Prophet of ConFree (The Prophet of ConFree) (11 page)

"Richard!" Arie appeared delighted to see me, ignoring the bleeding body on the deck. "How ya been, man?"

"Arie! Are you all right? What happened?"

"Ah, nothing – don't worry about him. Glad to see you, man!"

"Likewise. I thought he was going to stomp you into the ground. I was worried about you! What happened?" The big guy's buddies were trying to revive him.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I can handle creeps like him. I've got a pretty good front face kick."

"Front face kick? Wow!"

"Come on, Arie!" one of Arie's companions said. "We've got to get moving."

"All right, I'm coming. Richard, we'll catch up later. I've got to go." He wrestled one of the armorite cases off the floor.

"What unit are you with?" I asked.

"Can't tell you right now – they're keeping me busy. Don't worry, I'm fine. I'll be back in touch soon as I can. How are you?"

"Uh, I'm fine."

"Aw right, hang in there. I'll see you soon! Isn't it fun? Got to go!" And he took off.

Isn't it fun?
I thought about that one for awhile.

At first I thought, great! It will get us out of all that exercising and marching. I guess I was still stupid. We continued with the exercises, rain or not – and we didn't use rain gear. We continued climbing Mount Sweat, battered by rain, deafened by thunder, soaked in mud, staggering along like drunks, with Doggie shrieking abuse at us for falling behind.

One day I was bringing up the rear. It had started raining just before we reached the summit, and now we were on our way down, in the full fury of the storm. I was ready to drop and I had even fallen behind Oswego, who was usually in last place. I skidded down a slimy mud slope that was rapidly turning into a river, and just managed to retain my footing. Huge raindrops were battering at me like buckshot. I saw something on the ground ahead, through sheets of rain. What the hell – it was Oswego, down and out.

I knelt by her side, grateful for the break. "What is it?" I asked, gasping for breath.

"Ankle," she said, grimacing and glaring at me as if I were to blame. She was a moody girl, that's for sure.

"Is it broken?"

"I'm not a medic," she said, not looking at me.

"Can you stand on it?"

"No."

The rain was pouring over us both relentlessly. It had soaked through our thin shorts and sleeveless tops. Oswego appeared to be naked, covered in silty mud. I suppose I did, too. She touched her left ankle and made a face. It looked like she was crying but it was hard to tell with all the rain.

"Does it hurt?"

"Stupid question! Yes, it hurts. What do you care?"

"Hey, I didn't do it!"

"Lucky you, get out of here."

"You can't stop now. If you don't finish the run, you'll be dropped from the squad, you know that."

"Thanks for reminding me! And if you help me, you'll be dropped, too. So just get outta my sight."

"Get up! I can help you. Put one arm around my shoulder – here. Do it!" She made the effort, standing there with her injured leg dangling, icy rain battering at us.

"All right, now we practice – take a step with your good leg." She hopped forward, holding tight.

"All right, now you'll have to touch your injured foot gently on the ground to move forward. You can't hop all the way. She did so, shrieked, and almost lost her grip. I helped her down to the ground.

"I can't do it! I think it's broken!" She was in agony.

The rain continued.

"Leave me."

"No."

"You have to leave me. I'm finished. I've failed."

"Damn it!" I couldn't think of any solution. I was totally exhausted. I certainly couldn't carry her.

"Get out of here! I don't need your help!" She was furious. I didn't blame her.

"I'm going to get help," I said.

"You do that."

"It will work out," I said, edging away from her.

"Screw you!"

I staggered off, exhausted and shattered. What the hell am I supposed to do, I thought. Can I really leave her? But I can't help her! Doggie said that was against the rules. I was so tired I could hardly think.

The rain was relentless, soaking me to the skin. I stood there. I turned back. When I came into sight of her again, she was clutching her knees in agony.

"What the hell do you want?" she asked.

"Shut your mouth," I replied. I got down on my knees next to her, and then turned away from her. "Get on my back," I said.

"What?"

"Get on my back. Now." Buddy carry, I thought. They had done a demo on that, and I had not been paying attention.

Oswego flung her left arm over my left shoulder.

"No," I said. "Your right arm, over my left shoulder."

"The right?"

"Yes – that's right. Then let me get ahold of your legs." I slipped my right arm around her legs and somehow managed to get to my feet without falling down. Now she was balanced on my shoulders and back, arms and head on my left, legs dangling on my right, secure in my grasp. I turned toward the trail. The rain did not let up even a little. I headed off downhill, with Oswego on my back. I had never imagined that I could do this. I was utterly exhausted, spent, ready to drop. I could barely pull myself along. How could I carry someone else? She clung to me grimly as I tottered downhill.

And I suddenly realized something. She was not heavy. She's not heavy, she's my squadie, I thought
.
At that point I knew I could carry her all day.

About half way down the slope, I spotted Doggie. He was in some heavy brush, under a tree, watching the trail for us. He looked right at me. I pretended I didn't see him. Screw you, Doggie. I'm taking my squadie home. Doggie did not move. He just watched, silently, until we had passed.

I called for a medevac when we arrived home. I had walked Oswego right past the hospital on the way back, because I wanted both of us to complete the run. But I figured we were both finished. We had both broken the rules. I was angry that it should end this way.

