Two Days Of A Dream (6 page)

Broan glanced over, and rolled his eyes. "Major, back off! Captain, find her some clothes!" He stabbed a finger at Kelly. "She can't walk through camp dressed like that. Then find a female to guard her. As far as we know, she's a spy." With that he stormed out.

Kelly grabbed a flat gauze package from the doctor's bag and fanned herself. "Me, a spy?" She stared after his angry wake. "Is he always like that?"

The doctor chuckled. "Nah, today he's in a pretty good mood."

Kelly decided that her father and the colonel were definitely cut from the same cloth. She lifted the blanket and fanned down her front. She thought she might melt, she was so hot.

Cap coughed nervously before frowning at her. "Well then, I'd better find you some clothes." He pulled a footlocker from under the cot. "I haven't done laundry lately, so I'm not sure what I have left in here. What size pant do you wear?"

Before Kelly could ask what was going on, the captain grabbed her, blankets and all, and dumped her on the ground with a thud, momentarily knocking the air out of her. Without a word, he crawled on top.
What was this man thinking!
Kelly panicked and tried to fight him off, but he was much stronger and held her tight. The doctor put on his helmet and covered their heads as he flattened out beside them.

"What are you doing? Get off me! I'm serious about the sexual harassment!"

BOOM!

Somewhere close by something exploded. No, this did not sound like fireworks in the park on the Fourth of July or the gunfire you hear in the movies. This was loud and deep and the ground shook, and Kelly's ears vibrated like never before.

She clenched at the captain, locking his T-shirt in her trembling hands and hid her face. He smelled rank.
Don’t these guys ever bathe?

Two more booms, and then it was quiet for a moment before hundreds of voices started up all at once, chorusing into a loud, tumultuous babble.

Cap crawled off and both men stood, the captain having to pry Kelly's frozen fingers from his clothes first. Still trembling, she pursed her lips and hid glowing cheeks in her hair.

The doctor straightened his helmet and went to the opening that flapped in the wind.

With one stride, Cap stopped him before he could leave. "Who's going to watch the girl?"

Talbit looked over his shoulder at Kelly, curled in a fetal position on the floor. "As much as I would love to stay here and do some serious comforting, she's your birthday present, so she's your responsibility. I gotta go." He ducked out.

The captain reached for him but missed. "It's not my birthday!" he yelled after the fleeing doctor.

A BOOM and gunfire rattled Kelly's teeth. Cap grabbed a heavy black vest, threw it over his head, and cinched it tight around his chest. Tossing a helmet on, he knelt beside her.

"I can't take you with me, and besides, you'll be safer in the tent." He pulled the thin mattress from the cot and laid it on top of her. "Stay under here," he ordered. "You'll be fine."

She peeked out. "Please don't leave."
When did I become such a coward?
Oh yeah, right after the first BOOM.
She felt very small and very afraid. She didn't think there was anything in the Manager's Handbook that covered this.

"I have to be at my post, but when it's over I'll come get you." His eyes narrowed and looked toward the tent opening.

Kelly watched as his face became a stone mask; he was preparing himself.

She knew he was right and swallowed hard. He was a soldier, and his men needed him. She nodded and pulled her head back under the safety of the mattress. His retreating footsteps blended into a string of gunfire.

Chapter Ten

Dashing from his tent, Duran looked around for someone, but not a soul was in sight. He needed someone to make sure she didn't get away. As frightened as she was, he really doubted whether she would be able to run away, but a guard would make him feel better.

He had no other choice under the circumstances.
She would have to be fine,
he kept telling himself as he ran to his post.
Head in the game, Duran!
He couldn't afford to think about the woman when his every move and decision might cost someone their life. He pushed the white satin material from his mind as he rounded the command tent.

He heard another scud missile scream toward camp and jerked his head up to see where this one would land. A moment of panic rippled through him before he saw it go wide. To his relief, it landed in no-man’s territory and blew debris into the sky, the sand falling on the perimeter of camp. Major Trouter's men were spread out along that perimeter shooting at some insurgents barely visible among the dunes. It was like trying to get rid of gophers back home. No matter how many they trapped and killed, more popped up and created more damage.

