Traitors (Damned of the 2/19th - Book Five) - Finished

SURPRISE!

2/19th Special Weapons Group Barracks
Restricted Area - Western Germany
Early Winter - 1986
Ground Floor Game Room
Day: Sixteen

Someone touched my face and I snapped awake, reaching out with my left hand and grabbing their BDU top, my right hand whipping across to my left hip. I was about to yank them forward when I realized my hand had found nothing but bare skin and the face above me was framed in brown hair.

"Nancy." I said, my voice thick with sleep.

"Yup." Nancy said, coming close so her face came into focus. "How ya feelin', silly boy?"

"I've got a splitting headache and my arm feels like shit." I told her, letting go of her top. She smiled, leaned further down and kissed me, biting my lower lip and letting go after the kiss.

"Sit up, I need to put your arm in a sling." She told me. I sighed, but did as she asked me, swinging my legs off the cot and wincing as my feet hit the cold floor. She moved around and straddled the cot, sitting beside me. She handed me my glasses, which I put on, and while she stripped the plastic packing off of two cravats, I looked around.

"How long have I been out?" I asked, sucking in a breath as she moved my arm to loop the cravat behind it.

"About eight hours." She told me.

Bomber was asleep in the cot next to us, curled up slightly and sucking his thumb. Taggart was asleep on the other side of him, looking young as hell. The lights in the Game Room were on, but dim, even so I could make out the others. Logan eating an MRE, Oakes sitting on a cot along with Nelson and Marks, the three of them away from the others. Kebble was sitting upright, and Raliegh was shining a flashlight into her eyes. Jefferson was staring at the ceiling, his hands behind his head, Clifton was stripping an M-16, while Hendricks was stirring something in his mess kit cup.

The doors were unblocked, a pinball machine near them, but no longer blocking them shut.

I looked down at my shoulder and winced when I saw that band of bruising that surrounded it, making the scar from where I'd been stabbed through the shoulder and they'd repaired the joint with surgery stand out. Nancy had put one cravat around my stomach, then looped the other through it.

"Why's the door unblocked?" I asked.

"People had to pee. Turn and face me, Ant, so I can put this on you right." She told me. I swung one foot over the cot and held still while she looped the cravat over my neck. She was tying it off after making sure it was supporting my arm but not pushing the shoulder too high when I heard Oakes' voice.

"What the fuck happened to your back?"

"Mind your own business." I snarled.

"Is it some kind of disease?" She sneered. "It looks fucking gross."

"Fuck you, it's burn scars, you ugly little bitch." I growled back, starting to turn on the cot. Nancy grabbed my nipple and pulled me back around so she could adjust the cravat around my waist to keep my arm pinned to my stomach.

"What, your mother throw boiling water on your?" She asked, her tone mocking. "Stillwater's Mommy not love him..."

One second I was on the cot, the next minute Jefferson was between Oakes and me, and Bomber was pulling me back with his arm around my throat, lifting me off the floor while I kicked and yelled. Nancy screaming at Oakes and holding her off the ground by her throat with both hands, with Taggart trying to pull Nancy off of the other woman as she pulled Oakes back and slammed her against the wall. Logan had Marks on the ground, one arm twisted behind his back and a knee in his spine. Nelson was sprawled out on the floor, blood running from his nose. Hendricks was backed up till he was standing a few feet from the door. Kebble was looking around, confused, and Raleigh was sitting in front of her, staring at everyone with her mouth hanging open.

"Get off me, goddamn it!" I yelled.

"Not until you calm the fuck down." Bomber yelled back. "Nancy, let go of her."

Nancy let go of Oakes, the other woman sliding down to the floor, coughing and holding her throat. Taggart was pulling Nancy back toward us, and Logan let go of Marks and moved quickly next to us, Hendricks joining us. I quit kicking and went limp.

"You assholes stay over there." Hendricks said. Bomber set me down.

"Stillwater, get dressed, for fuck's sake." Logan told me. I nodded and turned back to my cot, grabbing my pants and pulling them on. I turned back just in time to see Marks glance at the rifle that had fallen on the floor.

Before I could say something, Jefferson jumped forward and grabbed the rifle, then skipped back next to us.

"That fucking dyke bitch tried to kill me." Oakes coughed, pointing at Nancy. Nancy flushed and stepped forward, but Taggart grabbed her arm.

"Please, stop, don't." Taggart pleaded, and Nancy looked at her for a long moment.

"You scar faced whore, I should kick your ass." Oakes choked out.

"That's it!" Nancy yelled, and went to lunge forward. Taggart grabbed her arm, and Bomber lunged from behind me, grabbing Nancy's belt and dragging her backwards.

I opened my mouth to say something, to pour more fuel on the fire, wanting nothing more than to feel Marks' face break under my knuckles. I could remember ducking under Nelson's looping roundhouse and throwing a punch right into the middle of his face, could remember the feeling of his nose breaking.

The lights clicked off, and the emergency light clicked a couple of times before the red lights kicked in.

Everyone had frozen, not moving, their eyes wide in the bloody light. It was completely silent in the room, none of us speaking, none of us even breathing.

We all turned to look at the door at the same time, dreading what we knew was coming. Hard knocks on the door. A voice from someone dead and gone. Frost spreading on the door.

The double doors burst open, swinging wide and exposing the CQ Area and the layer of snow on the floor that was smooth and unblemished by bootmarks or footsteps.

In the doorway stood Lieutenant Groves, standing there in his Class-A uniform, mud and frost thick on his pant legs. His medals were slightly skewed, and his tie was outside his uniform. His hair was wet, his face was pale, and his eyes shined in the middle of the black circles that surrounded them. His teeth were bloody in the light, his smile exposing more teeth than it had any right to.

The axe held in his hands read 2/19th MOTORPOOL, the edge glinting in the emergency lights as it swung from behind him.

And hit Hendricks in the chest.