Free-Fire Zone by Chris Lynch Read Free Book Online Page A

now.
    â€œGet up, Squid,” I say.
    â€œEasy, Cabbage,” Hunter says, putting a hand on my shoulder.
    â€œLeave him there,” Marquette says. It’s not that he’s siding with Squid. He just doesn’t care. He is out the door with a slam.
    â€œGet up, Squid,” I say.
    â€œListen, Squid,” Hunter says. “Did you hear that even Jupp is coming with us? You know what that means?”
    â€œIt means he’s gonna order me to go, and I don’t care.”
    â€œNo, it means if he’s out there with us this mission must be such a sure thing that you’ll be in more danger here on your bunk than out there with us.”
    Gillespie laughs out loud at that.
    I can’t laugh right now. It’s a good line, but it ain’t funny.
    â€œYou and your dad can be whatever you want to be a month from now,” I say, leaning maybe a little tooclose to Squid’s face. “But right this minute you are a United States Marine. And you have received an order. We follow orders.”
    He just lies there, staring up at me with his scaredy eyes and his stupid squid-shaped skull.
    â€œYou can do this,” I say.
    He attempts to roll over, away from me.
    Like a cobra, I react, snagging him by the tee shirt with both hands and pulling him around my way.
    I feel Hunter’s hand let go of my shoulder.
    â€œHunter,” Squid says, kind of sad, kind of desperate, kind of infuriating. I hear the door slap shut and know Hunter’s left.
    â€œGillespie,” Squid pleads, proving just how desperate he is.
    â€œThe man’s right, Squid,” Gillespie says, the door squealing open again. “You are a Marine, man.”
    We’re alone now, and the pathetic look on Squid’s face is making me demented. I find myself staring at him hard, staring into his eyes. I get close to his face again, trying to, I don’t know, smell what’s inside him? I pull him still closer, and I see how afraid he is — really honestly afraid.
    Of war.
    Of not seeing his dad again.
    Of me .
    How far have I come, from home, from that life?
    I get this surge of power, of strength, of rage at Squid’s weakness, and I think: How awful to be like that. How sickening.
    â€œWhat would Ivan say to this?” I scream in his face, practically spitting on him. His features fold up into that pre-cry scrunch, and that is beyond the last straw.
    Smack . I slap poor decent Squid right across the face.
    Just like I was General Patton or something.
    Then I drag him out of his bunk, over to his locker. I pull a fresh shirt out and start wrestling it right onto him.
    â€œAll right,” he says, his voice cracking but somehow at the same time strong. “All right, all right,” he says, then, catching me totally by surprise, he blasts me right in the chest with an explosive two-handed shove that sends me backward, into and over Gillespie’s bunk and onto the floor.
    When I get up, he is buttoning his shirt about as aggressively as a person can do that and looking at me with blood in his eyes. I am on my knees at the side of Gillespie’s bunk like I am saying my bedtime prayers.
    â€œGuess I’ll see you outside, then,” I say.
    He just glares at me, continues suiting up, and I head out.
    When I get outside, I see my guys about fifty yards away, piling into the rear of an M-113 armored troop carrier. This machine is usually part of the Army’s gear but more and more are being turned over to the South Vietnamese forces, the ARVN. We are working with our foreign allies today.
    I hurry to catch up, and when I reach the vehicle I get a kind of rush of excitement since I’ve never been in one before. It’s something between a truck and a tank, with all the armor plating made of aluminum to keep it light and fast. The corporals are standing like security guards at each side of the open back of the vehicle, and sitting up top manning the machine gun is an