Fic: "Field of Blood and Stone" (Generation Kill)
For sparky77 in romanticalgirl's Minor Characters exchange. Prompt was Doc Bryan, the lost art of a good rage. Set during "Bomb in the Garden."
Title from Springsteen, "Devils and Dust," the song I will vid GK to someday.
The sky above the city looked like it was full of shooting stars. It would be nice to think that wishing on various incendiary devices and projectiles might work the same kind of magic, but Bryan never really believed in those kinds of things even before coming here.
Out here nobody believed in fuck-all. He swung his feet slowly, kicking the front grille of the victor. From here he could look out through the fence and watch things get even more fucked up. He could have a whole fifteen, twenty minutes to himself without somebody coming up to him and bitching about how his feet hurt, or that he had some kind of fungus shit growing on him, or that it burned when he pissed.
What do you think, Doc, is there anything wrong with me except I was born stupid and I haven't slept in a week?
He shook his head and kicked at the victor a little harder. He should tell all of them to fuck off, every one of the wound-too-tight testosterone-fueled fucking whiny little pansies who called themselves Recon. There were kids out there in the city, in the countryside they'd rolled through, all over the goddamn world, kids with their legs broken and their insides being eaten up with infection and their eyes rotting right out of their damn heads, and they didn't bitch half as much as a member of First Recon with a tummy ache.
He was being unfair and he didn't give a damn. He kept thinking about those kids, waiting in line for a fucking hour for the first chance at a doctor they'd had in who knows how long, and getting run off by a combination of their own people and the USMC trying to see who could be more selfish and short-sighted.
God, fuck all of them.
"Hey, Doc."
He gestured vaguely over his shoulder, not looking back. The view through the fence was compelling; a man couldn't get that kind of mix of horror and boredom just anywhere. Besides, he didn't need to look, he knew the voice.
"You want some company out here?" Espera leaned against the victor, following Bryan's line of sight out through the fence. "What's going on?"
"The usual shit." His voice came out rough and choked, and he made a face, clearing his throat and spitting out into the dirt. Espera handed up his canteen and Bryan took a long drink, closing his eyes.
"Don't go and get dehydrated on us, Doc," Espera said. "Might take them a few weeks to get around to getting us a replacement."
"I'm not going anywhere." He took another drink and passed it back, rubbing the heel of his other hand against his eyes. "Gotta serve my time here in purgatory before I can do anything else in good conscience."
"Good conscience?" Espera's smile was sharp enough to cut. "Guess I'm not familiar with that concept. Or maybe I just need my memory refreshed. Tell me more about that."
Bryan didn't bother to try to smile back. "Afraid I can't help."
Espera watched him for a minute, eyes narrowing slightly, then looked back out at the city. "So you think we're all here cause we're atoning for past sins?"
"You got a better theory?" Somewhere out there, somebody started screaming. He listened for a minute and decided it sounded more like sorrow than pain. "Makes as much sense as Person's whole thing about how we're invading for NAMBLA."
"Ray Person," Espera said, shaking his head. "Why the fuck do we keep that mental degenerate around anyway, Doc, you have any idea?"
"Because Colbert needs him. And the rest of the platoon's under the impression that they need Colbert."
"You think we don't?"
"Nobody's indispensible, Tony. Not even the great and terrible Iceman. If he took a bullet tomorrow, we'd still all be stuck here doing the exact same shit. Nothing would change."
Tony shook his head again. "Turn in a circle and spit or throw salt over your shoulder or some old wive's shit when you talk like that, dawg."
"Didn't know you were superstitious."
"I'm not, but you don't want to go wishing ill on anybody out here." He looked out through the fence, at the flashes of light and sound as the nightly gun battles went on through Baghdad. "Anyway, you can be as hardass and cynical as you want, Doc, but don't tell me you don't feel better out there knowing Iceman's covering a sector."
"Guess so." He leaned back on his hands, palms pressed flat to the hood of the HumVee, feeling the heat that still lingered in the metal. "What the hell is wrong with these people?"
