"Come on, people, let's move it. We don't have all day. We have exactly o' twenty-four hours before take off. That doesn't leave us much time. Move it!" Master Sergeant Apone shouted to his Marines. Only, they weren't his Marines anymore, only his team. A new lieutenant, the rank higher than Apone, was assigned to lead out the special armed force Space Marines to colony, LV-426.
The new lieutenant was late.
"Where's this guy at? And what's the op about?" Comtech Hudson, the goof of the Marines, asked.
"I said don't ask questions." Apone hissed.
"No, you said hurry our asses up." Hudson laughed. "What's the op, Top?" He walked closer to the Sergeant with an ugly smile across his face.
"Hudson, get your white ass out of my face. Get going!" Apone shoved the young mischief across the locker room.
"I'm just asking, Sarg." Hudson's voice echoed from the other side of the steel locker room.
"Hudson, knock it off!" Apone screeched again. "Get in line, marines! Let's go!" his voice carried like a missile in the air, falling.
The eleven Marines, male and female, white and black, lined up in a single file line against a steel wall. The ceiling fans were spinning like crazy, sending artificial wind through out the large locker room. The Marines were cold, wearing only boxers, and the women wore tank tops and shorts.
"I hate this job," Private Luke Frost mumbled. Frost was as young as Hudson but better looking, or so he would insist to anyone who would waste time listening. When it came time to bragging, the two troopers usually came out about even. Hudson tended to rely on volume while Frost hunted for the right words. "Every time, they make us do these fucking tests to see if we're okay to go out in space or not. Why don't they just keep a fucking medical record, or something?"
"They do," Corporal Dwayne Hicks said softly, standing beside him. Hicks was the squad's senior corporal and second in command among the troops after Master Sergeant Apone. He didn't talk much. He kept his counsel to himself while the others spouted off.
Young, twenty-two year old, Private Hudson's voice rang through out the corridor metal walls. "Left. Left. Left. Right. Left. Left..."
"Knock it off, Hudson." Apone said in a more calm, but strict tone. Knock it off, Hudson was the phrase he used more than any other chain of words. Hudson was a complete screw up, but he had a tough, macho appeal about him.
"Whatever you say, Sarg." Hudson chuckled.
Private Drake stood beside PFC Vasquez. "Give me some fucking clothes, or hurry this fucking medical test up." Drake hissed out to his Marines - mainly speaking to Vasquez.
"Assholes, you know the drill. Keep still and wait for orders from Dr. Callie," Apone answered, sharply. He shoved a thick, brown cigar in his mouth, which looked like he already had his way with it when the end of it was raw with saliva from his mouth.
"What's Callie going to do? All she does is look us up and down as if she's ready to pounce on us if we make a sound." Private Crowe groaned, and wrapped his arms around his chest to keep warm.
"We're naked, Crowe. What do you expect from a gorgeous doctor like Callie? You know she has her fantasies." Hudson laughed again with a cough following. He coughed several times to get the itch free from his throat. It was too damn cold.
Hicks closed his eyes, wishing Hudson would shut up but the next remark about the doctor nearly shot him to loony town.
"Yeah, I wouldn't mind smacking that ass a couple of times while she's bent down in front of me." Spunkmeyer laughed out loud, as he demonstrated the act of ass smacking in front of his boxers. PFC Spunkmeyer was the dropship crew chief, the man responsible along with Pilot-Corporal Lisa Ferro for safely conveying his colleagues to the surface of whichever world they happened to be visiting, and then taking them off again in one piece. In a hurry if necessary.
With a quick and smooth undertake, Hicks grabbed Spunkmeyer's neck, and squeezed. Hudson, Apone, Drake, and Vasquez jump toward Hicks but Frost stepped in the way.
"Hold on," Frost said and put his arms in the air.
"Hicks, come on. We don't have time for this bullshit!" Apone hollered. "Frost, get out of the way." He took charge and shoved his comrade out of his line of walking distance toward Hicks.
Hicks stared deep into Spunkmeyer's childish green eyes.
"Don't ever put the doc's name into your mouth again, you hear?" Hicks whispered coldly. "Stick to your own fucking amusement without her."
Spunkmeyer breathed uneasily. His blond buzzed haircut glistened when the shaft elevator doors opened. Three people in white uniforms stood out, and the other four were dressed normally, except one was dressed in a Marine uniform.
Hicks released his hand from Spunkmeyer's throat, and shoved him against the metal wall. It was bitter cold to Spunkmeyer's bare back.
"Shit, that's cold." Spunkmeyer whined, stepping away from the wall. Hicks never dropped eye contact with Spunkmeyer. He curled his hands into fists and when he breathed, his breath was clearly visible.
One of the people in the white uniforms stepped ahead of the others. Her long, back-middle length, brown hair blew behind her shoulders as she made her way to the livid Corporal.
She set her arms to her sides with a silver clipboard hanging in her left hand. "Is there something going on here that I should be aware of?" her voice was sweet, but the bitter bitchiness of her tone stood out more.
Hicks closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He slowly opened his eyes again, ignoring the woman standing at his side.
"I take it by your silence there is nothing going on. Get back in line, Corporal."
Hicks stepped back in line without hesitation.
"That goes for the rest of you, Marines." The new lieutenant spoke. His voice was scared. Almost like he didn't want to be in the same room with the Space Marines. Like he wanted nothing to do with them.
