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Strike 2

Part One of Two

By Blake N.Published 6 years ago 45 min read
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Heat. It was kind of heat that would slap you in the face and put your mother’s stove in the summer to shame. No life, no vegetation other than the mirages your mind conjured as you looked in the distance as the verdant green mirage of a wadi dissipated. It was Summer Break according to the calendar back home. Your sister would be giggling with friends as they were getting ready to go to the Lake for the yearly sojourn back to Heron Cove. Closing your eyes momentarily memories of the cool breeze off the water as you sat on the deck and watched the sunset, an ice cold beer in hand... you were shaken from your reverie as you were jostled by a fellow Marine. Breathing in the sun baked air, you hoisted your pack and walked down into the pits of Hell.

Heat. It was the kind of heat that she knew and loved. Sure, there would be no laying out and getting a killer tan like she used to. No, it was farmer tans and wanna be iced teas, lukewarm Diet Cokes, and disgusting Folger’s coffee. Other than that she could not complain. Breathing in deeply and closing her eyes, she could almost see the clouds from the Delta-big white cumulus clouds, teasing the farmers with no rain. The air smelled hot. The sun was hot. She was hot and she was home for the time being.

For the foreseeable future, Kel Carver was stationed in the bowels of the Fertile Crescent deciphering Farsi code, listening to the squawk of radios and military orders. She had requested this station at the first of the year as Washington, D.C. seemed to hold nothing for her as an attorney. The money was good, but the job rang hollow. Applying for the FBI had been a hasty, but fruitful, decision. In and out of Quantico, fast friends, and even faster crash courses as to what to wear overseas. A group of twelve had been chosen to go the outskirts of Qasar to listen in on the terrorist based operations there—the Freedom Fighters of the Republic (FFR). The group of twelve were there under the guise of being teachers, a doctor and nurse, humanitarian aid, and one Muslim cleric. Kel taught third grade to a room full of precocious little girls. She knew that if they could help influence the younger generations to come, Qasar had a chance at breaking away from the requiem it was under.

“Kel, you going to stand there all day or are you going to move your ass?” a female voice asked, tersely.

Rolling her eyes, Kel walked down the steps onto the hot tarmac, pulling on her shades. “You would think after being hit on by that flight attendant you would be in a better mood, Buchelli.”

Buchelli was Italian by birth. Average height and built like a female boxer, Anne Buchelli was the nurse of the group. Brown hair, steel grey eyes, and the kind of hands that had no problem holding down a screaming patient, Buchelli was a force to be reckoned with. In Virginia, she took night classes to become a nurse at the local Junior College. She was a legend there. The chain smoking, no games, I will kick your ass attitude was feared and respected in their halls of medicine.

Kel, on the other hand, was the average Mississippi Delta girl of Irish/Jewish descent-brown hair, dark brown eyes that seemed to pierce you soul, and a winsome smile. She and Buchelli met at Quantico and became fast friends. They were the antithesis of each other.

“You two lovebirds going to just sit and yak all day?” Gregory Hartman grumbled as he rumbled past them. Built like a lineman, he was the last minute addition, along with Buchelli, as part of the team. His father and brother were killed on 9/11 and since then he had a personal mission to save the world from terrorists, even if that meant saving their lives as a doctor. He hoped that with peaceful negotiations it would be one way the war was won. Kel thought he spent too much time in a delusional fantasy on that, but she did not have family killed on that day. Climbing into the worn Humvee, Kel looked around and wondered what she had gotten herself into.

You woke up to the sound of rain pattering on your tent. It was past midnight and you realized it had only been two hours since you fell asleep. Groaning, you wondered how you thought a beer contest with the grunts was a good idea. Staring up into the darkness you let thoughts run through your head unbidden: another war. More nightmares. You could feel yourself shutting down mentally, trying to block out all the other memories that flooded your mind-screaming, the pungent smell of smoke, tracers in the sky.... Rubbing your eyes and exhaling heavily, you opened the flap to the tent and watched the rain fall. Across the camp with cigarettes glowing, men huddled together talking and laughing. In the distance the tanks were hunkered down, sleeping giants waiting to be awoken. They were your Spartan shield and, quite ironically, you were fighting the Persians.

Laying back down you closed your eyes... It seemed a lifetime ago you signed up for the Marines. You always knew you were made for war. There was an edge about you, a hardness. The girl back home who you left behind said that you were unreachable. “What does she know? She has never been here...” Closing your eyes you drifted off to sleep.

—Two months later—

Kel woke to the smell of coffee which was odd. Suddenly, the door burst open and Buchelli came in. “Kel, wake up. I made you coffee.”

“Ugh....wha-”

Holding a steaming mug in hand, Buchelli looked annoyed and amused at the same time, hair perfect, scrubs neatly pressed. “Hartman got you some Maxwell House Instant annnddd your favorite powdered creamer.” She wiggled her eyebrows and winked.

Covering her face with the blanket, Kel moaned, “BUCHELLI!!”

“What?! You should give him a chance. He’s crazy about you.”

“Just what I need—a romantic liaison with the doctor. I’ll pass.”

“Are you serious?” Buchelli said, setting the coffee down.

“Yeah, I mean he’s a nice guy, but he’s just so... soft? His hands are softer than mine.”

“He could save your life.”

“He can’t even load a gun.”

“He makes money.”

“I have money.”

Rolling her eyes, Buchelli sat on the bed. “You do realize that not all men are like your ex-husband.”

