This is the first chapter of my book (unedited), which I may never put out into the world. Please tell me what you think. All criticism is welcome and desperately needed.
TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide and other topics
CHAPTERI
Thesmoke pit is the most hallowed place on earthto a marine, where he spillsout his life blood and shares what scraps of his damned soul he canafford the risk of sharing, and they around a little red andwhite box – Marlboro’s printed on the front. I’veheard things in smoke pits. I’ve learned terrible things in smokepits that bring a chill to my very bones, and I’ll never forget.The wind was whistling high and fast one fateful day inparticular, some stiffmorning in December as we huddled around the smoke pits benches,struggling to light our cigarettes with unfeeling fingers in thecold. Even with my sweat top and bottoms on under my stainedcoveralls I still felt the cold, and I’d been complaining about itenough that even I was getting tired of the sound of my voice.
Herrickwas the one that brought it up though, and took the conversation andwithout us even knowing it then, our lives, down a dark path thatmaybe we’d never have gone down otherwise. Who can say where thisstory begins? For every man there that day it took its rootssomeplace different. A thousand moments where this story firsthappened into existence. Bear with me awhile. Maybe it was mycomplaining that set the mood for it – unintentionally priming usfor what was said next. Such a little thing, but in retrospect I nowsee that it was always the little things, because little things suredo add up.
We’dbeen talking about suicide. Conley, with a tired-grim look on hisface had said that he wanted to off himself. I said me too, and theothers voiced or grunted their agreement as well. We were all weary,with heavy bags under our eyes whichwere glazed with a mindless vacancy you only getfrom solving the sameproblems and working on the same machines day in and day out. Twelvehour shifts, five days a weeksometimes six.PT every morning before work.I lit a second cigarette and we sought solace in the shared sense ofgloom.
Butthe words that came out of Herrick’s mouth next were wrong. I feltit and I knew it, like the prickling of that sixth sense you get,running down your spine when you know you’re being watched, and inthe quiet wrongness of his words wake we all stared at each other.
“Howwould you do it? If you were going to.” He hadasked. The smokepooled from his lips, thin and silvery, and he took another drag,slow and deep to emphasize his nonchalance.
“I’dblow my brains out.” Conley offered an off beat later. He pointed afinger gun at his head and mouthed ‘BOOM.’
Johnsonsaid he’d take a walk along the rail road tracks, supposing thatwhen the train came its steel tires would tear him clean in half, andthere was no coming back from that. He wouldn’t risk failure, orworse, ending up brain dead. Foster said he’d hang himself.
Thequestion was going around in a circle, marine to another, and in theprocess we’d become invested in each others responses. It felt likevalidation to hear someone else describe how he’d like to killhimself. Without really revealing anything, we shared a dark secret –hidden under the pretense of hypothetically. Ithought I knew so then, but like when I was a kid I believed god wasreal, only to grow up and realize I’d had no idea what thethat implications of thateven were. I thought I knew,but I didn’t understood. Inever knew anything at all.
Alance corporal from another shop none of us knew too well put out thelast of his cigarette and left without a word. There were six of ushuddled in that smoke pit together, so close the heels of our bootswere knocking and our shoulders brushing.
“Shepherdwhat about you?” Herrick asked me.
“Probablytake a dive off a bridge or something. Drown myself.”
“That’sa good way to go.”
Harperwas the last of us. He was all bright blonde and blue eyes – theyoungest among us by only a few months, but when you were as young aswe were it mattered a lot. He’d only just graduated school fourmonths ago and been stationed here and was new to our friend group;hadn’t half learned the job yet
.
“Harper?”
Ina strange voice he said, “I wouldn’t.” And it was almostpreternatural to us – like he thought what we were asking waspreternatural in itself. I didn’t like him muchback then,and especially not at thatmoment. It felt like he wassaying ‘I’m not like you,’and throwing the shared, perversesense of comradery back in our faces, wanting no part in it. Andif thatwere the case, now, Iwouldn’t blame him. I wish I’d had no part in it, that I could goback in time just to walk away from that conversation and never lookback. But I can’t, and I didn’t. And I don’t really believethat’s what Harper meant, either.