"Dr. Callie, would you like to introduce the new Lieutenant?" Apone asked the doc.
The woman in the white coat, now recognized as Dr. Jody Callie, stepped back and glanced at the eleven Space Marines. "Yes. This man to my right is your new Lieutenant. Lieutenant James Gorman."
The Marines took in the small, puny man acting like a gigantic, dangerous Lieutenant. His oversized Marine uniform draped his slinky arms like a sheet. As they took him in, none of the Marines thought of him as their head leader, only a boy dressed up in big kid clothes.
"Shit," Hudson breathed. He leaned in toward Vasquez and whispered. "I could break this little man in half with my pinkie easily."
"Hudson." Apone hissed, overhearing Hudson's comment.
Ignoring Apone's call out, "Uh, Lieutenant?" Hudson raised his hand.
"What is it?" Gorman acknowledged.
"How long have you been a Lieutenant?"
Vasquez hit Hudson upside the head. "Goddamnitt, Hudson."
"I'm just wondering, because if I'm gonna be trusting this man with my life, I better find out every question I ask." Hudson pumped his arms, showing off his muscles.
Callie laughed in spite of herself. "Not much to show there, Private."
Hudson stood straight up in military form after the doctor's comment. He was in love with Dr. Callie. Anything he did, he did it for her. Hudson knew a great deal of information about the doc, and would love her until the day he dies. Not only were she smart with quick skills and a smart-ass tongue, she was also beautiful and held her own.
Perhaps it was Gorman's youth that bothered them, even though he was older than half the troopers. More likely it was his appearance: hair neat, slack creases sharp and straight, boots gleaming like black metal. He looked too good.
"All right, that's enough." Gorman grunted. "There will be no asking questions until Dr. Callie is finished with the medical examines. Then Sergeant Apone and I will brief you on the mission. Is that clear, people?" Gorman slid his military cap off his head. He turned around to have his back to the Marines, and waited for Dr. Callie to speak.
PFC Vasquez looked to Gorman's left and spotted a tall, thin woman with dark curly brown hair, and an unyielding expression on her face. She appeared to be anxious, yet convinced with why she was there, but no else knew why or who she was. To Vasquez, she resembled Snow White. It was the first name that popped in her head. Snow White.
Callie went through the Marines, looking them up and down. It took great courage to volunteer for a mission like the one they were going to travel on.
She came from a small background. She had a good home life in the small town of Lost Nation, Iowa. Raised with five sisters and two brothers. She had done well for herself. Graduated from high school with honors. Graduated from college with a Master's Degree in the medical field, and she was known for being the youngest female doctor to have ever entered the Space Marine Corp to become a specialized doctor for Marines needing special care. But Dr. Callie wasn't always as confident as she was today. One man inspired her confidence. A man she loved, and still loves. He taught her not to be afraid of her fears, and go forth with them: eyes wide-open, mouth closed, and without a smile.
"Corporal Hicks," Callie spoke gently. Awkward feelings. She leaned her clipboard into her stomach, jotting down a few notes. "Why did you volunteer for this mission?"
Hicks looked up from the floor. He gazed into Callie's brown eyes. He missed looking into her brown eyes.
"Do you mind answering?" Callie asked another question when Hicks remained silent.
Hicks puckered his lips out, not caring to listen to his ex-fiancée. Four long years, they had been together, and two years ago... well, you can guess what happened then.
"Corporal?" Apone glared. "Answer the doc."
Hicks looked at Callie. "These are my Marines, and I will stick with them to the end of the earth. If that means costing my life, then so be it."
Callie's breath was taken away, but the reaction was not visible. "Then that shows you have pride. But does it also reveal you can abide by your words and lead these men into battle with victory?"
Hicks studied her carefully. He knew she wasn't going to keep the incident they had with one another out of the conversation. Hicks left her, promising her a new life, but he walked right out the door and left her crying on the other side.
"Whatever it takes, doc," Hicks closed.
Callie shifted her weight with a half grin. She loved looking at Hicks. He had the softest skin. Big, puffy lips, and a body she once sank into for warmth on cold nights. Callie walked to the end of the line, starting at the beginning.
"All right, listen Marines. This is the last line of the tests. I know how much you love to receive your shots, take the pills, and drink liquidity gunk, but this is the real deal. I'm not messing around, and don't mess around with me. This will be painless and over with if you allow it to be."
"Uh, doc?" Private Drake poised.
"Yes?" Callie turned around and stood directly in front of the marine.
"You're talking to us like we're children. We've been through these tests dozens of times."
Callie laughed. "Then maybe in the past you all shouldn't have acted like children and made me think you can't act any different."
"Doc, that was a good one!" Hudson hooted. "Good one, doc."
"Knock it off, Hudson!" Apone snapped from the end of the line.
Callie moved one high-heeled shoe in front of the other. "Now, I will start from the beginning and work my way down. No horse play, got it?" There was a long enough pause to make her think no one would reply to her comment. Then she said, "Okay." She made her way to the first Marine, closest to the elevator doors. She held up her clipboard, flipping to the second page.
"Corporal Cynthia Dietrich," Callie pronounced. "Age twenty-five. Born in Pinetown, North Carolina. Hair Color: light brown. Eye color: green. Height: 5'8. You've been in the army for five years. Earned a purple heart at the age twenty-one for performing CPR on a man whose lungs were filled with black smoke, and almost died yourself." Callie looked down to the woman's medical file. "No other injuries have occurred since."