"The Hajis?"
"Them. Us. I guess I don't mean these people, I mean...people. In general."
"The problem with people's easy, dawg. We evolved to form groups, and try to kill everybody who's not a part of our group." Espera nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on some faraway point above the city. "Couldn't do much damage when all we had was sticks and rocks and we didn't know anybody but the groups in walking distance. Nowadays, though? We can fly halfway around the world and bomb the hell out of some poor dumb motherfuckers for the crime of not being us."
Bryan shook his head slowly. "That's not evolution. That's culture. Evolution is biology, and biologically we're not any different from chimps and wolves and rats. Fuck, even plants evolve according to the same rules, Tony. Get better at getting food, making babies, and then protecting the babies than the other guys are."
"You just proved my point, Doc. Protecting the babies." Espera laughed a little, scuffing his heel in the dirt. "That's where we get in trouble, right there. We think we're doing this to protect the babies."
"Yeah." Bryan nodded, catching his lower lip between his teeth. "We're doing a hell of a job protecting the goddamn kids."
"Can't let it get to you, man. You let it get to you, you're gonna go crazy."
"Can I tell you something, Tony?" It wasn't really a question, so he didn't wait for an answer. "I am so fucking sick of hearing that. Don't let it get to you. Don't let it fucking get to you. You know what? Maybe if more people let it get to them, it wouldn't be fucking happening. Maybe we'd realize what the hell we're doing if we weren't so busy blocking it out and pretending it isn't happening at all."
Espera looked over his shoulder at the building, either checking for backup or making sure nobody was getting pissed about the shouting. "Take it easy, dawg. Fucking breathe a little."
"All of you are so busy not letting it get to you, I swear you don't even know what you're doing. It's the blind leading the blind. Like I'm surrounded by zombies with M16s. I'm in a fucking horror movie and nobody even gives a shit." He kicked the front of the victor once, then again, hard enough that the metal rang. "Fuck."
Espera stared at him for a minute, eyebrows raised, visibly counting off a minute. Bryan looked away, biting at his lip again and breathing roughly through his nose.
"You feel better?" Espera said finally.
"No."
"Okay, but are you done?"
"Yeah." He sighed, dropping his chin to his chest. "Yeah, I'm done."
"You're gonna give yourself a stroke, Doc, and that's not good for the rest of us."
"Oh, right. I've gotta give a shit about the rest of you."
"I'm keeping you around for my own good, Doc. Purely selfish reasons. Can't rely on the white man to watch my back and keep me in health care."
"The white man." Bryan shook his head and laughed. "You know, Poke, you said something to me back at Miranda, about the white man. I keep thinking about something else you said, about how this is an old land. How this shit has been going on forever here. This is where we crawled up out of the dirt and we seem to be doing our goddamn best to crawl back in again."
"Like you said, dawg, we're just like the wolves and the rats. Bigger brain don't mean we got any wiser, just meaner."
"Why isn't anybody angry?" He waved off Espera's exasperated look. "I get why you guys aren't angry, I really do. You don't fucking have time. But everybody else. Back home. With Vietnam they had protesters, Tony. They had anger. People set shit on fire to fight that war. Forty years later and we can barely get a damn e-mail petition about this one. Don't people get angry anymore? What the fuck happened?"
"It's a different time, Doc." Espera rubbed the back of his head and shrugged, exhaustion settling over his features. "We're living in the age of quiet despair."
Bryan shook his head. "I'm tired of fucking being quiet."
"Fight the man all you want, dawg. Just don't think it's going to do you any good."
"You're an inspiration, Poke. Truly you are."
"I'm just another poor dumb motherfucker serving his country. Oo-rah." Espera stepped back from the HumVee. "I've gotta go get some sleep. Just came out here to get some air in the first place. You coming in?"
"Not yet." He shrugged at Espera's look and curled his fingers against his palms. "Soon."
