BooksBarbecue
Back The Preserve
Chapters (56)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Half-Title Page
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright Page
  5. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  6. 1.
  7. 2.
  8. 3.
  9. 4.
  10. 5.
  11. 6.
  12. 7.
  13. 8.
  14. 9.
  15. 10.
  16. 11.
  17. 12.
  18. 13.
  19. 14.
  20. 15.
  21. 16.
  22. 17.
  23. 18.
  24. 19.
  25. 20.
  26. 21.
  27. 22.
  28. 23.
  29. 24.
  30. 25.
  31. 26.
  32. 27.
  33. 28.
  34. 29.
  35. 30.
  36. 31.
  37. 32.
  38. 33.
  39. 34.
  40. 35.
  41. 36.
  42. 37.
  43. 38.
  44. 39.
  45. 40.
  46. 41.
  47. 42.
  48. 43.
  49. 44.
  50. 45.
  51. 46.
  52. 47.
  53. 48.
  54. EPILOGUE
  55. AFTERWORD
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Selfer’s grin had faded. It was still a smile, though he seemed to be holding it there so it wouldn’t drop. He said, “Do you know what this means? Lansdale told me, Lett. You’ve made it to stage three. Congrats and bravo, you did it! You’re ready for your first assignment.”

10.

A few days later, Lett still hadn’t had any episodes. When the duty clerk finally told him to report for transport in the morning for his first assignment, he had expected to find a GI troop truck. But a civilian Chevy was waiting at the front gate on the south end of camp. The one-and-a-half-ton job had rounded fenders and matte blue paint that didn’t flash in the sun, and a logo of the Krieger Coffee Plantation on the side. The five men assigned to it gathered around but not too close, and Lett wondered if there had been some kind of snafu.

Then a man in new fatigues bounded up to join the group, his shoulders swinging around.

Lett got that feeling, his warning lever clicking in. The man had his back to Lett, but the Joe’s way was familiar. Lett stepped close to the opposite side of the truck bed, keeping an eye.

The man’s balding head had a sturdy shape to it, the sun glistening on its hard angles. Lett saw the longish curls around the sides. The man turned Lett’s way, and Lett saw a gauze bandage between his eyebrows and plenty of black and blue and cuts for decoration. The others were eyeing Lett and the man, stepping back too now, and Lett had to nip this thing in the bud and fast before they all had to climb up and cram in.

“It’s you?” he said.

The man held up his big mitts for hands. “Do I know you, bub?”

“We got off on the right foot,” Lett said, smiling, but the man didn’t get the joke. “I apologize,” Lett added. “I owe you a drink, owe you an explanation, one dogface to another.”

“I ain’t no Army doggie.” The man patted at his chest. “I’m all gyrene.”

Some Marines in the Pacific called themselves that, Lett had heard. He said, “Sure you are, Marine. Sorry.”

“These here Army fatigues are just what they gave me. This Army crap.” The Marine tugged at his khaki shirt and spat. “But what am I gonna do?”

The other four had left Lett and the Marine all alone near the back of the truck, where there was lots of open ground just in case. Lett couldn’t remember the Marine’s full name. Jock something. He said, “You don’t remember? You came out of the bushes . . . Your face—I did that to you.”

The Marine only stared. He raised a mitt to scratch at his head.