Page 111 of Walking Wounded

Will had had three cups of the stuff, and somehow, Finn had had more.

But no one had consumed as much as Murray, who now had an uncontrollable case of the hiccups. Which in turn gave Finn the giggles. Will felt like his head was floating, detached, a good three feet above his neck, a sensation that wasn’t unpleasant, and that he didn’t question.

“No, see, what you gotta do,” Harcourt said, stepping up behind Murray with his own helmet in his hands. “Iswashthe hiccups out.”

“I thought it was scare them out,” Ski said.

Harcourt shrugged. “Same thing, really.” He tipped his helmet over and dumped cold water over Murray’s head.

Poor Murray leapt to his feet like a scalded cat, howling, his thin pale hair plastered to his head, water droplets flying off his big ears and the tip of his nose. Will didn’t want to laugh at the kid, and wouldn’t have under normal circumstances. But three cups in, he couldn’t help it, folding over with laughter like the rest of them, eyes running and chest aching.

“Shit,” Murray said, but he didn’t look or sound mad. In fact, he smiled, shaking the water off with a laugh of his own.

“Did it work?” Harcourt asked.

“It–” Murray started, and a massive hiccup shook his whole frame. He sighed. “Nah, guess not.”

Harcourt frowned down into his helmet, looking a little cross-eyed. He swayed gently to one side and didn’t seem to notice. “Well. Maybe that wasn’t enough of a shock.”

“More water,” Murkowski said, and snapped his fingers. “You need more water.”

“That’s it,” Hertz agreed.

“Whatcha think, Finn?” Harcourt asked. PFC though he might have been, the other privates had long since detected that magnetic quality in Finn that had always drawn Will so close. His opinion was always looked to for a tie-breaker.

“I think you’re all fucking crazy,” Finn said, knuckling tears out of his eyes.

“Alright, that’s settled,” Hertz said. “To the well!”

“To the well!” the others echoed.

Obliged to watch the drama to its completion, Will staggered to his feet.

“Ugh,” Finn grunted, and held up a hand.

“You old drunk,” Will said, and pulled him upright.

Finn only swayed a little. “If I had your big ol’ stork legs, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“They come in handy sometimes.”

They trooped down the hill toward the well, shoving, jostling, and talking too loud. Will and Finn walked a few paces behind, like the parents of overexcited children. That, or maybe it was the liquor, left Will warm inside, content and unworried. It was moments like these, walking side-by-side with Finn, when this all seemed a grand adventure, and he didn’t miss home so much. Being together was more important than their location.

At the well, Harcourt brought the bucket up, leaning heavily on the stone wall that surrounded it like a stiff wind might blow him right down through the hole. He looked precarious and unsteady – Booze’s hooch would do that to a man – but the bucket finally appeared, slopping water everywhere, to the cheers of drunk Marines.

Murray shut his eyes, braced himself, and Ski threw the whole bucket of water right at his face. He looked like a drowned puppy.

“Did it work?” Hertz asked.

Murray hiccupped.

“Shit,” Ski said, with great feeling.

“It’s gotta be more,” Harcourt said.

“And how’s that gonna work?” Hertz asked.

The three of them stared at one another, then Ski said, “He’s gotta jump in.”

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