a card and propped it in front of her on her desk. “That one looks like an exit wound from my assault rifle,” advised Private Wayne, glancing at the first ink spot. Captain Percy slipped another card in front of the first. Wayne immediately said, “Looks like the slit throat of a human pestilence.”
Without comment, Captain Percy displayed a third card. “That one looks like human pestilence cut from the stomach up through the sternum. See how the guts spill out?”
Upon seeing the fourth card, Wayne said, “That spot doesn’t look like anything.”
“Are you sure?” asked Captain Percy. “You seem agitated. Does this last ink spot look like more blood and gore?”
“Well, it looks a little bit like my mom sitting on the toilet,” advised Private Wayne, “but I suppose it could be anyone. It’s probably just a neighbor reading a book.”
“That is disturbing,” commented Captain Percy. “Are you close to your mother?” “Hey!” said Private Wayne. “I am not crazy, and neither is my mother. I do not want to talk about her.” “Do you miss your family?” asked Captain Percy. “Are you homesick?” “No!” answered Private Wayne. “I am in the Foreign Legion. This is my family.” “Do you have a girlfriend or wife?” she asked. “I just met someone last night,” said Private Wayne. “Does that count? I think she is going to be special. I get promoted back to corporal when I show her to Major Czerinski.”
“Now, that is very disturbing.”
“Czerinski and I have a deal,” explained Private Wayne. “I’m sure of that. What do you do for fun?” asked Captain Percy, checking off questions from a list. “Do you have any hobbies?” “I used to ride a motorcycle, but it got blown up a few wars ago. I like to pass the time sharpening my knives.” “You spiders are so serious,” said Captain Percy. “Do spiders have a sense of humor. Tell me your favorite joke. Do spiders even tell jokes?”
“What is the difference between a scorpion and a pizza?” asked Private Wayne, thoughtfully. “A pizza doesn’t scream when you put it in an oven. Ha!”
“You have issues with the scorpions?” asked Captain Percy.
“We should have exterminated the scorpions a long time ago,” answered Private Wayne. “They’re a species of cannibals, you know. They have no redeeming qualities.”
“But the scorpions are our allies now. Many are even USGF citizens.”
“The scorpions will stab us in the back and eat us if given the chance,” argued Private Wayne. “They tried to invade New Colorado, they rioted in Scorpion City, they killed Camacho, and just yesterday my best friend Krueger was stung and hospitalized by a scorpion.”
“He was stung in battle?” asked Captain Percy. “I was not aware there were problems here in Cemetery City.”
“Krueger was coming on to a scorpion babe at the Blue Lizard Tavern, and she stung him for patting her tail. They’re vicious. I warned him, but Krueger never listens to anyone when he’s been drinking.”
“You legionnaires have intimate relations with scorpions?” asked Captain Percy. “You’re perverts, just like Czerinski! I should have known. Czerinski contaminates everyone he touches. Don’t introduce him to your girlfriend. How was that degenerate ever given command?”
“Perverts?” asked Private Wayne. “Who are you calling a pervert?
“All of you!” shouted Captain Percy. “This interview is over! There is nothing that can be done for any of you legionnaires until Major Czerinski’s influence is removed forever. He needs to be relieved of command! I will personally see to that!”
“Can I can go now?” asked Private Wayne. “Please do.” “Good. You’re a quack, anyway!”
* * * * *
“Private Wayne is unfit for duty,” advised Captain Percy. “My interview of Private Wayne indicates his mind is preoccupied with thoughts of knife killings, and of his mother sitting on a toilet. He’s one messed up alien.”
“It’s that bad?” I asked. “Can you fix him?”
“I blame you for tolerating an atmosphere of debauchery among your legionnaires,” continued Captain Percy. “They are merely following your poor example.”
“Now, see here,” I argued. “I didn’t even know Private Wayne had a mother. He never gets letters from Arthropoda. What do you mean debauchery? There’s no debauchery going on here. There can’t be. How can there be debauchery going on when I can barely pronounce ‘debauchery’ and don’t even know what the word means?”
“Even the dead in your command are perverts,” accused Captain Percy. “Just today at the front gate I was propositioned by a tombstone. I want that imprint memorial brought up on charges!”
“Camacho is already dead,” I said. “What more can I do to him? You can’t blame me for Camacho
propositioning you. He was like that before he died, and now he has apparently lowered his standards. The man would screw anything that moves, and you’re proof of that.”
“Unplug him!” demanded Captain Percy. “He lewdly suggested we interface all night long!”
“This might be a misunderstanding,” I suggested. “Interfacing is just a form of networking. Computers do it every chance they get. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it. Being dead isn’t easy, you know. In fact, it can be real depressing. How about interviewing Private Camacho for a determination on his mental health?”
“I do not analyze computers!” said Captain Percy. “You have techs for that.”
“Maybe that should change,” I suggested. “We need a shrink to check the mental health of our computers. Sometimes they act a bit erratic, especially the ATMs.”
“I am recommending to General Daly that you be removed from command for being a detriment to the mental health of your command.”
“Me, a detriment?” I asked. “I’m the one who called you in the first place. Are you going to be able to fix Private Wayne or not? Can’t you give him a pill or something? What kind of shrink are you?”
“No!” replied Captain Percy. “I cannot treat a skewed mindset with a magic pill. The root cause of mental health issues needs to be addressed.”
“Damn it! The Army gets all the pills they need. Why can’t the Legion get its fair share of meds? It’s stressful out here on the Frontier.”
“The main problem in your command is your lack of morality, and the poor example you set for young impressionable legionnaires. How can there be discipline if their commanding officer is out of control?”
Cemetery City Page 3