"They always say the second time around is the best." Corporal Dietrich smiled. She was arguably the prettiest of the group except when she opened her mouth.
"If you say so." Callie couldn't help but smile back. She looked back at Nurse Adam, standing directly to her side. "Okay, moving right along. Private Luke Frost."
"At your service, madam," Frost sneaked.
Callie moved forward then, and Frost looked down at Callie. He was a few feet taller than her, but no matter how tall she was, she knew just how to kick a man down with words.
"Ease down, Private," Callie said mildly. "You're not at my service, and don't call me madam. It's doctor to you."
Snickering caught the Marines all the way down the line.
"Assholes?" Apone warned with a grunt following.
Callie looked down the line of marines as well. She huffed out a snort, and continued on with her list. "Private Luke Frost. Age twenty-four. A colored Marine. Raised in Sebring, Florida. Colonial Antonio Frost is your father, and Captain Marg Anderson-Frost was your mother." Callie looked up from her clipboard. "I'm sorry to hear of her passing. You have my sympathy."
"Thank you," Frost sternly said, keeping a straight eye on the lockers in front of him.
Callie persisted. "No current medical treatment. No broken bones of any kind for being a private for five years."
During the years of tragedy and pleasure, Frost was the last man who stuck by Callie's side through the darkest hours of her life. He was like a brother to her. Only now the cruelty of her past had served its time, and it was up to her to return the ugliness she held deep in her heart for a lone Marine. But the only ugliness she revealed, she revealed to others who didn't deserve it. For the past two years, she dug herself into a deep hole, and ever since those two years passed, she's been constantly trying to dig herself out. And by this point in the game, Callie grew weary.
"Doc?" Frost spoke up. "I heard you were promoted to Chief of the Space Marine Medical Clinic."
"Yes. I plan on adding a hell of a lot more bedding quarters too, and shower stalls. Since we are getting new recruiters everyday," Callie paused. "Well, you know. We'll need all the space we can get."
The painful images of young and elderly Marines rushing into the hospital for quick surgery, amputation, or stitching haunted the doctor. Callie held onto her clipboard, studying the young Private in front of him. The private she spent most of her years talking to. Her own private, private you could say.
"Congratulations, doc." Hudson spoke up from down the line.
The moment Callie had looked over and seen Hudson she felt wanted. She took in all the Space Marines, and at last nodded at Hudson, unable to speak.
Callie looked up at the private in front of her. "Thank you, Private Frost. Moving on." She stepped over to the next marine. "Private Janette Vasquez. PFC. Age twenty-three. Hair color: Brown. Eye color: Brown. Born and raised in-"
"Redlands, California." Vasquez said for her.
"No brothers or sisters. Both parents deceased." Callie took in Vasquez. She was a female. A woman. She knew her place in time, and became well known to her guns and ammo. Everything that happened in her life, she took nothing for granted, and nothing was as serious than a shot to the brain. Nothing would be sure except the point of view of the barrel of a gun. It meant taking another life in combat, and never letting her fears take control.
She was broad but nicely built. Not an ounce of fat covered her body, only muscle. She wore a red bandana around her head, and her green muscle shirts were her trademarks. She was also a smartgun operator.
As Callie maintained the short conversation with each Marine down the line, it took nearly an hour before she reached her final destination to Corporal Hicks. Callie's heart skidded as she took in Hicks' strong features.
"Corporal." She sucked fresh air into her lungs, and looked directly into Hicks' eyes.
"Doctor." Hicks replied coldly. The strange thing was, he didn't know how else to act around her. The more he kept his eyes on her, the shyer she appeared. She had the need to glance down at her feet to release the tension between them. Hicks saw the girl he knew from long ago. She definitely wasn't the same doctor when she first walked into the room and stood right before him with a rigid tone and stern eyebrows. Hicks knew her. He knew all about her. They had a long six-year intimate relationship, and of those six years, he was madly in love with her. He would never stop loving her, even now.
It was his fault.
Callie looked down at her clipboard. "Corporal Dwayne Hicks. Age twenty-five. Born and raised in Anniston, Alabama. No current family members living, and no place to call home. Correct, Corporal?"
Hicks closed his eyes, annoyed. "Correct."
Callie, you could say, knew every little thing about Hicks as well. His entire background, his childhood life, his distant relatives and ancestors, and the family relic his father gave to him before his passing in the tragic house fire.
"I understand you still have your M-41A 10MM pulse fire?" Callie questioned.
"Yes."
Callie paused in silence, remembering clearly every moment of her last close confrontation with Hicks. Yes, he said to her two years ago. Yes, was the last thing he told her before he slammed the door. Callie hummed. Twelve Marines in total including Lieutenant Gorman. Callie stepped back from Hicks. She closed her eyes, then opened them almost immediately. Anything was better than staring at the black backsides of her lids.
"Okay, the information prep is finished. You will be given a series of multiple shots, and one last good evening to yourselves before indulging into hypersleep." She broke, taking in the Marines. "Any questions?"
Hudson raised his hand, and when Callie saw he was about to speak without permission, like he ever listened, she quickly sped up her next line of sentences. "Good, no questions. Just what I like. My assistant will lead you down to the clinic. You will all meet back here, and be given further instructions by your new Lieutenant." Callie winked at Hudson. "My work here is done."
Hicks looked relieved.
