Lone Soldier

The crowd around him was loud, cheerful and festive. All about him once wearied and war torn people were reuniting themselves with their friends and family, after years of separation.

He had no family. No one who would welcome him back. No one wanted to be reminded of the horrors of the past war, so soldiers either returned to the civilian life that they had left, or suffered the public’s general attitude. He had known nothing but war for his entire life, he had seen it take its victims. Seen it take his officers, fellow soldiers, even the boys and girls who flew in supplies. No one had been immune to the effects of the war. If there was one thing that he had learned, it was the mortality of human life.

Passed around from various military organizations he had been trained in combat from an early age. They had trained him as an assassin, a spy, a hacker, infantry man, and a pilot. He had seen so much death on the battlefield – been the cause of so much death – that he had become hardened towards it. He had been drilled that life was cheap, but no life was cheaper then his.

And now the war was over. The peace that he had fought so hard to obtain was a reality. People were happy, he was told. That had been his goal, had it not been, to make the people happy? He looked blankly at the festivities around him and wondered at their strangeness. He could not understand their feelings, could not understand their actions. It was as if there was a barrier between him and the world.

Around him, children laughed, tossing a ball between them. He stared at them distantly, wondering what it was that they were doing. His entire life he had known only two things – fighting and duty. And suddenly there was no one left to fight.

He had no direction. No abilities or talents for a world full of peace. No skills to offer, no hand to take. Nowhere to go. He was only seventeen. From deep inside a heart that had been pumped of any emotions, something bubbled up. Through his training, he could not recognize in, could not put a name to it. But deep down inside, the man that he could have been, knew what it was.

Loneliness. Deep unending Loneliness.



Hot air seared his skin as the explosions rocketed in front of him. Special 3BXX Gunner Rah could hardly control the urge to laugh and dance around. Burning debris shot down around him and he paid them no mind.

MCB 4 was burning. They had left the job of destroying the Solar Nations largest bases to the 2nd Class Specials, knowing that it would get done properly, and if it didn’t, well then they had most conveniently disposed of a Special. He smiled. The government was growing afraid of the weapons that They had created. Especially the 1st Class. But then, there wasn’t a sane soul in the entire republic that didn’t fear them. They weren’t human. Not really.

Satisfied with his work, he let the detonator fall to the ground below him. He wiped grimy hands on the dark red Specials uniform he was wearing and wondered where he could get a hold of some civilian clothing. Wearing an outfit that screamed ‘Hey! I’m a Special, trained from childhood to kill people!” would not be the coolest thing to do. Now the war was over, and he could put everything - well almost everything, behind him and lead a normal life. Times were finally looking up.

His parents both slain at a young age, the recruitment office snatched him up for one of their experiments. Specials. With the high number of orphans in the first few years of the war, social organizations simply did not have the means or abilities to look after them. Everywhere you looked there were children on the street. The Military promised them food and they came. Not all could be made into Specials, of course. Only those that had lost everything. Ties and bond to no one, nothing and filled with hate. Hate for the Nation, hate for war.

Explosions still rocketing behind him he turned and walked down the deserted road that now led to nowhere. He was free! Free! Free! He laughed aloud, the joyous sound alien in this somber land.

He raced down the road, his boots pounding the asphalt, and ripped his red cap from his head. His tunic followed after and soon the road behind him was littered with the red of the specials uniform. The cool autumn air whipped his bare arms and blew his hair around. Stripped down as far as was decent, to a light red tank top and pants, he felt freer then he had been for years. He was just eighteen, he could find something to do - even if it was washing dishes. His mother had made him wash dishes before she died. Maybe, maybe he would still remember. Most of the cities were flattened but he’d head for that big tent city, that one they called Hope. Something would be there for him. After all, a special wasn’t only good for war – well, scratch that, a special was only good for war, but he wasn’t a special anymore, no sir.

He stopped suddenly. There was someone coming up the road in front of him. It was obvious that the other had spotted him long before. Gunner kicked himself mentally for not being more observant. He briefly considered backing up to avoid the traveler when he noticed something that made him glad indeed that he had not give the stranger any reason at all to think that he was retreating.

It was a Class 1.

