(12)
— Originally published in the Antietam Review (Spring, 1999)
Continued from page (11)
“Wouldn’t need to trick her, sir,” Griffin said. “She’ll tell me.
She’d do anything for me.”
“Even betray the VC?”
“Yes, sir.”
Carver hesitated. “All right. Find out as much as you can tonight. I don’t
for a moment think that General Hackel will believe this story, but the
possibility that it’s true is serious enough that I must make him aware of it.”
Carver reached for the telephone. Kerney and Griffin rose together and
walked out of the quonset into the white heat.
“Why does he hate me?” Griffin said.
“Just trying to do his job.”
“And I’m trying to do mine. God, God, God—”
“Easy, kid. Back off. Don’t take it so serious.”
Griffin laughed, and his body jerked. Don’t, Kerney wanted to say, please
don’t jerk.
“Kid, let’s have another beer before chow. Cool you off.”
“Got to check the mail.”
“Skip it tonight.”
“Can’t. Got to go check.”
Griffin was waiting for Kerney just outside the gate. Without speaking,
they turned toward the San Diego. They walked side by side. Kerney fell in
step with Griffin.
Once inside the bar, they separated. Kerney headed to the back. He
sloshed down ba-muoi-ba after ba-muoi-ba. When he lost count, he took a
girl to the back—he couldn’t see who—but his cock lay dead between his
legs. He went back to drinking. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. Griffin was
up there somewhere destroying himself for Carver. Kerney imagined Griffin’s
lion-body with Xuan beneath it and gagged.
A hand shook him.
“Tom. Quick. Help me get wheels.”
Griffin dragged him to the street. They flagged a vespa to take them to
the base gate. “I’ll call from there,” Griffin said. “Carver’ll send a jeep.”
When they reached Carver’s quarters, Griffin was flushed.
TOM'S TALES