Sometimeswe really fuck up.
“Comeon, if you were going to,how would you do it?” I asked him again.
“Ijust wouldn’t.” He scuffed his boot back and forth. “I’ve gotfamily, I just couldn’t do it.”
Theconversation came to an abrupt halt then, as Johnson, ever theresponsible one, stood and said we had to get back to the shop, orthe Sergeantwould bitch at us and give us more work to keep us after hours if wewere late.
Ourshop was a long walk from the smoke pit, which was a pity we allshared in, becauseit translated to less time for smoke and little time for chow if wewere going to getchow at all. Officially, we were allowed two hours, but unofficially,the Sergeant wanted us back within forty-fiveminutes. Somedays we had to get grab and goes.There was enough time to spare when we made it back but Sergeantbitched at us anyway.
SergeantHeed was a stocky man of aboveaverage height with a scowlpermanently attached to his face. Clammy green eyes fixed into anarrow glare and thick biceps with broad shoulders that just managedto balance out his slightly protruding gut. If the dark hid it rightyou could hardly see it anyway. He looked mean and talked like it,always yanking the chain like he had nothing better to do. No one washappy when he was around, and no one really respected him, either. Iused to like to say that Sergeant Heed had a brain the size of pea tomatch his manhood, but hewas, almost unbelievably, the most proficient and knowledgeable inour shop and when that had earned him a meritorious promotion it wentstraightto his head. He’dbeen a corporal four months ago, alance two years before that and it all added up to less than fiveyears in service, I estimated. Not even finished with his firstenlistment.
“Isit chow time or smoke time?” He demanded. He was standing still,but I always got the impression that under his skin he wasn’t. Nomatter what he was doing or what he was saying he looked frenzied,like a rabid bull frothing at the mouth. It wasn’t right, the lookin his eyes. I can’t reallyemphasize that enough.
Fora moment we all just kind of looked at one another, surprised he’dmake a problem out of this. He could smell the cigarette smoke on us,I was sure, otherwise he wouldn’t have even known if we’d usedour to time to eat or not.
“Well,what the fuck is it?”
“Wejust took a quick smoke break, Sergeant. Still got back in time.”
“Idon’t give a fuck, Shepherd. Chow time is for chow. You’re notsupposedto fuck off to who the fuck knows where and smoke, the marine corpsdoesn’t pay you to fuck off. If you’re gettingfood,you’re here, and you’re working –” He jabbed a meaty fingerin my direction. “The COwants his birds in the sky. Youknow what happens if thatTugs not out there by today?Do you understand themagnitude of this? Do youfucking get it?”
“Yessergeant.”
Hiseyes narrowed further, impossibly small and beady. “Fuck off.”
“AyeSergeant.” We said and scattered. But when he was out of sight wecongregated towards each other again.
“Don’tyou love our job?” Johnson seethed, teeth nearly clenched. “We’resupposed to get two hour chows anyway – and who the fuck cares ifwe smoke? It’s a right!”
Theyall murmured in agreement: smoking was indeed a right. Ikept my mouth shut and glared at the door Sergeant Heed haddisappeared through. I wished it were a black hole. I wished he wouldsimply cease to exist forever. Becausethis kind of bullshit was everyday. And if this was my life I wasn’tsure what I was living for, or why I was putting up with it all.
“Nosmoke breaksmy ass.” Herrick said. “I outta just shoot myself. I outta justfucking blow my brains out, you know that?”
(Butthe root of the problem ran so much deeper than crappy sleep and abitchy sergeant. It was the poison in our veins, seeping down to themarrow in our bones, and it wasn’t going to take much to push usover the edge. We didn’t know what was happening. We never saw itcoming.)
Noone thought about that conversation in the smoke pit again. In fact,it wouldn’t be till years later that I ed and connectedeverything back to it, to one singular moment it all got fucked. Orperhaps that’s over simplifying things. Either way, I suppose itwas our own insanity that clouded our judgment. We were feeding offof each other, and none of us even realized it. All the clues werethere, the telling signs, hidden in plain sight. Herrick was hangingon by a thread, and his girlfriend cut it a few short weeks later.
