Private Monkey Ghost Story

Chapter 10

"2/19th Special Weapons, Private Monkey, how can I help you, sir or ma'am?" I rattled off.

Silence.

"Hello?" I asked. Cobb was staring at me.

HHHHHHHHHHHSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSssssssssssss

It was low, gravelly, and liquid.

"It's for you," I said, holding the phone out to Cobb.

Cobb looked at the phone, took it, and put it to his ear. I could hear the sibilant hiss, the liquid exhale of air, even though Cobb was the one who held the phone.

Cobb dropped the phone, and lept up, grabbing me by my throat and slamming me against the wall. He was squeezing hard, and his face was red.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!" he screamed.

I slammed my arms up between his, breaking his grip, and slammed my forehead into his face. His nose crunched, and I kneed him in the balls, he stepped back, and I stepped forward and slammed my right forearm into his face, knocking him down. Before he got up, I slammed a boot into his stomach. He was curled up in a ball on the floor, and I could hear a busy signal coming from the swinging phone receiver.

"Don't ever fucking touch me again, asswipe," I snarled, rubbing my throat. The day room door burst open, and SFC Vickers stood there, the .45 in his hand. I'd seen that pistol in his hands more lately than I saw it the first few days I was here.

"What's going on?" He asked, walking toward us. Cobb was still sitting up, holding his nose.

"Nothing," he said.

"We were just having a discussion," I lied. I'd learned the way the military worked. If nobody talked, nothing happened, and fights between men were rarely reported. If you laid your hands on another man, and he kicked your ass, well, you were just shit out of luck.

I reached over and hung up the phone.

"Cobb's nose is bleeding," SFC Vickers stated, the master of the obvious. I was starting to realize that maybe there was more to him getting sent here than just fucking someone's wife. He'd left me alone in that goddamn hole, and he always made sure all of us were first into a room.

"I hit myself in the face with the phone," Cobb replied, putting two fingers on each side of his nose. With a crunch, he set it. I picked up the phone and hung it up. SFC Vickers looked at both of us curiously, then went back to the day room.

"Jesus Christ, Monkey, where did you learn to fight like that?" Cobb asked, wiping his nose off with the hem of his shirt.

"We moved a lot," I told him.

"Bullshit."

"It's the truth." I was being serious. I hadn't learned much in juvie, just got better at what I was doing.

"Goddamn, son, remind me not to tangle with you again," Cobb told me.

"Sorry about that." I was honestly embarrassed.

The phone rang again, and both of us stared at it.

"Don't," Cobb said, when I started to reach for it. "Just. Don't."