by Dave Hazel
“I watched those two kids of Doris Holen when they found their mother,” Kurt sighed and started to choke on his words. “Those poor little kids were clinging to their mother’s body crying for her to wake up. Someone told them that she went to sleep and we can’t wake her up right now. Those poor little kids were crying their little hearts out. It really broke my heart.” He turned his head. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen with them now. They’re orphans.”
“I guess we could see if some of the townspeople could take care of them until we find a way home. I know I don’t wanna be responsible for them while we’re in this screwed up situation.”
“I think I’ll take care of them,” Kurt said. “I really love kids, and I guess it’ll give me some practice until I have my own. I can’t imagine what they’re going through. I hate that they’re alone now.”
“I wouldn’t--” Mykal stopped himself when he realized Kurt still had part of his humanity intact. “Who am I to say anything? Do what you think is best. I guess you could be a great mother,” he joked. “Just don’t go anywhere. We’ll be back in a little bit.”
While Mykal and Towbar walked back he saw Gary Rogers and John Scum Bum Samuelson playing with a dead Soso. John manually moved the mouth with his fingers while Gary sang the songs; ‘I Want You To Want me’ by Cheap Trick and ‘Stop! In The Name of Love’ by the Supremes. John manipulated the dead man’s arm as if the Soso sang Gary’s vocals to an audience.
“Great job, great job,” John laughed out when Gary stopped singing. “Let’s give our wonderful singer a hand,” he said and threw a severed hand into the air. Both of them burst out laughing.
Their immediate supervisor SSgt Ski Winczewski stormed toward them in a fit of rage. “I told you both to stop being disrespectful to the dead,” Ski yelled at them. “I’m not going to tell you again!”
Mykal had never seen Ski, ‘Mr. Religion’, so angry before.
“C’mon Ski, we’re just having fun to blow off a little steam,” John argued. “We can’t do him any harm, right?” He looked at the dead Soso and moved his mouth again. With a high pitched voice he mocked without moving his lips. “That’s right mister, I’m already dead. But he could choose better songs for me to sing.”
Ski pointed his finger in the air and ranted. “The Bible says in Proverbs 12:8 ‘A man is praised according to his wisdom, but men with warped minds are despised.’ Your minds are warped! As your squad leader I am ordering you to stop this madness. I’m not playing!”
Mykal and Towbar continued to walk away so as not to get dragged into the argument. Mykal thought it humorous, though sick.
“I do not see the humor in pretending to make a dead Soso talk or sing,” Towbar said. “I do not understand why the other would get so angry at their acts of foolishness either.”
“This war is having a strong effect on all of us,” Mykal said.
Mykal and Towbar made their way back to the Peacekeeper where Jackson had killed Denny and several others. Mykal had gathered seven thirty round magazines from the corpses of Davis and Gomez. Mykal studied the bodies around the Peacekeeper and it amazed him the damage an M-60 machine gun could do to the human body. The revolting sight was something he would never be able to get from his mind. That added to other horrendous scenes he witnessed since being in Towbar’s world.
Buried under several bodies Mykal saw something that broke his heart. An arm lay stretched out under the pile of death. In the hand, glowing like a florescent neon sign lay a crumble pack of cigarettes wrapped in cellophane. Thrane was only a teenager. He idolized the Visitors and viewed the discarded cigarette pack as a priceless treasure. It may have been one of the Visitors, Jackson, who took his life.
“After my soldiers return I will have many work on removing the bodies,” Towbar said.
“Aw damn, it’s that kid, Thrane who picked up Boris’s empty pack of cigarettes. I don’t wanna know if he was killed by Jackson,” Mykal said and turned his head. “Damn it. Thrane thought we were something special and we probably killed him.”
“I know his father Tan-core. This is one of the miseries of war.”
The two of them started down the line again in search of more ammunition and information on casualties. They came to Roy Dosch and his two sons, Roy Jr. and Randy. They sat on their yellow station wagon. William Kraft and his eldest son Ted were with them.
“Is everything okay with you guys?” Mykal called out.
“Fine,” Roy Sr. answered for all of them. “We’re just fine, but what about you? You’re a mess.”