“We need to talk to Staff Sergeant.” Foster said one day. Heed’sban on smoke breaks was still very much enact, but no one adhered toit. We instead went to the edge of the woods on the other side of theflight line. It was a longer walk, but necessary, since the Sergeantsometimes patrolled by the smoke pit, the fucking douche, looking tocatch one of us in the act.
“Yeah.”But I knew we were wasting air.
We’dall voiced the same need, many times, but the Staff Sergeant wasrarely around, and when he was he would go straight back to hisoffice and ignore everyone. Hehad an open door policybut still no one really wanted to go in there, didn’t know whatit’d be like. Nobody really knew the Staff Sergeant. Eventually,we just accepted it. And soSergeant Heed’s reign of power and hazing had continued as it hadfor months now.
Forwhatever reason, if there wasever any rhyme of reason to anything the man thought,he’d taken a dislike tome in particular. I guessed it was because I was the unofficialleader of our group, and he seemed to believe that made me a kind ofmenace. Every chance he got he had something snide to say, a remarkabout my intelligence, anything he could say, he did,and I found thatif I hadn’t hated him months ago from themoment he strutted onto thescene with an ego so big it threatenedto bust him open I was sure I hated him now. TheStyrofoam cup of coffee he threw at me really sold me on it.
Atfirst, when it allstarted, I responded with nothing more than aye sergeant,and yes sergeant. Iknew the game and I knew the rules, and you had to play it. But I wasgetting angry. The kind ofangry that bubbles and foams inside you till it’s clogging yourveins.
“–You can’t win with him. I think that’s the worst part. You’realways wrong, always an idiot, doesn’t matter if you’re right ornot.” Harper said. Heed had yelled at him for not shaving earlierthat morning, but Harper had shaved. He was baby-faced, barely evenhad peach fuzz and could easily go days without a shave, but he neverdid. I’d seen him shave that morning myself.
Thecigarette smoke in my mouth tasted foul.
Thingis, the game was rigged. No matter what you did, you wouldlose. And Sergeant heed lovedthat.Round after round of it, he always came back for more, houndingover nothing and sometimes, like that morning, even making up liesthat I was sure he hadto have known weren’t true. I was angrier than I’d been in a longtime and startingto break.
“Harpershaved this morning. I saw him myself –”
“DidI fucking ask?”
“No.But I pick him and the others up every morning. I saw him shave,Sergeant.”
“Idon’t give a shit Shepherd. No one asked for your input. Go dosomething useful.” A cup of coffee went flying past my head,smashing into the wall behind me, splattering hot, stinging liquiddown the backside of my shoulders. He scoffed at the silence aroundhim. “Actually, Shepherd, clean that shit up.”
Really,it didn’t do me much good. Heedhad me testing the jacks now. It was probably the single worst job inthe whole shop, in my opinion. Not because it was particularly hard,but because it entailed cranking each jack up byhand and then right backdown, again and again, endlessly repetitive.
“He’salways been like this. God, I hate him.”
“Oh,that’s right. Harper, you knew him back before either of youenlisted, didn’t you?” Conley asked.
“Hewas my next door neighbor. I was just a kid though. He was alwaysgoing off on us for parking in his driveway,even though it was a shareddriveway, and he’d try and get us to park on the other side of thestreet.”
“God,and he’s a fucking sergeant? How?”
“Youcan get anywhere if you suck the right dick.” Foster said.
“Justkeep your nose clean and act the part, that’s how. You ever seenhow he is around Staff Sergeant? Completely different.” Johnsonsaid. “Man like that’ll do anything to get what he wants, evenact decent, if you can believe it.”
“Hishouse always stank though… It was disgusting.” Harper went on,nose scrunched up.