Kel’s eyes narrowed. “I doubt that.”

“Hartman would not harm a flea. He thinks we should have peaceful negotiations with the FFR.”

“Exactly. He’s a pussy.”

“Don’t go all IRA on me, Kel.” Buchelli laughed. “I’m just saying that maybe you should give him a shot. Seriously what could it hurt?”

Picking up the cup, Kel took a drink. “If you two poisoned me, I swear....”

Buchelli laughed and said over her shoulder as she shut the door, “Not a bad idea. Hartman would love to see you in a hospital gown.”

Watching the sunlight on the floor Kel slowly drank the coffee. It was not too bad. This was her first real cup in months as anything was better than the locals' chai tea. Hartman, she thought, mulling over the idea. Tall, strong, dark hair, dark eyes, aloof and totally into her. She was not playing hard to get. Nothing about him reminded her of her ex-husband, Mitchell Brooks. Brooks was a fellow attorney she met in a jazz bar in D.C. After a whirlwind romance, a hasty marriage, a terrifying honeymoon, the loss of a child, and a hellish divorce, she was out. Five years of her life marred by physical and sexual abuse finally behind her. Two years before they divorced, Mitchell’s temper got the best of him. He took their son, Nathaniel, who was 3 at the time. Brooks threatened divorce, and left. Twenty minutes later, driving to spend the night with his parents, Brooks was hit by a drunk driver. Nathaniel died instantly in the car crash.

Kel realized she was crying silently. Breathing in deeply and wiping her eyes, she wondered maybe she should give Hartman a chance. If anything, she was tired of wiping her own tears. Maybe it was time to start healing.

The recoil was not bad. The tank rocked back almost as if slightly pushed. The pungent smell of burning propellant filled the cabin. “Adios, towel head,” Diego, the gunner said, pushing the hatch open. The crew crawled out of the belly of the beast and looked around the wasteland.

“Are we going to see any action?” Owl, the driver asked, almost in a whine.

“The only action you’re going to see is with your right hand,” Diego replied, spitting on the ground.

You did not say anything, but squinted in the sun, wondering if the promise of rain was all a dream. Your crew squabbled amongst themselves on whether they were going to war or if this was a mere waste of tax payers' dollars. You felt in your bones, something was coming. What it was you did not know, but over the mountains a few miles away lay the town Qasar. The higher ups said it was an oasis in the middle of the heated debates and rouge coups that had been uprising off and on over the years. You never had laid eyes on the town, but had gotten the word this morning that something was about to go down in their government. It was not going to be good. How could it be? That is why you were here. The officers close to the Major had told you over whiskey that there could be another coup and there were American’s stationed in Qasar. If anything went down, that is why you were here. According to intel, the coup could be happening in the next few weeks. Your mission was to make sure if shit did go down to help make sure the American’s were out safe and sound.

Kel swept the floor and made sure all the windows were closed in the small one room school house she taught at behind the mosque. Qasar was liberal in Western ways in wanting the children of their city to be educated—male and female alike. It was the upper class citizens that Kel taught, but the middle class seemed to be making strides in their own way. Kel loved her class of girls. They all were quiet for the most part, aside from the giggling and laughter when Kel wiped chalk on her face “accidently.” The sounds of their laughter soothed her soul. Other times the girls would shyly ask if Kel had an Habibi (a beloved). Other times they would present Kel with small trinkets of affection—a scarf, once a bauble, and one girl drew the class along with Kel in the picture. Kel had it hung up on her wall at the Compound.

Making sure the door was locked firmly behind her, she heard the rumble of an engine. Driving up in a dilapidated Land Rover, Hartman got out, dressed in faded scrubs and sunglasses.

“Hey, Kel,” he said, smiling.

“Hi,” Kel said, leaning against the door, making no move to approach him, while adjusting the straps on her backpack.

He walked up the shallow steps and into the shade. Taking off his sunglasses, Hartman looked down at her with dark, probing eyes. “Bad day?”

“Tiring, but good.”

Running his fingers through his hair and exhaling, he said, “I know the feeling. We had three stabbings, one birth, and after today, I think I’m a dentist too.”

Kel just nodded trying to relax. “You sure you’re okay?” Hartman brushed back her hair. Kel felt her heart stop. It had been awhile since a man had touched her. “Yeah.

Thanks for the coffee by the way. It’s been nice,” she said, her voice shaking slightly.

Hartman grinned like a school boy. “Anytime, Kel. You need a ride?”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I normally use this time to unwind from the day and the walk is always refreshing.” She fiddled with the strap of her backpack.

Hartman just looked at her. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice, “I wish you would just let me in, Kel. I’m not going to hurt you. I swear.”

She looked back up at him. Eyes that looked like dark pools of ebony, laugh lines around the edges, a straight nose, five o’clock stubble, and hands that could heal. He wore his hair longer than most doctors. Hartman tilted her chin up towards him. “Please.” His eyes were full of warmth. She knew he was going to kiss her.

Kel pressed her hands to his chest, “Hartman ...”

“Call me Greg.” He was coming closer.

“Greg ... the mosque ....”

“No one’s there,” he said, huskily, as he touched her hair. A thousand thoughts flew through her mind. The last time a man kissed her... Brooks had her pinned down on the bed, fingers jammed in her vagina, kissing her painfully, asking if she like to be fucked like a filthy whore. Breathing in deeply, Kel leaned back against the door. “Greg, I don’t think I’m ready for this,” she said weakly.

