Skyfire (30 page)

              “How?” asked Callie.

              “We’ll find a way.  We always do.”

              “Hey sir, remember when those guys from Alpha company brought five dudes back from that one air assault?” said Harrison.  “They crammed them muh-fuckers in there good.  Looked like a goddamn clown car!”

              “Like I said, we’ll make it work,” said Jack.

              “You can’t save them all,”  Callie said.

              “I can’t not try.” 
What the fuck am I supposed to do?  Everything always seems so unmanageable.  I’m playing whack-a-mole every day of my life.

              “Jack, this is Karl, over.”

              “Go ahead, over.”

              “Have you ever heard of the racial slur ‘yom’?”

              “Karl, I don’t even care, over.”

              “It’s for black guys apparently, but I’ll be using it to refer to Hughes from now on.” 

              “Thank you, Karl.”

              “Puerto Ricans can teach us so much!”

              “He’s kind of an ass, huh?”  said Callie.

              “He’s alright,” said Jack.  “His parents didn’t hug him enough as a kid and now he’s an attention whore.”

              “Got it.”

              “Karl, this is Jack.”

              “What’s up, Jackie?”

              “Can I get an actual sitrep? Over.”

              “Well, we made it through the dinosaur floor and picked up those Puerto Ricans.  They’re pretty cool dudes!”

              “Karl, where the hell are you guys?”

              “Relax, man.  We’re 70% of the way through the top floor. Moving down to 6 shortly and back through to sweep anything else.  Shouldn’t take too long, barring any unforeseen disaster.  We’re going from the west side of the building east, sweeping each room with white Bruce Banner’s glowing ball of magical happiness.”

              “Great, keep us posted.  When you get what we came for, I’ll start prepping our exfil route.  Break.  Chief, how’s it looking out there?”

              “This is Green Dragon 1-3, it’s still shitty but the front entrance seems like a better bet right now.  Full disclosure though, all the people, or whatever, have moved into the middle of the park, about 200 meters from the original LZ.  It looks like a mosh pit down there.”

              “What are they doing?” asked Jack.

              “Besides tearing each other apart like mindless animals?  Not much.”

              “Roger, understood.” 
We need to start figuring out what we’re dealing with.  Right now we’re just dealing with symptoms.  I really hope we hurry up and find this dude and begin learning why this is happening.

              “So we just sit here and guard these people till they find what we came here for?”  Callie asked.

              “That’s the plan,” Jack said.

              “You seem to be a pretty smart dude.  Why did you get into this Army bullshit?  Couldn’t you get anything else?”

              “Condescension is the manifestation of insecurity in the passive aggressive,” said Jack.

              “Is that what I was being when you made me push that fat guy’s head down for you to do that thing with your legs?  How about when I pumped all my bullets into him, saving your life?  Was I passive aggressive then?”

              “No, but you’re being passive aggressive now.”

              “And you’re avoiding the question.  Why did you get into this shit?”

              “I was extremely insecure as a child and thought this would provide meaning and direction.  I liked the idea of going to a place and coming out a badass on the back end,” said Jack.

              “Did it work?”  Callie was genuinely interested.

              “It did until I learned that I’m too neurotic to ever have the confidence needed to think I’m a badass.  What sealed the deal was figuring out the true nature of the war I was fighting.”  Jack was being honest, but he was frustrated at the line of questioning.

              “And what was that?” Callie asked.

              “Do you follow the stock market?”

              “Nope.  Dude, I’m a stripper with tattoos and a half-shaved head.  Do I look like I follow the stock market?”

              “Of course you’re a stripper,” Jack replied.

              “The fuck does that mean?”

              “Nothing.  I’m sorry.  I’m being judgmental.”

              “Fuck, me too.  I’m sorry Jack.”

              “It’s OK.  Anyway, the entire war was waged to raise the stock price of a company called Halliburton. The vice president at the time was heavily invested in it.  9/11 was just the public excuse.”

              “How was 9/11 an excuse?”

              “Well, if we REALLY cared about justice, we would have gone into Saudi Arabia all cock-strong and showed them what’s up.”

              “But they have the oil,” Callie said. 

             
Smarter than she lets on.

             
“So why do you keep doing it?”  Callie asked.

              Because I love the soldiers so fucking much.  I can’t NOT.  Who knows, maybe one day I can try to fix the mess from the inside out, or at least help someone who can. 
“So, why are you a stripper?”  Jack evaded. 

              “Why can’t I be a stripper? And don’t think I’m letting you off the hook.”  Callie wasn’t upset; she was being coy. 

              “The world is ending, just answer the question.”

              “Callie, Major Rugerman really likes you,” chimed Harrison.  “I haven’t seen him talk to anyone this many minutes in a row before!”

              “Why are you a stripper and not something else?” Jack said.  “I doubt it has to do with just the money.  You seem too smart for that.” 

              “I got raped relentlessly by my neighbor for a few years as a child,” said Callie.  “My mom was divorced and too strung out to give a shit.  I ran away.”

              “So you needed the money to live?”  Jack asked.

              “No, you were right the first time.  I could’ve talked my way into a lot of better paying jobs.”

              “So, what then?”

              “The abuse not only ruined me to sex and emotional connections with men, it gave me this fire to put them all in their place.”

              “By stripping?”  Jack was confounded.

              “Have YOU ever stripped?”

              “I have not.”

              “I have!”  said Harrison.