“I’m fine, I just look bad. It’s all Soso blood.”
“Lillian Nordwall was killed,” Randy announced.
“Yeah, I heard. Her husband Harvey got killed too,” Mykal said.
“We heard that.” Roy nodded. “We heard about Denny. We’re really sorry for you guys, Mykal. We know he was close to you guys.”
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you guys later.” They continued to walk by.
Roy Jr. jumped off the hood of the station wagon. “Hey Myk, how many do you think we lost and how many do you think we killed?”
“Too many on our side and not enough on their side.”
“Back in my Vietnam days we’d given our right nut for a body count like this,” Roy chuckled. “Are we doing a body count later?”
“Probably, cuz we gotta get these bodies outta here before it starts to stink. Anyway, it’s gonna be a hellova job.”
Mykal and Towbar continued to walk. After a short distance Towbar stopped. “My friend, one of your people.” He pointed to a pair of camouflage pant legs under the bodies of several Sosos.
“Oh man, I wonder who it is,” he sighed as they pulled the Soso bodies away. As soon as Mykal saw the side of the man’s face he recognized him right away. They rolled the heavy set man onto his back. “It’s Al Fisher. SSgt Al Fisher,” Mykal sighed. He stared into the deep gash across Fisher’s throat. The wound cut into the neck bone. Fisher’s face still bore the frozen expression of fright.
It astounded Mykal to see all the different stares on the dead faces. Fisher reminded him of pictures he had seen of people who had died violent deaths. The strange appearance always made him feel like they weren’t real people, but rather some kind of mannequin in place of a real person. He felt that same way looking into Fisher’s death pose. “It’s like he’s not real,” Mykal said.
“Are you saddened by his death, my friend?”
“Yes and no,” he answered after a brief pause. “Yes, cuz he was a decent guy. I never had a problem with him. I know he had a family. And no, cuz it just doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t know if I’m getting to where I just don’t care cuz I’ve seen so many dead people in the past few days or what. I dunno, maybe I’m just trying to keep my emotions from getting the best of me. I don’t think it’s really hit me yet that Denny’s gone. I think I’m just blocking it all.”
“From my experience, my friend, these faces will never leave you. When these faces haunt you, and they will, try to remember good things of the people who are now gone.”
“It’s funny that you say that cuz where I’m from we don’t see death like this. All of a sudden I’m just mentally exhausted. I don’t think it’s bothering me yet cuz I’m so overwhelmed with all that’s happened. I know I’ll be sad and hurt over never seeing some of these people ever again. Like Denny and Franklin, or Fisher here, or even Kim Nelson who died just before we met you. They’re really gone. We’ll never be able to play pranks on Denny again. We’ll never be able to hear him bitch and complain when we screw up. We’ll never be able to laugh at him for getting his tail chewed cuz of us screwing around. We’ll never be able to pick on Franklin for being a little idiot,” he chuckled sadly. Mykal’s guilt grew. ‘I shouldn’t have taken his ammo!’
“You should get some rest, my friend,” Towbar offered.
“I can’t right now,” he shook his head while he stared at the ghastly wound in Fisher’s throat. It surprised him that
the gruesome gash didn’t sicken him when he took two thirty round magazines from Fisher’s ammo pouches. “There’s some things I gotta take care of before I get any rest. Mansfield is first on my list.”
Walking away they found the body of A1C Tom Tolley not far from Fisher. Tolley and Fisher were close friends despite the eleven year age difference. They even looked similar. Many teased them about being father and son. Mykal looked at Tolley and felt bad for him. Tolley’s major complaint about being in Towbar’s world was that it interfered with his upcoming plans. Tom Tolley was to be the best man at his twin brother’s wedding at the end of July.
Mykal had to pull Tolley’s body to get the three magazines that were in his ammo pouches. The killing sword stuck out of Tolley’s belly. Tolley had four or five other stab wounds in the general area. After Mykal retrieved what he wanted from him he discarded Tolley like an empty candy wrapper. Mykal wished he didn’t know personal information about him, or anyone, because he fear it would torment him later.