Herrickwas silent the whole time, and he kept to himself. ThoughI didn’t pay much attention– the anger thrumming too loudly in my head kept me clued in onnothing else. But there was a distance between us that was unlikeHerrick. He was a touchy-feely, physical person and he alwayswanted to be close, even if it was just to kick Johnson in the shinor give Foster a violent noogie every now and then.
Ioffered him a cigarette, and the smile on his face as he took it wastentative, and he remained silent as we smoked. I didn’t reallynotice it then.
Thefollowing morning got off to a bad start. I came in early to get ahead start on the jacks, but for whatever reason, Sergeant Heed wasin early, too. That wasn’t something he usually did, so I guessedhe wasn’t in too good a mood about it. He made eye with mefor a brief second. I said nothing at first, but I knew he bitch atme if I didn’t acknowledge him, so I cededout a brief greeting before he ed and hewent on through the door tothe Staff Sergeant’s office.
Ithought maybe he’dtake some time to mess with me, gloat perhaps, but whatever he was inearly for must have been important because he stayed behind thatclosed door for some time, and when he emerged the morning continuedlike it always did.
Herrickcame in late, a mess; he hadn’t shaved and his eyes were a mistypink. Either he was hungover or he hadn’t slept in days and it wasfinally catching up to him. The whole room paused for a breath as heentered. Conley and I shared a look – both thinking the same thing.We had to get thisman a shave before Sergeant saw him.
“I’ma free man.” Herrick declared when we approached him. He grinned,lopsided and it didn’t quite meet his hollowed eyes. It seemed he’daged ten years since I’d last seen him. The stubble was responsiblefor some of that, but the bags under his eyes and the lifeless pallorof his skin were another thing. Without any prompting he grabbedConley in a bone crushing hug.
“–Herrick. Are you drunk?” The words were squeezed out of Conley.Herrick was a big hugger if he’d been drinking. He once chased methrough the whole barracks, back when we were still in the schoolhouse. I only just managed to keep away from him.
“Nope.”He insisted, before letting Conley go and grabbing me. His armswrapped tightly, and he squeezed. He was a good bit bigger than me,at six-two and probably two-hundred and ten pounds, built like abrick house, and I was reminded of an anaconda as all the air left melungs. This would probably leave bruises.
“Okaybro. You good?” Reluctantly I lowered my hands and patted his back.To Conley I said, “We gotta get him outta here.”
“I’mfine.” Herrick insisted.
“Youneed to shave, you fuckhead. You saw how he bitched at Harper.”
Hegrumbled and said something about not giving a shit, but followedConley and I when we led him to the head.
“Whathappened? You’re not yourself.” Conley asked.
Ifound my bag in the locker and dug out a disposable razor.
“Youjust keep that with you?”
“Yep.”
“That’sShep for you. Always prepared.”
Herrickshaved his face while Conley and I hovered. He took his sweet time,till finally he dropped the razor in the trash can and splashed hisface clean.
“Carrieand I are over. For good this time.” He got around to saying. Hepatted my arm and said, “We’re going out tonight. I need to getmy mind off some things.”
SergeantHeed chose that moment to come into the head. The door announced hispresence with a creak – we all turned to look at him. He gloweredat us with scathing eyes, taking in Herrick’s out of placeappearance. He inhaled deeply through his nose. That was his tell, hedid that before he was about to yell.
“Herrick,the fuck were you late this morning?”
Therewas an abandoned parking lot in the woods behind the barracks. It wasovergrown with weeds and vines and young pine saplings that were justtall enough to cover us thoroughly. I don’t know what it wasmeant to be, or what it usedto be, but for the most part no one knew about it but thesix of us. The giant slab wascracked and crumbling, but hidden so serenely from any prying eyes,it had become our favorite place to drink and hangout. Just us, inthe shadow of those young woods.
Wedidn’t often come here anymore. With the current workload therenever seemed to be enough time, and when there was it was betterspent sleeping. But I don’t think any of us were really sleepingall that well, so it was in defeat we gathered that night.
Itwas gray and cold. I lit a cigarette, shielding the lighters littleflame with the cup of my hands.
