Animosity

Chapter 9 - Everybody's Battle

        Photo: A pair of American GIs take cover behind a palm tree as they load up their machine gun.

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        "Hank, wait up," I called frustratedly, struggling to keep up with him as he moved swiftly through the jungle. My pack was heavy, weighing me down with every step, and my feet felt like they were encased in cement underneath me. We had been walking for about six hours, and the heavy humidity had made us both break out into a sweat, the clothes sticking to our backs and our hair plastered down onto our heads.

        "Walk faster, then," he snapped in irritation, bringing a sinewy arm up to brush away a low-hanging branch. I ducked as it recoiled back and almost hit me, and I sucked in a breath of warm air, willing myself to stay calm.

        Hank hadn't said more than five words to me since we started off, and I could almost feel the tension in the air, hanging over us like a dark cloud. He had kept a good, fast pace, staying paces ahead of me, ignoring my pleas for him to slow down. I knew that he realized he could fuck with me, walk just a little faster than I could, wear me out, and I shook my head in exhausted annoyance as I yelled out to him again.

        "Hank, I'm serious!" My voice sounded strange, strangled. "Slow up a little!"

        The sky was a bright blue, and a shadow passed over me as a bird flew through the sunlight that was hitting my cheek. Ahead, the brunette scoffed and turned around, walking backwards so he could see my tired face.

        "Jesus, can't you just pick up the pace a little, greenie?" He called smugly, throwing his arms up in the air in a gesture of mock-annoyance, before turning to face the front again and intentionally striding in faster. Something in his words made me realize exactly how I could get to him, crawl under his skin and force him to at least leave me alone. That phrase that just came out of his mouth, that sentence, was all too familiar, and I stopped right in the middle of the path, folding my arms tightly.

        Hank took another few steps along the beaten underbrush before he realized that I wasn't following him, and whipped around quickly. Raising an eyebrow in surprise when he saw me standing still, he looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to come back to his side. He was at the bottom of a small incline, and I was perched at the top, giving an illusion that I was taller than him, above him in some way.

        "What?" He snapped.

        My words tumbled out coolly, carefully. "You know that you don't have to be an asshole just because Devy tells you to, right?"

        I could tell that I struck a chord. He scoffed angrily, running a hand through his thick brown hair, looking back at me with hot contempt. "I don't follow Devy. I'm my own person."

        Walking slowly back down to join him, I almost backed up a little when I saw how much bigger than me he truly was. I wasn't a small person by any means, but Hank was intimidatingly tall, and he could've definitely knocked me out if he was angry enough. Still, even in light of these revelations, I couldn't stop myself from saying the next scathing remark.

        "Really? You don't act like it."

        "Christ, Descartes, shut up," he growled, and I held up my hands in mocking surrender. He knew that I realized I got under his skin, and his olive skin flushed a pale red as he turned away from me. I noticed this time that he waited until I got to his side before he started walking again, a little slower.

        "I have a first name, you know," I chimed in bitterly, and he shook his head, annoyed. "It's Tom. Call me Tom."

        "Alright, alright," He muttered half-heartedly, shrugging his pack farther up on his broad shoulders. "Tom it is."