The Final Line (15 page)

“Now, draw what you see,” Corey instructed. “And when that’s done, draw what you see is connected to it.”

Next, Corey dropped down next to a lance corporal who seemed to grasp the concepts, but his calculations weren’t giving him the right dimensions. Corey had the young Marine review the process he was using. Dropping down to sit in the dirt next to him, Corey corrected his assumptions and his equations. The kid struggled with the math a little, but not so much that Corey thought he wouldn’t master it eventually.

“Good. Keep working on it,” he said as he climbed to his feet.

“I can’t do it,” came a strident voice from somewhere in the group of students.

One of Corey’s fellow instructors stood. “Can’t is not in a Marine’s vocabulary,” he barked down at the man sitting on the ground. “I don’t want to hear ‘can’t’ come out of your mouth. Get it done, Marine.”

“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant, sir,” the Marine replied mournfully.

Corey was pretty sure that one would be among the next ones to wash out when the training got physical again. He’d most likely find himself targeted by the instructors, even as they tried to determine what the man was made of.

“Staff Sergeant Yarwood.”

Corey turned toward the sound of the Master Sergeant’s voice. He saw him standing with Captain Hirata. Corey’s stomach did a slow roll. He approached the two men and saluted the Captain.

“I hope everything is okay with my instructor, Captain sir,” Whitfield surprised Corey by saying.

“Your instructor is as inconvenienced by all of this as the rest of us, Master Sergeant,” Hirata answered. “I’m going to try to keep the disruptions to a minimum.”

“We’ll deal with the disruptions, sir,” Whitfield said. He turned to leave, giving Corey’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “Just concerned about a good Marine. Have a good day, Captain.”

“I really am going to try to limit access to you in an official capacity, Staff Sergeant,” Captain Hirata said. “But both the prosecutor and the defense in Nygaard’s case want to use you to their own benefit.”

“I don’t see how I can be a benefit to the defense, sir,” Corey confessed his bafflement.

“They’re claiming the incident in Ghazni, coupled with Nygaard’s previously undiagnosed Traumatic Brain Injury, caused him to kill his girlfriend,” Hirata explained.

“So they want me to tell how fucked up things were in Ghazni?” Corey asked.

“That’s the way it looks right now,” Hirata confirmed. “And the prosecution wants you to address Nygaard’s history of inappropriately aggressive behavior and to tell how things at Ghazni weren’t fucked up enough to make Nygaard do what he did.”

“Shouldn’t Lieutenant Adams be addressing any alleged discipline problems?” The implementation of discipline was the job of the officers, even when Corey had been the one to oversee it.

“The Lieutenant’s testimony is germane to an ongoing Marine Corps investigation and for reasons of national security, the civilian legal system will not be allowed access to him.” Hirata’s reply was stiff and formal and the hair on Corey’s arms stood up as a chill raced down his spine.

“I’ve discussed this with Mr. Reynolds,” Hirata continued, “and he concurs that you are not to have contact with either the prosecution or the defense without me being present.”

“Yes, sir,” Corey agreed. He wished Kellan hadn’t been told about this fucked up mess he’d found himself in the middle of.

“Not only do we not want you unwittingly giving away details of the investigation, but Mr. Reynolds is adamant that you’re to be protected from any attempts to shift the blame.”

Corey wanted to know what blame could possibly be shifted to him. He believed Kellan’s sense of integrity wouldn’t let that happen, though. “I appreciate that, Captain.”

“I think it goes without saying, Staff Sergeant, but I’m saying it anyway; you’re not to speak to the press,” Hirata said.

Confusion and alarm rocketed through Corey’s system. “I have no intention of talking to any reporters, sir. Why would they have any interest in talking to me, anyway?”

“Nygaard’s attorney is talking to them,” Hirata answered. “He’s saying your testimony will mitigate Nygaard’s actions.”

Corey heaved a disgusted sigh. “At least I live on base. It’ll make it harder to get to me.”

The Captain chuckled. “If one of them manages to ambush you, don’t say a word, just execute a strategic retreat. They’ll find a way to manipulate the most innocent of statements.”

“Solid copy, sir.”

As the Captain left, Corey turned back to the class. He found them gathered in the shade eating lunch. The younger Marines had made the mistake of complaining about the quality of the portable meal. Corey could hear the veterans schooling the infants about this gourmet meal, when compared to the quality of the average MRE.