When they walked a short distance he saw Baby Hulk Jordon. Baby Hulk talked with townspeople and didn’t appear to be injured at all. “Hey Baby Hulk,” he called out. “What’s up?”
“Damn Myk, what the hell happened to you?” Baby Hulk asked and looked genuinely concerned. “Are you hurt?”
“No, but you look like you don’t even have a scratch on you.”
“I think the Sosos never saw a black man before. Every time they would come close, they would stop like they were trying to figure out what the hell I was. That’s fine,” he laughed. “It gave me the time I needed to kill their stupid ass.”
“Hey, I don’t know if you know, but Fisher and Tolley are dead.”
“What?” Baby Hulk gasped, the fitness instructor, was genuinely shocked. His closeness to Fisher and Tolley compared to Mykal’s closeness with Denny. Fisher had always been Baby Hulk’s immediate supervisor and Tolley his closest working buddy. “Aw man, no,” he moaned. “Where are they?”
“They’re over there,” Mykal pointed and then left to go in search for more ammo. Mykal and Towbar traveled the length of the pit. They came across some more dead from Mykal’s world. The first was a black sergeant under Light’s command, Sgt Clemon. Clemon usually rubbed people wrong and most disliked him because of his racist views. Clemon regularly claimed “the white man is out to get me,” but Clemon knew he had to work with and trust “whitey” against the Sosos.
Not far from Clemon lay the body of SSgt Dum Shit Dobson. “Aw man,” Mykal sighed when he saw him. “I never disliked him, but Dobson wasn’t very bright. He hadn’t made any rank for the past ten years and was being forced to retire in the next four months. I know that means nothing to you. He was okay but a little goofy. We’d play pranks on him and he’d never catch on. Poor guy. He had four kids.”
“He looks at peace,” Towbar commented while they looked at him.
“He was probably too dumb to know he was getting killed,” Mykal tried to joke at the peaceful gaze that covered Dobson’s lifeless expression. Mykal couldn’t see the wound, but a small pool of blood formed at Dobson’s left side.
About twenty-five feet away from the pit four others surrounded an injured A1C Wolfe. Wolfe was alive but seriously injured. The four sat around Wolfe to comfort him. Wolfe nervously smoked a cigarette while sitting, holding his midsection. He had been slashed across the stomach. His intestines were being held in place by his hand. His internal organs didn’t look to be damaged but they were exposed. They found a clean t-shirt to cover the wound, but blood seeped through the cotton onto his hand. One of his legs shook uncontrollably.
The four sitting with Wolfe had their back to Dobson. They either didn’t want to look at his body because he supervised three of them or they didn’t know he lay there dead. Sgt Eric Sanders, was probably the only person grieving over Clemon. He and Clemon share the same racial views though Sander’s convictions weren’t as strong as Clemon’s. Standing 5’4”, Sanders had been given the nick-name ‘Napoleon’ because of his short man’s complex. For Eric, every day was a battle, if not with white people, he knew taller people surely thought bad of him and would goad him because of his size.
Kenny Hart and ‘Black’ Jones were also under Dobson’s leadership and they were close to Dobson. Kurt had always been teased by Boris for being related to Black Jones because they shared the same last name. A1C Shelton sat with them. His team leader SSgt Al Fisher died.
“Hey Sanders,” Mykal called to the little man. “You guys know Dum Shit is dead, right?”
“Don’t you call him that!” Sgt Kenny Hart jumped up with his fists balled tightly. Obviously his closeness to Dobson stirred anger and hurt that someone would disrespect his friend.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. You know everyone called him that as a term of endearment. I’m really sorry,” he lied.
“He’s not dumb, and he doesn’t need to be called that,” Hart loosened his fists. Tears had welled in his eyes.
“How is it down your way, Myk?” Sanders changed the subject before Hart spoke out of emotion and said something inflammatory.
“Denny and Franklin Perry were killed. I heard Tackett and Palmer got killed. I saw the bodies of Fisher and Tolley too. Lt Light and some of his men were killed. Mansfield took a death arrow to the gut, but he seems to be okay for now. Some of the civilians were killed.”