He was mere inches from her face. “Your eyes are so beautiful and scared, Kel. I am not a monster.”

She swallowed with difficulty. “I know. I really need to go.”

Hartman watched her go and wondered what her ex-husband did to her.

Run, run, run, run. Breathe in the heat, exhale the heat. Kel ran beyond the Compound, which consisted of one large two story building with a built-in garage underneath. She did not care about the sweat dripping into her eyes. It felt good to feel something other than the fear which seemed to permeate her mind. “He wasn’t going to hurt you” seemed to be the mantra in her head with every step. “He has soft hands,” was the rejoinder. Kel slowly stopped and looked at the land around her-barren, arid, dry, and empty. She laughed at herself, “That’s how I feel.”

You stood under the hot sun as you dowsed yourself with tepid water. Eyes closed, you wondered how long it had been since you had gotten a blow job. Too long. Damn wars. You sighed, exasperated. “Fuck this. Even the French had camp whores.” There were a handful of women in the camp as clerical workers, but they were on the same level of attractiveness as the Hamas’ goats.

The weeks went by. The rains came and went. Kel closed down the school at the end of the school year and hugged her little girls goodbye. The signals over air and chatter echoed of more unrest. Hartman bought her a diamond necklace she never wore. Buchelli met a U.S. contractor and was engaged.

You and your crew played football and wrote long letters home. Your sister was with a serious boyfriend. "Punk better be treating you right," was your reply. Your mom bought a new car and sent you a book on Roman wars. Your dad retired. Still no word on when you were going to move out.

It was as if this part of the Middle East was holding its breath to see what would happen in Qasar. If this region fell then surrounding area would follow. Despite it being a rather progressive city, beneath the calm surface lay a chaotic strata of unrest. Tempers flared and despite the older generation trying to keep the peace, the younger, more volatile generation pushed for a war that seemingly could not be won. The echoes in the halls of their Cabinet rang of revolution, violence, and on occasion, jihad.

Then there was the lull.

In the quiet hours of the morning, the collapse of Qatar happened when the sun was just turning the sky pink and the prayer call went out over the city. As the devout raised their heads from prayer, a car bomb went off in the merchant bizarre killing half a block of civilians.

“Hartman! Wake up!!” Kel said, shaking him awake. He rolled over and saw Kel’s luminous eyes, rimmed with sleep, looking at him. She had on khaki pants, a Tulane Law shirt, and boots. Her side arm was in its holster. “There was a bombing. You’re needed at the hospital,” she said urgently.

“Okay.” He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and stopped her from leaving. “Kel, be careful. We knew this was going to happen.”

“I know. I just hope my little ones are okay.”

Getting dressed, as he said, “I’m sure they are. We’ve always known that if hell broke loose, they were getting out first.”

Kel handed him a gun, “Use this if you can’t use a scalpel first.” Then she left.

You were briefed on the bombing. The blast happened a mile from the American’s Compound. They were shaken, but safe. You went out and checked your tank. Your crew met you there.

They were a solid bunch. Owl was still wet behind the ears, Diego had simmered down some since his wife back home had their baby, and Lefty the Loader had managed to talk his mom into literally shipping them a case of beer.

“Gunny, are we getting ready to roll out?” Owl asked.

“Possibly.”

They knew you were a man of few words.

Diego looked at the mountains, eyes pensive. “I bet in two weeks they’ll be home.”

“Possibly.”

Lefty took a drag from his cigarette. “Shit, Gunny. I’m so ready to fuck up some FFRs.”

“Put that god damn cigarette out, Lefty.”

“Yes, sir.” Then over the mountains was heard a massive explosion.

The Compound imploded from the inside as an impact rocket went off.

Hartman looked up from a bleeding patient as the sound of the explosion reverberated through the city. Buchelli froze and turned toward the East, instinctively knowing that the Compound had been hit. Hartman looked at Buchelli, his face stricken with fear. “Did she-"

“No,” Buchelli said, taping on the gauze down on the sutured wound.

I was summoned back to HQ. The Majors sat in a grim line at the front of the tent, pouring over maps, live feed from drones, and receiving updates real time from their officers. I sat down as one of the Majors stood up and addressed our group of Sergeants. “Men, I believe you have heard by now that the American Compound was hit by an impact missile. For you that are not aware of an impact missile, they are fired from a tube at max velocity speeds of one mile per second. They are designed to hit a building and implode it from the inside. The IM causes a vacuum almost like a backdraft. It pulls the structure in upon itself then out.” He then showed an image of the Compound on the screen overhead.

The building lay in absolute ruin, a smoldering heap among the half blown out mosque. “We know that the majority of the American’s are safe, except for one.” He switched over to a still black and white image of a woman, hair askew, looking at a small girl and another image of her government issued ID which was much more telling. Dark hair pulled up, a few errant strands escaping, eyes looking straight into the camera lens, shoulders back. “The woman’s name is Kel Carver. She also goes by Kel and is a school teacher in Qasar and was deciphering Farsi code. She was capturing radio signals from the mosque to the Lieutenant Governor of Qasar. She has the information in a USB drive on her person. The objective is to get her to safety alive. She encrypted it in her own code so we need her. Gentlemen, God speed.”

“You see that chica, Lefty?” Diego said, over the growl of the engine. “I bet she would chew Owl up and spit him out before he knew what hit him.”

