Brett looked at him shocked. “You want to break out of here when the sun’s still up?” he asked. Jim nodded. “Those guard towers have men stationed in them around the clock. I want to take the truck with us and we’re never going to be able to get that thing out during the middle of the night without them noticing. There’s still traffic from personnel coming and going during the day.”
Jim motioned over to the front gates where there was still a decent flow of jeeps, trucks, and other military vehicles entering and leaving. “We’ll slip out right under their noses,” he said.
Jim found Coyle, Samantha, and Annie at the truck and filled them in on the plan. Annie asked if she could bring Tigs, and much to her dislike, it looked like Tigs was staying put. Samantha pulled her close. “We need somebody to stay here with daddy, right?” She nodded her head, but wasn’t very convincing in her agreement.
Once the camp started dinner rotation they had planned to go in with the first group and eat while Twink stayed with the truck. Before the next group entered they would leave and head for the truck. Jim and Coyle would suit up in Brett and Twink’s spare fatigues and Samantha and Annie would hide under the cargo gear. If they were stopped, Brett would just show them their return orders, since they were supposed to leave that day anyway.
When the first dinner call went out Jim thought Coyle was going to puke. There was a green tinge to his face. Jim walked over to him and asked him if he was nervous. “Yeah,” he replied.
“It can’t be worse than when we were getting out of San Diego,” Jim said reassuringly.
Coyle shook his head. “No, it’s not that.” He put his hand over his stomach as they got closer to the food tent. “I’m just so tired of this military food.”
The five of them entered the mess hall together. The plan was to have Annie and Samantha finish their meals first and leave. Then Coyle would finish next followed by Brett and Jim. Jim wanted to hang back last so he could see if Hult was in the first, second, or third dinner rotation.
When they sat down Jim did a quick scan, but didn’t see him. Coyle reluctantly ate through half of his “mush” while Brett shoveled his down a little too eagerly. Annie and Samantha finished and set off for the truck where Twink was waiting for them. Jim gave Annie a hug and a kiss on the cheek and told her to remember what he said.
She nodded and whispered to him. “I have to stay invisible until you tell me it’s safe.”
“Right,” he said. Jim kissed the top of her head one more time and squeezed Samantha’s hand before the two of them disappeared out of the tent. Jim leaned in over to Coyle who was still staring at his tray of gray and white. “If they’re not there when you get to the truck you find me right away, got it?” Jim said.
Coyle sat staring into his mush plate. “If I die from malnutrition on the way to the truck will you bury me in a coffin of cheeseburgers?” Brett chimed in. “Make sure I’m invited to that.” Jim tried to get them back on track. “Hey, did you hear—”
“Make sure I find you if they’re not at the truck when I get there,” Coyle responded. “Yes, I heard you, Jim.” Coyle’s voice was raised a little too high and a few of the soldiers behind him turned their heads. When Coyle went to get up, Brett grabbed his tray before he could throw it away. “For Twink,” he said. Brett folded up the meat blobs in some aluminum and tucked it in his jacket.
Jim and Brett waited another ten minutes before heading out. They tossed their trays in the wash line. As Jim turned the corner, he was met by Hult staring him in the face with his rifle over his shoulder. “Locke told me about you, Farr,” Hult said. “He said that with your record in the service that you could have been a general yourself, but instead you threw it all away when you were discharged.” Hult didn’t flinch, or move as he spoke. He was a rock. A robot. The perfect order-taking, no-nonsense, shoot-first-ask-questions-later reactionary.
“A file doesn’t tell you everything,” Jim said as he walked past Hult with Brett at his side. “Your father’s file seemed to say everything that needed to be said,” Hult shouted.
Jim stopped dead in his tracks. Brett started to go back after Hult, but Jim stopped him.
Jim approached Hulk slowly and with calculation. He looked Hult dead in the eye until they were nose to nose. Hult gave the first smile Jim had ever seen him have.
“Brian Farr was a deserter, coward, and all around piece of shit marine who didn’t have the balls to save the men in his unit.” Hult glanced down and thought for a second. “How many men died that day? Twenty?”
Jim’s whole body tensed up. His teeth grinded as he drew in a deep breath, trying to keep the rage from breaking and rushing over him. He’d heard the stories of his father since he was a boy. When he first joined the Navy, his superior officers always looked down on him with a sense of pity and disgust. Everyone thought that Jim would be like his father. He looked like him. He spoke like him. But Jim wasn’t him. Jim told himself he would never be him. “Come on, pussy.” Hult was egging him on now. “Let’s go.”
Jim stopped. The girls. If he did something stupid now he wouldn’t be able to keep them safe. He had to stay the course. He had to finish this mission. Jim stepped back slightly. The distance between him and Hult grew. Each step back the smile from Hult’s face fell downward until Jim couldn’t see it anymore. Brett kept his eyes on Jim. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. Like Jim he knew that you have to push aside what you felt and wanted. The mission took priority.
When the two of them got back to the truck he saw Coyle in his fatigues looking incredibly awkward. Coyle kept fumbling with sleeves that were too long. “I look like a camouflaged bed comforter.”
The only thing that didn’t look awkward on Coyle was the rifle. As much as he went to the range, he was probably a better shot than Jim. Jim peaked in the bed of the truck and flipped the cargo lid up. Samantha and Annie were crammed in. Annie looked up at Jim with big pouty eyes. “Can I get out yet?”
Jim leaned in and whispered, “Not yet.” Samantha looked pissed as he closed the lid. Coyle walked up behind him. “Just so you know, I don’t want to be the one that lets mamma bear out of that box.” Brett threw Jim a pair of fatigues. He dressed, checked the weapon for ammo, and jumped in the back. Twink finished the dinner that Brett brought him and started up the truck. They bobbled along the dirt road to the front of the gate. Coyle’s grip on the rifle tightened as they got closer.
Jim noticed how Coyle’s knuckles were turning white. “Hey,” Coyle said, “start telling one of your dirty jokes when we go through.”
“What?” Coyle asked.
“Do it. It’ll make you less conspicuous,” Jim replied.
Twink slowed the truck as it crawled up to the front gate. An MP came to the driver side and Brett handed him the orders.
Jim nodded to Coyle who reluctantly started to tell a joke about a guy who walks into a bar and sees this little man playing a piano. Jim’s eyes wandered over to the MP who was looking over the orders. He looked up and glanced into the back of the truck at Jim and Coyle.
“Stay right there.” Another MP said approaching them. He kept his rifle in the crook of his arm, while the first MP looked over the orders and spoke into a phone in the guard booth. Jim tried to make out what he was saying, but couldn’t. The MP put the phone back down, walked out and handed the papers back to Twink. “Okay, looks like you guys are good,” replied the MP.