Short Story Saturday - AWOL

Just a story I had in mind, an exercise.

The two men hunkered behind the wildlife the moment they saw the ship. It was small as a wine bottle but up close it is ginormous, almost the size of a three-story building. The men were dusty and dirty wearing long cargo pants and tattooed on top of their collarbone was a number. One of them had a tank top while the other was shirtless. They watched.

The mirage flipped on the sides of the ship like coming from another world. A portal even. The sun baked the navy-blue waters as dusk settled. The men had a great deal of anxiety: Twenty days out on the beach and they knew this day came. The time was a little off though. Anyone at this barren stretch of paradise can get lost. Build a shelter, a market basket, a community. No rules, just easy living. That was the idea Miles had.

A light flickered from the ship towards the shoreline. Miles examined it. It wasn’t an SOS signal. No other ship at sea can find people like Miles and his friend Gerald stranded on an island for so long because there were no rejects left. Nor survivors from the mainland. But Miles and Gerald knew the ship’s movement was headed this way.

“I didn’t cover the hut,” said Gerald. He shuffled in the sand. “Is it going to pass?”

“No,” said Miles, “It’s not stopping.” He tapped Gerald’s shoulder and added, “The bushes are thick, so tread lightly.”

Gerald nodded.

The brisk crunch of the ground startled the men. They looked around, but the visibility made it impossible to know what was out there. The ship honked and the men averted their eyes back.

“Don’t move!” shouted a voice.

Soldiers with rifles popped from the bushes and trees. Black ink had smudged their faces exposing bright eyes and their uniforms decked with brown and tan armor. Miles and Gerald raised their hands. A speedboat raced from the ship and onto the shore. Five men escorted a figure wearing sunglasses and a large helmet. The curves swayed slightly and Miles knew it was her. He seldom suggested any sign of resilience. The woman twirled a finger and two soldiers grabbed Miles and Gerald by the arms and took them to the boat.

The room was dim and creaked with a light fixture shining down like a searchlight. If one stayed long enough in this room they would go crazy. But Miles had gotten used to it. The woman, Lizzie with a buzz cut on one side of her head and wearing a faded brown shirt and cargo pants, paced around the room and watching Miles like a hawk.

“You haven’t changed at all,” she said, “How many times has it been? I lost count.”

Miles shrugged. Lizzie shook her head and sat in the chair opposite of him, and lit a cigarette.

“Going AWOL is not something to take pride in.”

“But it can be beneficial,” said Miles, “Think of how everyone like me has been going through.”

“Everyone like you knows what to expect, but the only difference is I choose to take straight duty in my company.”

Miles smirked. “War is not meant to be taken seriously. People like me can take on anything no problem. Including you.”

Lizzie inhaled the cigarette. She let the smoke fill her lungs long enough before blowing it out. “No,” she said, “But it’s a damn shame when you lose all expectations of what’s good for others around you.” She leaned forward and added, “Like how you decided to leave without warning.” Lizzie sat back in her chair, locking her eyes on Miles. “Was it a holiday?”

Miles noticed the mark on Lizzie’s finger. It was pink and fairly recent.

“What about you?” said Miles, “Early getaway?”

Lizzie flexed her fingers as if checking them to see if there’s any dirt underneath the nails. “I stay on the line until I’m done. And you are down here in the brig. It’s a good opportunity for you to learn your lesson.” She stubbed the cigarette in the ashtray and crossed her arms. “This is a good of a time as any to send you to a disciplinary outfit. Many of the men and women are heading back from the north ridge as we speak. You’ll be taking care of them. I say this is a good time because I would have you court-martial in an instant. Or perhaps you would like that. You are stubborn by nature.”

Miles grinned. He had every moment to keep himself busy away from the front lines; anywhere that was green and warm he can handle, especially taking care of people.

“But don’t think this is getting your own way,” warned Lizzie, standing up from her chair, “Whatever time you spent on that island is nowhere near to where we stand right now. There is no other paradise but here.”

Miles frowned. He kept a steady concentration on her face. “No,” he said, “There is a paradise out there. You say this ship is the vessel to keep the unit fed and cleaned and thriving, but it’s not. It’s another mouthful to feed. I told you this. Everyone loses their place when the rest of the world moves ahead.”

Lizzie rubbed her brow. The heat within the brig spored sweat but something was on her face. Something that made her eyes itch. “Well,” she said, “Then we are not inhabiting the same world when I don’t know where to find you.”

 Lizzie placed the chair back, opened the hatch and left. The latch secured and all Miles can hear was his breath. The voices argued with him but what can be done about it? His kind was not down here but elsewhere. He rubbed the string on his ring finger, untied it, and stared at it like an exposed bug waiting to be sent back to it’s hiding place. Know that you were good too, he thought, and so was I.