Lefty laughed, “She looks like a bitch.”

“Just your type, Lefty,” Owl replied, glancing over his shoulder.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Owl,” you said, looking annoyed.

“What do you think, Gunny? Think Owl could take her on?” said Diego.

Before you could reply, Lefty interjected, “I’d fuck her.”

You cut your eyes and looked at him.

“I would put some life in those eyes. She looked pissed the fuck off, ” Owl muttered through his headset. “Probably having to deal with guys like you all her life, Lefty.”

Oh, so you’d treat her like a lady, Owl?”

Owl grinned, “Hell yeah. THEN I’d fuck her.”

Kel woke up to darkness. There was dim starlight above her. She could hear faint ringing in her ears. She did not know how long she had been out. There was dried blood on her head. Her face felt dirty and she was thirsty. In the distance she could hear engines. The ground vibrated softly causing the dirt to filter down. Squinting, Kel could make out that she was in a small hole, with boards all around her. It was a miracle she was alive. “How am I going to get out?” was her next thought. Looking at her immediate surrounding Kel saw the blast had thrown her into the hallway. Two chunks of stone had barely missed her head causing two huge intentions in the ground where she now huddled. Above her, loose boards piled up. The hum of engines grew louder. Suddenly, gunfire erupted. Screams of Farsi and pain reverberated around her. Quickly, Kel checked to see if her gun was loaded; she had a clip in her pocket. Licking her dry lips, Kel leaned against the stone and prayed for daylight.

Dawn arrived casting a pink hue across the horizon. You sat on your tank watching the clouds turn gold. It was eerily quiet after a night of constant gunfire and tracers etching the night sky. Roughly a hundred yards away you could see the demolished Compound. It was still a smoking mess of rubble. Looking through your binoculars you could clearly see the perimeter was peppered with bullet holes. If Kel was still alive after last night, it would be a miracle. Lefty climbed out of the belly of the beast and squinted in the sunlight that was already starting to heat the day. “We’re waiting to hear if there is any heat inside from the UAV’s, if so, we roll in with the 5th Division. They are going to try to extract her.” Lefty jumped down and went a few yards away to smoke a cigarette. The quiet of the morning was interrupted as more shots were fired.

Kel was jarred from a fitful sleep as she could hear someone climbing over the rubble. The morning light looked like broken sunbeams. She wondered if this would be her last morning alive.

The tank moved over the terrain as Diego scanned the Compound. Intel came back that they found a faint heat source in the middle of the building. They just had to get through the bastards to get to Kel.

Kel smelled them before she actually saw them. Two men, who reeked of body odor, were holding machine guns looking through the rubble. They seemed to be searching for any electronics that survived from the blast. Kel tried to curl up in the shadows even more, wiping the sweat from her palms.

Diego saw two FFR’s digging through the rubble. “Hey, Lefty, bet you a case of beer I can light those bitches up.”

One of the men looked down and saw Kel staring up at him. He stood there for a moment and grinned, showing dirty, stained teeth. Kel raised her weapon.

Diego saw the man hesitate and smile. “Oh, goat fucker, you should not have-” The man’s head rocketed back as blood glimmered in the sunlight through Diego’s sights. “What the hell?”

“I think she’s alive,” you said dryly. “And you owe her a case of beer.” Lefty smirked. Diego grunted and riddled the other man with several hundred rounds.

Kel watched as the first man fell back and the second one was blown away to pieces. She slowly started to rise as she heard “U.S. Marines! Stand down.” Moving the boards out of the way, she climbed out of the hole, blinking in the light. In front of her were twelve men, eyes shielded by sunglasses. One asked, “Kel Carver?”

“Yes?”

“Time to go home.”

Another put his finger to his ear and said, “More FFR’s are coming. We need to go. We’ll take her to the recon point and let the one of the tanks take her back. They know she is alive and that she has vital information. We’ll cover the tank with a chopper.”

She looked at him quizzically. “They have SAM’s. No need risking your life that way. Let’s move out.”

You and you men were informed that your tank was taking Kel back to the camp. It was cramped already, but figured Diego could keep the hatch open for the duration of the ride back to camp.

Kel walked up to the tank. It was huge on the outside at least. One man was looking down at her. He looked Mexican. Sunglasses seemed to be standard issue with the Marines. Shielding her eyes from the sun, Kel asked, “Can I drive?”

Diego smirked, “Got to ask the Gunny, ma’am.”

“Gunny?”

Diego helped her climb up and shook her hand. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Diego.”

“Kel.”

Lefty and Owl introduced themselves as they squeezed in. Lefty asked, “You like beer, ma’am?”

Diego gave him a dirty look. “Uh, I’m more of a margarita type of girl. Do you have any water?”

Diego handed her a canteen. “We’re waiting on Gunny.”

Kel gratefully drank the from the canteen and wondered how the men could endure being in such close confinements. The air conditioning rattled lamely attempting to cool the air, but the heat was oppressive. Owl pointed through the windshield. “There he is now.”

You finished talking to the driver of the other tank and decided on the route back to the camp. It was going to be a straight shot across the desert. Easy in, easy out. A simple extraction with the extra cover power of the Blackhawk hovering like an avenging angel overhead. Lefty radioed you, informing you that Kel was on board. Wiping the sweat from your face you looked down into the hatch. There squeezed between his driver and loader was Kel, hair matted with blood, a dirt smeared face, and clothes that had seen better days, and staring up at him was a pair of beautiful brown eyes. Climbing in, you sat down, knees bumping with Kel’s. You nodded at Owl and the tank began its journey back to the camp.

