Whatever Gods May Be Part 13

rest at a resort on Culion.

Just before they boarded the helicopter that would take them to the island, the NDYs-promotions for those Not Dead Yet-were dispensed. The process was informal, tattered even, conducted not by Lieutenant Koenig but by Staff Sergeant Daggett, the platoon's senior NCO. He called Rhys's name first, telling her she picked up corporal and was now a fire team leader.

"Okay, that's it," Daggett said in a glum monotone after ticking off several more promotions. "We'll do the pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey dances on Culion."

* 111 *

Nodding congratulations to Rhys, who couldn't suppress a satisfied smile, Jamie lifted her seabag and turned toward the helo, pleased and relieved that she and Rhys would be equals again.

"Oh yeah, one more." Jamie halted at the sound of Daggett's voice behind her. s.h.i.+t s.h.i.+t s.h.i.+t s.h.i.+t... "Gwynmorgan, you're boosted to sergeant. You'll take second squad."

v "I heard this place used to be a leper colony once." Rhys gazed at the faded pink concrete-block building in front of them; she hadn't looked at Jamie on the helo and didn't look at Jamie now.

"All I want is a clean bed and a real hot-water shower." Yet Jamie doubted the stink of fear in her armpits would ever wash away, just as she doubted anything could ever sate her gnawing, growling hunger for- What? She didn't know. It was just another feeling that didn't matter anymore.

Jamie shrugged at the building, one of the several Culion "resorts" pretty much taken over by the Corps. This one had been constructed early in the century with a certain pre-pandemic flourish and obviously hadn't been updated since. But once inside the tired room she'd share with Rhys for the next ten days, Jamie discovered that the plumbing still worked and even the noisy, twenty-year-old air conditioner functioned, more or less.

Without a word, she stripped off cammies, then skivvies, and walked straight into the shower. Under its surprisingly energetic spray, Jamie leaned her head and elbows against the tile wall, closed her eyes, and let the wall keep her upright.

"You okay?"

She hadn't heard Rhys follow her into the bathroom and she didn't reply. She couldn't bring herself to think about finding whatever it was she'd need to reply, or even move.

Rhys stepped into the shower behind her and Jamie s.h.i.+vered as she felt Rhys's hands slide across her back, around her hips. Down, down slithered Rhys's hands, and Jamie moaned the implacable need that fired in her c.l.i.t and jolted into her belly.

Unleashed by Rhys's touch, Jamie spun around blind and reckless.

* 112 *

She grabbed Rhys's hips and, pulled off balance, Rhys toppled into her, pus.h.i.+ng her back against the shower wall.

"Hey!" protested Rhys.

But Jamie's grip didn't loosen. "What, Marty?" Eyes squeezed shut, she yanked Rhys off the floor and into her pounding, relentless privation. "Think I got something special?" Jamie slammed herself ferociously against Rhys's hipbone.

"Hey!" Rhys shouted this time, shoving hard enough to break Jamie's grip. "What the f.u.c.k are you doing?" Jamie gaped at Rhys's outrage-red face. Every muscle in Jamie's body had gone rigid and she couldn't get herself to breathe in or out until- "OmiG.o.d." She yanked her hands away from Rhys. "OmiG.o.d, I'm so sorry, Marty. I didn't mean to-I-I-" Jamie's back was glued to the wall. Water sprayed into her eyes, into her open mouth.

Rhys's face had already relaxed, as if the spray of water had the power to wash away all her upset. "It's okay." Her hands palmed Jamie's face and kept it from veering away. "It's okay, Jamie." A soft kiss brushed Jamie's cheek. "C'mon, let me wash you."

"I'm sorry, Marty." Jamie lowered her head, unable to look at Rhys even when Rhys kissed her again and slowly, carefully encouraged her away from the wall to soap up her quaking body. Immersed in shame, Jamie didn't lift her head until Rhys handed her the soap.

"My turn. Now you wash me."

Jamie eased the soap over Rhys's flesh, hesitating at Rhys's b.r.e.a.s.t.s, between Rhys's legs.

Together they rinsed the suds away, and Rhys toweled Jamie down, kissed her jittery shoulders, then her neck, then her mouth. Unable to stop shaking, Jamie let Rhys lead her to one of the beds.

Rhys nudged her onto the mattress, lay down beside her. Without a word, Rhys kissed Jamie again, long and cajoling, and then led them into making love. Jamie shuddered once, violently, and groaned when Rhys's deft touch brought her to culmination.

Thereafter, Jamie was not allowed to move.

