CHAPTER 8

“We’re going to get a scaly to swallow it.” Sachko said. He was speaking to Farmington, who jogged beside him along the edge of the lake. Both of them were several lengths ahead of me, too far for me to catch up. They’d stolen my rifle.

Technically, it had been Sachko who’d stolen it, this thin, dark-haired prick with a unibrow. But Farmington had no problem being an accessory. As far as I knew, Sachko and Farmington had never spoken a word to each other before that day. Their alliance was a random and singular chance to fuck with me and share the experience.

The platoon had stopped somewhere outside of Osceola, Iowa, near West Lake. It was a hot August 24th and we’d been given a short leave. I remember the date because it’s my birthday. The break from duty and the theft of my rifle had nothing to do with me turning twenty. No one knew about my birthday: no one had ever asked, and the NUSA isn’t the type of organization to stop and have cake for every grunt’s special day.

I was just happy to have the chance at some alone time. No one yelling at me, no washing the tanks. I could just sit by the water and not think for a while.

Farmington met me on my way. Whatever he used to shave always left a horrible razor burn on his neck. Every time I saw him he had one of his hands up there under his chin, clawing away, scratching, scratching. It was enough to make anyone lose their shit. When Farmington crossed my path, he was itching away, and smiling. It wasn’t a friendly smile. Anyone who’s been bullied or harassed knows the kind of smile Farmington wore. It was like a Leviathan when blood hits the water. Pure delight at inevitable destruction.

I diverted my eyes to the ground and saw that my right boot’s laces had come untied. Perfect, I thought. I dropped to a knee, set my rifle down, and began tying. The hope was that Farmington would keep walking and leave me be. He might have done that.

But Sachko ran up from behind me. He grabbed my rifle from the ground, slapped the back of my head, and took off toward the water. “Got your gun, fatty!”

When I looked up, Farmington’s smile had grown bigger and he was turning to run after Sachko. For the last six months I’d been marching everywhere. I wasn’t used to running, but these two assholes weren’t giving me a choice.

Anger must have been fueling me. Normally I wouldn’t force myself into a state of tight lungs and burning legs. But I was more worried about what 5-90 would do to me if I didn’t get that rifle back.

I didn’t know exactly how far I ended up chasing Sachko and Farmington but when I finally caught up to them I felt like I’d finished a marathon. The first one. Where the guy died.

Farmington and Sachko stopped at the water’s edge, at a spot out of sight from the rest of the platoon. They turned to watch me bend over and dry heave.

“Goddamn are you worthless,” Sachko said.

“Come on, man,” I said. I was out of breath. “I need my rifle.”

“Uh-uh.” Sachko raised the weapon above his head. “You have to earn this, big boy. What are you willing to do to serve your country?”

What fucking country? I thought.

“I already joined up,” I said. “Why are you guys always fucking with me?”

Farmington stood beside Sachko. His smile had gotten wider on the jog out here. “There had to be a mistake when we picked you up, Contreras. You don’t deserve to carry this weapon.”

“No, no.” Sachko turned to Farmington. “His name is pronounced Fatty. Or Lard-ass.”

“I think it’s gordo in his native tongue,” Farmington said.

“Yeah!” Sachko said. “Gordy. Gordy ate too many tacos growing up. Gordy couldn’t even run a hundred yards without having an asthma attack. Tell you what. You come put your lips on my ass cheek, I’ll give your rifle back.”

“It’s against NUSA code to take another soldier’s firearm,” I said. Mistakenly, I thought laying out some protocol would appeal to their logic.

They laughed.

When I coughed, it came out like a wheezy trumpet. “How old are you guys, fucking twelve?”

“Bitch, I’m twenty-three,” said Sachko. “And we don’t give a damn about code. Not with you.”

“Our word against yours,” Farmington said.

“Can’t be our fault if a dragon eats your rifle,” Sachko said. “Shit like that just happens sometimes. You’re the scaly expert right, Gordy? Fucking know-it-all, what kind of dragon would live in this lake? How can we get one to come take a nibble on your rifle?”

Farmington caught the weapon and dipped the barrel into the water. “I bet this would do it.”

“Stop!” I shouted.

“I think you have to throw the whole rifle in,” Sachko said. “Give it here.”

Farmington threw the rifle back to Sachko.

The water behind them exploded with several splashes. They screamed and jumped, raising their hands in front of their faces. But when the water spray subsided, there was nothing there, and a slight echo of laser fire filled my ears.

A woman’s laughter came from around the bend. “Why so jumpy?” Reynolds had her rifle in her hands, sauntering toward us on the path. Her helmet sat a little crooked.

“What the fuck, Reynolds?” Farmington shouted. “If you ever shoot at me again–”

“You’ll what?” Reynolds said.

Farmington didn’t finish his statement. He went back to scratching his razor burn.

Reynolds’ eyes suddenly went squinty. “What are you doing out here?”

“Just having a little fun with Contreras,” Sachko said. “Getting him some exercise.”

“Really?” Reynolds said. “And I guess in all your dicking around, you must have forgotten 5-90 will have your ass if you fuck with another soldier’s gear.”

“Must have slipped our minds,” said Farmington.

Reynolds nodded to Sachko. “Give it back to him.”

Sachko’s look was filled with venom, as if Reynolds had said something unsavory about his mother. “You going to bat for this fat fuck?”

“I’m going to bat for the platoon,” Reynolds said. “And last I checked, that included Contreras.”