Kel sat in between the two men who seemed to be oblivious of the heat around them, despite their faces flushed and dripping with sweat. She heard Gunny moving on the top of the tank. The sun was blocked momentarily and Kel looked up and saw a man, seemingly battle worn, but confident. His looked at her briefly, then climbed down. His presence in the tank seemed to fill up what ever space there had been. He bumped her knees and she wondered if he could sense the beating of her heart as it was roaring in her ears.

The tank made the roughly 45 minute journey back to camp in less time than they expected. Gunny watched Kel off and on over the duration of the trip. He could tell that when she felt him looking at her the pulse in her throat increased. She would glance at him from time to time, never really making eye contact. But then her eyes constantly moved as though taking in every detail around her. The sunlight flickered over them and Gunny saw his men glancing at the giggle of her breasts as they went over the terrain. He smiled inwardly appreciating the view as well.

After arriving at the camp, Kel was shown where the showers were which was a half box enclosed with a make shift shower head. The Commander had compassion as he had a daughter at home and said any Marine bothering her would be punished. Stripping down and standing under the tepid water, Kel closed her eyes trying to relax her tired muscles. In an hour she would be giving a brief speech on what she had learned. The soap felt calm and cleansing.

Making her way back to her tent she was issued she felt the eyes of the Marines watching her. The Commander had procured her desert fatigues, a USMC shirt, and boots from a female Marine. Another had given her a pair of sunglasses. I must look a sight, she thought. The shirt was slightly fitted and the fatigues were slung low on her hips. She laughed quietly approaching her tent. “Join the Marines and stare at the civilian!” Opening the flap she was greeted by Buchelli. “Oh my God! You’re okay!” Kel exclaimed. The two women hugged briefly. Sitting on the cot they quickly caught up on what had transpired since they were separated.

“Kel... is that how you’re going to address the Intel?”

“Um... this is what I was given to wear.”

Buchelli groaned and said, “Don’t move. Let me save you from embarrassment.”

The high ranking officials sat down in the tent turned makeshift conference room. You slipped into the back and sat behind to the Qasar Crew as they were now known. The doctor looked around the room, puzzled as if looking for someone. He leaned over and talked in hushed tones to the nurse next to him. They both were wearing worn scrubs and looked calm despite the hell they just went through. You wondered what happened to Kel. The last time you saw her you were talking by the tank. She had walked by fresh out of the shower, seemingly lost in her own world. Her hair was wet and her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. You could see the eyes silently tracking her, one guy wolf whistled in the distance.

“Damn,” the grunt said next to you.

Kel walked up to the conference tent and took a deep breath. “Just think of it as an interrogation,” she said quietly, drawing on the classic undergrad trick she used. Walking in she scanned the room, taking in everything. To her left sat her fellow compatriots. Hartman looked relieved to see her. Sitting behind them was the Gunny. He sat there not moving. His sunglasses sat on top of his head, arms crossed. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, Kel walked up to the front and sat down. A General leaned over and shook her hand.

Gunny watched Kel as she addressed the group. Cool, calm, collected. Eyes focused and clear. She was serious and precise using her hands as she talked. He could see the attorney come out in her. He let his imagination drift to her in a court room, dressed to the nines. They made eye contact. You smiled at her slightly. In that split second, he saw her blink. She kept talking, but you could sense something had shifted.

You sat on top of your tank. The air was different that night. Rumors were circulating that it was going to rain. You watched the lightening in the distance. When you closed your eyes, you could see Kel’s brown eyes staring at you. The way you saw them light up when she smiled...you wondered how often she did that. From the photographs it would seem to appear she did not smile much, which was a shame. You let your mind travel to the shape of her mouth, her slender fingers, and her hair. You closed your eyes and let your mind wander, thinking what it would feel like to touch her hair, to make her smile, maybe even laugh. You could feel yourself getting turned on.

“You know it’s not going to actually rain.” A woman’s voice cut through the darkness.

You tried not to show that you were startled. Looking up at you was Kel. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, her tone light and playful. It annoyed you that she could tell you were startled. As she clamored up, you could smell the clean scent of her skin.

“Do you think it’s going to rain?” You tried to focus on the sky and not how close she sat next to you.

“Possibly.” Kel leaned back, looking at the stars. Her hair brushed against your shoulder.

“When I lived in the Delta I used to drive out in the middle of nowhere and watch the storms roll in. This reminds me of that... except I’m sitting on this thing and you're here.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

She propped her elbows on her knees. “No. It’s nice to share the storms with someone.”

You could feel her eyes on you. You looked at her and was glad for the starlight for once. Her eyes felt like they could see straight through you and into your soul. There was enough darkness from the wars that you did not want her to see.

The rains did not come. Instead the heat intensified, if that was possible. The Qasar Crew had a small camp to the east of the base. They spent their time talking to soldiers, drinking tepid water, and writing letters to home. After the explosion of the Compound news crews showed up peppering them with questions. The rote response was "No comment. We are thankful to be alive and helping an area in need of humanitarian aid." After a while the news crews packed up and left finding no source of substance from the tight lipped Americans.

