February Challenge of the Month: A Little Love Story.
Never tell your girlfriend what you do for a living. Especially if it’s something dangerous like working explosives for the U.S. Marines. Can you say “Constant shrieking, whining, and nagging?” Like, what? I’m going to die or something? Not likely.
Okay, I didn’t actually tell her. She found out herself. I don’t know what I was thinking with this relationship. Kiarra came to me one night when I was working on some ordinance in a field at the Marine training facility on the coast. It was dangerous. She shouldn’t have been out there. In fact, I don’t know how she got around the dogs and electrical fence, not to mention the guards. But there she was, wandering through the field, picking her way around the pot-holes left behind by other trainees when they clipped the wrong wire. Sorry scumbags. I am the best. Nothing can touch me.
But it could touch her. I sort of freaked out when I saw her standing there looking at me, with her long pale hair blowing like there was a gale coming off the ocean. And there wasn’t.
I’d never seen anyone like her. And I had no idea what to do with this chick standing there in her nightie (“it’s a shift, not a nightgown!”) staring at me, hair blowing, eyes so blue they glowed like neon Freon in the moonlight. I had my hands all down in the wiring, so it wasn’t like I could cuff her, take her back to base, and let the Master Gunny deal with her.
Besides. She looked a little crazy.
Her eyes were red around the edges like she’d been crying. She stared at me, chin trembling. Then she whispered, “You’re dead.”
Well. If that ain’t a turn on, I don’t know what is.
Kiarra wasn’t threatening me. I knew that. I am the size of a giant redwood compared with her. And I am a master of my trade. Strong as an ox, able to leap tall buildings, that sort of thing. Naw. Nothing dangerous. Just your run-of-the-mill whackadoodle-doo that wanders onto the United States Marine Corps' Special Ordinance Disposal Training Grounds in the middle of the night, wearing a blowing nightgown and looking all hot.
I talked with her. She was majorly stressed. Been through some tough stuff. Seen a lot of people bite the big one in her life. Can’t imagine a life like that. I’m not the most feeling kind of guy, but I did my best. Told her if I die its all right by me. That calmed her down. But, I added, I’m the best the Marine’s have got. Nothing takes me out. Nothing.
She smiled and went all female and melty on me just as I snipped the last wire and diffused my little warhead. Kiarra reached out and began to drift toward me when she tripped on a clod of dirt and fell straight into the hole next to me. I tried to leap up to catch her, but my left leg fell off. Totally stinks, man. It usually doesn’t come off until after one or two explosions.
I sort of crawled across the dirt with my other leg and my one good arm, though, and got to her pretty okay. She cried. I comforted. I do know how to do that. Then she lifted her blood red lips and gave me a thank you kiss. I kissed her back. It was all right. My lips even managed to stay attached.
So yeah. Kiarra’s my girlfriend now. And it works. She still cries a lot, but what’s a banshee going to do when her boyfriend is a zombie? Girl's gotta shriek.
But I’m happy. I’ve got a great job, and a great gal. Valentine’s Day is coming up. This year, I think I’ll give her my heart.