Around his age, the young man was wearing plain civilian clothing, but no civilian moved as he did, with the assassins’ quick grace. What would a 1st Class Special be doing out by a destroyed Solar nations Base? He continued on his course; until he was mere meters from the Special.

“Hail!” he called, raising his arm in greeting, “Good victory huh?” He phrased his words carefully. You did not ask a Class 1 what they were doing or where they were going.

The Special looked up, regarding him, though Gunner was sure it was not for the first time and caught his gaze. “No.” He said abruptly, his eyes a brilliant blue under a shock of dark hair. “Too many soldiers were slaughtered like animals.”

Gunner lowered his eyes momentarily, shocked at the sharpness of his voice and the intensity of his gaze. “Agreed.” He said simply. He held out his hand in an act of good will. “Gunner Rah.” He offered.

The other took his hand. “A Special?” Gunner nodded. “4AXXX” the other offered. “I suppose that would be what civilians would call my …… Name.” The last words came out roughly, as if he was speaking a different language. “You destroyed MCB 4?”

Gunner nodded again. “Nothing but a crater now,” he laughed, “With the pyrotechnics that I rigged in there.” The others eyes stared back, a silent shocking blue.

“What are you going to do now?” the special asked, his voice sharp, as if he had never been taught how to soften it. Gunner paused for a split second. He didn’t see how that was this guys business, but you didn’t shrug off a Class 1.

“I’m on to Hope City to get a job.”

“Hope. . . . City?”

“Yah, the tent city. Where you headed?” he ventured. After
all, the special had asked first.

The 1st Class was silent and dropped his gaze. A silence ensued. He doesn’t have anywhere to go. Gunner realized. He’s been released from service with absolutely no life skills. He stared at the other and for a moment forgot that a 2nd Class was supposed to be afraid of 1st Classers.

“Hey, why don’t you travel with me?” Gunner blurted, “I ‘d enjoy the company. It gets real lonely as a special, even if you are only a 2nd Classer.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he almost choked. NOT the thing to say to a 1st Class special forces soldier that could kill you where you stood. 1st Classers didn’t suffer from loneliness. Of course not. They didn’t have any feelings. But his words seemed to have struck a chord. Perhaps he was imagining things but he thought that he saw shock run across the others face.

“Proposal Accepted,” he stated, taking Gunners gaze again.

“Great! Onward to Hope” Even the presence of a 1st Class Special could not stop him from pointing and striking a dramatic pose.

With the Class 1 in tow, he set off at a quick pace. What have I done? He cried silently, looking at the specials lean muscled frame. Whatever it is, it damn well better be the right thing.



Lieutenant Merrill Evens threw her pack into the trunk of her car with a thunk. Homeward bound at last. She had only served three years, but it might as well have been twenty. She hadn’t heard from her family since she joined up - she couldn’t have had, not with the way that she had been recruited. Her parents had recived a notice of her termination years ago. But what else could they have thought, with their fifteen year old daughter disappearing from her bedroom in the middle of the night? They had known that she had been doomed. What they couldn’t have know was the second chance that she had been granted. Merrill couldn’t say that she agreed with the recruiting style that the military had adopted, but without the thousands of teens that had been recruited, they all would have been saluting the Solar nations.

She hadn’t been paid well for her service, of course, but the military had guaranteed her a paid spot in any university in the republic. Pretty damn good if you asked her. She lifted herself up onto the hood of her car and leaned back against the windshield. The training center that she had been recruited to, thousands of years ago now it seemed, loomed in front of her, tall and imposing, but like an old friend after the years on the battlefield.

As a 16 year old, 2nd lieutenant hadn’t had the training for administrative work. Two months into her promotion she was sent to the battle to act as a field officer. For a while, anyway. The regiment, she was in was massacred, almost down to the last man.

For the rest of the war, she piloted and designed small air and subspace fighters. Her own fighter ‘Eclipse’ was in its hanger now, waiting. It’ll be waiting for a long while, she thought grimly. There ain’t nothing to kill now.

“Ma’am?” a soft voice piqued up from behind her. She shifted on the hood of her vehicle. looking to see who had addressed her. A small woman stepped forward, a nurse from her uniform, Merrill guessed. She wore rough, well weathered combats, to large for her, with a white buret and a medical sash around her right arm.

“Yes?”