“I’m heading back.” Farmington threw his hands up and began walking to where the platoon had set up camp. There was no reason for him to hang around any more. The fun was over.

Sachko turned to me. “You want your rifle back?”

I nodded.

“Can’t hear you,” he said.

I sighed. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” He held the rifle out to me.

I reached for the weapon. “Please.”

Sachko twisted around and tossed the rifle into the lake. “Then go get it, fatty.”

“I’m going to kick both your asses!” Reynolds charged at them.

Sachko and Farmington, new best buddies, laughed and ran off. In ten minutes time they’d be sharing what they’d done with the rest of the platoon. They’d be celebrated.

I kept my eyes on the spot in the lake where I’d seen the rifle sink. My helmet fell to the ground as I broke into a run. I dove into the water.

Back on shore, Reynolds was screaming, “What the hell are you doing, Private? Stop! Get out!”

I didn’t realize how shitty a fully-clothed swimmer I was until fully submerged. You couldn’t really see anything down there but puke green water and a few beams of sunlight. But I saw my rifle. At least, the blinking red light on the butt.

I felt myself sinking. Shit. What the hell had I done?

I reached for the rifle, but my fingers grabbed more puke green water. The gun was drifting away. Arms pulled me up as I tried one last time to grab my weapon. Then we broke the surface. Reynolds had a good hold of me, but I still flailed because I knew I wasn’t going to be able to swim with all that uniform on. Plus there was the rifle. It was in my hand and I couldn’t even doggie paddle like that.

“Quit moving,” Reynolds shouted in my ear.

“I’m trying!”

“Try harder. You’re going to get us killed.”

I saw something rise out in the lake, just enough to crest the surface. The ripples were moving toward me and Reynolds. I didn’t think it was a catfish.

“Swim!” I shouted.

“We’ll be faster if you let me do the swimming.”

She managed to drag me onto the lake shore. I lay there on my side drenched and weighed down. Thank God Reynolds had been around. I’d been stupid to jump into that lake.

“You’re stupid as hell for jumping in that lake.” Reynolds shoved me. I rolled onto my back. “It could be infested with dragons.”

She was in her bra and panties. I blinked. Was I really seeing this? We’d never spoken before, and I only knew her as the platoon medic. Now she was standing over me, dripping and half naked. But if she’d kept her fatigues on, she would have been just as drowned as me.

My leave should have been way more quiet than this.

“Shit!” Reynolds hissed and turned from me. She was staring at her hand.

“Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay. I cut my hand on the damn rocks saving your dumbass.” She shoved her hand at me. A slash ran across her palm, steadily seeping blood. “I’m getting my med bag.”

Water blasted from the lake, showering us both. A huge shape surged onto the shore. All I saw was tusks and dark gray scales, this huge mouth coming to swallow me. Then something bumped into me and Reynolds was there, blasting her laser rifle into the big mouth.

“Sweet leaping Christ!” I back peddled away from the monster, now dead and stinking like penguin shit on the shore. “I knew I saw something in the water.”

The dragon had a wide tail, like a whale’s or a dolphin’s. Its body was fish-shaped until you got to its forelegs and webbed claws.

“It’s a…” I studied its long snout and huge tusks. It didn’t have reptilian teeth like most other dragons. The eyes were open and frosty blue. “It’s a… well, fuck I don’t know what the hell it is.”

“It’s dead,” Reynolds said. She scooted back to sit beside me again. I think we were both still in shock. We watched the dead scaly for a minute. She kept her rifle aimed at its head, where a few laser holes were still smoking. Finally she pointed to my leg. “It got you.”

A big hole had been torn through my pant leg. Underneath, a long cut was bleeding and mixing with the lake water.

“Damn,” I said. I wouldn’t need stitches, but it would scab like shit. “Hey, thanks for saving me, Reynolds. I think I’m just starting to realize what happened.”

“I saved you twice,” she said. Then, after a hesitation, “Call me Sarah.”

“Gilly. And yeah, I guess you did save me twice.”

“You owe me now.” She stared very seriously into my eyes. That close, I noticed that her eyebrows were a shade darker than her hair, and she had a light sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

She slapped her cut palm against the gash in my leg.

“Ah! What the shit!”

“It’s official now,” she said. “We’re linked by blood. You owe me a life debt twice.”

“Aren’t you a medic?” I squirmed under her grip. “This isn’t very sanitary.”

She shrugged, smiling at my discomfort. But it didn’t bug me like Farmington or Sachko.

“Maybe,” she said. “But you gotta take this seriously. Say it. You owe me a life debt.”

“You want to get dressed first?”

“Quit changing the subject. Say it.”

“Jesus, all right. I owe you a life debt.”

“Twice.”

“Twice.”

“Good.” She released her hand and walked over to where she’d thrown her fatigues and med bag.

The scratch on my leg started hurting when I stood up. I backed away from the dragon, but I kept my eyes on it, really admiring how large and sharp those tusks were. The look of its jaw made me think it could snap a steel beam in two. I really did owe it to Reynolds. That would have been a painful death.

I’d never seen anything like this dragon on the Feed. It wasn’t uncommon for new species to pop up every now and then. Usually they were named by the first to discover them, like celestial bodies. If that meant me, I didn’t know what to name it. But I had an idea. “How are we going to report this?”

“Oh, that’s not happening,” Reynolds said. “No, no, no. This is going to stay between us three: you, me, and the Gilly dragon.”