It’s funny, but Doggie never even mentioned the incident. That puzzled me for awhile – until I came to understand.

Δ

I had noticed – early in our training experience – that I was not getting a lot of respect from some of the other recruits. Oh, my own squad was fine, but to some of the others – mostly the larger types who were used to ruling the world – I was just a skinny kid who was in the way.

One day I was lagging a bit behind the squad in the mess hall, eagerly reaching for a hot tray. A very large goon just behind me casually shoved me out of line and picked up the tray I had been reaching for. This made me quite angry.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" I confronted him, face to face – well, no, make that face to chest. His face was
way
up there.

He laughed, and punched me in the gut with a fist that felt like a sledge hammer. It knocked me right off my feet and left me squirming on the deck like a worm. My guts felt like they had exploded internally and I was having trouble breathing. In the midst of my agony I thought, I've got to stop asking people who the hell they think they are, it clearly accomplishes nothing and leads only to trouble. I was so weak and screwed up that I could hardly move. By then my squadies were picking me up. Every movement was agony.

The next thing I knew we were in the squadmod and Overmar and Burns were holding me up while Doggie was out of his office and staring at me in astonishment. The rest of the squad gathered around.

"
WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?
" Doggie boomed.

"It was that giant gorilla in Echo squad," Zhang said. "He hit Rains in the stomach." I was still groaning and trembling in their arms.

"Oh yeah? And what did you guys do to
him
?"

They looked around at each other guiltily. "It happened so fast," Overmar said. "We were busy taking care of Rains."

"
GOD DAMNIT! RAINS
, stand at attention you
WIMP!
You're a Yugo-rat, aren't you?"

"Yes – sir." I was in agony.

"Well then
ACT
like it, damn you! Here's what you're going to do! You get your ass over to the Echo squadmod
RIGHT NOW
and beat the shit outta that goon!
NOW
, damn you. Then report back to me. And if for any reason you do not or cannot do it, don't come back! If you fail, go to platoon and ask for reassignment. Tell them you don't have the
BALLS
to be a member of Delta squad. Get outta my sight! And as for the rest of you pussies, if you ever fail to back up a comrade again, I will personally beat the shit out of all of you. Hit the deck and give me fifty,
NOW!
"

I could barely move, but I staggered out of the squadmod and shakily headed off towards Echo, pausing to vomit along the way. Surely my spleen and liver and all that stuff were crushed. It sure felt like it. Now how in hell was I going to beat the shit out of that giant goon? He was a human gorilla. I had seen him lifting huge weights at the gym. One more punch from him and I'd be dead.

The gym. I was passing the gym. I wandered in painfully. There, against the wall – a gleaming metal lift bar that was used for mounting weights. I snatched it up and exited the gym. The bar was heavy. Echo was not far away.

I walked right in the open squadmod door, limping. I was holding the bar vertically behind my back so that my body partially hid it from the view of anyone facing me. Everyone was home. The gorilla was sitting on the edge of his bunk, in a sleeveless top. He looked up at me curiously as I approached.

"Ha!" he laughed. "You want some more?" His expression changed quickly as I brought the bar whistling down to smash him right in the face. His face erupted in blood and he crashed abruptly to the deck, twitching, blood splattering everywhere. The squadmod shook when he hit the floor. There was so much blood it looked like I had split his skull wide open. I turned and exited the squadmod. I dropped the bar outside and walked back to Delta. So, this was how my Legion adventure was to end. I had surely killed the man. I'd be arrested for murder, court-martialed and most likely executed. Mission accomplished, sir!

I reported to Doggie and he hustled me into his office and slammed the door behind me.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I crushed his skull with a metal bar. I think he's dead."

"Really. Good work. I'll check to see if he's dead. Get out there and wait. Don't say anything to anybody else yet – not a word! I'll call you when I need you."

I left his office and sat on my bunk. The rest of the gang were all there, and had plenty of questions. I didn't answer.

"Rains! Get in here!" I entered Doggie's office and stood weakly at attention.

"He's not dead. He'll survive. Here's what you say if there are any questions. You got your injuries from falling down the squadmod steps. He'll say he got his injuries the same way."

"But there were plenty of witnesses. And the squadmod doesn't have steps."

"Don't worry about it. I've spoken with Echo One. The gorilla had his go at you, and you had your go back at him. That's an end to it."

"But what if they question me with a brainscan?"

"They won't."

"No court-martial?"

"Rains. You're not listening to me. This incident is now over. So forget it."

But I couldn't forget it, and apparently neither could anybody else. The word must have spread quite rapidly, for nobody else ever bothered me. People did look at me funny, but they didn't push me around anymore. They stepped aside instead. It was a welcome change.

Good work
, he had said. I tried to make sense of that, but failed. The Legion was a very strange world. I didn't understand it yet.

Δ

"So what do you think, folks?" Doggie asked. "Should we do calisthenics or run up Mount Sweat?" We were all sitting around the squadmod table and it was raining outside just like some titanic waterfall. The roar of the rain hitting the plex roof sounded like cannon fire, and the whole base was getting flooded. Of course, he wasn't really asking our opinion. It was just his way of concentrating our attention.

The door abruptly snapped open, a blast of rain and wind shot through the doorway, and somebody walked in. He was clad in rain gear, all bundled up, so we couldn't see his face at first.