“Ma’am, what are the current standing orders?” She fiddled with her hands, nervous at addressing a superior.

“Standing orders? There ain’t no standing orders now, kid. Just get the hell back to your home as quick as possible.”

The woman shifted form foot to foot. “Nothing else? Ma’am?” She added on.

“Nothing”

“But what about those who’s cities don’t exist anymore?”

Merrill jumped down from her car. “Where’d you live?’ she asked, brows knit.

“Chicago, Ma’am.” The woman’s face was crestfallen, and with good reason to be. Even the rats had given Chicago up. Fire bombings had almost wiped the city out in the early days of the war and it had finally been wiped clean with biological warfare. The only thing that you could find there now was fragments of skyscrapers and the bodies that had lain there for years. No one could enter the city to clean it up. It was a death trap. Chicago belonged to the ghosts of the men women and children that had perished there, some before Merrill was even born.

“Ahhhhhhh. No relatives?”

“In Chicago, ma’am.” She said, looking at the ground.

“I see . . . . . Well, don’t worry. There’ll probably be somewhere. You’ll find them.” She was getting this bad feeling that she was going to be taking the woman with her. The woman was silent. Unconvinced. “They probably went to Hope. All evicted civilians went to hope.”

The woman looked up. “You think so?” she asked. Merrill could see the doubt in the woman's eyes. Merrill bit her lip. The woman was no fool. She knew that there had been no survivors of the chicago massacre.

“Yes.” Merrill replied. “Yes I do. I might as well go there too. See if I can find any of my relatives." ~Lies, a voice hissed~ "A few of them anyway. Want to hitch a ride with me?” She offered, gesturing to her car.

The woman’s eyes went large. “Yes ma’am!” She said, “Oh think you ma’am. I had no way of getting anywhere ma’am!”

Merrill smiled, slightly forced. She wondered briefly how many thousands of other soldiers like this woman were turned out of the service with no where to go. The government would have a full scale depression on their hands soon if no action was taken. “Grab your gear then. I’m confident that my hunk of junk will get us both to Hope city, and maybe a little further.”



Merrill sat in a dingy smoke filled tent that reeked of alcohol and unwashed bodies. They had been in Hope city for two days now, and she was feeling sick. It was huge, and they had barely covered a quarter of it in their searches. The woman had brightened up amazingly when it had come to her notice that well over half the population were male. Her was Master Corperal Mia Rye. She was 23, served as a rehab nurse for almost seven years and was a complete and total ditz.

She hated this city. Men leered at her wherever she went, and only quick thinking had prevented her from being dragged off into one of the muddy ruts that could be called an alley. Everywhere you looked there was unwashed people and hungry children. Hope. Taste the irony.

She ran her fingers though her short spiky hair, making it stand on end. She missed the structure of the military. She missed the discipline. She got up from the rough wooden table and walked outside. Litter lay between tents and in the wet, muddy streets. Merrill lowered herself to what might have been grass outside the tent and put her head in her hands. Hope. What a joke.

“Pathetic, isn’t it?” came a male voice from above her. “To think that we were both pulled into this hell hole by rumors.”

Her head snapped up and she half got up, crouching in a defensive position, waiting for him to try something. They all started this way, friendly, polite, made conversation, then . . . . .

“Easy Lieutenant. I am not going to rape you. Your stance is unnecessary, as is the taser you are wearing down your back and the knife in your boot.” He plunked himself down behind her. “Honestly!” He sported spiky light brown hair and green eyes, and was maybe about her height, not much to brag about for a man.

“What are you here for?” she questioned casually. What did he want?

“Same thing your here for. Trying to start fresh.”

“And failing miserably?” she said scathingly, taking in the poverty about her.

“So far, yes.”

She raised her eyebrows, “You don’t sound too concerned,”

He shrugged. “People who worry about everything die young. I dunno ‘bout you but I plan to live to a ripe old age.” He extended his hand. “Gunner Rah.”

She gave him a calculating glance before she took it. “Lieutenant Evens” She admired the fact that he did not test his strength against her, as others would. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand in end. The gesture was so reminiscent of herself that she almost laughed. “Pleased to meet me, huh?” his mouth formed a lopsided grin, making him look younger then he was. “For all that you know I could be some crazy serial killer, trying to lull you into a false sense of security so that I can dispatch of you, steal your money, and dump you in that sewage pipe of a river with all of my other victims!” He raised his hands, waving his fingers threateningly, and narrowing his eyes.