Taking advantage of the official break, Corey pulled his cell phone from his pocket and turned it on. He tried not to be hopeful. He told himself it was ridiculous to hope. Still, when he saw the voicemail from Sean, he was stupidly euphoric.

Corey walked in a circle as he listened to the recording of Sean’s voice. He didn’t need his fellow Marines to see him grinning like an idiot.

“Hey, I didn’t hear from you last night. I hope that means you didn’t have trouble sleeping, and there was no nightmare. ’Cause if you didn’t call ’cause you thought you’d be bothering me, I’m going to be pissed.” The humor in Sean’s voice was easy to hear. “It’s ten o’clock and I’m heading out for L.A. The drive will take a couple of hours so call if you get a chance. After that I have a lot of meetings, auditions, and readings so I’ll be busy until kind of late. I’ll call you when I get to my hotel.” There was a long pause. “I hope you’ll answer.” Corey grinned. It mattered to Sean if Corey answered his call or not. “Anyway, I just wanted to say ‘hi’ and make sure you’re okay…call me if you have a chance…hope you’re having a good day…um…I guess that’s it…so…hope to talk to you soon. Bye.”

Sean was always so supremely confident; Corey found it charming that he got a little insecure. Especially over Corey.

Checking his watch, he saw it was well past noon. Sean was probably busy, but Corey tried to call him anyway. He’d at least leave Sean a voicemail.

“Hey, it’s me.” No shit, Corey. “I got your voicemail. Sorry I couldn’t take your call. I didn’t call last night because I was asleep. That’s good, I guess.” Now it was Corey’s turn to make an awkward pause. “So, call me when you get a chance. If I don’t hear from you, I might try to call back…oh, good luck with all those meetings and shit today.” Really, Corey? “I hope it works out the way you want it to…um…have a good day…and…I guess…I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

Corey disconnected the call, giving himself a mental ass kicking. He couldn’t have been any less smooth if he’d tried. So much for the badass killer Marine. He jumped slightly when his phone vibrated. His heart leapt, thinking it might be Sean returning his call. Disappointment swamped him like a cold ocean wave when he saw it was Tyler.

“Hey, dude,” he greeted, forcing joviality he didn’t feel.

“Hey, man, I gotta make it quick, but I wanted to tell you some of the guys in the platoon are pissed as all fuck at Nygaard.” Tyler sounded out of breath. His voice was low, like he was trying not to be overheard.

“They oughtta be,” Corey replied. “
I’m
fucking pissed at Nygaard.”

“This is something else. It’s bad enough what he did to that girl, but he’s talking about what happened in Ghazni. You remember what he said when we heard about this new investigation. He was going around to everybody telling us we had to stick together and if we just all told the same story they couldn’t do anything to us. Now that he’s fucked up and is looking at going to prison for life, he’s selling out the whole fucking platoon.” Tyler sounded angry and worried.

“Where the fuck did you hear this?” Corey demanded.

“He’s been on the fucking news, Yarwood!” Tyler hissed viciously. “He started out going around trying to get us all to keep whatever secret he’s been hiding, and as soon as it’s his ass in the sling, he starts blaming the Corps, the platoon, and his fellow Marines.”

Corey laughed mirthlessly. He really shouldn’t have expected anything else from Nygaard. “What an asshole,” he growled. “What pisses me off even more is it looks like there’s actually something to hide. He did something out there and now he wants to blame the rest of us ’cause he’s a fucked up prick.”

“What happened after you left us in the house, Corey?” Tyler asked quietly.

The question felt like a kick to his gut. Corey dropped to a crouch and struggled to slow his breathing. “What are you talking about?”

“Whatever the fuck it is they’re hiding, it happened when Nygaard took his team and went to secure the perimeter,” Tyler replied adamantly. “You went looking for them, Yarwood. What did you find?”

“Nothing. We collapsed the perimeter and pulled back to the Humvees.” Corey’s voice sounded robotic to his own ears. He’d been giving that same answer for so long now, but even he didn’t believe it anymore.

“Yeah. Okay. What-the-fuck-ever,” Tyler snapped. “Since you’re not watching the news, you don’t know that he’s saying we all desecrated the bodies we had to transport back to base, do you?”

Corey stood and began to pace. “Have you been interviewed by the investigation panel, yet?”

“No, I’m up tomorrow. Why?”

“They’re going to ask you about that.”