“…Guys,I dunno what to do.” Herrick said at some point. The eveningstarted differently than these evening usually did. On evenings likethese, when it was just us, the trees and the stars, we’d kick itoff with a lot of alcohol and foolery. Last time I could ,Foster stole Harper’s ball cap and doused it in alcohol beforesetting it on fire. They’d chased each other around for someminutes, with Foster being the faster of the two he stayed just outof Harper’s reach until he promptly threw up, putting an end to it.Conley stomped out the cap and handed it back to Harper. After thatthey would settle down around the fire Conley and I would alwaysstart together, and we would sit and talk, smoking and ing abottle around. Tonight though, we skipped the first part.
“S’notthe end of the world.” Conley was trapped under Herrick’s arm.He’d given up on escape about fifteen minutes ago and now simplyleaned into it, resting his head on Herrick’s shoulder like it wasthe most natural thing. Herrick had tried pulling me in with his freearm, but I stayed firmly out of reach. He couldn’t get me withoutletting Conley go, so he let it be.
“…Ithink it is.”
“Bitch-ass-sergeantcan’t actually throw any paperwork at you. Gotta go s’throughStaff Sergeant, an’ he won’t.” Johnson said. Staff Sergeant, atleast, didn’t like paperwork in the shop and preferred to keep anyissues off the books.
“Notthat. I dun’ care bout that. Carrie.”
Itook a swig from the bottle in my hands. It was alwaysCarrie with Herrick. It seemedhe scarcely cared or thought aboutanything else sometimes.
“Wellman, she ain’t the only bitch in the world.” Johnson said in whatmight have been a placating tone. Even when sober, he had asurprising ability to antagonize. The man never could say the rightthings, if he said anything at all.
“Carrie’ss’not a bitch!” Herrick said angrily. All of us knew he and hisgirl had been off and on for years. We never really talked about it.Carrie was a taboo subject, and whenever Herrick brought her up we’dgently pull the conversation in a different direction. Maybe weshouldn’t have.
Noneof us liked Carrie. She was pretty, sure; clearly way out ofHerrick’s league, but she knew this too well and had a pretentiousattitude that grated on the nerves of everyone around her. She neverdid treat Herrick right. The few times I’d hung out while she wasaround she would constantly make comments about him, insulting him assubtly as she could get away with with his friends sitting rightthere, or maybe because hisfriends were there.
(“Whycouldn’t you come pick me up yesterday? I can’t believe you.”)
SometimesHerrick would show up to work with bruises on his face, too. Healways said he fell or walked into a door, but I never entirelybelieved him. And then one day he had a mark on his face eerilyreminiscent of a hand. I’d seen enough of those inmy time to be certain. Ididn’t believe him even a little after that day.
Ishould have done something when I knew. Told Staff Sergeant maybe,and let him handle it. I get that now, far too late.
Harperwould bring it up, years later. He’d tell me he thought Carriemight have been doing it, but I wouldn’t say anything. I knew, Ihad known. And I hadn’t said anything then.
“Shep,Shep. Tell ‘im Carrie’s s’not a bitch.” Herrick slurred.
“Shep,tell ‘im.”
“…Idunno, Herrick.” I itted. Johnson caught my gaze and nodded insolemn agreement. He especially hadn’t liked Carrie. “Maybe thisis for the best.”
“No,you don’t get it. She’s done with me for good this time. I fuckedit up, I really fucked it up this time, and now we’re done forreal.” He looked as devastated as he sounded.
“Whydo we put up with it? None of this makes any sense. Guys, why do weput up with it? Why do we – do we – keep on living?”
“Idon’t fucking know.”
“Ithought things would be different.” He rambled, pulling Conleycloser as if he was scared to be left alone. His face was red and fatbeads of tears formed in his eyes but remained un-shed.
“I’ma fucking marine! Things are supposed to be different. It’ssupposed to mean something. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t meananything at all.”
Ididn’t think Herrick was really talking about his relationshipthen. I think we all knew exactly what he meant.
Threedays later we found Herrick on the pavement behind the barracks.