She laughed, “Do you always start your conversations like that?”

“No!” he laughed back, “No don’t worry, I’m not that interesting in reality. Do you still want to kill me?” His green eyes danced and for the first time in days, she felt her mood lift.

There was a blast of a horn and a car came tearing through the muddy streets, spraying those on the sidelines with mud and who knew what else. Cringing, she threw her hands up and turned her face away, waiting. Nothing hit her. The car sounds faded into the distance. She looked up, warily. Gunner was crouched in front of her, drenched in muck. How on earth did he get there so fast? she wondered.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked roughly, as he turned towards her. There was a strange, haunted look in his eyes. He backed away from the road and slowly wiped the crud from his face.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “Reflex.” He was staring down at his hands with the haunted gaze of a man who had survived one to many battles - as if they weren’t his or something.

“Reflex?” She demanded, “what the hell kind of reflex is that? Jumping INTO mud?” How had this man survived on the battlefields?

He shrugged. “Guess that my reflexes need adjusting” he joked. “Man, I gotta go and clean up.” He turned to go. He was dressed in a tank top and baggy pants - both which might have been a lighters color under the filth - despite the frigid october weather. Beneath the mud she could see a body like hers - ravaged and torn by war. He was perhaps a little mentally unstable - more then a little shellshocked perhaps, but he had managed to make her laugh. She couldn’t even remember when she had last laughed. Before she was recruited, most likely.

“Wait!” she called. There was not a drop of water on her. “Where’s your camp?

“Don’t got one,” he said, turning back.

“Where will you stay?”

“The single men’s quarters, most likely. They have free lodging there.”

“No!” she cried. “The undertakers take more men out of there then anywhere else! You’ll have a knife between your shoulder blades in an hour!” More bodies piled up in Hope city daily then she had seem during some battles. It was a place spawned of hell. Hope that someone didn’t take a liking to your wallet, or even the boots you were wearing, because it they did you could count on not seeing sunset. The single mens' quarters were the very worst. There were knife fights in there for fun - and almost all the men carried machine guns from the war. The single mens' quarters were as dangerous as a Nations base would have been five years ago. There were not many survivors.

He looked shocked. Not, however, at the ‘you’ll have a knife between your shoulder blades’ comment. He appeared, strangely enough, to already know. It was if he was shocked that she had cared to tell him. Odd.

“I’m staying in the newcomers section with a traveling pal.” She continued, cringing at calling Mia a pal. “Why don’t you bunk up with us? We can squeeze another in, no problem.” She sighed inwardly. She seemed to be picking up a lot of odds and ends lately.

“There is another traveling with me,” he said slowly, measuring her reaction. “Would he also be permitted to stay?”

“Why not?” she grinned. “The more the merrier, they always say. And between you and me, I’ll feel a whole hell of a lot safer in this shit-hole, knowing that it ain’t just two girls bunking up together.”

He smiled weakly. “Between you and me, I’ll feel a whole lot better when I don’t smell like a sewer. Although it does seem to add a certain essence to my personality. It kind of spices it up, a lot.” She smiled back. “I’ll go grab him and head out to your lines.”

“Gotcha!” She called. She turned to go, when a thought occurred to her, causing her to spin around. “Wait! I never told you how to find us!” She was shouting to an empty street. He just seemed to have melted away. Unnerved, she looked down at her clean uniform once again.



The stench of unwashed people was a little lighter here, perhaps drowned out by the smell of sewage dumped into the slow moving river. Frost lay in shady patches under trees, taking refuge from the suns rays. 4AXXX special lay under one of these trees, staring up monotonously at the smog filled sky. Large crowds unnerved him, so he had sought solitude on the outskirts of town. The second classer had headed into town searching for what he had called work. Personally, he couldn’t help but feel astonishment at the way the other Special conducted himself.

“I got lucky!” The class 2 specials voice rang out from above him. He almost jumped. Five consecutive days with zero rations was wearing on him, or he would have heard Gunner coming. Even now the 2nd classer face seemed to spin above him. “An ex republican will take us up for awhile.”