Kel would seek you out from time to time asking you questions about the tank, your life back home, and your thoughts on the FFR. You realized when she was nervous, she would play with her hair. More often than not, she had an errant strand twisted around her fingers. You found that to be amusing as she had no problem debriefing high ranking officials, but you had her toying with her hair non-stop.

One evening you sought her out. Soldiers rarely invaded the privacy of the small camp the Qasar Crew. Their tents were evenly spaced out, giving each other a sense of privacy with a larger, open tent in the middle with chairs and a table. It was here you found Kel writing a letter to home, a Coke holding loose leafed papers in place. The way she was sitting, you could see a decent amount of cleavage from her tank top, hair pulled up in a messy pony tail, sunglasses perched on top of her head. You cleared your throat and she looked up at you with the most innocent look on her face.

“Hey, Gunny,” was her response to seeing you standing there.

“Do you mind if I sit down?”

“No, let me just clear the table off.” She neatly stacked her papers. “Do you want anything to drink? Our Cokes are semi-cold now as Hartman has a small generator running.”

You declined and thought, “She can’t play with her hair....”

“Okay. You’re missing out.” Kel smiled slightly, toying with the pen.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go with me to Kilçar tomorrow?”

“Just you and I?”

“Yeah.”

She spun the pen quickly. You could tell she was thinking. “What time?”

“0900.” She looked at you with those piercing eyes.

You held her gaze, never blinking. “Okay.”

Buchelli stuck her head inside Kel’s tent and found her laying looking up at the sloping sides. “Hey!”

Kel looked up and smiled, “Hey, Lovebird, what are you doing?”

“Want some company?”

“Sure.” Buchelli came in and sat down on a folding chair. “So why was Gunny leaving our camp?”

Kel turned and stuck her tongue out. “He asked me to go to Kilçar with him tomorrow.”

Buchelli crossed her arms over her chest and smiled smugly, “And you said yes.”

“I did.”

“Just you and him?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm... you must really like the guy.”

Kel shrugged. “He’s okay.”

“Uh huh. You like him.”

“I never said I didn’t like him. He’s ....” Her voice trailed off.

“He’s what?” “Different; too quiet sometimes, which is annoying. I feel like anytime I talk to him I end up rambling and probably sounding like an idiot.”

“Obviously if he is asking you to go to Kilçar you can’t be too annoying.”

“I have no idea why he asked me to go.”

“Maybe because he likes you too. I have seen the way he looks at you.”

“The only time I have caught him looking at me was when I gave the debriefing weeks ago.”

“Ha, I think you’re playing dumb, Kel. I catch you looking at him. Obviously something is there. Its time for you to move on from the past. I’m serious.” She got up and stretched. “And you better give me all the details tomorrow... if you’re not in his tent.”

Kel blushed deeply. “Oh my god, Anne Buchelli!”

Buchelli laughed, “If you tell me you haven’t thought about sleeping with him I know you’re lying. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Kel didn’t say anything and Buchelli laughed. “I rest my case.”

Kilçar was a military outpost 20 miles south of Qasar. It was a bustling city which housed many modern amenities-fresh water, a small airport, which was currently being used by the military, and a progressive middle/upper class. There were a number of hotels, bars, and an underground, vivid nightlife to keep the soldiers on leave busy.

The road, though, to Kilçar was filled with ruts making the journey slow. In the Hummer there was an air conditioner that blew somewhat cold air when it was working. That day the windows were rolled down letting in the breeze. Gunny drove and listened to Kel talk about the different landscape, how she missed home, and hoping that Kilçar had decent food.

When they arrived, Gunny headed towards the airport. “We’ll pick-up our supplies there and if we have time I’ll show you around the city.”

Kel merely nodded and was looking out the window.

After going through the required checkpoints, they pulled into a large hanger which contained a Lockheed Martin C-5B and an assortment ammunition crates stacked neatly in a corner. A group of soldiers came up to them as they got out of the vehicle. Several soldiers talked to Gunny, while glancing at Kel as she walked up to the plane looking at the massive wingspan.

“Who’s that?” one solider asked, inclining his head towards Kel. “One of the Intels the government sent over.”

“Does the Intel have a name?”

“Kel.”

“She your girl?” another asked.

You glanced at Kel who was now towards the tail of the plane out of ear shot. “No.”

“Huh...”

Before you could comment an officer approached you saying that the commander wanted to see you. You nodded and walked towards the back of the plane. “Kel?” you called out.

She leaned under the belly of the plane and looked at you. “I’m here.”

You could see straight down her shirt. “The, uh, commander wants to see me. Are you going to be okay hanging out here?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. There is plenty for me to look at and if I get bored. I am positive I can get into something,” she laughed quietly.

“I’m sure you can. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“No worries, Marine.” Smiling at him sweetly, she started walking towards the nose. As he walked away he could hear one of the soldiers introducing himself to Kel.

The commanders headquarter’s was fairly spacious and had air conditioning. In it was a small outer office with a soldier manning the phone and the commanders office which housed a large desk, a mini bar, and maps decorating the walls. One wall was a bank of windows overlooking the runway. After shaking hands with the commander, Gunny sat down across from the commander.

“Drink?” the commander offered.

“Bourbon, if you have it.”

After getting their drinks, the commander let out a contented sigh. “How’s the camp?”

“Hot as hell.”

“I heard you headed up part of a rescue awhile back.”

“I did. Easy in, easy out.”

“How are they doing now?”

“The Qasar Crew is doing well. They seem to have settled into camp life fairly well.”