Instead, Rhys climbed Jamie's body. Like she was straddling a wild animal, Rhys rode, and Jamie bucked and surged beneath her, coming again, calming only after Rhys, too, was spent and exhausted.

They fell asleep entwined.

* 113 *

When Jamie woke, she found Rhys staring at her. "What?" she asked sleepily, curling toward Rhys's shoulder.

Rhys cradled Jamie's head, bestowing on it an affectionate kiss.

"You've got to tell me what's going on with you." Jamie couldn't prevent the cringe. Rhys must have seen it but didn't give in. "Talk to me, Jamie."

Jamie tried to move away.

"Oh no you don't." Rhys laughed softly and tugged Jamie back onto her shoulder. "You stay right here."

Jamie didn't resist but didn't speak either.

"I'll ask, you answer. Okay?"

Jamie closed her eyes, tried to keep her face impa.s.sive. Maybe this would all stop hurting so much if she just didn't move.

"Okay?" Rhys asked again.

She was going to have to open her eyes. She looked up at Rhys and offered an infinitesimal nod. "Okay."

"How've you been sleeping?"

Jamie's shoulders hunched, she frowned at the battered dresser across the room.

"Uh-uh, not an answer. How've you been sleeping?" A sigh. "Not so great."

Rhys's gesture told Jamie to elaborate.

"Bad dreams," Jamie said, allowing herself a quick glance at Rhys.

Rhys didn't seem surprised. "Same ones or different?"

"Variations on a theme." Jamie glanced up at Rhys again.

Go on, insisted Rhys's eyes.

"I'm, uh, I'm out there on a mission, y'know?" Rhys's chin s.h.i.+fted up, down-a nod.

"And, uh, my spotter gets. .h.i.t. Or sometimes another guy in my fire team gets. .h.i.t. But I can't get him back. Something always happens-I can't pick him up, or if I get him up, I can't make any headway to the med-station. Or I get hit, or he gets. .h.i.t again and his head explodes all over me." Jamie inhaled deeply and shook her head. "And now..."

"Now?" Rhys prompted.

"Couple times, y'know, recently-couple times I'm out there with a bunch of guys, maybe even a squad, that many guys, and-" Jamie couldn't let her gaze go anywhere near Rhys. "This was before they * 114 *

gave me second squad, Marty. Before. " She waited for Rhys's stiffness, for Rhys's peevish withdrawal.

"And?" Rhys sounded okay. Still warm, still holding on.

"A-And," Jamie stammered finally, "I'm the one who's put together the mission, when to go, where to go-y'know?-and they all get whacked. Everyone's KIA, including me. Me last. I watch them all get it, one by one, hearing them scream, knowing I did this to them.

Last part of the dream both times, right before I wake up, I feel the rounds. .h.i.tting me, tearing into me. Hurts like h.e.l.l, but it doesn't take me out. Last thing I see is the knife coming for my throat-a black blade-and then I can feel my own blood on my chest. It's sticky and warm. I'm choking and getting cold and it's warm on my chest." Jamie didn't talk about how, over the previous month, most of the dreams had been about Rhys. Rhys's throat slit. Rhys dying in her arms. She snuck a peek at Rhys. f.u.c.k. She knows.

"When did it start-the dreams? After I got here?"

"First one was after San Salvacia. After Arnie." Jamie shook her head, focused her eyes on the dresser again. "They got a lot worse after Lonz was. .h.i.t. I-I couldn't help him."

"You did help him." Rhys exhaled her relief. "You saved his a.s.s, Jamie."

"I should've seen the guy sooner. If I'd seen him sooner, maybe he wouldn't have got that shot off and Lonz-" Jamie's eyes were hot, stinging when she looked back to Rhys. "And if I'd been smarter about where I sent you and Omara and Ebbers-Jeezus, I thought you were f.u.c.king dead, Marty! I thought I f.u.c.king killed all three of you."

"Can I tell you something?" Rhys asked.

Jamie shrugged.

"You're the best G.o.dd.a.m.n marine I've ever seen."

"Yeah." Jamie snorted contempt. "Right."

"I figure you've saved my a.s.s at least three times since they hooked us up. And, by the way, I'm f.u.c.king glad I went along with you on Squeeze Play, 'cuz that was one of those times."

"Well, I guess I should just be grateful I don't have to wear red skivvies on my head."

"I mean it, Jamie. You're so d.a.m.n good sometimes it makes me d.a.m.n jealous. You got incredible instincts. And you're a scary-fine snipe."