Espera nodded and walked away, dust rising up under his feet even at this time of the night. Bryan looked back up at the sky. At some point things had settled down out there, a little. No more falling stars.
Title from Springsteen, "Devils and Dust," the song I will vid GK to someday.
The sky above the city looked like it was full of shooting stars. It would be nice to think that wishing on various incendiary devices and projectiles might work the same kind of magic, but Bryan never really believed in those kinds of things even before coming here.
Out here nobody believed in fuck-all. He swung his feet slowly, kicking the front grille of the victor. From here he could look out through the fence and watch things get even more fucked up. He could have a whole fifteen, twenty minutes to himself without somebody coming up to him and bitching about how his feet hurt, or that he had some kind of fungus shit growing on him, or that it burned when he pissed.
What do you think, Doc, is there anything wrong with me except I was born stupid and I haven't slept in a week?
He shook his head and kicked at the victor a little harder. He should tell all of them to fuck off, every one of the wound-too-tight testosterone-fueled fucking whiny little pansies who called themselves Recon. There were kids out there in the city, in the countryside they'd rolled through, all over the goddamn world, kids with their legs broken and their insides being eaten up with infection and their eyes rotting right out of their damn heads, and they didn't bitch half as much as a member of First Recon with a tummy ache.
He was being unfair and he didn't give a damn. He kept thinking about those kids, waiting in line for a fucking hour for the first chance at a doctor they'd had in who knows how long, and getting run off by a combination of their own people and the USMC trying to see who could be more selfish and short-sighted.
God, fuck all of them.
"Hey, Doc."
He gestured vaguely over his shoulder, not looking back. The view through the fence was compelling; a man couldn't get that kind of mix of horror and boredom just anywhere. Besides, he didn't need to look, he knew the voice.
"You want some company out here?" Espera leaned against the victor, following Bryan's line of sight out through the fence. "What's going on?"
"The usual shit." His voice came out rough and choked, and he made a face, clearing his throat and spitting out into the dirt. Espera handed up his canteen and Bryan took a long drink, closing his eyes.
"Don't go and get dehydrated on us, Doc," Espera said. "Might take them a few weeks to get around to getting us a replacement."
"I'm not going anywhere." He took another drink and passed it back, rubbing the heel of his other hand against his eyes. "Gotta serve my time here in purgatory before I can do anything else in good conscience."
"Good conscience?" Espera's smile was sharp enough to cut. "Guess I'm not familiar with that concept. Or maybe I just need my memory refreshed. Tell me more about that."
Bryan didn't bother to try to smile back. "Afraid I can't help."
Espera watched him for a minute, eyes narrowing slightly, then looked back out at the city. "So you think we're all here cause we're atoning for past sins?"
"You got a better theory?" Somewhere out there, somebody started screaming. He listened for a minute and decided it sounded more like sorrow than pain. "Makes as much sense as Person's whole thing about how we're invading for NAMBLA."
"Ray Person," Espera said, shaking his head. "Why the fuck do we keep that mental degenerate around anyway, Doc, you have any idea?"
"Because Colbert needs him. And the rest of the platoon's under the impression that they need Colbert."
"You think we don't?"
"Nobody's indispensible, Tony. Not even the great and terrible Iceman. If he took a bullet tomorrow, we'd still all be stuck here doing the exact same shit. Nothing would change."
Tony shook his head again. "Turn in a circle and spit or throw salt over your shoulder or some old wive's shit when you talk like that, dawg."
"Didn't know you were superstitious."
"I'm not, but you don't want to go wishing ill on anybody out here." He looked out through the fence, at the flashes of light and sound as the nightly gun battles went on through Baghdad. "Anyway, you can be as hardass and cynical as you want, Doc, but don't tell me you don't feel better out there knowing Iceman's covering a sector."
"Guess so." He leaned back on his hands, palms pressed flat to the hood of the HumVee, feeling the heat that still lingered in the metal. "What the hell is wrong with these people?"
"The Hajis?"