“How is the woman you rescued?”

“Kel? She is doing good.”

“Is that all?” the commander looked at him over the rim of his glass. “I’ve know you long enough to know that something is up.”

You shrugged.

“I wouldn’t wait around too long... My Raptors out there miss having a woman around, especially an American woman.”

“We’ll see.”

The commander barked a laugh. “If that’s the case, you might want to introduce me to her.”

“Fuck that,” was your terse reply.

Kel found herself sitting between two young airmen watching a live boxing match, sipping from a Coke out of a glass bottle. It was loud, raucous, and testosterone was heavy in the air. Two of the airmen were in the middle of the fourth round when Kel looked up and saw Gunny standing across the ring. She gave him a mock salute with her Coke bottle and laughed at something someone said.

This was the most relaxed Gunny had ever seen Kel. She seemed fairly comfortable around the younger airmen who were all vying for her attention. It wasn’t that she was drop dead gorgeous, but she had an air about her that seemed to draw men likes moths to a flame. He could tell she was enjoying the attention, which he surmised she probably had not gotten a lot of from men. He also knew if there was another woman present she would have melded into the shadows so to speak, let another take the spotlight. But for now, being the only female, she shined. One airman wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a half-hug. Kel rolled her eyes at whatever he said and the airman glanced at Gunny.

“Is that your fella?” the airman asked, pulling Kel closer.

“Nope,” Kel said, trying to not laugh, seeing the cross look on Gunny’s face.

“Well, he looks pretty pissed. Do you want to be his girl?”

Kel gave the airman a sly grin and said, “He couldn’t handle me.”

The airmen around her laughed and started saying how they wouldn’t mind a chance at handling her. Kel merely laughed them off and called them all boys. That brought more heckling, boos, and laughter. For once it was nice to be around a female that could joke, laugh, pushing the boundaries of being a lady, but never cross that line. When Gunny walked over, the group quieted some.

“Ready?” he asked Kel.

Kel turned slightly and looked at the young men around her. “I guess I’m in trouble, fellas! Fun time is over.” Slipping on her sunglasses she stood up, made a bow at the group that surrounded her, and said with a grin, “Be good, boys!” As she walked away, the guys started whistling and catcalling her.

The airman who had his arm around her called out, “You’re welcome with the Raptors anytime!”

Kel looked at their young, happy faces and called back, “And you’re always welcome with the Qasar Crew!” With that she stepped into the waiting Hummer and began the journey back to the camp.

Gunny drove silently over the rutted roads, glancing at Kel. She sat, arm out the window, sunglasses firmly in place, hair blowing in the wind. She seemed happy and relaxed. You broke the silence asking her, “You going to start talking to that Raptor?”

Kel smiled, watching the road, “And if I did?”

That was not the response you were looking for and it irritated you. You drove on a little ways, feeling yourself getting annoyed at her. You thought that bringing her with you it could possibly lead to something between the two of you, but all it had done was get under your skin. She hadn’t done anything other than make that flippant reply... he realized he was jealous.

“I thought we were going to eat?” she asked, oblivious to your surly thoughts.

“We were but the commander said he heard that there is a sandstorm coming. I don’t want to be out in that if I can help it. Are you hungry?”

“Kinda. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

“If you look in the box in the back, I know my mom probably sent me something to eat. Help yourself.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

She shrugged and started climbing into the backseat, when you slowed the Hummer down.

“Everything okay?” she asked, worried.

“Yeah.”

She didn’t look convinced and that is when she felt the wind pick up. “Crap, I need to roll my window up.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it. Just get in the back and sit tight.”

Kel sat next to the box Gunny’s family sent him and hoped everything would be okay. She had never been in a sandstorm before and it frightened her. Gunny radioed the camp and told them their coordinates. He closed the driver’s side door as the sand began to engulf them, blotting out all light.

“Are you all right?” you asked, climbing into the back.

“I think so. It’s just kinda scary how there is no light now. How long do you think this will last?” Kel asked, her voice slightly shaky.

“It could last from a few hours to a few days.”

“Oh,” was her only reply.

They sat in silence for a while listening to the sand beat against the sides of the vehicle.

“Why are you upset?” Kel asked, shifting in her seat.

“Huh?”

“You seemed in a bad mood ever since we got to the airport. Did you not want to talk to the commander?”

“It wasn’t that.”

“Hmmm... was it the fact that airman had his arm around me?” she pressed, sounding slightly amused and annoyed.

You didn’t say anything, but the annoyance you felt earlier came creeping back.

“You act like you have a right to be upset. I’m not your girl.”

“That’s funny.”

“What is?”

“Your fucking attitude.”

“I don’t have an attitude!”

“Yes, you do. Acting all smug, like it should bother me a guy had his arm around you.”

Even in the darkness, he could tell what he said had a two fold effect; he had pissed her off and hurt her at the same time.

“Fuck you, Marine.”

You laughed, knowing it would annoy her even more. She made an exasperated sound. “What was that?” you asked, goading her on.

“Nothing.” She moved again and you could sense how close she was to you. “You’re aggravating, you know that?”

“The worst.”

“Whatever.” You reached out and found her arm, tracing your fingers up it.

“What... what are you doing?” Kel asked, her heart pounding in her chest. You didn’t say anything, but slid you hand up to her shoulder and neck.

Entangling your hand in her hair you pulled her closer to you. “Kel?”