Conleyhad come sprinting around the corner. His face was white andstricken, and his cover had been swept off by the wind. The rest ofus were headed out for evening chow, and he nearly ran into us,halting only at the last second. He tried darting past, but Johnsonand I grabbed him by the shoulders. We thought he was just fuckingaround at first, but the grins on our faces fell when we saw thepanicked look on his. As if he’d seen a ghost, or something farworse.
“Woah,what’s up?”
Thewords that came out of his mouth were nearly unintelligible – Icould only make out a little bit, but it was enough –
Herrick.From the roof. He jumped.
Welet Conley go and he jittered, wringing his hands together, and couldnot stay still.
Don’twanna see. Don’t look. Thetail end of his words were lost to me, asI pushed past Johnson and the others and back the way Conley hadcome.
“Shep!”Johnson shouted. Harper and Foster echoed. I ignored them – forwhatever reason – I needed to see for myself. They moved to stopme, but I walked faster, quicker until I was suddenly sprinting.Their voices were drowned by the merciless pounding of my heart, andthe rush of blood in my head.
Herrick’sbody was twisted unnaturally, and so still. He was perfectly frozenin a splattered array against the pavement, an arm above his head anda leg snapped there, with his head halfcaved in on itself. Blood pooled smoothly from everywhere. Thecorpse looked boneless and sagging. It looked like a rag doll leftout to rot in the rain and it resembled roadkill, stillwarm and fresh andunimportant, the skin, bones and hair – but it didn’t look likeJim Herrick.
Forone horrible second I just wanted him to get up. I wanted him to pickhimself up, grinning like that time he fell off one of the tugs. Theworld was small then, because none of this was real.
“Herrick.Herrick.” My voice rose in volume. Get up, Ididn’t dare say, scared I would. “Fuck you. Herrick! Why did you– fuck you.”Andsuddenly I was screaming at him, at the top of my lungs. All I heardwas the metal on metal of thethoughts in my head. I didn’t notice when Johnson grabbed me frombehind to pull me back. It didn’t that he was shoutingover me. “Calm the fuck down! We gotta go, shut the hell up and go,Shepherd!”
EventuallyI did stop, when he jerked me backwards and began to physically tearme away from the sight, I went limp. He let me go then, and silently,too calmly for anything that just happened, we walked away. His handnever left my shoulders.
Therewere six of us in that smoke pit, that morning in December. Now onlyfive remained.
“He’sdead, Shep.” Foster was quiet beside me on a bench, just out ofsight of the gruesome scene. Conley and Harper flanked my other side,while Johnson paced pointlessly. “He’s gone.”
“Yeah.He’s dead.” I said. “Hewas a goner for shore.” Butthe fact still hadn’t sunk in – I always was slow on the uptake.It’dtake meawhileto get used it. Twohours ago he was stillalive, and almost two years agoI’d met him for the firsttime.
RecruitShepherd and Recruit Herrick were rack mates back in boot. I didn’thave much muscle in thosedays, but he was every bitthe behemoth I’d always him as, anddespite being a complete shithead that imposing frame had earned himsome respect; made him seemolder, and more intimidating than he really was.In any case everyone knew, if you messed with Shepherd you gotHerrick too: the package deal. We were side by side when we receivedour EGA’s, when we went through the schoolhouse and we had beenstationed together since. We’d go to the gym nearly every daytogether, along with Conley and Johnson who’d been in our class,and later Foster and then Harper. I he’d say, “We’regonna go far, Shep. We’llbe corporals before you know it.”And he was the first one to start calling me Shep, the first one ineverything we did – he’dhave made a good corporal, too.He was the first real friend I ever had. And now he was a pile ofmeat and bones and skin, drying in the sun, andI couldn’t seem to process the fact that he had actuallydone it. He’d been a goner allalong.
Theemergency leave requests for the five of us were processed quickly.After havingwitnesseda gruesome suicide, themarine corps wantedus gone for awhile, thoughthe thought of returninghome seemed far from pleasant. There wouldbe too much time to think, to dwell, and I’ddone enough of that in thepast twelve hours. Ihadn’t slept at all last night, or even tried to,and so the days had just bled over into the other. It still felt likethe day Herrick died.