Special looked up. “What’s he charging?” He asked, “We have no means of payment.”

“Nothing, as I know, but there’s a catch. Not he,” he paused slightly, “She.”
Special attempted to jump to his feet but sank, down, groaning at the sudden movement. The world lurched about him, and he buried his face in the grass. “Female? You want to get us IR’d? You know the penalty for fraternization.”

Gunner sighed. There was a look on his face that special didn’t understand, and, after a few moments, gave up trying. “IR’s? Frat? Those are military terms Special, for soldiers. We are no longer soldiers. We’re free men.” He shivered and sneezed.

“You’re all wet.”

“Ohhh, good observation, Special,” Gunner said sarcastically, “It was a reflex.”

“Who did you shield?”

“A lieutenant. Come on let’s get going. I want to get there with a little daylight left.”

“Are they Specials?”

“No! Why?”

Special blinked. “I would have thought it obvious. They will not accept us.”

“Exactly! No one wants two crazy psychopathic specials hanging around. A) I did not tell her for that exact reason, and B) she will never find out. To her, I’m just Gunner, the crazy un-psychopathic normal ex soldier guy, and” His eyes went large. “Whoa! You need a name.

Special spoke up, confused. “I have one.” His companion’s eyes stayed large.

“Really? I thought that 1st Class specials were not permitted to have them. What is it?”

“4AXXX.”

He could not understand the connection between his words and the actions that Gunner performed after he had spoken them. The 2nd Class Special proceeded to pound his head against the trunk of the tree. Finally he reached out and caught hold of Gunners forehead with one hand, restraining him. “Specials are not permitted to inflict harm upon themselves by any personal means other then harm inflicted upon them in the act of protecting a superior.” He quoted from the rules that had been drilled into him from birth.

Gunner had that look on his face again, and again, He couldn’t identify it. Gunner removed his hand and just gave him a look. “You really don’t get it, do you? Sad, sad, sad, sad. You DO need a name though. Walking in there and introducing your self like that would not be smart. George, James, Will, John? Xavier? Think of something!”

Special glared at him. The other fell silent temporarily, remembering his place. “Okay! Scrap the name idea. We have plenty of time for that later. I’ll introduce you by a nickname. And since other people give nicknames to you I have full reign! Mwahahahahahahha!!”

Not for the first time on this journey Special found himself wondering for his companions sanity. He had done nothing but talk and bounce around in his strange fashion all the way to Hope. Maybe he was sick . . . . ..

“FROST!” Gunner cried, striking a strange posture and pointing to the sky. Special followed his gaze but saw nothing but a setting sun. “Frost!” He cried again.

“Frost.” Special repeated. He wondered if there was any medical faculty in this city. The war must have cracked this man.

“Its perfect!” Gunner cried, “Cold, icy, not friendly and it kills things! Its you!”

Special sighed inwardly. The man needed help.

Frost?



It’s going to be a cold one tonight; Merrill thought grimly as she threw some more fuel on the fire. She had managed to by up a lot of fuel cheap – wood refuse from destroyed homes and buildings. She shivered and zipped up her coat.

“Is the stranger coming tonight Ma’am?” Mia asked from across the flames. Merrill had warned her that there might be a chance of two other travelers stopping by.

“Perhaps Mia, you had best stop calling me ma’am now.” Merrill sighed, “I’m no longer regular army and neither are you.”

“Yes ma’am – err um, sorry.”

Merrill reached for a pot hung on a tripod over the flames.
“Soup should be done soo-”

She jerked up as Mia screamed. She grabbed the poker and whipped about, searching for the blond medic and came almost nose-to-nose with Gunner Rah. She shrieked too, to her utmost embarrassment and took a started step back into the flames when he grabbed her. His grip was iron tough, she could not have broken it with twice her strength. For a fleeting moment she wondered what he was going to do to her. Without a word her swung her off the ground, around to his other side, away from the fire and set her down.

“That,” he said, “would have hurt.” She could only grin weakly.
“Man, am I embarrassed,” she said, feeling her face flush.
‘I haven’t been so startled in years.”

He looked a little sheepish, and more then a little mortified. “I have this bad habit of sneaking up on people. I apologize.”

