Foster

Chapter 6

Calvin was drooling. He didn't know this yet, considering he had been asleep for the past hour. All of his tent-mates sat in wait around him. Not being up early with his fellow soldiers meant serious consequences. This was something he was supposed to have learned in his first week of training. The others weren't allowed to wake him- it would be even worse for those that tried. He would spend the day doing something extremely unpleasant. This became obvious as General Abrams entered the tent, his footfalls heavy and his expression -with lips drawn down into an intense frown and eyes narrowed- full of disappointment. The men that were huddled around Calvin's cot parted like the red sea, making way for the general.

"Foster," Abrams growled. He kicked Calvin onto his back with his boot, and he awoke with a start, causing him to scramble out of his sheets in only his underwear and a dirty white T-shirt.

"Sir?" He yawned, giving a sloppy salute.

One man let out a quiet chuckle, but was quickly silenced by a sharp glare from Abrams. There was a long moment of silence. Everyone in the room exchanged glances, waiting for the wrath of their leader to fall upon Calvin. He himself expected it, of course, but he only suspected that Abrams knew about his early morning adventure. Not the true, horrible, unspeakable dishonor of sleeping in.

"General Abrams, Sir, I've been here the whole time! I swear," Calvin nodded.

The general snorted, "Well no shit, Private! Getting some beauty sleep?"

Calvin noticed the drool left dripping off his chin, and slowly lifted his hand to wipe it away, going red with embarrassment. At least his punishment wouldn't be as bad as he had originally thought, "It's uh... I had a long night, sir."

"Hell, we all have long nights. Every night of the week is a long night! You think the rest of us get to lie around in bed?" Abrams questioned.

"No sir. I just fell asleep, that's-"

"All I'm hearing is excuses, Foster. Get up. You'll be cleaning out the latrines today," the general turned on his heel and walked out of the tent.

"Shit," Edwards remarked. He set a hand on Calvin's shoulder and pat it sympathetically, "Literally, man."

There was a moment of silence before his brothers stood up, scattering themselves around the room to busy each other. Calvin was humiliated in every way possible. He was sure that his comrades must have thought him lazy now. That's what he felt like, at least. He knew the importance of being awake with everyone else, so why hadn't he been? There were blanks in his mind- pieces missing. He usually dreamt, and when he didn't his sleep went by faster than ever. Something wasn't sitting right with him, and he couldn't figure out why.

"Fuck," he breathed, combing his fingers back through his matted, curly black hair. The rest of that day would prove to be the worst of his life.

~~~

Calvin had spent hours cleaning the toilets. Whenever he thought he was finished, someone would come along with a smug smile stretched from ear to ear and undo all of his work. They'd snicker and nudge his shoulder, knowing fully well he would have to start over. He himself would have done the same as them had it been anyone else. Hell, he had done it to them. He deserved this as much as they once had, and he didn't even blame the inexperienced.

Finally, however, the job was done. The men had grown bored of teasing him, left oy to carry out simple missions and watch the camp borders. There was one thing left that he knew had to be done, and that was to bathe. As Calvin walked back across camp to his tent, the other soldiers turned tail and jogged away. He wreaked of feces and urine, but he didn't mind. Not one bit. The more he smelled, the more everyone would want to steer clear of him. Nevertheless, the sludge and grime that covered him from head to toe was unbearable to his nature. He would still have to get clean.