SoI was all set to leave in afew short hours when I got the call.
Therehadbeen several of them already that morning, but I ignored them, notcaring to talk. But when thecaller ID read‘SSGT Belden,’ I gave pause. I didn’t want to pick itup. I almost didn’t. It rang several times as I stared at it withblood shot eyes.
“StaffSergeant?” I said tiredly.
“Ineed you to come by my office real quick. I won’t hold you long.”
WhenI got there Sergeant Heed was standing in the parking lot. He had hisarms crossed over his chest and he glared at my sight, beforeschooling his expression into something more pleasant and amiable.That put me on edge right away. His presence had always made meuncomfortable, in a base, primal way I couldn’t quite quantify, butI’d never felt so raw in front of him, dressed in civvies and stillcoming to grips with Herrick’s death.
“Shepherd.”He said. Reluctantly I looked him in the eye. There was a glint inhis.
“I’msorry for your loss. I know Herrick was one of yours.”
Helooked out of place from where I stood, with his thumbs hooked in hisbelt loops, waiting for me to say something.
“StaffSergeant said he asked you to come in, so I figured I’d wait foryou.” He got around to saying.
“Why?”
Hereached into his car and pulled out a six pack of beer. He held itout to me, smiling, and clearly wantingme to take it. When I didn’t and the moment grew awkward, he set itdown between us.
“Look.I know you and I have had our differences, but that doesn’t matternow. What happened yesterday was serious, and you don’t need to gosending the Staff Sergeant on somewild goose chase. You dothat, and the FirstSergeant’ll be down sticking his nose into everything. Tracking?”
Itall fell in place then, and it actually surprised me. I’d alwayspegged the Sergeant as nothing more than a meat headed bully.Certainly too meat headed to come begging for my silence, or makesuch an attempt at bribery, no matter how pathetic it all was. Well,I would be wrong again and again.
“You’reunder investigation for hazing, aren’t you?” I said. “BecauseHerrick fucking killed himself, and someone said something to StaffSergeant the other day. Wait – you think that was me, don’tyou?”
His lips pursed, and the glint in his eyes sharpened.“It was, wasn’t it?”
I chortled. “No. Fuck you, but no.You’re not worth my time. And I won’t lie to Staff Sergeanteither. Keep the fucking bribe.”
Ikicked the case decently hard for good measure. I went into the shop,leaving the Sergeant fuming in the parking lot.
StaffSergeant’s office was barely more than a closet. Actually, I waspretty sure that’s what it used to be, where they kept all thecleaning agents, brooms and things. Now it held a rickety metal deskthat was too small for all the folders and binders and knickknackscovering it. A single photograph of Mrs. Belden stood on the deskwhere she could smile at her husband every day. Other than that itwas mostly empty; desolate looking with its grungy white-ish andchipped walls.
StaffSergeant Belden sat behind the desk with his hands steepled preciselyin front of him.
“Howare you holding up?” He asked.
“I’mfine, Staff Sergeant.”
Hemotioned to the folding chair in the corner of the tiny room. “Relax,your at ease. Go ahead and sit.”
Iunfolded the chair and took a seat. I knew what I looked like toowell. I hadn’t shaved and I hadn’t showered. My clothes wererumpled and probably smelled a little from having slept in them lastnight. I felt death on me from head to toe, and I looked like it withmy pink, sleepless eyes and the weary slouch in my frame. But Herrick– he was dead. So I couldn’t being myself to care too much about how I looked.
StaffSergeant drummed his fingers against one another. “Did you seeHerrick jump?” As soon as he said it he winced, no doubt realizingit wasn’t the best way to start the conversation.
“…No.”
“Butyou did find his body.”
“No,that was Conley.”
Hefrowned. “I’m just trying to get all my facts straight here. Italked to everyone but you and Johnson yesterday. You two were gonepretty quick, and he’ll be coming in later today as well. I knowyou and Herrick were close – you’re a good leader to those men,I’ve always ired that about you. But you’re not invincible,and I need you to know you can come to me. And I especially need toknow if there was anything going on in this shop that might have…encouraged Herrick to do what he did.”