As Nurse Adam assisted the Marines down the long, steel corridor to the clinic, Hudson whined. "No, Callie, you aren't done here yet. Come back and party with us before we take off. Come on." Hudson stepped out of line, and wrapped his arms around the doctor's waist. He bent down on his knees, droning like a baby. "You can't leave me."
"Hudson." Callie let out a laugh. "Go on."
"Say you'll come back. Say it."
"Hudson, I have lots of work to do. I can't."
"Don't say it. Don't say it." Hudson stood up. "You'll have plenty of time for work later. Come stay with us."
Callie pulled the young private away from her. "I'll think on it."
"Not good enough." Hudson replied with another wail.
Hicks walked past Callie and Hudson exchanging friendly conversations. He looked at Callie not once as he disappeared down the corridor. Hudson slapped a wet kiss on Callie's cheek once the other marines were out of sight. Callie hit Hudson on the arm to catch up to the others. Once Hudson was gone she looked for Hicks, but he was nowhere in sight. A shear of depression crept in her heart, but she snagged her clipboard off the floor and turned around to talk to Gorman.
"Got a wild bunch here, Lieutenant. You think you can handle 'em?" Callie questioned.
Gorman swallowed, "We'll just have to wait and see." He looked down the corridor. "That young private, what's his name?"
"You mean Hudson?" she inclined her head in the direction of the departing private.
Gorman nodded.
Callie let out a small laugh. "He's harmless. He just likes to talk a lot to make him look tough. He's really not though. Don't worry." Callie reassured the new Lieutenant. "But you'll need him at your beck and call when you need it. He's the comtech and one hell of a marine."
The Lieutenant raised his eyebrows and nodded swiftly. It was clear that he was not convinced. The beads of sweat that dotted his forehead made his uneasiness pain and obvious to anyone that would bother to look. Not her problem, she reminded herself. Callie didn't have time to feel sorry for him. He had done his training and should be accustomed to knuckleheads like Hudson. He was a curious one, though, this Lieutenant. He reeked of inexperience. Strange.
"And the others?" the Snow White lookalike asked the doctor. "Are they as tough as I was informed. It was the only reason why I came along this mission, to be protected by those Marines, and-"
"You must be Lieutenant Ripley," Callie interrupted. She jotted the name down on the clipboard. "I've heard. And these Space Marines are the best you will ever find in a lifetime. I know these men and women well. They won't harm a living creature." Callie paused, thinking about what she just said. "I take that back, they will harm any living creature they come up on, but other than that, you can't trust anyone else with your life."
The Company representative took a step toward the doctor. No one really knew him except as some cheese dick sent by the Company to assist Lieutenant Ripley. He looked bored like a stuck up prick just trying to get the job done and over with. He tapped his shoe on the metal flooring, waiting for Callie to take notice of him.
"Everything looking up okay?" he asked the doctor.
Callie spared a moment to look at him. "Yes, and who might you be?" she took in the small height man, guessing he was in his thirties, maybe late twenties. Young Company man. He was good-looking, she had to give him that, and without being flashy about it. And he wasn't dressed in his usual gray bluish suit.
"Hey, Burke, you actually look like the rest of us grunts," Spunkmeyer nudged as he strolled by. The Marines were starting to come out from the dark corridor one by one, rubbing arms from the shot injections.
The representative's smile was no more or less real than Gorman's when he first arrived at the Marine base.
"I'm Carter Burke." He looked like a country boy sent out of his home life to be apart of something bigger than his plantation. He was living a surreal life.
"And what is your purpose with these Marines, Mr. Burke?" Callie asked, looking back at her clipboard.
"I'm here from Weyland Yutani Company to assist Lieutenant Ripley and the Marines." Burke looked at the puzzled doctor. He wasn't sure if she was paying attention, or staring blankly into the aloofness. "You know, building better worlds."
"Yes, Mr. Burke. I am aware of the info commercials," Callie spoke softly. Lieutenant Ripley laughed to herself, remembering she said the exact same words to Burke.
All the Space Marines were finally back. That didn't take long.
"What happened in there? You guys weren't back there for very long," Callie said.
"Two shots in both arms and one long injection in the upper thigh. Not much to it, doc," Drake informed her. He bent down and rubbed his thigh. "It fucking hurt though."
"Come on, Drake, don't be a wimp. You've taken bigger blows than that. I'm sure."
Master Sergeant Apone ambled back into the massive locker room, ready to prep his Marines hard. He stuck out his chest to show off his toughness, and he kicked out his arms and legs for a quick stretch.
"All right, Marines! Get going. Get to work," Apone howled. "We don't have time for laziness. We have exactly twenty-four hours before we're whisked off into hypersleep for three weeks."
The Marines scattered in disarray around the locker room. Each Marine found his or her locker, grabbing clean clothes and dressing quickly into heavier material.
"Damn, why is everything so cold?" Hudson whined. He tip-toed to his locker, which was across the room. The very last one. Hudson was always cold.
"Chilly, Hudson?" Callie laughed as she watched the comtech race across the room to keep his body alive for warmth.
"The entire place is metal. There's no use in running, private. You'll be cold no matter what." Apone joined in laughing with the doctor. "I'm not gonna fetch your slippers for ya."
By the time the Marines dressed into real clothes, and covered their bare feet, Burke and Lieutenant Ripley left the locker room to have there own medical examines. Nurse Adam chauffeured them down the corridor like he did the Marines.
Vasquez slipped a heavy sweatshirt over her muscled, tan body, and tied her boots tightly. "Hey doc? See anyone you recognize?"
