Foster

Chapter 7

~~~

January 5th, 1970
C A L V I N,

I'm sorry for never writing to you. The place I'm in doesn't exactly offer much in the way of breaks. I hate to say this, but if I'm being completely honest with you, this isn't for you. It's for me. Selfish, I know. Trust me buddy, I'm going to need this a lot more than you might right now. Thing is, my time is coming. Real soon. I've managed to evade death too many times in the past several weeks. I know I can't outrun it forever. So, this is my final goodbye. You're all the family I've got, Cal. If what I'm about to do in the next few months doesn't pan out, I want to die having closure. Not just for me, but for you too. Anyway, I hope you're getting your sleep. Try not to miss me too much.

Sincerely,
Kenny

~~~

It was insane. Completely insane. There was no way that letter could have come from Kenneth. Yet, there it was. Sitting right in front of Calvin. He read the words over and over again, but they only continued to spin in his head. He couldn't make sense of it. Not why the hostage had it, or why it had been ripped to shreds and hidden from him... Had Kenny even tried to mail it? Nevertheless, having it in his hands now didn't bring him any comfort either. He did have to admit, it was exciting to see his friend's handwriting again. The way he curved the last letter at the end of each word. It was the mark of a rushed writer, but in a way it was still beautiful.

There wasn't anyone else in the world that could write the way Kenny once had. His words were smooth and rythmic. It was the type of writing that gave your brain as much hunger as your stomach does when you haven't eaten in a while. Maybe that was his own bias, but he didn't care. He had missed it. Kenny had a funny habit of always putting who he was adressing in the top righthand corner, with the date right above it. Calvin thought it was a lot like a name tag. It told him who was writing before Kenny got a chance to say so himself.

Still, it didn't make sense to him. He had seen the body, or the remains of one. He'd even found the dog tag with Kenny's name on it. There was one thing that was a little fuzzy, though. He had never actually seen Kenny. There was the group in the foxhole, sure, but he didn't remember seeing his friend huddled with them. Could he really be alive? It seemed impossible, but he felt a sliver of hope rise up inside him. Calvin thought back to where he had found the scraps of the letter, and he frowned. That had to mean that somehow... even if Kenny had survived, the enemy soldier within the camp had killed him. Maybe taken the letter off his person and it got ripped up along the way. He shuddered at the thought. He had been in the same room with that man.

He sighed and stood up straight again to look outside. It was finally dark. There was one thing he could do, and he wasn't sure he was going to like it. Unfortunately, it was his only option. If Kenneth was alive somewhere, this guy would know where he was. Or at the least, could confirm the death. There were several flaws to his plan, though. It would be difficult to get into the tent at this hour. Even more so to have a conversation without someone noticing there was more than one voice in the tent. He would have to figure something out soon. There was no way he would be able to stay awake long enough to wait everyone out tonight.

Calvin crouched and slid the letter underneath his cot. Before he could go out, he would have to make his rounds throughout camp. First to the laundry, then to dinner, and lastly to see Edwards. His friend was of higher rank than him, and hopefully could help him distract the guard in front of the hostage tent long enough to sneak past them. If he was lucky, he'd be so inconspicuous that no one would question him. Which, wasn't really so unusual. Most of the soldiers tended to disregard him.

Could he really trust Edwards, though? It was hard enough talking to the man. He was just so... positive. All the time. Calvin often wondered why that was so. In fact, it was fairly disturbing. This was war, after all. It was something about Edward's face, he decided. When he looked at it, it was trustworthy. In all honesty, he'd rather go on instinct than have to actually ask Edwards.

He gave himself a brief nod and laced up his boots; he would be heading out again. This time, to interrogate his best friend's killer.

~~~

It was nearly one in the morning when Calvin got around to speaking with Edwards. He'd had to prepare himself for the conversation a million times before actually going through with his plan. Surprisingly enough, Edwards didn't bat an eye when he told it to him. His friend seemed secretely excited to be engaging in such an adventure. There was a certain light in his eyes when Calvin explained his idea. It was as though he had been waiting for something interesting to happen.

"If you want, I can lure the men outside the tent away from it entirely," Edwards suggested.

Calvin scoffed. "And how do you suppose you'll do that?"

Edwards smirked. "All I gotta do is rip off my damn pants, Foster. Everyone in this place is gay for each other. Why ya think we got so many volunteers?"

Calvin rolled his eyes, "No way. That anyone would be gay for you, man. Now me on the other hand-"  He was cut off by a sharp whack on the side of his head from Edwards.

"Shut up," he said.

Calvin chuckled. It was nice to crack a joke or two. The whole situation felt much lighter to him with that little bit of humor.

"Well uh, we should get going then," Edwards motioned his hand and they both stood.

Calvin frowned. "Wait, are you actually gonna rip your pants off?"

"Why, you wanna peak?" Edwards inquired.

"No way in hell."

"Thought so."

The two men chuckled and walked outside together. The air was warm and damp, causing Calvin's clothes to stick to his skin. There were no lights on anywhere other than Edward's tent, as well as his own. Luckily for them, everyone else was too distracted by rushing to get ready for bed. Not one soldier cast a suspicious glance as they made their way for the hostage tent.