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Nate finally got on his hands and knees, crawling back up on the log. His palms were muddy, so he wiped them down the length of his thighs. Giving Sierra a warm look, he said, “Thanks. We REALLY needed this.”
Chuckling, she murmured, “Yeah, I got it. You’re welcome.”
Cale wiped his face and shook his head. He pinned Sierra with his gaze. “Honest? You brought a Scrabble game along with you?”
“Yeah,” she said, pointing toward her hut. “It’s in my ruck. Why?”
“What’s this world coming too?” Cale asked all of them, rolling his eyes again, snickering.
“At least it’s a healthy board game,” Sierra defended archly. “You sharpen your mind with it.”
Cale gave her a smirk. “I can think of all kinds of games, Chastain, but they sure don’t include a board game.”
“You’re not going there,” Kilmer growled. “Keep it above the belt, Merrill.”
Cale turned ten shades of red. He turned, giving Sierra a sincere look. “Hey, I’m sorry. Really. It just escaped outta my mouth.”
“No worries,” Sierra said, putting her hand on his broad shoulder patting it like a sister would a brother. “You guys have been out here for three months with no civilization to tame you down a little,” and she squeezed his shoulder and released, more than understanding.
“You’ve been out on ops that long before?” Nate asked, finally becoming like his old self.
Grimacing, she nodded. “Yeah. It sucks, big time.” She gave them all an understanding look. “I do know what you go through, guys. I really do.”
“And that’s why you bring the Scrabble along?” Nate asked.
“Better than the boredom. You can only sleep so much, you know? At least with Scrabble, even playing against myself, it’s interesting. I learn something new every time. I have a very low boredom point and this keeps me sane.”
The men nodded, becoming serious once again. Cale studied Kilmer. “So? Do you carry a Scrabble board around in your ruck? I ain’t ever seen one.”
He grinned sourly. “No, I don’t.”
“Well,” Sierra said, giving them all a hopeful look, “maybe tomorrow? If it works out after we’ve done with all our daily tasks, maybe a round of Scrabble? I’ve got room for three players,” and her lips curved away from her teeth as she watched Cale shake his head.
“I dunno,” Nate said, hesitant.
“Sarge oughta take her on,” Cale goaded. “He says he knows how to play. We ought to make bets. See who wins. Put money on the table. I’d like to win that pot.”
Now it was Sierra’s turn to roll her eyes. “You guys… no betting! I play because I love creating words. I even brought along a Scrabble dictionary. The damned thing weighs four pounds!”
Kilmer shook his head, “You’re serious about that game, aren’t you?”
Sierra was to take the 0300 to 0800 watch a mile from the meadow. Mace had volunteered to be the one to get her in the swing of guarding the only entrance to and from the village clearing. He’d come to her hut, lifted the plastic tarp, and gave a low growl, telling her to get up. Instantly, Sierra had jerked out of a deep sleep. Momentarily confused, she quickly got her gear together, grabbed her cammo jacket, her M-4, holstered her .45 and crawled out. She had her NVGs on and saw Kilmer in shades of green standing casually by the fire pit, the still-glowing coals in it casting its walls almost white.
She looked around, everything a grainy green and two dimensional. Above, it looked like low clouds hung barely above the tops of the trees. Every sound felt like it was coming through cotton, the calls of frogs muted and far away. There was lightning off in the distance, part of the fog lighting up for a moment like a soft, sputtering green-white neon sign. It must have rained because the grass was wet, the ground muddy beneath her boots. Sierra had her shooting gloves on, fingers free so she could feel that trigger pressure. Mace stood with the M-4 across his powerful chest, NVGs in place, baseball cap low over his eyes. He was a big man, tall, constantly reminding Sierra of the lethal jaguars that roamed these jungles.
She joined him. Having put on her radio headset, she spoke quietly, “Test.”
“Roger. We’re good to go. Let’s saddle up.”
This time, Sierra followed him. This time, he wasn’t cutting his stride for her. A mile later, up and over the incline and down a fairly long, flat path, they relieved Nate from his guard post. He told them goodnight and trotted back, eager to grab some sleep. His cammos were soaked.
Mace led her off the path, taking her into the jungle tree line. Following him, she saw a thick log on the ground about eight feet inside the line. He gestured toward it.
“Have a seat.”
Her pants were going to get wet, but hell, she was discovering everything was always damp around here anyway. The log was about six feet long and she sat at one end of it.
Kilmer came over and sat about a foot away from her.