“Jesus Christ, Corey,” Tyler exclaimed. “We didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I know we didn’t,” he said firmly. “Tell them the truth when they ask. You have
nothing
to hide.”

“Know what’s really fucked up?” Tyler asked rhetorically. “The LT is nowhere to be found. The platoon is under investigation, one of our sergeants is accused of murdering his girlfriend and is blaming the rest of us, and our platoon commander is MIA. Gunny’s been leading our training.”

Corey wondered if Lieutenant Adams knew what it was Corey couldn’t seem to remember. “Just stay out of trouble and tell the truth when you’re interviewed tomorrow. That’s all you can do.”

“Shit. Gotta go. Thanks, man. Talk to you later.” Tyler ended the call before Corey could answer.

Shutting off his phone and pocketing it, Corey rejoined the class. He had to get himself squared away or he’d be shit for the rest of the day.

He wondered what Sean was doing at that moment.

§ § §

Corey showered after the gym. He drove across base to his favorite restaurant for a to-go order. As he passed the enlisted cantina, he thought about stopping in. He didn’t really like to be around people much anymore, but it will wasn’t much fun to eat alone. Corey nearly stopped, until he remembered how loud the cantina could get and kept on driving.

He watched a DVD on his laptop, and wondered when it might be okay to call Sean. Corey remembered that he’d left the last voicemail; it was Sean’s turn to call him. If Sean wanted to talk to him, he’d call.

Corey thought back to the message he’d left. He’d told Sean he’d try to call later so maybe it was his turn to call.

Fuck it.

Picking up his phone, Corey called Sean. He closed his eyes as he listened to the rings, hoping he didn’t seem like a needy pussy.

He knew he was about to get voicemail again. Corey pulled the phone from his ear to hit ‘end’ when he heard something on the line.

“Hello…shit…hang on…hello? Corey?”

“Yeah,” he replied carefully, listening to the sounds of shuffling and rustling in the background of the call.

“I took a shower and didn’t have my phone in the bathroom with me.” Sean sounded out of breath. “I didn’t hear it ring at first. When I did, I knew it would be you calling and I scrambled to answer it.”

Knowing Sean was eager to take his call warmed Corey. He settled back against his pillow, getting relaxed and ready to talk for awhile. “How did your day go?”

“Busy,” Sean sighed. There were more sounds of shuffling. Sean grunted.

“Did I call at a bad time?” Corey asked, afraid he didn’t have Sean’s complete attention.

“No!” Sean exclaimed. “I was going to call you in a few minutes anyway. I’m just getting comfortable and getting my guitar out of the case. So how was
your
day?”

Corey sighed heavily. “It was fine. The class went well. I just found out some stuff that pissed me off.”

“Let me guess,” Sean said darkly. Soft guitar music drifted across the connection. “It’s got something to do with this Nygaard guy.”

“I guess his lawyer has been going on the news and making bullshit accusations.” Corey closed his eyes and listened to Sean strum the guitar. “I got a call from Tyler, the corporal I told you about. Nygaard is throwing other Marines under the bus, after he’d gone around pressuring all of them to stonewall the investigative panel.”

“That’s pretty shitty.”

“That’s just not the kind of shit Marines do to each other,” Corey explained. They were supposed to be brothers. You were supposed to know your brothers had your back.

“You’ve got Tyler’s back, though, right?” Sean asked.

Corey paused, not sure where this was going. “Yeah. Of course.”

“So he’s not all alone in this. That’s good.”

“Tyler’s a good Marine and didn’t do anything wrong,” Corey affirmed.

“Then it’s good he has you to look to as an example, and not just Nygaard.”

Corey had no idea how to reply to
that
. “Yeah, I guess so. So how did your auditions go?”

“Fine, I think. I won’t know for a while. I’ll probably have to go through some callbacks.”

They both fell silent as Sean played his guitar. The song made Corey feel melancholy. He didn’t recognize it.

“Is that something you wrote?” he asked quietly.

“I’m I the middle of writing it,” Sean replied.

“Wow. I like it. It’s kind of sad, though.”

“You haven’t heard the words yet,” Sean said ruefully. “It gets worse.”

“Is it too early for you to sing it for me?”

“Not as long as you remember it’s a work in progress,” answered Sean. “The first and third verses are more or less done but I’m still struggling with the second one. Hang on, I’m gonna put you on speaker.”