Callie slowly turned her head to look at the smartgun operator. Once she knew Burke and Ripley were gone, she could act like her old self and have fun with her friends. The Marines were her friends. Good companions.
"I think I may recognize a certain corporal. Why you ask?" the doctor slinked her body from stuck up bitch position to really talk to Vasquez like a comrade.
"He recognizes you."
An arm reached around Callie from behind, and she nearly jumped. "Hey, why so jumpy, doc?" Hudson leaned his chin on her shoulder and Callie identified the creature that crept behind her.
"Thought you were someone else."
Her heart leaped when the corporal came out from behind a row of metal lockers.
"I see someone I used to have familiar relations with." Hudson leaned heavier on Callie's shoulder. "It hasn't been that long, doc."
Callie swallowed hard. Hicks was still getting himself dressed. His pants were hanging open. Zipper unzipped. Green t-shirt hanging off his elbows as he wrestled with it to cover his bare chest. His revealing six-pack. His tan, muscular body. Oh, God, the fantasies ruptured. Only, they weren't fantasies. They were never dreams. It all really happened. She once touched his chest. His bare, soft skin. His firm arms. Everything she took in right in front of her, she once touched and held close. Once a long, two years ago.
"Vasquez? Hudson? I don't see any work going on around here." Apone marched right up to the privates standing by Dr. Callie.
"Because we're not doing anything." Hudson acknowledged. He took a quick glance at the doc. "I'm working on my date for later tonight, isn't that right, doc? We're about to come to an understanding."
Apone chuckled sarcastically, then shoved his wet cigar in his chops. "That's what you think." He grabbed Hudson's neck. "Now move it, private, before I get you a date with the surgeon to take out that smart ass tongue of yours." He let out an overwhelming blow from his mouth, making Hudson's eyelids flicker. Pretending to faint.
"Hey Sarg, you know you can actually kill someone with your breath. You won't need any guns on this mission. Just breathe through your mouth."
Apone yanked the comtech practically off his feet and dragged him down the corridor with the other Marines.
"Vasquez!" Drake hollered from the corridor entrance. He motioned for smartgun operator to be at his side.
Callie looked around the locker room, and the Marines were gone. She missed Hicks. He must've walked by her, but she didn't take notice.
And sooner than expected, she was alone. All alone in the oversized locker room. "Four long years, huh?" her voice trailed.
Six years ago...
The Marines' tents were full. Every Marine needed some kind of doctor or nurse to aid them. Humans were rushing past as if they were on drugs. No one bothered to stop, or look for people in the way of the aisles. They just ran.
Doctor. Nurses. Assistants. Blood. Guts. Organs. Body parts.
You name it she saw it.
Newly graduate, Dr. Jody Callie, leaned against a white surgical tent to get out of the way of the racing stretchers and intact Marines. The horrible screams, the burns, cuts, and shots the Marines caused, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. The screaming eased the pain in someway. The doctors were used to it, as well as the men in combat. Screams all around them.
The young doctor leaned too hard into the tent. She heard a heart-pounding scream, and blood splattered all over the clean white tent flap. Her brown eyes widened, and her bottom jaw trembled.
What does she do? Marines are counting on her to save their lives. What does she do?
"Doctor?" an older Marine Officer barked as he sternly walked up to her. "Doctor?"
Callie snapped her head up and looked steadily into the old marine's eyes. "Yes. I'm a doctor."
The marine took in the young, petite woman. His eyes dropped to her white canvas shoes, all the way up to her knitted white collar. "Good. We need you right away for an immediate surgery."
Callie opened her eyes as wide as she could open. "Surgery? I... I can't possibly." She stammered out her words. She didn't mean to. "No."
"Doctor, you have to. This man could die if you don't operate now!" the Marine was tired, and Callie could see it in his gray eyes. "Now!" he urged.
Callie was stricken. The General just threw her into this entire mess, knowing she was a new doctor with a brand new license, and now they wanted her to perform a breathtaking operation already?
The marine could not wait any longer, so he grabbed the young doctor's hand and dragged her to a dirty green tent at the end of the first of many tent rows. The very last one. Why did it have to be the last one? No other doctor was around to perform surgery on a conscious Marine screaming for some kind of relief?
"Sir, please." Callie literally stopped walking, and it was the heavy-duty Marine who was dragging her white shoes in the dirt and grass. "You cannot allow me to perform on the injured Marine. I have no real life experience on a breathing human being. You can't..."
"You're a doctor, aren't you? That's why they gave you the name 'doctor' on your nametag. Now don't bullshit me with this I can't do it speech. You can do it!" he had to shout the last sentence to get it clear to the young doctor.
"Let go of me." Callie managed to yelp. But before she knew it, the Marine had a hold of her neck, and he shoved her into the tent with the doors flapping behind her.
She wobbled on her tiptoes when she about lost her balance. Within the tent, Callie could hear screams from many tents down. She could hardly see a thing in the dirty tent she stood in. She didn't want to be there. She wished on her life she wasn't there.
But she was.
She looked to her left, and saw what seemed to be little light coming from within. She then glanced at her right, and there stood another tent with small light illuminating inside. She was stuck in between two screaming marines in both tents. She wanted to scream herself, and almost did. She looked at her feet in the darken room, and a bright red bloodstain stood out. She hiked her shoe on top of her knee for support and spit in her hand to get rid of the unidentified blood. She wanted to gag, but she had to keep strong since she was a doctor. Doctors couldn't gag. That's what they were paid not to do. Gag, or puke on the job. It was one of many rules of being a high-qualified Marine doctor.
