GWOT V - Blood
May. 13th, 2022 03:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drewkittyGWOT V - Blood
"Blood is the working fluid of the soldier." - Viktor Suvorov (psuedonym)
The park ranger truck pulled up to the gate. Hard eyes, harder than the machine guns, verified our identity cards. Both were plastic. Which was good because I had to wipe mine with a thumb so the barcode reader could scan.
We parked by the locker room.
I'd already been washed down by the fire engine, but I still had blood all over me. Streaks of blood were on the vinyl passenger seat.
The park ranger - a LAPD officer on light duty - waved a hand at me when I started to offer to clean it up.
Far from the light banter earlier, she wanted me the fuck out of her truck and the fuck out of her life. Nothing personal. She even kind of liked me. But I was a shit magnet and she had plenty of shit already.
My boots squished as I walked to the locker room entry.
A police officer charged her rifle, not bothering with the clearing barrel, as she walked away from the armorer's cage.
Unisex locker room, not that anyone cared anymore. I turned in my machine pistol.
"Hey, fuck, I'm not taking this!" someone shouted from the cage as I walked away. "Get back here!" the voice faded.
Another set of hard eyes as I dropped magazine and showed chamber on the pistol. "100% Chamber Check, Deadly Force Required" was the sign above the desk, the empty chair, and the cop standing behind same with hand on slung submachine gun, not quite pointed.
Then I entered the locker room, walked right past my locker, and right into the shower on the far right, the one with the red and white label that looked like a spiky tentacle monster. Biohazard.
I had a lot of blood to wash off. And it would simplify my laundry as well, if I soaked in cold water as I took everything off.
I was naked when the three of them approached.
"Hey, Army," one said.
"Yo," I acknowledged as I scrubbed with the strong smelling liquid soap.
"Good shit out there."
They walked away. They'd been asked to deliver a message.
I hadn't been delivering a message.
I closed my eyes briefly.
###
"Hold hard, here!" I ordered. I moved to the next one. "Immediate," I barked, "Difficulty breathing. Red tarp. Move!" "Deceased. I said deceased! Next one!"
Then my eyes and hands had found something that didn't match.
I shoved the machine pistol under the moaning woman's chin and pulled the trigger twice.
"EOD! Bomb tech! Meet us over there! Now!"
I let the hot machine pistol drop in its sling as I picked up two handles of the four handled fabric stretcher.
We had to get this corpse away from the injured, right the fuck now.
And the wires I'd seen protruding from under her blouse, to the vest.
###
I'd had a spare change of clothes in my locker.
Now I had to borrow a piece of desk, for my report.
My E-mail chimed as I set it up.
"Report to Carson Base for permanent change of station within 24 hours. NLT 1400 hours tomorrow."
I still had a report to write.
###
"Mother of God," said the woman who'd objected to the placement.
"Yeah. He'll do," said the chair of the Board with satisfaction.
"He'll do what," she muttered as she turned to the next file.
"Blood is the working fluid of the soldier." - Viktor Suvorov (psuedonym)
The park ranger truck pulled up to the gate. Hard eyes, harder than the machine guns, verified our identity cards. Both were plastic. Which was good because I had to wipe mine with a thumb so the barcode reader could scan.
We parked by the locker room.
I'd already been washed down by the fire engine, but I still had blood all over me. Streaks of blood were on the vinyl passenger seat.
The park ranger - a LAPD officer on light duty - waved a hand at me when I started to offer to clean it up.
Far from the light banter earlier, she wanted me the fuck out of her truck and the fuck out of her life. Nothing personal. She even kind of liked me. But I was a shit magnet and she had plenty of shit already.
My boots squished as I walked to the locker room entry.
A police officer charged her rifle, not bothering with the clearing barrel, as she walked away from the armorer's cage.
Unisex locker room, not that anyone cared anymore. I turned in my machine pistol.
"Hey, fuck, I'm not taking this!" someone shouted from the cage as I walked away. "Get back here!" the voice faded.
Another set of hard eyes as I dropped magazine and showed chamber on the pistol. "100% Chamber Check, Deadly Force Required" was the sign above the desk, the empty chair, and the cop standing behind same with hand on slung submachine gun, not quite pointed.
Then I entered the locker room, walked right past my locker, and right into the shower on the far right, the one with the red and white label that looked like a spiky tentacle monster. Biohazard.
I had a lot of blood to wash off. And it would simplify my laundry as well, if I soaked in cold water as I took everything off.
I was naked when the three of them approached.
"Hey, Army," one said.
"Yo," I acknowledged as I scrubbed with the strong smelling liquid soap.
"Good shit out there."
They walked away. They'd been asked to deliver a message.
I hadn't been delivering a message.
I closed my eyes briefly.
###
"Hold hard, here!" I ordered. I moved to the next one. "Immediate," I barked, "Difficulty breathing. Red tarp. Move!" "Deceased. I said deceased! Next one!"
Then my eyes and hands had found something that didn't match.
I shoved the machine pistol under the moaning woman's chin and pulled the trigger twice.
"EOD! Bomb tech! Meet us over there! Now!"
I let the hot machine pistol drop in its sling as I picked up two handles of the four handled fabric stretcher.
We had to get this corpse away from the injured, right the fuck now.
And the wires I'd seen protruding from under her blouse, to the vest.
###
I'd had a spare change of clothes in my locker.
Now I had to borrow a piece of desk, for my report.
My E-mail chimed as I set it up.
"Report to Carson Base for permanent change of station within 24 hours. NLT 1400 hours tomorrow."
I still had a report to write.
###
"Mother of God," said the woman who'd objected to the placement.
"Yeah. He'll do," said the chair of the Board with satisfaction.
"He'll do what," she muttered as she turned to the next file.
