Page 33

LINDA

"Y ou know Sarge," Derrick Jackson said, grinning as they headed back from the range, "you're looking way too happy for someone who's been sweating all day."

"What, sweat isn't good for you?" Linda asked, grinning ironically. "Maybe I'm just feeling good about the day."

"Uh-huh… you've been feeling good a lot of days," Jackson retorted. "It's been a solid week of good days if I think about it."

It had been a good week. One of the best. Five out of the last seven nights spent with Brutus, four of them waking up in his arms. The scent of his soap lingered on her uniform, a comforting reminder throughout her days.

The early mornings were a small price to pay for those stolen hours with Brutus. The exhaustion faded away in his presence, replaced by a sense of calm she hadn't known she was missing. Funny how sleeping in his arms was more restful than sleeping alone.

"Do me a favor, Jackson," she said, as they headed out for the day. "Keep things down tonight? I've got NCO duty."

"Hell Sarge, I won't be a problem at all," Jackson replied. "I'm staying off post overnight. Already got everything set up, I just need to shower up, make myself even better looking than I already am, and it's all good for me."

Linda sighed, but couldn't criticize him. It was well known that Jackson had a very active social life, and sometimes she thought the man was juggling multiple girlfriends. That wasn't the case this weekend though, she was relatively sure that he was only seeing one girl at the moment.

"Keep it safe, keep it sober," she reminded him. "And I better see you bright and early for PT Monday."

After a quick shower to wash the day's dirt and sweat off of her, she settled in behind the NCO duty desk, ready to pull duty for the night.

Linda groaned as the aches and pains of the day caught up with her.

The shower helped, she wasn't going to have to face the idea of twelve hours of stinky armpits, and she had changed into a fresh uniform in order to make sure she was dry that way as well.

Her body screamed for rest. Friday night NCO duty was the worst, no extra day off to recover, just the long, slow burn of lost sleep gnawing at her energy. It meant sacrificing a precious night with Brutus, and that thought stung.

Thankfully though, Brutus already knew, and promised her that if she wanted to crash in the barracks she could, and if not, the bed at the house was all hers. She hadn't made up her mind yet as to which option she was going to take, but was leaning towards going to Brutus's house.

She knew she needed the sleep, but having Brutus right there might not be that good for her getting any. Then again, she could use a Saturday of pampering from her boyfriend, and she knew he'd do it without her even asking.

In the meantime she had to stay up all night.

Linda wasn't a video person, she found that trying to watch a movie or TV show on her phone mostly led to her nodding off.

Instead, she did her shifts with a book, old school paper and ink.

In this case it was an older book she hadn't read before, Stephen King's Carrie.

She'd seen the movie of course, but wanted something short enough she could get through it in one night if things stayed quiet.

And for the first few hours of duty, they were quiet. In her book, Tommy was being convinced by his girlfriend that it'd be the right thing to invite that weird girl, Carrie White to the prom.

Still... it was hard to believe these teenagers could be so blithely cruel. It made her think of her own past, the subtle ways people could tear you down even when they thought they were helping. Carrie's fate felt inevitable, a dark mirror of her own struggles.

It was just about midnight when she heard a noise outside.

Putting her book aside, she walked outside, and saw John Mahoney pissing on the blacktop of the basketball court.

Clearly drunk, it appeared as if he was trying to write his name in urine on the pavement, and making a general mess of the whole thing.

"Ahhhh!" he groaned as he swiveled his hips up and down, left and right in his futile attempt to legibly piss out his name onto the ground. "Yeah, that's it!"

"Doing some painting, Mahoney?" Linda asked, trying to defuse the situation. "You should try the bushes."

"Oh, hey Saaaaaaarrge!" Mahoney slurred, standing up fully while not tucking himself away. "What's up?"

"How about you put your dick away and go get some sleep is up," Linda said. "It's too late for arts and crafts time. Know what I mean?"

Mahoney squared up, and looked down at his dick. "Little intimidating, is it? Nah, I get it, it's one big example of manhood."

Actually, Brutus is bigger, Linda thought, but set aside the comment to deal with the drunken soldier. She'd tried being casual and nice about it. Now it was time to be an NCO.

"Mahoney, put yourself away, go back to your room, and go to sleep. That's an order."

Instead of obeying, Mahoney reached down and grabbed his cock, stroking it in a lazy masturbatory motion.

"How about you get on your knees and tuck it away for me, bitch?" he asked. "After you suck it dry?"

"Put it away." Linda stepped forward. She wasn't going to be intimidated, and she for damn sure wasn't going to let Mahoney harass her.

"My next order's not going to be polite."

Linda tensed, ready. Mahoney had a good thirty pounds on her, all muscle. She knew this wouldn't be a fair fight.

But Mahoney was drunk, and as he moved to slap her he was slow, telegraphing his move. She stepped in, grabbing the slap while sticking out her leg to throw him over her hip.

He held on though, the two of them tumbling to the blacktop in the puddle of piss. Linda could feel his hands trying to grope her, and his hips ground against her ass.

"Mmmm, yeah, fight it Sarge… I like it when-"

Linda snapped, memories of Bayamon fueling her anger.

Snarling, she threw a back elbow that caught Mahoney in the face, snapping his head back.