When she wasn't looking, but she knew, one of the tents' entrances flapped open. Callie stood up straight, kicking her shoe with the bloodstain in the grass to continue to get rid of it. Another doctor, an experienced and older looking one, glanced up at the young doctor. He was out of breath. She could tell. The screaming had stopped behind the tent flaps he just came out from. The Marine was dead. Or he was just sleeping. But Callie thought dead.
"Your name, Miss?" the doctor breathed uneasily, wiping sweat from under his double chin with a clean piece of white fabric.
"Dr. Callie, sir."
"Doctor, huh?"
Callie lowered her voice, "I recently graduated from med school." The way the older doctor examined her, the more Callie wanted to dig in a hole right below her feet and bury herself.
"Are you familiar with surgery yet?" No answer. "Have you had an experience with surgery yet, doctor?"
"That's what I was told to come in here for." Callie didn't want to perform surgery on anyone just yet. She just arrived. She felt the same as she did the first time she had to dissect a cat in her junior year of high school. Squirmy, and sick the whole way through.
The doctor nodded, "Very well." He pointed toward the other tent opposite of him. "A Marine nearly got his leg blown off by a grenade. Bad thing is, the marine positioned behind was shot as he was about to throw the fresh grenade, and it fell to the ground. The Marine in there ran for his life, but not in time before the last flick of blow knocked him on his belly, and realized he couldn't feel anything below his waist." The doctor limped toward the water canal in the back of the open tent. "But it was just his head making him think his legs were blown to bits. It was only one leg that was mangled." He grabbed for another washcloth, and wiped his wrinkled face. "So, see if it's too badly injured, and if it is, then make the decision to have it amputated or not. Can you handle that?"
Callie looked at the aging doctor before her eyes. She couldn't possibly make the accurate decision to amputate a Marine's leg or not. What if she makes the wrong decision? The Marine would have to live the rest of his life without a leg when he didn't have to lose it at all. She couldn't make that kind of decision right away.
"Doctor?" the mature doctor strongly spoke. Callie looked up to meet his eyes. He took a deep, heavy breath. He knew she was new. It was probably her first assignment for all he knew, or it could have been her hundredth. Either way, she didn't look nearly as tired and old as he did. He had been doing his duty as a doctor for nearly thirty years. She just graduated.
He made up his mind, "All right. Go into this tent, the tent I just came out of and stitch up a Marine. I'll handle the surgery this time."
Callie looked at the tent where the doctor came. She hesitated and her voice trembled. "No, I couldn't..."
"You're a doctor. You can at least do this for now." He begged with a slight of anger in his voice. Callie shook her head. "Either this, or I can do it, and you take the position for surgery next door." The old doctor stared into her eyes. She didn't make a move. She knew she couldn't do the surgery, and her eyes gave him her answer. "I didn't think so. I approximated exactly twenty stitches." He looked at his wristwatch. "Be in and out of there within ten minutes, and send him on his way. We'll need the space as quick as possible."
Before Callie could respond, the male doctor was back on his feet, rushing into the surgery tent.
"Okay, this won't be so bad." The young doctor reassured herself. At least you're not making a life changing decision. Leave that up to the real, real professionals.
Taking a large breath, Callie opened the tent flap and peeked her head in. She saw nothing except a fresh corpse on a metal table with a sheet over it. She poked her head out, wondering what was there to stitch? Surely not the dead Marine. Why did he need stitches?
Callie backed away from the tent, and was startled by another Marine rushing inside.
"What's going on here?" the Marine asked, still wearing his metal armor, and helmet. Callie stared blankly at the man. "Where's the marine at?"
Callie started to stammer again, but she stopped to regain her jaw. "Sir, I think he died." She didn't know what she was talking about. Another huge duty she had to do. Tell the surviving family member or other living soul that their companion, loved one had passed away.
"No, miss." The Marine argued. "There were three Marines in all that came through this tent. Where are they?"
Another heartbreaking scream sounded from the other tent. The tent she was supposed to be in performing surgery.
"Well," Callie was confused. "One Marine is in surgery right now, and the other is on a metal table with a sheet over his head, and the other Marine, I don't know where he is."
The Marine pulled out a piece of paper from his armor pocket and read the names he jotted down. "I am looking for Private Mackenzie, Private Luca, and Private Hicks. Those three Marines were under my command, came into this tent no later than twenty minutes ago. Where are they, doctor?"
Callie wanted to cover up her nametag. Mostly the name 'doctor'. She was scared shitless, and already Marines were demanding so much of her since she arrived. She's been dragged, grabby by the neck, and blood staining her shoes. What else could happen? She closed her eyes, wishing she never thought that again. Things could have been loads worse.
"I told you what I knew. I was just assigned to this tent."
The old Marine walked to the tent Callie peeked her head in. He stood in the tent's entrance for several minutes before taking his head out.
"There are two Marines in here. One needs stitching, the other is dead." The Marine walked up to Callie. "Be careful when you stitch up the living Marine. He's too important to be jacked up by a new, uninformed, young doctor. Got it?" Without waiting for a response from Callie, the Marine turned his back and raced out of the tent.
"Sergeant Apone?"
Callie overheard the exchange of dialogue from the other side of the tent outside. "We need you down to breakage right now. Right away!"
