Page 72 of Soul on Fire
Not much longer.
His target loomed before him, a squat white-painted concrete building with a triple flagpole before it. The United States flag flapped in the desert wind, lit by a floodlight buried in the dry dust of the ground. Humvees were parked in front, red and blue lights spinning a carousel of colors.
He parked in the darkness and pulled out the backpack. It was heavier than he’d thought it would be, and he struggled to pull both straps over his shoulder. Wheezing, he leaned against the car, trying to catch his breath as liquid pooled in his mouth. He spat it out. Blood stained the asphalt between his boots and splashed on the ankle of his green digital BDUs.
There were guards patrolling the building, but they shouldn’t bother him. Not if he acted like he belonged. Head high, Majambu strode across the parking lot.
Three of the guards turned toward him, but when they saw his rank, they nodded and called out a soft, “sir,” and resumed their patrol. He came up to the building under the glow of the exterior floodlights, squinting as the beams hit his already weak and aching eyes. He raised his hand as he climbed the steps, trying to block the glow.
“Sir.” Two military police guarded the doors to the building. “Can we help you, sir?”
Out of the light, Majambu lowered his arm and glared at the young white man who’d spoken. “I have business inside. Let me through!”
“Only the admiral and the command staff are allowed inside headquarters, sir. I cannot let you through.” The MP was young enough to still have pimples dotting his jawline and for his facial hair to grow in splotches around his cheeks and chin. Majambu stared him down, glowering, as the MP’s eyes narrowed. “Sir, are you… feeling all right? Your eyes…” He trailed off.
“I’m tired,” he snapped. “I’m tired of garbage like this! I was sent here to report in person to the admiral! Would you like to call up to the admiral to confirm this, interrupting everyone’s work, or shall I call myself and report my delay?”
He saw the man fight a war inside himself, debate whether to stick to his guns and keep Majambu out—the right choice—or buckle under the impression of leadership and allow him entry. His eyes slid to the left, where his partner, another young white man, stood. His friend looked away and squinted.
“Go ahead,” the man mumbled. He jerked open the door. “Apologies, sir.”
Majambu shouldered his way past the MP, digging his elbow into the young man’s chest and shoving him as he passed. The MP fell back, slamming into the glass doors and knocking his head. His hat tipped off his head and hit the concrete as he lost his footing and went down onto the steps.
Majambu saw him roll to his knees and throw a poison-filled glare his way before he turned down a dark, deserted hallway.
* * *
“Fuck that guy,”Petty Officer Third Class James Hansen said, getting to his feet. “Fucking officers. Always think they’re hot shit. Fuck him.” He pulled his hat on and wrapped his hands around his M4.
His mind whirled, looping the interaction with Captain Price over and over in his mind. The captain striding up the steps. Shielding his eyes from the light. His skin drenched in sweat.
Sure, it was fucking hot in Bahrain, especially if someone wasn’t used to it. And a whole shit-ton of new guys were coming onboard today, beefing up the security for the base. What if he was one of those CBRN guys?
Why the fuck were his eyes so bloodshot? It looked like he hadn’t slept in months, maybe years. One of his eyes was so red it seemed like he’d colored in the eyeball with a red Sharpie–
“Hey…” James said slowly. “Why didn’t that guy call the admiral by her name?”
“Huh?” Seaman Morency stared at him, popping another piece of nicotine gum in his mouth. “Maybe he didn’t know her name.”
“But he said he was ordered to deliver her something directly. He’d know her name, then, right?”
“Whadda you wanna do about it?” Morency glowered over the parking lot. “Don’t go pissing off captains. Man, you go fucking with him, I guarantee you he’s gonna come fuck you up. If you leave him alone, he’ll forget about you. Promise.”
“No…” James shook his head. “There’s something fucking wrong with that guy, man. I can tell.”
“Look, you go and do some stupid shit, you leave me the fuck outta it.”
James grasped the door handle and yanked it open. “Wait here, Morency. I’m going to talk to that asshole.”
“Good fucking luck,” Morency breathed as the door closed. “Nice knowin’ ya.”
* * *
“Hey, Captain?”
Majambu froze. The voice called out from the hallway again, this time with footsteps, boots squeaking on linoleum. They were coming closer.
“Captain, I need to speak to you again, sir!”