              “Save it, Harrison,” Jack said.

              “Roger, sir.  I’ma go check out down the hall.  Just to see nothin’s coming from down there.”

              “If you haven’t, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Callie said.

             
I really like talking to her.  Totally not my type.  If I even fucking had one. 
“Please enlighten me.”

              “In the strip club the men see you as an intimidating hot woman who imposes her will with sexuality.  Most of the people who go there are abject losers.  They hate their wives.  They hate their jobs.  They throw gobs of cash at you so they can forget about all the shit they hate for a few seconds.  Oh yeah, and we choose the shortest remixes of songs.”

              “So this is your way to get back at the person who hurt you?”

              “Yeah, I guess it is.  I’m high and it’s nagging at me not to lie.  The money was retarded awesome.  If I didn’t feel like working for a few days, I didn’t have to.  It was a win-win situation.”

              “You wouldn’t get fired?” Jack asked.

              “Doesn’t work like that.  You’re a commodity.  They expect you to be a flake.”

              “What happens if you’re too flakey?”

              “There are more strip clubs in the boroughs and Jersey than I knew what to do with.”

              “I’m really sorry your neighbor raped you and you feel like you need to get even.  That must be a really difficult way to live, Callie.  If we don’t die after this, you can at least count on me to be nice to you.” 
I’d love to fuck her, but I would never want to mess with the fragile mind of a victim still searching for the tools to process past trauma.  We all have our shit.  She does too.  She sees our shit but can’t see deep down that everything she does only further complicates her perspective and mentality.

              “Thank you, Jack.  I can roll a joint.  Want me to roll a J right now?”  Callie sounded hopeful.

              “I can’t.  It’s been too many years.  Besides, I don’t want to call extra attention to ourselves with the smell.  Wait it out till we aren’t in such a vulnerable spot, please.”

              “Fine.  But when we get this done I’m reintroducing you to weed.” 
Is she hitting on me or just cool as hell?  Shit, this always happens the second I start talking to a woman.  I can’t read woman signals for shit.

              “We’ll see.  I’ve always been more of a psychedelics guy.”

              “Wait, what?  That’s awesome!  Tell me more!”               

              “That’s another discussion for another time, without my subordinates in earshot,” said Jack.

              “Come on,  he’s down the hall!”  Callie said in a loud whisper.

              “It’ll give us something to talk about when you get my dumb ass high for the first time in fifteen years.”

              “I like that idea,” said Callie.

             
I’m so confused. I’m MUCH more comfortable analyzing military situations than talking to women socially.  What the fuck is wrong with me?

             
Karl came in over the radio.  “Jackie, Karl.  We finished our sweep of the floor.  Moving down one more.  Antonio ‘Bigfoot’ Silva’s ball of shit makes searching for the living SO much easier!”

              “First of all, I love the reference,” said Jack.  “Good job.  Keep us posted.  I’m sure Legate Ronak’s sphere is very useful.”             

              “Ron’s shit is awesome!” said Karl.  “I wish we’d had it when that bitch blew herself up in the Kirkuk Market carrying that fucking rice bag of Semtex or whatever.”  

             
It was just some bootleg TNT, man.
“Cool, man.  Keep us posted.”

             
“What happened in that market?”  Callie’s somber tone made Jack realize how ludicrous he sounded when talking about massive bouts violence.  He might as well have been mentioning how it rained last Thursday. 

              “Some lady got convinced it was a good idea to blow herself up for Allah in the market right before the Muslim Sabbath,” said Jack.  “It was shoulder-to-shoulder packed.  People freaked the fuck out.  The Iraqi Police responded by indiscriminately shooting down 60% of the marketplace with fully automatic weapons.  Riots ensued.” 
It looked kind of like what’s going on in the park right now.
             

              “Holy shit.  You were there?”

              “I saw the aftermath.  I watched it happen over a UAV feed about two clicks away,” Jack said.

              “What’s a UAV? And a click?”

              “What the news calls a drone.  And a click is a kilometer.”

              “Why would that lady blow up her own people?” Callie asked.  “I just don’t understand.”  Callie sounded very sad.  Being high was making her overly empathetic.

              “The group that convinced her to kill herself believed that if they killed enough of their own people in mass slaughters, it would make the Americans look incapable of protecting them.  That and the fact that if you’re an Arab of a slightly different group than those you’re attacking, it’s completely acceptable in tribal politics.  If you think we have terrible rationalizations for violence, you should see theirs.”

              “That’s some heavy shit, man.  How do you sleep at night?”

              “I forgave myself for my role in it,” Jack said.

              “Just like that?”

              “Well, after a few DMT trips and some Ayahuasca sessions in Peru.”

              “The fuck is that?”  Callie sounded eager to learn more.

              “When we get high after this is all over, I’ll tell you all about it.”

              “Why do you seem so much more well-adjusted than Trent?”

              Jack took a deep breath.  He could tell Callie really cared about Trent. 
I like Callie a lot.  I think I do.  I can’t talk shit about Trent, but I also want to make myself look good.  Sexual desire…  no.  Not even sexual desire.  The desire to be understood by a person of the opposite sex.  Why? 
“I got a diet-war.  Trent not only got the full version, he constantly sought out more and more.  He always felt if he wasn’t going through the thickest of the thick, he wasn’t doing what he was supposed to do.  That being said, he and I both had it really good compared to some of the other people we know.”