Two Days Of A Dream (4 page)

Groaning, Duran rolled to his back, forcing his eyes open. "I totally forgot about that." He’d started the report, but had been called away because of Millam and Tanyard. Sitting up on the side of the cot, he fumbled for his pants. "Tell him I'm working on it."

Larsen pulled Duran's uniform out, laying it on the cot. "Yes, sir." Larsen slid the uniform under Duran's searching hand before the sergeant disappeared through the opening.

The report normally would have taken at least an hour to compose. As brain dead as he felt, he knew he was looking at two hours at least, if he was lucky.

I’m not a lucky man
.

Chapter Seven

Kelly lay in the arms of her love in a dark, beautiful forest. A tall waterfall called to them from across the clear, pale blue pond next to their sleeping bags. The only other sounds were the birds watching from above. Alone, in a good way, they kissed and whispered sweet promises. His strong arms held her tight, his lips held her even tighter.

Her forest dream became a morning mist warmed by the heat of the rising sun. He tightened his arms around her and pulled her closer.

The gruffer voice sighed, and she felt warm breath rush across her forehead followed by a light breeze that cooled her feverish face. It was hot in this dream. Her love's strong embrace tightened and then relaxed.
Boy this dream sure is realistic
.

She landed on her backside. "Ouch." Her eyes popped open as she sat up, but everything was blurry and light blinded her. Had she forgotten to turn the side lamp off? She shaded her eyes from the glare that streamed in from some awful place. No, that couldn't be her lamp, her brain half concluded. She sensed the sweat on her skin and wondered if the air conditioning had gone on the fritz.

"Ma'am, are you all right?"

She focused on the first voice, a tenor, as someone touched her arm. Crouched before her was a soldier in camo fatigues, just like in the movies. He even wore a helmet. She squinted at his baby face and big hazel eyes.
What is a soldier doing in my bedroom?

"Soldier, why're you in my tent?" Cap’s bass voice barked in irritation.

"Your tent?" She peeked around the hand she used to shade her eyes from the glare. Canvas covered everything.
Why is there a tent in my bedroom?

"Soldier, I asked you a question!"

Kelly looked around, but only the three of them were visible, and she didn’t think he was talking to Baby Face. "Who are you yelling at?"

"You, soldier!"

"I'm not a soldier, so quit yelling!" She was ticked that they had interrupted her perfect dream.

On further inspection, she noticed she was in a light tan tent with two cots. Atop one of the cots was a large, muscular man with a flat-top haircut and dog tags hanging over his well-developed pecs. He was the one who had called her soldier and now looked at her as though she were an alien or something.

It was so stiflingly hot she could barely breathe. She fanned herself with the skirt of her gown to cool her overheated skin.

Why isn’t the air conditioning working?

Looking around again the sleep cleared from her brain. "This isn't my room, it's too small. Way too small and the furnishings are all wrong." She frowned as the dimmer switch was turned up in her befuddled brain. "This isn't my room!" Kelly crab walked away from the two soldiers. "Where am I?" She stepped on her gown and crumpled onto her elbow.

The younger, fully-clothed one moved toward her, his hand outstretched. "It’s okay, ma'am. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you."

"Yeah, I've heard that one before, and stop calling me ‘ma'am,’ I'm a Ms."

"Yes, ma'am." The young soldier reached to steady her.

Kelly rolled to the side and jumped to her feet. Those Pilates classes hadn't been a waste of time after all. Baby Face fell forward as she dodged his hand. She glanced at the one on the cot. He threw the covers back; revealing a fit body clad only in boxers.

She dashed for the open flap where light flooded in. What she found when she ducked out the door brought her to a screeching halt. A blast of heat hit and she reeled at the sight. As far as the eye could see were rows and rows of tents and the sand they blended into. She stepped out onto large, flat paving stones. Not a cloud in the vast blue morning sky or a tree to be seen. The landscape past the tents was so desolate it looked like the surface of the moon.

She didn't know what to do or where to go as the arid wind blew past, ruffling her gown. Down the long row in front of her soldiers stopped what they were doing to stare.

Baby Face and the Big One from the tent reached her side and both took an arm, but Kelly, too stunned to react, only gawked at the alien scene before her. The men said nothing.