"I'm on it, private. I'm coming. Over and out." The Marine, high ranked Sergeant Apone said into his mouthpiece. "Let's move it. Marines are dying." At once, when Apone left the tent opening, a hurdle of uncut, clean Marines raced behind him.
It was finally quiet except from the low humming of a dying Marine across the path. Callie rolled her eyes and stared at the tent roof. She took another breath, and slowly walked toward the tent with the dead Marine contained, and allegedly another breathing Marine, needing stitches.
Within the tent, the young private played with the deep cut on his upper arm, just below the tattoo that gave away his Marine information. The man knew tragedy was all around him. He was such a youngun', and had seen more blood spilt which could last for five lifetimes. It was more blood than he wanted to see. His green, camouflage t-shirt blended in with the tent background dye, but his soft colored white skin smoothed the two colors out.
Callie walked in, causing a din with the tent flap behind her. The young private glanced up soullessly. The doctor almost smiled, but did nothing in its place when she gawked at the young Marine. A smile wouldn't have been appropriate.
"Hello." Callie spoke gently. When the private looked at his cut again, with the sleeve of the t-shirt dripping wet with his blood, he appeared disgruntled. The doctor was young, he could tell, and he had no idea if she was experienced or not. Callie reached for a clean bowl from the top shelf above the sink, and filled it with fresh water and tossed a washcloth in it. She turned around, and tensed up when she made her way toward the quiet Marine. She walked past the corpse and reached for the nearest stool to sit upon.
"How did this happen?" she asked him.
The private spoke up, "Where's Dr. Mattocks?" But never looked up.
"He was due in surgery. I will be taking over. Is that a problem?"
Ignoring her, the private peered down at his cut again. Callie gazed at the young private. He was good-looking. More good-looking than most men she knew in her life. His hair was short, but not army buzzed. It was long enough to run his fingers through, and short enough to keep out of his eyes. He was sweating around his hairline, his ears, and below his nose.
In that moment, Callie wanted to know every little detail about him but she knew she could not. She had to stay calm, and strong like a doctor, not a girl in prep school.
"I got into with a friend." The private swallowed, still examining his cut. For some reason, he found blood fascinating. Mainly his own. Remembering when he was a kid growing up in the outskirts of Anniston, Alabama, whenever he got a cut or scab, he would automatically pick at just to watch the sore bleed. He didn't know why but blood always made him smile. He was never going to become a mass murderer, and no one else's blood enthralled him besides his own.
"Another Marine? Who won?" Callie examined the cut with the private.
He caught himself off guard and smiled. "You should see him."
"Is that right?" Callie was comfortable for a moment in time, and place. Even though she did not even know the young private's name, she could tell he was a good man. A joyous man to be around.
When her thoughts ran away, she didn't notice the private's blood from the cut slid down his arm, to his wrist.
"Doc?" the private murmured.
Callie opened her eyes, in fact her mind, and caught the blood starting to seep on her white skirt. She stood up quickly, grabbed the washcloth, and cleaned his forearm, elbow, and hand.
"Sorry." She apologized.
"No need to waste apologies on nothing," the private whispered.
Callie threw the washcloth back in the bowl. She looked at his wet, bloody sleeve. "Here. Take this off." She indicated for him to remove his t-shirt. The private leaned back and with the other hand, he began to lift his shirt. He yelped in pain when he was using too much of his injured arm, and it caused Callie to heave her hands toward his shirt, and assist him.
The private finally looked deep into the young doctor's beautiful brown eyes as she pulled the shirt off. Callie didn't notice, but once the shirt slid past the private's beaming eyes, she caught his warm stare.
Silence broke in the tent. Nothing could be heard. Nothing else mattered. Callie forgot her place, and said nothing as she stared into the Marine's blue with a tint of green eyes.
Callie gave a faint smile. She shook her head, and sat back down on the stool. "What are you doing anyway fighting someone on your side, and not the real enemy?"
"It was training." The private paused. "It got out of hand."
Young face, old eyes, she thought. She hardly knew the guy. He must be a very hard-hitting Marine. She pulled out a stitching needle and thin stitching thread. The thread looked weak and breakable, but it was strong and sturdy.
Before she began to stitch, she came across the tattoo just below the cut. "US Colonial Marine." She gaped. "You look young. How long have you been a marine?"
It all made sense. Every Marine the young doctor came across was incredibly young. Most of them looked as if they hadn't hit puberty yet, and already they were fighting in an unbearable war. Waiting for a reply, Callie inserted the needle into the Marine's arm. He sucked up the pain by biting his bottom lip.
"A year," he managed to gasp. "Back home, they'll take whatever age. It doesn't matter, and they don't care. It just is."
Callie agreed. "That's how it was for me. I'm probably not any older than you are. Maybe younger."
"How old?"
Callie pulled the needle out and tied a knot on the end. "Nineteen."
The private looked at her in disbelief. "A doctor already too?"
She shrugged his question off. More like a statement, or joke. She wondered why she had the name 'doctor' before her first name. She wondered a lot of things. And all the wondering occurred once she stepped foot on the Marine base.
"Right now, I wouldn't consider myself a doctor. Doctors are calm, ready for anything. Never afraid." She breathed lightly as she continued to stitch up the Marine. "I'm scared."
"It's just a stitch." His voice was low, but it carried.
"This is probably going to leave a scar. The cut is too deep. Looks like it sliced through some muscle."