Scrambling to her feet, she squared up with him, ready to kick his ass from here to the end of base if necessary.

But before the drunken soldier could get to his feet, another soldier, Staff Sergeant Brandon Korderas, emerged from the barracks.

Grabbing Mahoney, he yanked him back down to the pavement.

"What the fuck was that?"

Linda's heart hammered in her chest, and she could feel in her mind the way Mahoney's hands groped her. Almost reflexively, she wiped her chest with her hands, then her ass.

Her chest heaving, her lips curling in a disgusted sneer, she growled, "He's drunk."

Korderas, who was Mahoney's squad leader, knelt on the man's back, keeping him pinned on the pavement. "What do you want to do about it, Sergeant? It's a clear case of assault from what I saw."

Linda fought back her first response, which was to beat the man senseless.

She knew that wasn't the right answer, no matter how temporarily satisfying it might have been.

Her stomach was tight and queasy as she quickly considered her options.

Korderas was right, it was an assault. In fact it was sexual assault.

But Linda knew that regardless of how deserved a call to the Military Police and a court martial might be, there'd be blow back on her own career.

"I think we can handle this without official paperwork, don't you Sergeant Korderas?"

Korderas looked up, his eyebrow lifting. "You sure, Castellanos? I saw what I saw."

"I'm sure. Let's not bring a headache to the whole damn company because of this knucklehead," she said, even as she clenched and unclenched her fists to try and calm down. "Actually, you might want to let him up, he looks like he's about to puke."

Korderas got up, 'assisting' Mahoney to his knees while keeping his right arm twisted behind his back.

"Get it out of your system, Mahoney," he growled, holding the man by his shirt collar as he emptied his guts onto the pavement. "How much did you fucking drink tonight anyway?"

"I… blurch," Mahoney replied emptying some more. He retched twice before sagging. "Urgh."

"Goddammit," Korderas growled, hauling Mahoney to his feet.

"You better be glad it's Saturday now, numbnuts.

Because now I've got to stay up the rest of the night babysitting your ass to make sure you don't go into convulsions or choke on your own puke.

And I don't enjoy the idea of fucking up my entire weekend because of you. "

"Thank you Saaaarge," Mahoney slurred.

Korderas nearly threw the man to the ground again. Mahoney whimpered, his strength gone and the alcohol taking its toll. He started weeping, mumbling incoherently.

"Fuck," Korderas said, sighing. He looked at Linda, nodding. "Thanks. For keeping me clean too."

Linda nodded in understanding. If she called the MPs and Mahoney got arrested, it would reflect negatively on his entire chain of command, starting with his team leader and squad leader.

Korderas was a good NCO, he didn't need that sort of trouble on his record.

"You need any assistance, I'm at the desk."

"Might want to get into the company offices, get one of the combat lifesaver bags from supply," Korderas admitted. "This idiot might need a saline drip if he keeps puking his fucking guts out."

"Not a problem. We'll keep this amongst the enlisted, no need to get the officers involved," Linda said. "I just… fuck."

"If it helps, I know," Korderas said. "Not the details, but there's been whispers about your past, back home. That shit… I'm sorry you had to deal with this sack of shit."

"You didn't cause it, Kordy," Linda said, wanting to wipe her eyes to make sure there were no tears. "But thanks."

"No thanks needed until numbnuts here puts in his transfer paperwork to rotate out to the ass end of Alaska or maybe go bake his fucking ass off at Fort Bliss or somewhere else nice and vacationy," Korderas confirmed.

"I'll handle that. Either way, if he ain't sorry for what he did now…

he's going to be very, very, very sorry by the end of the week. "

Linda helped Korderas get Mahoney back into the barracks, waving a couple of people back into their rooms when they came out to see what was going on.

She was proud to see that Dawkins and Satomura from her own fire team looked ready to step in if need be, but she waved them back with a single look in her eyes.

"You okay, Sarge?" Dawkins asked after she went to sit back down at the desk. His room was on the far side of the barracks from the incident, and she knew that if he'd seen it go down, he'd have been there before Korderas.

"He's Kordy's problem now, you just go try and grab some rack," Linda said, touched.

Soldiers gossiped, yeah. But apparently her people cared about her, and that meant a lot. She wiped her hands on her uniform again, although this time because they were wet from having just washed them.

"Don't worry, if I need help, I'll holler for you."

"Good deal, Sarge. Goodnight." Dawkins went back to his room.

Linda nodded, drying her hands before picking up her book again. It was hard to focus, though. Her nerves were all over the place, and her stomach felt queasy even a half hour later.

What was the problem? She wasn't sure. It wasn't like it was the first time she'd had to handle herself, and in the overall scheme of threats she'd faced in her life, it was minor business. Even the similarity to her past assault incident didn't warrant this sort of reaction.

Down the hall, she could hear Mahoney yelping. There was a roaring sound, and Linda realized that Kordy was giving his drunken squad member a very strong, very cold shower to try and get him washed up and possibly a little less drunk.

Linda shook her head, and picked up the King book again. Her stomach did a slow roll, and she set the book aside for a moment, taking deep breaths before it settled down and she picked up the book again. Maybe, just maybe, she could get through most of the story before the end of her shift.