She shook her head. “Well ……… I might forgive you………Where’s your friend anyway?”

“Right!” He turned to the shadows, “Hey, come on out, I told you they were all right!”

A young man stepped into the firelight, his face partly obscured by tumbles of dark brown hair. Merrill heard Mia gasp, but one look at the blond nurse told her it was the opposite of fear.

He had an aura about him that would make a large group of noisy people fall silent at his entarence, and the sober look of one who had lost everything to war yet served it even as it devoured him. She forced herself to walk forward, and forced herself to look into those cold blue eyes.

“Lieutenant Merrill Evens,” she said, forgetting that she had been trying to scrap the military image just moments ago. The man opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and started again.

“Some call me” he paused. “Frost. I apologize Ma’am, that I have no better title to offer you.” He said as he extended his hand.

“Frost is just fine. I won’t dive into your past and pick it apart anymore then to ask if you fought for the Nation.”

His grip tightened on her hand. “Never,” he said, so low that it was almost inaudible. Reassuring, to say the least. And he didn’t look like someone who lied easily.

She broke her gaze and sought around for a distraction. Her eyes fell on the nurse. “Meet my companion, Mia Rye.” She said, introducing the small woman. Handshakes were exchanged and Gunner introduced himself. Merrill could not help noticing however, how long Mia clutched Frosts hand and the glances that she cast at him. Did the woman not realize that this was probably the very last man who wished to have any of her ‘attentions’ directed at him? She was right now clutching his hand and breathing how ‘very glad she was to meet him’. She scowled. Idiot.

She peered over into the pot over the fire. “Hungry?’ she asked Gunner. His eyes went wide.

“Yes………” he said cautiously, as if not knowing what to think.

“Here then,” she grabbed a beat up bowl and tossed it to him. “Ladle yourself up some.” His mouth dropped slightly in shock.

“You’re feeding us? Why?”

She shrugged. “I guess that I just like feeding people. There’s plenty to go around.” He still hesitated.

“What!” she scowled, “My cooking isn’t that bad.” He shook his head, as if to clear it.

“Sorry. I’m sure your cooking’s great. It’s just, I haven’t eaten for three days.”

“Three days? Three days? Sit your ass down and eat something! How come you’re still standing?” She grasped his shoulders firmly and pressed him down onto her camp stool. For the first time she noticed the hollowness in under his green eyes and a sick feeling crept into her stomach. The army sure hadn’t taken care of its regular soldiers well at all, discharging them without anything. She was lucky that she was an officer.

She grabbed his bowl and slopped some broth into it. “Eat.” She ordered. He needed no second bidding. In a matter of moments he had cleared his bowl and was staring at the battered tin with a strange look on his face. She relived him of it and filled it again.

“Gotta make up for all of those lost meals, hum?” He looked at her with a kind of wonder written across his face and at the bowl. He seemed on the point of declining but hunger prevailed and the contents of the bowl soon followed suit.

Sad really, she thought angrily, that a starving man could not expect hospitality from a neighbor. One thing is certain though. I’m going to need more food.

“Mia!” she snapped. “Where’s your hospitality? Show our guest to his seat.” She was still standing, looking up at Frost with adoration, and he seemed to be ignoring her, standing awkwardly at the edge of the firelight.

“Of course!” Mia giggled, “Come sit by me!” She grabbed his arm, and, giggling, lead him to a stool. He stumbled after, a bemused expression on his face.

I’m gonna be sick! Merrill groaned to herself, leaning down nauseously. A hand caught her shoulder.

“Don’t puke in the food, it doesn’t need seasoning, and besides, I haven’t finished eating.” Gunner grinned, looking up from his bowl. “It’s kind of amusing. I don’t think that anyone’s ever hit on a – Frost.”

“It’s sickening!” she hissed. “Can’t she see that he just wants to be left alone?”

“Really? Does anyone really want to be left alone?” Gunner muttered, more to herself then anyone.

Angrily, she grabbed two more bowls and filled them. “Bon appetite.” She said as she offered the other two their meal. Frost took his silently. His hands shook more then slightly and his eyes were more hollow then Gunners. She felt her anger die and smiled softly, trying to displace the sickness that had crawled back into her stomach. Starvation was horrid.

“So, is it true that you have not eaten for three days?” she asked.