"Them. Us. I guess I don't mean these people, I mean...people. In general."
"The problem with people's easy, dawg. We evolved to form groups, and try to kill everybody who's not a part of our group." Espera nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on some faraway point above the city. "Couldn't do much damage when all we had was sticks and rocks and we didn't know anybody but the groups in walking distance. Nowadays, though? We can fly halfway around the world and bomb the hell out of some poor dumb motherfuckers for the crime of not being us."
Bryan shook his head slowly. "That's not evolution. That's culture. Evolution is biology, and biologically we're not any different from chimps and wolves and rats. Fuck, even plants evolve according to the same rules, Tony. Get better at getting food, making babies, and then protecting the babies than the other guys are."
"You just proved my point, Doc. Protecting the babies." Espera laughed a little, scuffing his heel in the dirt. "That's where we get in trouble, right there. We think we're doing this to protect the babies."
"Yeah." Bryan nodded, catching his lower lip between his teeth. "We're doing a hell of a job protecting the goddamn kids."
"Can't let it get to you, man. You let it get to you, you're gonna go crazy."
"Can I tell you something, Tony?" It wasn't really a question, so he didn't wait for an answer. "I am so fucking sick of hearing that. Don't let it get to you. Don't let it fucking get to you. You know what? Maybe if more people let it get to them, it wouldn't be fucking happening. Maybe we'd realize what the hell we're doing if we weren't so busy blocking it out and pretending it isn't happening at all."
Espera looked over his shoulder at the building, either checking for backup or making sure nobody was getting pissed about the shouting. "Take it easy, dawg. Fucking breathe a little."
"All of you are so busy not letting it get to you, I swear you don't even know what you're doing. It's the blind leading the blind. Like I'm surrounded by zombies with M16s. I'm in a fucking horror movie and nobody even gives a shit." He kicked the front of the victor once, then again, hard enough that the metal rang. "Fuck."
Espera stared at him for a minute, eyebrows raised, visibly counting off a minute. Bryan looked away, biting at his lip again and breathing roughly through his nose.
"You feel better?" Espera said finally.
"No."
"Okay, but are you done?"
"Yeah." He sighed, dropping his chin to his chest. "Yeah, I'm done."
"You're gonna give yourself a stroke, Doc, and that's not good for the rest of us."
"Oh, right. I've gotta give a shit about the rest of you."
"I'm keeping you around for my own good, Doc. Purely selfish reasons. Can't rely on the white man to watch my back and keep me in health care."
"The white man." Bryan shook his head and laughed. "You know, Poke, you said something to me back at Miranda, about the white man. I keep thinking about something else you said, about how this is an old land. How this shit has been going on forever here. This is where we crawled up out of the dirt and we seem to be doing our goddamn best to crawl back in again."
"Like you said, dawg, we're just like the wolves and the rats. Bigger brain don't mean we got any wiser, just meaner."
"Why isn't anybody angry?" He waved off Espera's exasperated look. "I get why you guys aren't angry, I really do. You don't fucking have time. But everybody else. Back home. With Vietnam they had protesters, Tony. They had anger. People set shit on fire to fight that war. Forty years later and we can barely get a damn e-mail petition about this one. Don't people get angry anymore? What the fuck happened?"
"It's a different time, Doc." Espera rubbed the back of his head and shrugged, exhaustion settling over his features. "We're living in the age of quiet despair."
Bryan shook his head. "I'm tired of fucking being quiet."
"Fight the man all you want, dawg. Just don't think it's going to do you any good."
"You're an inspiration, Poke. Truly you are."
"I'm just another poor dumb motherfucker serving his country. Oo-rah." Espera stepped back from the HumVee. "I've gotta go get some sleep. Just came out here to get some air in the first place. You coming in?"
"Not yet." He shrugged at Espera's look and curled his fingers against his palms. "Soon."
Espera nodded and walked away, dust rising up under his feet even at this time of the night. Bryan looked back up at the sky. At some point things had settled down out there, a little. No more falling stars.