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Undeclared(65)

By:Jen Frederick


He grunted. “Can’t. Won’t.”

This was insane. I’d never choked someone into submission before. I had knocked people out with a fist or a kick, but never deliberately choked the air out of someone’s lungs, and I didn’t want to this time. This was the motherfucking problem with unsanctioned fighting. There wasn’t a referee who would jump in and call a halt to the stupid shit we fighters do. Left to our own devices, we’d choke each until we were all brain damaged.

“You aren’t goddamned Helios. There isn’t any honor here. This is a fucking warehouse,” I ground out, but still he refused. His eyes stared up at me, unblinking.

“I’d take honor wherever you can get it, brother.” He raised up slightly, as if he wanted my face near his. I should’ve drawn back. A head butt would hurt like a son of a bitch. Instead, I leaned forward and heard him whisper. “It’s all good.” He cracked his head against mine and at the same time his hands on my forearm reversed pressure slightly. I don’t think anyone around us could see but he was almost pulling my arm into his throat.

Gritting my teeth, I acquiesced to his unspoken command and pressed harder. His grip went limp and the light in his eyes dimmed until they were blank and his eyelids rolled shut like a garage door. I felt his entire body go lax beneath mine. I sat up on my haunches and looked down at Ricker’s body underneath mine, laid out like a corpse on a slab.

This was the last time, I thought. The last time I’d ever do this. I had left the Marines because I was tired of the dirt and the death, and here I was, voluntarily rolling around in the dirt in a warehouse fighting some guy practically to the death. I pushed up to my feet and looked for Grace. She was what had brought me out of the war, took me away from my past. My future was with her, if she’d still have me.

Our angry words hung over me, weighing me down like a fighter on my back. I stood up, dizzy from the blow and the head butt, and stumbled toward her. I guess that was all the encouragement she needed, because I could see her run to me, her hand slightly covering her mouth. My vision was clouded, and I felt weak. I stumbled again and before I could fall, she was there, holding me up, pressing her pristine shirt into my chest and getting my blood and sweat mixed up. If I was any kind of decent human being, I’d push her away, but I couldn’t. I could never push her away again.





Chapter Thirteen





Dear Grace,

We have been moved to a tiny forward operating base near the base of some mountains in eastern A’stan. A patrol went out in the morning and was hit with small arms fire, mortars, and RPGs. One of the sergeants was shot and killed. The entire FOB felt the blow. Everyone liked this guy. I can’t even write his name down. Too painful.

An older NCO who has been on several tours said that the patrols are nowhere near as dangerous as they were even six months ago, and that deaths are becoming rarer. But no one believes him, not when your buddy’s corpse is lying in a tent, waiting be flown back to Dover.

I probably shouldn’t even write this to you. Now I really do feel like I’m contaminating you, like the dust on the letters is carrying all the ill feeling to you. Maybe the ocean can cleanse it.

Yours,

Noah


Noah

I wanted to take Grace home. I was pumped full of adrenaline and flush with cash. There was only one thing that would make this night better, but everyone wanted to celebrate.

Grace had promised her cousin earlier that she would go hunt down some frat boy and no amount of wheedling would get her to change her mind.

“Why not The Circus?” Grace told me Lana was down there, waiting for her.

“That’s a dance club,” I shook my head no. I didn’t want to dance. I wanted to go have one drink and then go home or to Grace’s apartment. I didn’t care which one.

“There’s a dance floor and music, so if that constitutes a dance club, then, yes, it is,” My victory had made her sassy. I liked it. Of course, there was little I didn’t like about Grace. Even her earlier worry made me feel good, but I didn’t tell her that.

“Grace,” I drew her name out slowly. “That’s like the seven circles of hell for me.”

“What’re you talking about? I saw your moves inside the circle.” Apparently now that the fight was over, it was okay to refer to it.

“I told you before that dancing isn’t my thing.”

“I’ll ask them to play a marching song,” she reassured me, laughing.

“You know why dance clubs are the worst?” I said.

“No, why?” Her giggling made me smile, but I wasn’t going to back down.