“Doc’s been lucky,” Wolfe spoke up after nervously sucking on his cigarette. “He’s the only squad leader who hasn’t had anyone killed yet. I’m the only one on Doc’s squad that got hurt.”
“Are you doing alright?” Mykal asked.
“I really don’t feel anything,” Wolfe replied and glanced down to the red t-shirt and the blood between his wet fingers. “I’m scared more than anything. I know I’m hurt pretty bad, but I don’t feel it.”
“Why don’t you guys take him to that little aid station they set up back there,” Mykal said and pointed behind the dirt walls. “They don’t have any doctors there, but they can at least clean it up and give you a couple of stitches and something a little cleaner to put over it.”
The four stood to assist Wolfe. Sanders stood and put his hands behind his back in a way that reminded Mykal of a little dictator. “With Denny and Dobson dead, that makes me and you both squad leaders now.” Sanders smiled at his self-imposed promotion.
“There doesn’t seem to be enough people for us to be leaders over,” Mykal replied dryly. “I would hurry up and get Wolfe over there and get it cleaned out before infection sets in.”
Mykal watched them carry Wolfe away and then he moved to pick up the abandoned web belts and magazines. “Clemon and Dum Shit have no use for this ammunition,” Mykal chuckled to Towbar after the five were out of hearing. Mykal laid claim to nine more magazines, giving himself a total of twenty-three and a half new magazines. He planned on sharing only with his close friends.
Mykal and Towbar made their way to Boris and Mansfield. When they arrived they saw the anger on Edwards’s face. Edwards had been pacing back and forth near Boris and Mansfield. Edwards made an excuse and departed now that Mykal and Towbar arrived. He left in an angry huff.
“What did he want?” Mykal asked Boris.
“He wouldn’t say,” Mansfield answered first, “and I didn’t say anything to him. Mykal, I’m doing just as you instructed.”
“Edwards wouldn’t say anything because I wouldn’t leave,” Boris said. “He told me to leave and when I told him I couldn’t do that he said he was giving me a direct order to leave.” Boris smirked. “I guess I’m in trouble Myk, cuz I pulled out my .44 magnum and told him, ‘Sir, with all due respect, my Red Hawk .44 is over ruling your direct order, so go screw yourself.’” Boris chuckled defiantly.
“What’d he say to that?” Mykal asked.
“You know, I’m in a world of trouble and blah, blah, blah. Then I said we’re not back in the world so the only orders I take are from Mykal Graves. You take that up with h
im. He said something about mutiny and I’ll hang for this. But I just kept quiet.”
“Good. Rob, do you see what I’m talking about?”
Mansfield winced and nodded. “Myk, my pain is increasing.”
“And guess what Edwards told me? About who shot at me?”
“Who? Me?” Mansfield’s tone protested. “He’s lying.”
“Yes you, Rob. He said that in front of Towbar.”
“Edwards said you were the one who tried to harm my friend,” Towbar said as he folded his gargantuan arms across his massive chest. “I will defend Mykal with my life,” he said threateningly.
“I didn’t, Myk. I swear it. It was Edwards who shot at you. He’s lying. He’s lying!” Mansfield’s said with panic and anger.
“Well, I’m having second thoughts.” Mykal toyed with him. “If you tried to kill me, why should I have Towbar try to save you?”
“No Myk, please, he’s lying to you. Get him over here and I’ll confront him to his face. I’m not going to die because of his lies.”
Mykal raised his hand to calm him down. “Alright, alright, I believe you. Boris, I want you to run and get Kurt, Larry and Rich and get back here as fast as you can. Tell them I said it’s important. Tell them we need to take Mansfield to the mountains.”
“I’ll be back,” Boris replied and left.
“Why do we have to go into the mountains?” Mansfield asked.
Mykal shrugged. “We’re gonna take you to the same place Towbar took me. That’s where he does what he does.”
“Why do you have to bring those men?”
“Let’s be honest Rob, you could stand to lose a lot of weight. I sure as hell can’t carry you by myself. As that poison starts to work its way through you, you’re going to get weaker and there is no way you’ll be able to get up there on your own.”
“I’m not sure I want to go into the mountains.”
