Cold Hatred (Book 2 & 3 of the Damned of the 2/19th) -Updated and Rewritten

Cold Hatred Part: 5

"We learned to take what we could get for comfort. Each other,

bad jokes, alcohol, or just the knowledge that you had someone

to talk to when it got dark and cold. And maybe, just maybe,

when the blood was spilled and froze on the tile, someone

would have your back. Cold comfort is still comfort."

Chapter Five

2/19th Special Weapons Group

Restricted Area, Alfenwehr West Germany

Late Winter-January 1986

Day 10 of Repairs

Day 2 of the Second Incident

0800 Hours

I woke up when the windup alarm clock on the dresser started banging, opening my eyes to see Nancy's face in front of mine. Her eyelids were just starting to flutter, and I waited until her eyes opened to kiss the tip of her nose. Her body was warm against mine, but my backside was chilled from where I'd ended up pressed against the cinderblock wall while we slept.

"Morning," I smiled.

"Blech, go brush your teeth." She grimaced, then laughed and kissed the tip of my nose.

I grunted and sat up, looking down to admire her body. She twisted around to lay on her back and put her hands behind her head, arcing her back slightly to thrust her heavy breasts at me. I laughed, squeezed one, then let go so I could carefully turn around to face the end of the bed. She pulled the blankets away and snuggled down into them as I climbed down out of the bed.

"Hey, kill that alarm, will you?" she asked.

"I got it, ya lazy bitch," Bomber drawled from the darkness that our little nightlight wasn't having much luck in holding back. I saw him move over by the dresser and heard his hand slap against the top of the alarm clock.

"Shit, it's zero eight already," he bitched. "Damn, it's freezing in here again." He kicked the radiator cover twice, making a crackling sound. He grinned when there was a sudden gurgle of moving water again.

"Yeah, but we've got power." I jerked a thumb toward the stereo, which was still lit up.

"Zero eight? Fuck!" Nancy blurted. The blankets rustled and I heard her bare feet slap the floor. Before I could take two steps forward to cut her off, she slid past me, elbowing me in the stomach, and I heard the bathroom door slam.

"Gotta be faster than that." Bomber laughed.

I shook my head, laughing with him. "Yeah, watch this." I went over to the bathroom door, the shower coming on while I was still in the short hallway our wall lockers were in. I slowly opened the bathroom door and slipped inside. Steam was billowing out around the shower curtain and the room was warming up rapidly.

I slipped into the shower, hoping to surprise her, but her arms went around my neck and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss me under the hot water. When we broke apart she nipped at my lower lip before letting go of me and leaning back so her shoulders were braced against the wall.

"Soap me up, Ant," she demanded, holding out a bar of Irish Spring.

Her skin was hot from the water, her permanent tan, courtesy of a Hispanic grandmother, was quickly covered in water and soap suds. She closed her eyes and luxuriated in the way I dug my fingers into the thick muscle covering her body, working at knots. After a while she lifted one leg and wrapped it around my waist, pulling me close as one hand moved down to our waists.