“No ma’am”

Surprise! She glanced at Gunner, then back to Frost. “Then what is the truth?”

“Five days, Lieutenant Evens. Broken rations ran out a week ago.”

He mouth dropped with shock and she had to take a moment to find her voice. “I – I want both you to – to empty that pot, do you hear me? That’s an order!” How long had he been trying to survive on broken rations for?

“Yes Ma’am!” the both chorused back. Frost was serious but Gunner fell over laughing. She sighed and started rooting though her rations pack looking for more food. She came up with nothing that didn’t require a lot of preparation. But there was one thing………

Excusing herself she headed for the car and unlocked the truck, her boots squelching in the half frozen mud. He hands alighted on a rough combat bag. She might as well eat them now. They wouldn’t last forever. It was wedged firmly between a barrack box and various other items at the bottom. She pulled, but it didn’t budge. “C’mon” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Move. I know you want to move.” She attempted to brace her feet and pulled again. She’d get it out. Removing the other items from the trunk was the last thing that she wanted to do. “Move!”

Her heel slipped on some mud and she lost her balance, swearing as an arm wrapped around her waist, preventing her from hitting the ground. She was pulled to her feet before she could even gasp.

She was looking directly into Frosts brilliant blue eyes, bright even in the twilight. She felt her face flush. To be caught by Gunner was one thing, but this silent stranger? Their eyes locked and silence ensued for what Merrill knew was only seconds but what felt like eternity. He dropped his arm.

“Permit me.” He said, taking the bags handle.

Her face was on fire. ‘No!” she said quickly, “Its fine! I’m fine!” He lifted the bag easily, with one arm, and Merrill felt like sinking it the ground and dying.

“Please ma’am.” He said, and she could not meet his gaze, “There are very few ways that I can repay you.” She backed away, suddenly eager to get into the firelight, “I apologize, Lieutenant Evens, for your apparent discomfort.” There was a strange look on his face as she closed the trunk and locked it.

“No its fine,” she said, gingerly placing a hand on his shoulder and forcing herself to look into his eyes. So full of pain. She clenched her teeth. “Thank you.” As the words left her lips all sound at the campsite stopped - sound being mainly Gunner eating. She looked around for the cause of the silence and found him staring at her like she had three heads or something. Then he started coughing, chocking on the soup he still had in his mouth.

“Oh!” Mia cried in horror running over to assist him, “Come on, keep coughing, keep coughing!” She then seized the opportunity to drape herself over Gunner, who, in his surprise had forgotten to choke and was now simply trying to remove her. He was failing miserably, and she seemed to be getting a better grip on him every second.

“What is she?” She heard Frost ask from beside her. His face was twisted into something like horror.

“Queen of the Ditz’s,” Merrill muttered back. “Fear her. She latches on and sucks you dry.”

“Parasite?”

Merrill smirked. Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad after all. “Now you’ve got the picture.”

“Come on! Get off Now! This is Frat, you know, not permitted! Six inches!” Gunner cried, or at least tried to, his mouth being periodically blocked off. “I’ve had enough.”

What happened next made her head spin and she tried not to pay much attention to it. One second Mia was climbing all over Gunner, and the next she as sitting alone on Merrill’s camp stool, and he was standing next to her.

He shivered. “What IS she?” he whispered, eyes wide.

“A parasite.” Frost said blandly, before Merrill could reply.

It was all she could do not to laugh. She spontaneously wrapped an arm around each mans shoulders and dragged them into the firelight.

“Break out the goods!” She laughed as the she kicked the sack open. Brilliantly, almost gaudy colored bags of ‘junk’ food spilled across the ground. Mia forgot all about Gunner and dove at the pile.

“Good grief! Where did you get this? I haven’t seen the like of it in years! It must have cost you a fortune! It has to be expired! They stopped making this stuff when I was a kid!” She stood dumbstruck, staring.

“It was an early birthday present from the guys at the base. And yes, I think its all expired. If vacuum packed artificial process foods can ever expire, which I highly doubt.” Merrill laughed. “Dig in. I dunno how they though I could eat this all on my own without adding a few hundred pounds.” Mia need no second bidding and Gunner soon followed suit. Frost however, waited until Gunner motioned for him to get something.