Farther up the perimeter, his men were in position getting coordinates so they could send those insurgents a little present of their own. It was gratifying to watch his squad in action without him. All the training and drills in the oppressive heat -- day and night -- had paid off.

He skidded to a halt inside the command tent, scooting behind Colonel Broan, who paced back and forth while listening to his headset. Broan barked an order, producing a flurry like a flock of birds disturbed in a harvested field.

His Major, with his own headset, was on top of everything at Command, so there was nothing for Duran to do here. Gratefully, he went to the artillery bunkers to be with his men.

Yelling orders over the gunfire, Lieutenant Stover, Duran’s second, looked up all serious at Duran’s entrance. No matter what the circumstance, Duran always had the feeling they would succeed when Stover was around because nothing really ruffled the young officer. He knew Stover would take his place seamlessly someday because the lieutenant was an excellent leader.

Duran’s well-oiled machine went into action, and he couldn't help but smile at their expert handling of the situation. The defense team took care of the scud headed their way while the missile launch team sited the origin of the insurgent launch. Quickly and efficiently, they sent their bigger, more accurate package to stop the attack.

Somewhere overhead, eyes in the skies were marking their hit. Duran waited next to his Comm-Op, Private Zarsky, for verification of the hit. The Private watched the teams in action as another scud was blown out of the sky. The Comm. Op. stood straight, shooting his eyes to Duran. He was receiving the confirmation of the hit that would mean Duran could go back to his uncomfortable cot. He needed sleep.

Zarsky twitched as his eyes grew. "Miss?" His voice was incredulous. "It was a miss, sir!"

"Miss! No way!" Stover shouted for a re-calc and firing solution. Duran went behind, checking their calculations. They were right on.

"Zarsky!"

"Yes sir!"

"Tell the eyes to search in the vicinity of the first counter attack. How far off were we?" Duran stormed over and grabbed Gunnery Sergeant Graves by the shoulder, Zarsky right behind the steaming captain.

The older, stockier man wheeled around, eyes aflame. When he saw it was Duran, he pulled in his anger. "Yes sir!"

"When were these machines last calibrated!"

Another scud screamed toward them before their anti-scud missiles met it resoundingly. The cheers of his men did nothing to alleviate the captain’s tension.

Graves bristled at the question that Duran had never had to ask him before. "An hour ago, when the alarm was canceled, and two hours before the expected attack last night, sir!"

A very dim light came on in Duran’s sleep-deprived brain. "Shoot one, move the other?" Both men grinned; here was a challenge they could sink their teeth into. "All right, you know what to do!"

To their surprise, three scuds came in quick succession.

"Hinton, I want trajectories immediately!"

The first and second scuds were exploded in air, but the third slipped through and landed somewhere in camp. Duran had no time to think about collateral damage.

Graves grabbed Duran’s scribbled note and ran for their missile launcher. They launched as another scud was detected. Duran’s men had no problem destroying it.

Zarsky held a finger up as Duran opened his mouth. He was listening for the eye's report. The clamor around them faded as Duran sucked in a breath, waiting for verification.

"Shoot! Just when we think we've got them, they slither away!" Uncharacteristically Duran threw a clipboard across the map table.

Going underground meant the insurgents would disassemble and scatter the parts into hiding. At least that would be the end of the scuds ... for now.

There was less gunfire. The insurgent ground force must be pulling back, too. Soon they, also, would go underground. Duran had never been in a country that allowed outsiders to come in and destroy their only hope for peace and stability. The dust settled but his men were still on alert, waiting for orders. His orders.

"Stover, keep a skeleton crew and send the rest to help with the cleanup."

"Yes, sir."

As Duran walked by the command tent, Major Trouter unplugged from his communication. equipment and strode over. "Well, that was fun, wasn't it?" Trouter had a weird sense of fun.

"Yeah, I guess so." As if Duran would admit to this pompous idiot that she had beautiful eyes and silky skin. "She's crazy, though."

"So? Who is she? Don't tell me ..." He held up his hand. "Is it Lieutenant McKeeyer? Please tell me it's McKeeyer." He had really bad taste.