30(S3E4)- Shaky

30

(Season 3 Episode 4)

Shaky

The truck was called a ‘people mover’ by the Army soldiers who it would carry from destination to destination.  The generals and other officers in charge of the war in Afghanistan called them ‘personnel transports’.  No matter what you called them, they were not comfortable to be in.

The Army however, did not build things with comfort in mind.

They were big trucks.  The back end had a camouflage canopy over it and two benches on either side of the back.  It could hold twenty soldiers on the benches, ten per side, and another eleven on the floor in a pinch.

Charles Napier sat at the back end of the right side bench.  He bounced up and down as the truck rolled over the rocky terrain and watched the dust from behind them fade away into the darkness.

He looked across from him and saw a slightly shorter man, his helmet off as he rubbed his bald scalp. The man was pure muscle and broad shouldered, giving him the look of a bouncer at a local bar.

“I fucking hate these things,” Napier said to the man across from him.

The man looked up at him with a stoic face.

“I said, I fucking hate these things.” Napier yelled louder to the man across from him.

“I heard you the first time.” The man said in a gruff and quiet tone.

Napier scowled.  “Well then, why the fuck didn’t you answer me when I spoke?  What kind of mother fucker doesn’t speak when spoken to?”

The man’s eyes narrowed.  “This kind of mother fucker.”

Napier’s scowl turned to a grin.  “I think I am beginning to like you.”

The man shook his head.  “Should I care?”

“I’m Charlie Napier.”  Charlie said, ignoring his comment.

The man considered him, then answered.  “Scott.  Scott Jefferies.”

“So do you know what all this bullshit, secrecy is about?”  Napier asked.

Scott shook his head.  “Can’t say that I do.  Just said I had been reassigned and gave me the rendezvous point.”

Napier nodded.  “I got the same bullshit too.  Can’t say that I’m not happy for the new assignment, I hated my platoon.”

Scott cocked his head.  “Why?”

“They were fucking pussies.” Napier answered.

“Pussies?” Scott asked, about to regret it.

“We were on assignment and raiding this supposed terrorist hideout.  One of my supposed platoon members goes upstairs and somehow manages to get disarmed and taken as a human shield.”  Napier explained.

Scott waited as if expecting more.

Napier shrugged.  “I guess the terrorist hiding behind him over estimated my sense of team.  Fucking shot through the guy into the terrorists.  Next thing I know, those officer humping M.P.’S show up and I am on a bus to nowhere.”

Scott nodded.  “Sounds about the same.”

Charles looked inquisitive.  “So you did something wrong too?”

“I broke seven of my commanding officer’s teeth.” Scott replied.  “Honestly, I think everyone on this bus was arrested by the military police.”

The truck came to a halt.  Two soldiers came over and opened the back.  “Everybody out!”

The soldiers in the back poured out and the two in men directed the soldiers into what seemed to be an old building of some sort in the middle of absolutely nowhere.  The soldiers piled in and found a large room with a dirt floor and four rows of five uncomfortable looking metal chairs.

“Just once, I want to be ushered into a room of lazy boys.”  Napier said with a frown.

Scott grunted back at him in agreement.

“You are a quite mother fucker aren’t you?”  Napier said, turning toward him.

Scott frowned back.  “I don’t waste words on bullshit.”  He replied and walked over to take a seat.

Napier scoffed at him.  “You just did, asshole.”

They two took two seats in the front row next to each other as the rest of the twenty men sat down to wait.  Charles became visibly bored and upset.

“Are they trying to starve us to death?” He said, receiving a couple of snickers from the other men.

Finally someone entered.  He was six feet tall and skinny.  His body had almost no fat, but he was not overly muscular.  He had the build of a swimmer.  He entered with bright blue eyes and blonde hair.  He was smoking a cigarette and his hands were shaking violently.

“Do you know why you are here?” He asked the group.

Most shook their heads, Napier chuckled.

The shaky man’s eyes narrowed on Napier but he ignored the laugh.  “You are here because of two important factors.  The first is, you are all terrible soldiers.  You are selfish, reckless, and disobedient.  All of you have had a major policy or law violation during your service of the American government.  The second factor, and most important, is despite your personal and procedural faults, you are all exception murderers.  You are all part of the one percent of the human race that are natural born killers.”

The man continued to explain.  “Most who commit the offenses you people have committed get shipped to a tank for the rest of your natural born lives, but because you do what you do so well, you are going to get a second chance to serve your country.  There are a lot of things out here that need to be done that under the normal codes of conduct, the Army can’t do.  We, on the other hand, can.  From this point on, you are all K.I.A on file.  Your names will be changed to one word call signs and as far as the world exists, you won’t.  You will do and kill who we need killed without question, and in return, I will give you the freedom to do so in any way you see fit.”

The man sitting to Napier’s left, opposite Jefferies, raised his hand and asked.  “What if we refuse?”

The shaky man turned toward him and pulled his sidearm, placed to the man’s forward and put a single shot through his brain.  Blood and grey matter splashed onto the man sitting behind the victim as the man slumped and fell to the floor.

“I will explain this again, for those who weren’t listening, you no longer exist.  That means you are mine.  No one will miss you, no M.P.’s are going to storm in and take me away.  The only rule from now on is kill or be killed.  Any other questions?” He finished his tirade and everybody shook their head no.

Everybody except Napier.

“Yeah I got one,” Napier spoke up and everyone turned toward him, shocked.  “Do you shoot everyone who asks a question?”

Shaky walked over and put his side arm to Napier’s forehead.  Everyone in his vicinity scooted away from him.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Shaky asked, thumbing the hammer back on the gun.

Napier smiled.  “Because I belong here.”

Shaky smiled.  “I would have to say you do.”

The shaky man un-cocked the pistol and stepped back.  “You will all give your new names to Napalm and he will give you a room number.  This place used to be a hotel.  You will each have one bunk mate. Welcome to Rattlesnake.  My name is Shaky.  If you have questions, feel free to keep it to yourself.”

Each person got up and got in line and approached Napalm.  They would give him a one word name and he would give them a room number.  Scott was ahead of Charles and when he got there Napalm asked, “Name?”

Scott answered without hesitation.  “Stone.”

“Room 24.”  Napalm said.

Charles Napier stepped up, beaming at the idea of picking a new name before Napalm could even ask Napier said.  “Rockwell. My fucking name is Rockwell.”

“Room 24.”  Napalm said, frowning at him.

Rockwell walked past him and Stone turned, frowning having heard the assignment.  “Stay out of my way.”

Rockwell chuckled at Stone’s threat.  “Try again asshole, we are going to be best friends!”

Rockwell passed him and Stone shook his head.  “Not a chance.”