Chapter Eight

The day had started just like all the others this last week. After finally finishing the report, Duran dragged his sorry carcass to his tent, dropped his equipment on the floor before he dropped himself on the cot. At the end of his energy, he was thoroughly beat from not getting enough sleep for two days in a row. If only the insurgents would leave them alone, he could maybe catch up on some serious Z's.

Stripping to his skivvies he didn't bother to stand or catch his clothes before they crumpled to the floor. Sleep, he needed sleep. Duran slipped under his light cover, which was too warm in this desert wasteland. Believe it or not, it was spring in Iraq. He didn't care. He just needed to lie flat. Ah ... flat ... sleep...

He couldn't get comfortable and kicked the cover off, fluffing his inadequate pillow.

There had been a time when Duran slept in a mahogany, canapy, king-sized bed with a beautiful, brown haired woman: his wife. She was fantastic, smart, talented, funny and all that he had ever wanted. Unfortunately, she had trouble adjusting to his being away for six months -- or more -- at a time. She didn't just want him home, she needed him home, but he had responsibilities he couldn't turn his back on. It hurt, but he didn't blame her when she filed for divorce and went her own way. He hurt so bad, he never wanted to experience that again.

He changed position, remembering how he used to go to sleep with her in his arms and wake the same way. He missed that the most. It didn't matter where he slept now, because he hadn't been comfortable since she left.

Fatigue wrestled him down and took him out.

It felt as though he'd been asleep only a short time when Duran heard an irritating sound.

"Cap?" It was Sergeant Larsen.

I could snap his neck with my bare hands.
But
he was too comfortable to move.

"Cap?"

If I ignore him, maybe he’ll go away.

"Cap?"

Argh! I’m never going to get enough sleep!
"Go away, I'm sleeping."

"That depends on why you're waking me." Sergeant Larsen was a good Non-Comm. but Duran was irritated enough to knock him out.

Duran looked over the edge of his cot at a pile of white satin and blonde hair. She lifted her head, pushing the long strands from her face to reveal big, blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight that splashed across her face. For a moment, stunned, he looked into those limpid pools. He jerked, blinking furiously.
The lack of sleep must be making me hallucinate
. He rubbed his eyes.

Just a ditzy blonde.

She didn't answer his question and his officer side kicked in. "Soldier, I asked you a question!"

She looked around as though confused, still not answering. If she had been drinking, he'd have to find her supply and get rid of it. No matter how hard they tried, the enlisted still found a way to sneak booze in. Duran had a suspicion they had a supplier in the village.

"Who are you yelling at?" She demanded.

Petulant little underling.
"You, soldier!"

"I'm not a soldier, so quit yelling at me!"

What, not a soldier? Was she serious? He looked at Larsen, who merely shook his head. Larsen didn't know who she was, and he knew everyone in camp. Who was this strange woman who’d shared his cot?

Duran wanted answers and being too tired for this game let his irritation rumble up. "Who are you!" She made no effort to answer, and he again looked at Larsen for answers.

The sergeant just shrugged back at him. "Did you come in on the last transport, ma'am?"

She swiveled her head around completely ignoring both of them. Positioning her face so the sun didn't shine directly in her eyes she looked from side to side and frowned.

"This isn't my bedroom, it's too small. Way too small and the furnishings are all wrong." All Duran could do was shake his head. He watched as her eyes slowly grew wide and her jaw dropped. "This isn't my room!" She scrambled away from them. "Where am I?" She tripped on her gown and landed unceremoniously with a thump.

Larsen still tried to help her up; Duran felt the sergeant was being far nicer than she deserved. "It's okay, ma'am. You’re safe. No one's going to hurt you."

She frowned at Larsen. "Yeah, I've heard that one before, and stop calling me ma'am. I'm a Ms."

"Yes, ma'am."

Duran was too tired to laugh and studied the woman's
face
instead. She was just one of those women's libbers. Great.

She wobbled and Larsen reached out to steady her, but in a flash she rolled to one side, almost knocking over the other cot. With speed the captain hadn't figured her for, she sprang to her feet and dashed for the door.

Duran needed sleep, but the intruder came first, so he threw his feet over the side and forced himself out of bed. He thought for sure he’d have to chase her through camp in his boxers, but when he ducked through the flaps he almost ran into her still form. She was standing on the stones outside his tent. Her lips parted, but she uttering not a sound. With eyes wide, she surveyed the area, her arms hanging loose, her gown flapping in the morning breeze. She looked so helpless.