Page 50 of Shifting Years
He said nothing for several seconds. "Tell me you'll be back soon. Promise. Swear it on your soul."
It was war and I could die like other young men. Yet, I was his Alpha and had to please my Omega. "Sure. I promise I'll come back to you after the fighting's done. That's my wish."
I hope I phrased it right.
***
The airplane trip zipped by in a blur. Basic training used to be longer for everyone, and I didn't know if this massive rush meant something. Nixon said more men would overwhelm the enemy forces and get a decisive victory.
Maybe it was the way I handled a weapon, my father's name that fast-tracked me, or some brass satisfied because I was 'raised around it.' Instead of normal training, I became a grunt while memories of Mike's touch were still fresh.
My father managed to plan my life for me anyway.
So, I ended up in a foreign jungle under constant, hard rain with new brothers. Parker, Trejo, Gonzalez, Taylor, and more.
Close to my chest was a letter, sealed in a plastic baggie, just like the one Mike had given me years ago. It was the latestmessage from 'Stacy,' my supposed girl back home, in case anyone read our letters. It was the only way to still talk to my man.
Our boots made drawn-out, slurping sounds in the thick mud before we came to a halt. Silently, my CO ordered me to search ahead. I wiped the rain from my brow, dealing with extra information my new brothers didn't notice unless any were hidden shifters.
Yet another way I'm different.
To the left, two hundred feet in front of our group, was a wet tree with a few inches of bark sliced off. A small stake kept a branch bent back, ready to strike. We'd have to trip it with a long stick, so nobody got sliced with sharpened bamboo. I gestured so he'd see.
"Anything else?" my CO's deep voice cut through the falling rain.
The dank, swamp overpowered most other smells, and the Vietcong don't smell much different from our boys. The unusual food they ate helped, but the leaves and beating rain demanded my attention. It was like hearing a whisper at a concert. Again, I sniffed while staring hard, but no warning came.
Green water erupted, launching sludge and shattered foliage into the air. Fire roared through the jungle. Shifter ears burned with the razor-sharp shriek of bullets. There was no dodging it. No cover, no escape. Boys—some barely old enough to shave—screamed. Green cloth ripped open, splashing red over brown, black, and white skin.
I lost my rifle in the pain but picked up another from a brother who'd never shoot again. It jammed. Later, I'd hear how ourguns warped in the rain. Seemed like a weapon tonotsend into a wet jungle, but in the moment, all I could do was wish I'd survive the war so I'd see Mike again.
***
I could almost believe it had been a dream, but my brain knew better. Short, blurry angry Vietnamese soldiers with bayonets came, poking my brothers laying down in the water. I had a sense of one blade slicing into my leg, and after screaming, I laid in a bamboo cage. Stripes of green camouflage were wrapped around my bullet wounds.
Two other men were stripped down to underwear with their backs against bamboo. The fourth man was a light-skinned guy with an eagle tattoo on his right arm. His name wouldn't come to me, no matter how hard I tried. The sickly-sweet smell meant he wouldn't respond if I did.
It seemed like I should know the names of a Black guy with short dark-brown hair and the other brown guy with a shaved head.
"You okay, Todd?" asked the black one. "Beyond the obvious?"
The other gestured to my head. In response, I rubbed my head and immediately winced. Sticky, red blood decorated my fingertips.
Both men introduced themselves as Tyrone and Luis. Slowly, I remembered them as Parker and Trejo. I should have remembered more. My mind was a fog of Nixon's voice cracklingthrough a black-and-white television, the splintered wood of an obstacle course in Basic, and… a blonde girl?
"Girl?" I whispered.
Tyrone watched the thin Vietcong soldiers patrolling the camp. Once they were far enough away, he brushed away dirt, revealing a letter inside a plastic baggie. "This fell out when they tore our uniforms."
The letter said my girl was Stacy, but I had guessed Donna or Diana. No matter her name, I was going to be a father? A headache came as I read she was near the end of her pregnancy. There it was in black and white, but why did it feel like a lie?
***
I'll escape, but that work camp leader expected it. Our side wanted freedom, and they needed prisoners. We were caged and faced pointed guns in the hands of men who weren't on a rice ration. Easy to see who'd win.
Rushing would throw my life away and I had a girl and son waiting for me.
All I had to do was be patient and plan.
