The dream was the same as it always was lately. Three days without a shower and even in his sleep he could smell feet and feverish sweat, but still the dream was the same, more a memory than a dream. Ethan began to think that maybe this happened when you werent distracted anymore; all you can dream about is what you’ve done, try to be somewhere else, anywhere else but here.
So this is how it ends?
Ethan rolled his head and looked at Tom to his left, the serious brown eyes looking at him more for confirmation than for assurance.
This is how it ends… whatever it was.
‘It’ is us dude… all of us, like this, here, doing what we do.
George sat forward with his elbows pressed to his knees, looking with the same expectation that Tom had for Ethan.
What, nothing, because thats all we do, thats all we ever did, it made for good times I guess but, I cant just keep doing nothing, getting fatter and fatter and lazier and lazier, just waiting for the day I knock up some chick who hated me in High School and being stuck.
Maybe we dont have to be stuck.
Ethan pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes, feeling a burning, harsh pressure being contained, some kind of anger that had no reason to be. He let out a sigh and sat up, hugging his knees to him, looking at the dim emerald green pool just a foot away from him.
We’re all afraid of that word going away, arent we?
What word?
Shaun kept his eyes fixed on the star he swore was the ISS, but held his breath for an answer.
‘We’, we’re all fucking terrified that all the bullshitting, all the million dollar dreams, all the homes we’d buy together, all the games and stupid internet videos and all the inside jokes, all of that will just stop being, stop being true.
It cant stop being something that it isnt.
It’s true enough that we’re all spending my last week home sitting around, getting stuck in awkward silent moments.
None of them said anything, Ethan staring into the water, Tom and George staring off into space, now only Shaun was looking at anyone, his eyes looking at Ethan’s back.
I’m afraid we’ll forget all of this.
Ethan turned slightly, looking over his shoulder.
I am too, but I cant be afraid of forgetting now and never making a future, I have to get out of here.
We all do.
George stood and scooped up the clear bottle from the broken pool table next to him, holding it up to his face to see it’s contents.
We have about four shots of this Popov left, I think we should go inside and make some final memories.
Or grab some of my dad’s beers and forget it all.
Why not both?
Ethan stood and smoothed out his shirt over his growing paunch and sighed, turning around with a defeated smile.
Let’s do both, and maybe we’ll fast forward to something better.
“WAKE THE FUCK UP PRIVATES!”
Ethan jumped and instinctually rolled his legs off to the side of his bunk, making sure not to hit the half-awake and startled Private beneath him, rushing to find his running shoes and BCG’s from the flimsy wall locker he still couldnt open without manhandling it.
“Chow is in twenty minutes and you weak bodies cant get into a decent formation in less than fourty, God Help you if I have to come back up here Privates, Five Minutes and counting, I will not be behind some ate up hold over platoon you hear me?”
“Yes Drill Sergeant.”
“You all must not be hungry, alright, that’s fine, we’ll burn some calories when you all get down stairs and in formation, if we can even accomplish that, four minutes Privates.”
“Yes Drill Sergeant.”
Ethan trudged downstairs with all the others in his wing of the reception barracks, people who had been living in the same sweaty hell for almost a month, waiting for a company to open up for them. Outside, the Kentucky fall weather was still deciding weither or not to torment them, being cool enough to cut through their light sweat from just sleeping in their bunks but warm enough to not let them be allowed to wear anything other than Summer PT’s. He looked around for familiar faces, he still diddnt know which platoon was his, he just remembered one other guy he came with from the same MEPS station and the Drill Sergeant that looked too young to be as tired as he looked.
“Yo Ramos, Here bro!”
Ethan jogged over to the voice and found his new battle buddy, Kembill, in the back of a platoon that was still milling around, trying to jockey for a spot in formation as far away from the front as possible.
“We’re gonna get smoked dude, Drill Sergeant Morrisey is fucking annoyed.”
As if summoned by the fear of his name, The young, thin, and eternally fatigued Drill Sergeant Morrisey casually strolled over to the center of his platoon, in one robotic, rehearsed and heavy movement coming to Attention.
“Third Platoon, Atten-hun!”
Like the crack of a whip, everyone was silent, eyes dead forward locked onto something no one but they could see, chins raised, chests out, fingers curled and knees locked. But then someone coughed.
“Half Righ, Face!”
One, two, snap. Silence, they all knew what was coming.
“Front Leaning Rest Position, Move!”
Palms down, legs rocket back, eyes and head up and forward.
“In Cadence!”
“In Cadence!”
“Exersize, wun, ooh, hree!”
“One!”
“I said in Formation, four minutes, FOUR FUCKING MINUTES, not, four minutes and another thirty seconds of dicking around, looking like a group of shitbags, no, FOUR MINUTES, IN FORMATION, READY TO MOVE!”
“Yes Drill Sergeant!”
“Dont say shit to please me privates, you are not here to please me, hell I’m not here to make you happy, so why should you try the same for me?”
“Yes Drill Sergeant!”
“You all act like you’ve never done pushups in your life, fat body over here is already red and shaking.”
Drill Sergeant Morrisey crouched and focused his richeous anger on one Private just ahead of Ethan.
“Tell me Private, how old are you?”
“eighteen Drill Sergeant!”
“Eighteen, holy fucking Dog shit private, eighteen and your fat ass cant handle more than five pushups?”
“I’m sorry sergeant.”
He made one of the fatal mistakes any Basic Trainee can make.
“SERGEANT, what, am I not specail, do I wear this hat to look pretty and impress people, FUCK NO, I am DRILL SERGEANT, I am all you will know for the next three months, I am what will cut the cord to your mother and make you lace your boots with it, I am the hand of omnipotence, I hear all, see all, and punish all, to put it simply, I WILL FUCK YOU UP IF YOU EVER GET MY TITLE WRONG AGAIN, YOU GOT THAT PRIVATE?”
“Yes Drill Sergeant!”
“Good, that’s one less fuck up I have to worry about.”
Drill Sergeant Morrisey took his place at the center of the formation and ended the count, called them to their feet, and set them on their way to chow, sweaty, tired, and wondering what they had shown up for.
“Alright Privates, Eat up, get out, form up, we’re getting you all your uniforms, hopefully at the end of this you wont be the same sizes when you leave.”
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