War Machines

10

     One sound everyone has to deal with is the distinctly unpleasant sound of human mastication. Nothing romantic will ever be written about the sound of chewing food. In a mess hall, to someone who has never been to one before, the sound might seem common and expected. But the truth is that it's a sound you never hear in a standard mess hall. You hear the sound of utensils scraping or banging on plates. The sound of cups and plates banging tables is common, as is the sound of benches and tables creaking as weight was shifted. But the overall sound you usually heard in a mess hall was talking. Mess halls were loud, busy places. I had never been in one for a meal and not had nearly every other sound drowned out by chatter, laughter, and good-natured camaraderie. Until now.

     The sound of chewing seemed loud in the unnatural silence of the mess hall. My squad and I sat at a table near the front of the hall, eating without a word. I sat on one side of the table, knowing that no one else would, next to Zeke. The rest of the squad sat across the table, facing us. They simply ate, glaring daggers at Zeke. Miller angrily speared a bite of egg and jammed it into her mouth. McGinty barely touched her food, too busy scowling. The Palmer twins appeared personally offended. I'd never seen anyone bite into toast in a way that made it almost seem like an insult until I saw what Olsen was doing. Matthews was staring at Zeke with outright murder in his eyes. He was seated directly across from Zeke, chin propped up in his hand, elbow on the table. The other hand shoveled oatmeal into his mouth.

     I was also silently eating, even though I'd never felt less like eating in my life. I glanced up at my teammates from time to time, but my primary focus was on my plate. I hadn't even paid any attention to what I'd put on it. Zeke, meanwhile, was calmly sipping at a glass of milk before returning to his meal. He could have been having a quiet breakfast on the beach for all the more disturbed he appeared. Meanwhile, you could cut the tension at our table with a knife.

     Everyone else who'd come into the mess hall could certainly sense it. Again and again, soldiers would enter the mess hall for their meal, notice us at our table, and then either collect their food on a paper plate and take it with them or simply turn around and go back out. Shortly after we'd arrived, the kitchen staff had elected to vacate the premises, turning the scoops out so anyone coming in could help themselves. I was vaguely aware of hushed voices outside, eyes peering around the corners through the windows. The mess hall was a powder keg set to explode, and while no one wanted to be near ground zero of that explosion, everyone on the base wanted to be there to witness it happen.

     The door opened. I glanced up and saw Colonel Higgins, the base commander here at Fort Jefferson. Apparently, someone had thought to inform him. He paused at the door, taking in the sight of the Exterminators facing off with me and Ezekiel the Pilgrim. His lips pressed into a tight line. He headed toward the food, fixed himself a plate, and came over. Then he slid onto the bench at our table with me and Zeke, staying at the end where he could see everyone at the table. He took a long drink of orange juice and replaced the glass on the table. "Alright," he called. "What happened?"

     Everyone began yelling at once. The Exterminators were yelling and cursing, jabbing accusing fingers toward Zeke. I was trying to explain what had happened and being drowned out. In the middle of everything was Zeke, still calmly eating as if he hadn't a care in the world.

     Higgins, looking disgusted, let it go on for a moment. Then he put two fingers into his mouth and let out a loud, piercing whistle. Once again, silence fell over the mess hall. "We're not getting anywhere like this," Higgins declared. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? Matthews, I realize that you're the squad leader, but it seems to me that there's a fairly clear division in your squad. So Alpha, why don't you start by telling me your side of things?"