Animosity

Chapter 10 - Fire in the Night

        Photo: A sea of paratroopers leap out of three carrier planes in the sky, their striped parachutes unfurling behind them.

—

        "Queen of hearts," I crowed triumphantly, slapping the card down on the dirt with a sly grin. In front of me, Buddy groaned under his breath, pulling two stray coins out of his pocket and depositing the cool metal onto my palm.

        "I don't got no chance at beatin' you," he admitted good-naturedly, running a hand through his thick crop of blonde hair. Beside us, a small early morning fire was crackling softly, dying down as the sun peeked it's silvery rays over the hilltops. The camp was quiet, save for Buddy and I, the only two awake at this hour. Balanced on a stand over the blistering flames, a small black kettle was gradually warming up, the water inside starting to bubble.

        "Hold on a sec," I uttered, wrapping a white scrap of cloth around my hand before carefully taking the kettle off of the stand. It let out a short, grating whistle before I unsealed the metal top and laid it on the ground next to us. Reaching into a small paper bag, I took a pinch of dark brown instant coffee between my fingers and dropped it into the pot, stirring gently with a cheap wooden popsicle stick.

        "That stuff ain't ever as good as the real thing," Buddy piped up, and I yawned before nodding in agreement.

        "It's something, though. Caffeine to get your blood flowing."

        He chuckled softly, tired yet cheerful as he brought his hands out to swipe over the top of the flames. Playing with the campfire innocently, his fingertips warmed as the burning tendrils of fire almost licked over his skin. "My brother, Jerry, 'member him?"

        "Oh Jesus. Yeah, I do, wasn't he the one always messing around with us in church?" The memories came back to me slowly, a massive kid with a deep voice and terrible temper, decked in a never-clean pair of overalls and a baseball cap.

        Buddy laughed. "That's him, alright. Well, he used t'make the best coffee ever. He would use real coffee beans, the little ones, an' add milk and sugar an' the whole works. We used to drink it every Saturday mornin' at home. I think he's a cook or somethin' now, I knew he always had it in 'im."

        "Cook, huh?" I asked warmly, and the small kid in front of me nodded proudly. "Me and him are in the same line of work, then."

        "What're you?"

        "I'm a baker. Well... I guess I was." My stare traveled downwards when the words came out, instantly making me homesick. "I used to—used to own a bakery up in Union City. Best in town, I guarantee."

        "I'll come see you someday." Buddy smiled, leaning back against a tree stump behind him. His blue eyes were sparkling, the hopefulness that came with his young age still present in his gaze. I found myself already attached to him, as if we had never stopped talking back in America, and I had no choice but to match his grin with one of my own.

        "I'll come see you," he continued happily. "And you better make good on that guarantee."

        "Promise, Bud," I agreed, and stood up, patting him on the back fondly. My eyes roamed around the encampment, and I picked the kettle off of the ground, the rich smell of the coffee already wafting out of the top of the pot. Buddy reshuffled the cards behind me, and I dug through his bag quickly, pulling out a set of small paper cups.

        Lt. Hiro was the first to emerge from his tent, yawning softly and waving at me. Striding across the clearing, I gave him the best salute I was able to with my hands full and held out an empty cup to him. He looked well-rested, vibrant, and he took it with a smile.