“He killed himself.”I clarified, dumbly.
“Yes.I’m sorry, Shepherd.”
“Iwasn’t there.” I shook my head.
“Whatdo you mean?”
“Whenit happened.”
Thelook he fixed me was incredulous. “I was in the area. I heard youscreaming and came to see what it was about. That’s when I saw…him. I told Johnson to get you out of there and called the MPs”.But I didn’t him being there. Likely I hadn’t evennoticed him.
“Musthave been someone else.” I told him.
Hesighed, that weary sounding exhale that only older men can make. “Areyou trying to be difficult right now – because that’s unlike you– or should you go to a hospital?”
Iknew I wasn’t thinking clearly. Apparently my memories were wrong,too. To this day, I don’t Staff Sergeant’s presence thatday.
Igave a stiff reply. “No, I’m fine.”
“...Youdon’t seem all there right now.” He observed.
“Ihaven’t been sleeping.” I told him.
Henodded and pressed forwards, hands flat in front of him. “Alright.Specifically Shepherd, I need to ask you about Sergeant Heed. In youropinion, has he acted in any way that was unprofessional or abusive?”
Sofor the next twenty minutes I told him everything I could think ofabout the man. I said how he had once dumped the contents of atoolbox onto the floor and flung the box itself into a wall, just afoot or so from my head. He’d done it twice actually, and a thirdtime except it was Harper’s head on the line, and not to mentionthat incident with the coffee cup. I said how he could scream for tenminutes straight over anything, the only reason he needed was if hewas in the mood to do so, and I mentioned all the little things, fromhis ban on smoking during chow to the time he grabbed Conley by theshoulders and shook him.
“That’sabout everything.” I eventually said, after some things had beenrehashed for him a dozen times and the Staff Sergeant had filled awhole notebook page with notes.
“Alright,Shepherd. Go on leave, spend time with your family. And get somesleep, too.”
Thecase of beer was gone when I went back to my truck, and so was thesergeant. An inexplicable shiver ran down my spine and I stopped toglance around at my surroundings – searchingfor the source of whatever it was. Nothing. SergeantHeed had just frightened me, I told myself, because he reminded me ofsomeone I used to know. It was only my mind, seeing things in hisbeady, green eyes, in the quirk of his mouth and clenching ofhis jaw, I told myself.
Itcame about that Harper went home with me on leave. He sprung it on menot long after I’d gotten back from my meeting with the StaffSergeant.
“Ithought you had family back home.” I was stuffing clothes in mybackpack a little haphazardly. Everything I owned looked about thesame, so it made no difference what I brought.
Heshrugged. His face was careful, and I got the feeling he reallydidn’t want to reveal too much. Harper could be like that at times.And while you might expect it from someone like Johnson, it wasalways a bit surprising when you realized just how close to his chestyoung, naive Harper was playing his cards.
“We’renot on the best of right now, I just don’t want to spring avisit on them.” And I figured what that really meant was his familysucked.
“Soyou wanna spring a visit on my folks instead?”
“Well,no.” He sighed.
Iwanted to turn him down. Of all the guys, I knew Harper the least,but even if it were Conley or Johnson, I wasn’t sure I couldstomach company. It was a long drive to Udall Georgia.
“C’mon,please Shep.”
“Whyme? Why not Conley or Foster.” I didn’t mention Johnson becausehe wasn’t the most friendly, preferring to spend most of his timeworking on his online college courses. Foster would probably love itthough. He didn’t really have family either, except a sister hedidn’t get along with too well, but he was a people person. Heliked company. I did not.
Harpershrugged. “I don’t really know anyone that well. But you, you’realways there for us. Solid, like that. I guess I just trust you alittle more.”
“Bullshit.”I said, but I knew he was being sincere. I gave in then with a loudgroan. “Just go throw your shit in the truck.”
Hegrinned, wide like the Cheshire cat.
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