“Yes...” she said, hands searching for you.

“Shut up.” She tried to pull away, angry, pushing against your chest. “Let me go. I’m going to go sit in the front.”

You held her there. Her breathing was quickening. You grinned in the darkness and leaned towards her. Reaching up with your other hand you cupped her head. “Do you know how beautiful you are, Kel?” With that you sought out her mouth. At first she did not move, but sat there still.

“Stop being stubborn,” you said.

“Stop being a douche.”

You grabbed her waist and had her straddle you. You grabbed a fistful of her hair and kissed her, hard. She squirmed on your lap, grinding against you. She kissed you back, clinging to you, grinding on you. Your hands slid up her shirt, feeling her warm body. “Good girl,” was your response to her actions, wanting to feel every inch of her. She pulled back and took her shirt and bra off. Leaning back in, she kissed you deeply, letting your hands explore her body. You kissed her mouth and neck. She was trying to undo your pants to no avail. She moved and sat next to you. You could hear her taking off her shoes and pants. “Gunny...”

“Yes?” You were taking off your pants.

“I need your dick in my mouth.” With that, her warm mouth engulfed your dick. She swallowed every inch of you, teasing your balls with her tongue. “You have no idea how bad I have wanted to do this to you.”

You closed your eyes and thought, “Oh my fucking god.”

Kel went down on you for a long time licking, sucking, and kissing on your dick. Finally, you pushed her back and could feel the heat emitting from her pussy. You slowly slid inside her. She was dripping wet and as she wrapped her legs around you, you knew you weren’t going to last long.

“Be careful. That is the back of me,” she said, grinding into you.

You moved slowly in and out of her, savoring the feel of her tight, wet pussy. With every thrust she was getting wetter and wetter. You kissed her, feeling something deep inside of you shift. You wished you could look deep into her eyes as you pushed deeper inside her. You could feel yourself getting close to cumming and buried your face in her hair. “Kel... god, you feel so good.”

“So do you, Gunny. You feel amazing; just a little harder.”

“If I do that I’m going to cum.”

She wiggled her hips. “Don’t do that.”

“Why?”

“You know why.” She did it again.

You picked up the pace and had her moaning your name. She sounded so sexy. You could feel the pressure building as you pulled out and came all over her. As you laid there, hearing your breath coming back to normal, you realized something that shook you to your core. You loved her.

Four weeks after the sandstorm, the Qasar Crew received orders that they were going home. They had four days to pack up their things and head back to the States. It was a busy and frantic time, getting everything stowed away and ready for the journey home. The night before they were set to leave, Kel spent the night in Gunny’s tent. Gunny found out of the four weeks he spent with Kel, as she was his girl now, she was fun, intense, and passionate in bed. Their last night together she rode him, trying not to be loud, as he held on to her hips. You could see her in the dim light, eyes half closed, head tilted back, enjoying every second. You pulled her down hard, cumming deep inside her. “Don’t you dare make a sound,” you said, pulling her close, holding her. You loved the smell of her hair and how she felt cuddled up against you. Kissing her forehead, you looked into her brown eyes and said, “I love you.” You had never seen her smile so beautifully and the way her eyes lit up when you said that made you wish these moments would never end. “I love you, too, Gunny.”

—A Year Later—

Kel stood at her kitchen sink, wiping her hands, looking at the autumn weather outside. It had been months since she had heard from Gunny, not that it should be a surprise. She rarely ever heard from him and if she did it was short replies. After returning to the States she kindly, but firmly, told Hartman that she did not see a future with him, despite that he would still call her from time to time just to make sure she was okay. Buchelli was married to the contractor and moved back overseas working in a local hospital.

Another change that came into Kel’s life was she had gone back to her Delta roots and bought a modest home. As the year had gone on she had slowly refurbished it and made it into a home. Currently, she was making bread, when the doorbell rang.

“Coming!” she called out. Opening the door she saw Gunny standing on the stoop, duffel bag in hand, fatigues even more worn from the last time she saw them. “Oh my god! Gunny!”

“Hey.”

Kel opened the door wider to let him in. “I’m just finishing making bread. Here just set your stuff here. I can’t believe you’re here! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Gunny followed her into the kitchen and looked around. It was warm and smelled delicious. On the counter cookies were cooling and the bread maker beeped to life. Kel dried her hands on a towel and just looked at him.

“Done?” he asked, taking the towel from her.

“Yes.” He wrapped her up in his arms once again smelling the sweet scent of her hair.

“I’ve missed you, Delta girl.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“I know.”

Kel tried move, but couldn’t. “I haven’t seen you in-”

Gunny leaned down and kissed her, silencing her. He led her to the couch and held her close. “I like what you’ve done here.”

“Thank you.” She looked up at him, seeing he had a different look on his face. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He shifted, looking into her eyes. “Kel, my deployment will be ending in a few months. I’ll be retiring shortly after that.”

She didn’t say anything.

“What? No Twenty-Questions?”

She shook her head "no."

He sighed, thinking why of all times did she have to be silent. Sighing deeply, he said, “I’m leaving the Marines.”

“I know what retirement is.”

“What I’m asking is,” he paused and reached in his pocket, “will you marry me?” Gunny wasn’t prepared for Kel to start crying. He sat there looking awkward for a moment.

“Yes! Yes, I will marry you,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Good, now stop crying. That’s an order,” as he slid the ring on her finger.

The End

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