Private Monkey Ghost Story

Chapter 8

My whole body was covered in goosebumps tight enough to make my skin ache. My boots clomped on the old concrete, and I stepped into a puddle of water that had seeped in. I was trying to control my breathing, and even though I was dressed in a parka, cold weather pants, field jacket, and winter BDU's, I was freezing.

I was also sweating at the base of my spine and between my shoulders.

My flashlight caught something, and curious, I moved over to it. Crates. Dozens of them, they stretched out into the darkness.

"FOUND SOMETHING!" I yelled.

silence back.

"HEY! I found something!"

silence.

"YOU FUCKERS BETTER NOT HAVE LEFT ME! I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU!" I yelled.

"We're right here, Private Monkey, calm down," I heard SFC Vickers tell me. His pale face loomed out of the darkness, and he bore a striking resemblance to the hero of The Thing and it gave me the chills. "What is it?"

"Didn't you... you know what, I don't want to know," I stated. "It's crates, lots of them." I flashed my flashlight on the side, showing the old emblem that was still visible despite its age.

An eagle. A swastika.

"Holy Jesus," Stokes breathed, thumping up next to us.

"Jesus doesn't know about this place," Tandy replied.

I shrugged and looked at the lid of the crate. SFC Vickers slapped a bayonet into my hand, I started prying on the lid. The lid gave with a screech, and Cobb giggled a sharp, brittle sound. The crate contained boxes, all marked with the same emblem that was on the map of the building.

"Open one," SFC Vickers ordered. I shrugged, grabbed a box, and tore it open.

Sheathed knives fell out. Four of them.

"Holy mother of God," Stokes whispered as I bent over, picked one up, and lifted it.

It was an old Nazi SS dagger. The crate must have contained hundreds of them.

SFC VIckers shined his flashlight around, and draped on one wall was the Nazi flag.

Our flashlights chose that time to die. I bent down, tucked the dagger in my boot, and dug out my last set of batteries. When my flashlight came back on, I swept it over everyone's faces.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," SFC Vickers said, and I grunted in agreement. I had to lead the way, and we slung the trapdoor back over. We headed back to the door at a quicktime, and all laughed nervously when SFC Vickers locked the door.

"Monkey, did you keep that dagger?" Stokes said, pointing at my boot.

"Yeah. I wanted proof. If we get upstairs, and there's nothing wrong with it, then this place isn't haunted," I replied, almost challengingly.

We walked back to the CQ area, and found out that Mann and Carter had gone to get us lunch and dinner. While SFC Vickers made his report to Captain Bishop, I pulled the sheathed dagger out of my boot and tossed it on the CQ counter.

"Where the fuck did you get that?" Smith asked.

"Sub-basement. There's a shitload of crates down there," I answered. "One of them had these in them."

"Aw man, this is fucked," he said. "We're in a goddamn haunted building."

"You wanna know what's worse?" I asked, grinning.

"What? What could be fucking worse?" Smith asked.

"You're black," I told him. He stood there, staring at me for a moment.