"Scars are good to have."
Callie incised into the last remaining flesh on his arm. "Just about done." That's when the tent flap flapped open. Callie turned her head, and the private looked up. Both watched as an older Marine wearing a crucifix around his neck, and a small bible in his right hand walked in.
Dr. Mattocks was right behind him, leading the way to the Marine lying on the metal table. The dead Marine.
Callie and the private were hushed. The Marine/priest started to hum prayers. He was aware of the doctor and private beside him, but in prayer nothing else matters except for the person being prayed upon and the person praying.
Callie's heart dropped. Her eyes were cold, and she found herself leaning in toward the private on the other medical table. She never saw a man praying over another man's corpse. The prayers he said. The soft whisper of voice. The gentle touch of the swinging crucifix over the dead Marine's face. Callie closed her eyes, drawing nearer to the Marine at her side. She wanted to hide behind him.
The private watched the Marine pray. It was calm, serene. Nothing like what was happening outside the Marine base, and everywhere else in the world. Praying was the only thing that could bring peace and hope to the ones trying to survive, or praying to die. The young private prayed to God in his thoughts that no one would ever have to pray over him. Not now. Not ever.
Once the priest finished, he slid the sheet off the corpse's head, and kissed his forehead. He re-covered the body, and walked out of the tent without exchanging eye contact with the doctor or private.
Dr. Mattocks left with the Marine, but quickly returned. "Doctor, are you finished here?"
Callie looked at the private. He looked at her. "Just about."
Dr. Mattocks' eyes were tired. He looked like he aged a hundred years. "Finish." And he left.
Callie turned around in her stool and faced the private again. "Tell me I won't have to see that again. I don't think I could bear it."
The private closed his eyes. "We all see things in life we don't want to. There's nothing we can do about it."
Callie tried to show a smile, but could not. She ripped off a piece of white bandage on the table at the rear of the private. She wrapped it around his arm, his stitches, and used her teeth to tear it off from the roll.
The private tried to look into her eyes, but she never titled her head up to look at him.
"All finished." She stood, and walked to a closet in the corner of the tent. She opened it, assuming there were either old clothes, or supplies in it. What she found was a shirt, a craggy one. She pulled it out and handed it to the private. "You can go now. We'll need this tent as quickly as possible." The doctor slumped, tired suddenly. She had no reason to be. She hadn't work as hard as most of the doctors who have been there for a long time. All hours of day.
The private buttoned the cotton white shirt. He fixed the sleeves, and rotated his head around every direction he could to have the young doctor in the corner of his eye. There was just something about her. Something he wouldn't naturally be attracted to. He didn't know her at all either, but a spark flew, and he suddenly snapped into fantasy and fell in love. Not even a name he knew, but he was in love.
From outside of the tent entrance, Callie heard Dr. Mattocks' voice.
"Doctor? Make sure you get down the name of the Marine you have in your custody. Jot it down to let General Curran and Master Sergeant Apone know the Marine is stabilized and strong enough to go back out there. Let them know immediately. I will assign you a nurse who will be your aide." A pause. "Don't disappoint me, Dr. Callie."
Callie. The young private smiled, but quickly got rid of it when the doctor turned around.
"Your last name is Callie? What's your first?" the private took a seat on the table again.
Callie's eyes swept over him. He carried a smirk with his beautiful, clean-shaven face. She wasn't sure if she should acknowledge his question or not. She was a doctor, he a Marine. Too close can mean big trouble. But as she looked directly into the private's eyes, how could she not become close to a man like he?
"Jody."
The private half smiled. He put a hand on the tender cut on his arm, outlining the stitches with his right index finger through the thin cotton.
"It's a good stitch." He flexed his arm, trying not to rip the new stitches. "Dr. Mattocks said you had to get my name." He paused, and watched Callie's chest rise in and out. "Ask me."
The doctor glanced at her dirty hands. Blood blemished her fingertips from the poor Marine's cut. She was evasive, unwilling to ask him. She didn't want him to leave, but on the other hand, he had to go back and fight. There was nothing else wrong with him. He was perfectly fine. At least from the outside.
"Can I have your name, private?"
The young man stood up, wanting to step as close to her as possible. He could see the fear within her. War was not her taste, so why was she there? She should be out of the war, off the Marine Base, and living a normal, healthy life. She was so beautiful, very attractive. Why was she surrounding herself with ugly people? Dying men and women? Why?
"It won't be private for long," the Marine stated.
Callie looked at him, deep into the cloudy depths of his eyes. "Either way, I must have a name."
"Hicks."
Callie dropped eye contact and jotted down the name. "Is there something else that goes with 'Hicks'?"
"Yes," the private, known as Hicks now, said. "Corporal Dwayne Hicks. USCM - 527 19 5251." The known corporal walked toward the fearful, young doctor. "I'm also nineteen." He whispered. "Write that down in your notes." His demand caused her knees to go weak. He made his way toward the tent entrance. "If I don't know you, you won't know me. You have my medical file. Find out about me, then come find me." His voice purred into her ears. He acted like an old soldier, trying to find some peace in the world. When he looked at her for the first time, he found his peace. He found his peace.
The corporal left the tent, leaving the young doctor behind.
Present...
His peace, huh? Callie slowly turned in circles, smacking her clipboard against her thighs. The locker room still remained empty. Not a soul in sight. She blinked, and started to walk down the metal corridor slowly.
Peace, huh?