* 115 *

Jamie fidgeted. Rhys rested a hand on Jamie's chest to keep her where she lay. "Dammit, I saw you on the bus to Parris Island. You were scared s.h.i.+tless just like the rest of us. You started out just like the rest of us. But you-I don't know how the h.e.l.l you did it, but you've got something, Gwynmorgan. And I'm just trying to-"

"I'll tell you what I got. Three months in the field with a really good teacher, that's what. Plus a little luck and a lot of worrying." Rhys flashed a brash, unbelieving smile. "I can help you with the worrying part."

"Yeah? Show me."

Rhys rolled on top of Jamie and began with a kiss.

v Rhys was right about the worrying part. After making love with her, Jamie slept free of nightmares. As Jamie woke the second time in the privacy of the Culion motel room, the sun had begun to sink beneath the watery horizon visible from their second-floor windows.

"Didn't even notice we had a view 'til right now," Jamie said when Rhys woke, too. "Take a look."

Nestled together, they stayed quiet and watched the sun set, their breathing gradually synchronizing, relaxing. They were, for a little while anyway, safe. This, Jamie thought, in all the world I want this.

The dense tangle in her solar plexus began to slacken when she reminded herself that she had the evening and nine more days after that. It seemed like a lot. "Guess what," Jamie said soon after the sun disappeared.

"What?"

"Today's my birthday." Jamie gazed at Rhys, smiling her thanks.

"I'm eighteen as of right now. And tomorrow we'll have been in the Marine Corps for exactly one year."

"Well then, Sergeant Gwynmorgan, we gotta celebrate."

* 116 *

Chapter tWelve.

attrition And remember, a barangay is a town or village that's part of a larger munic.i.p.ality," Jamie reminded her gathered squad the day before they left Culion. "Word is we're gonna be moving into the barangays of Puerto Princesa, which the PIA won't give up easily." But their orders changed an hour before they climbed into the helo.

"Short detour, boys and girls," said Daggett. "We're going to Panay for a while. Three-Six needs some help with cleanup." It was one of the larger Philippine islands, about 250 kilometers east-southeast of Culion, where too many of the PIA cut off during Squeeze Play had ended up, and it was easy duty because the PIA elements there were exhausted and demoralized and just as resented by the Panay locals as they were by the people of Busuanga and northern Palawan.

Jamie called it the Real Thing Lite and regarded it as a gift. More than once, her squad's virgins survived newbie mistakes that would've been fatal during the Real Thing Heavy. After two months, all thirteen squaddies helicoptered out of Panay healthy and wiser.

"Tell me why the f.u.c.k we're here again?" griped the large, blunt-featured Corporal Ramirez, one of Jamie's fire team leaders, when the helo touched down on Palawan.

"They're ba-ack," mocked Rhys, winking at Jamie. "Sneaking around Baheli Peak through that sieve Ninth Regiment calls a forward edge. And coming this way. Welcome to picking-up-right-where-we-f.u.c.king-left-off."

The Three-Eight had been ordered to saturate the area around the same coastal road at the eastern end of the Palawan isthmus where * 117 *

Jamie had made what Rhys proudly called "those three Squeeze Play sweet shots." On the high ground prowled the Three-Eight's snipes.

Again.

Together with the platoon's two other squads on their right, second squad-now Sergeant Gwynmorgan's squad-skulked across the higher southeastern slopes of Baheli Peak to plug holes in the still-porous battle area some thirteen kilometers north of the Puerto Princesa peninsula.

Jamie's squad and third squad did fine. But one of first squad's fire teams, along with the squad's sergeant and Staff Sergeant Daggett, got slammed. First squad's sergeant suffered a go-home wound, and only days after the newly arrived Expeditionary Brigade commander had pinned one of those Squeeze Play Silver Stars on his chest, Daggett died.

So on February thirteenth, the Corps promoted Jamie again, this time to staff sergeant and Three-Eight scout/sniper platoon NCO. Rhys made sergeant and got second squad. "Least these days when they give us the billet, we actually get the rank, too," she said. "Must be diddling all kinds of rules so they can jack the h.e.l.l out of our composite scores.

Or something."

"Yeah." Jamie forced a smile. Rhys had a right to be excited.

Maybe Rhys was even ready for a squad. As for herself, Jamie knew d.a.m.n well she had far to go before being solidly good at leading a dozen people, and now she had a whole platoon and a first lieutenant to deal with. Forty plus one. Her attempt at steady calm was all bl.u.s.ter.

h.e.l.l, maybe Rhys's bouncing excitement was all bl.u.s.ter, too.