NaNoWriMo 2022

Night Talk

American Kingdom: Day 21

Previous chapter:

There were a couple of things I wanted to get off my chest with Nathan, but for now I needed to set the record straight about one thing.

I led him away from the barracks down to the bench where Hazel and I had sat quietly that evening before dinner.

He leaned in a little close when we sat down. I moved away, just enough for comfort, and to send a signal I hoped he could pick up.

He did.

At least he didn’t come after me. There was only so much room on the bench and I didn’t want to literally push him away.

“I can see,” I began, “that there are going to be a number of rumours about me and my scar.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours…”

Dear Lord, had this been a mistake? Give me strength.

I looked into Nathan’s eyes, gleaming in the light from the moon, and remembered who was looking back. Jesus knew.

“Just sit quiet, please, and I’ll tell you about the scar.”

And I told him. I left out Lance, and I left out Ted, and I ended with Marion shooing her husband out of the bathroom, blocking his gaze with her body.

“You died and came back?”

“You could put it that way. It’s a post-mortem scar and they were doctors, so they had marked me down as KIA. It must have been a shock to them.”

“Not as much as for you, I’ll bet.”

“Yeah. When I woke up in Germany nobody was able to tell me what had happened except that I’d had a post-mortem, something that was painfully obvious when I had a look at myself.”

Um, hadn’t meant to get him thinking that way.

“Anyways,” I went on, “That was why I was soaking in a bubble bath with another woman pouring me champagne. It’s the sort of story that gets exaggerated but really it was all perfectly innocent and directly linked to me being here.”

“Well, I’m glad to know the facts. If there’s anything I can do…”

“Just be a gentleman for now. This is all kind of new to me. On another point, we two are the only real soldiers, um fighting service personnel, in this group.”

“Apart from the instructors,” Nathan said.

“Not sure about Duane but Hart and Payne definitely have some action under their belts.”

He grinned, and I realised I could have put that better.

“Been in combat, I mean.”

“Iraq for both,” he said. “We did some talking on the range yesterday.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. What were you firing?”

“Huh. Mainly we were a work detail for Hart, policing up the range, mowing the grass at the admin area, washing the benches. But we took along three M4s and ran through some of the range procedure, shot up a few tin cans from the hip, bit of fun.”

“I was wondering where Oscar got his eye in. He’s not a bad shot, you know.”

“He still wouldn’t be able to beat me in a shoot. Or you.”

“Yeah, so if they are running some sort of secret competition on actual military work, it’s you and me, buddy.”

“I figured that. Always good to top the course. I wonder what they’ll give you for second place.”

“Does it matter? I think whatever jobs they give us will be interesting and open up opportunities. They are already giving me E-5 pay and that’s more than I was scraping along with as a bicycle tour guide.”

“E-4 for me. But you were a Warrant Officer, Molly.”

“I did well when I got back from my first tour. Kind of famous, I think. People took notice.”

“Coming back from the dead is a nifty survival skill.”

“Huh. If it was a skill I could do it again. For me it was magic.”

“Lucky, though. Napoleon used to like his generals to be lucky, they say. Every day since then must be like winning the lottery.”

“I wish!”

“You know what I mean. Half your life is a gift. There was a lot of good guys never came back at all.”

Time to send a message. If he was the lunk I thought he might be, he’d never pick it up.

“Nathan, you know how they say all’s fair in love and war?”

“Yeah. It’s the SEAL motto.”

“Is it? Anyway. If we find out how this competition works, let’s share the details. Make it a fair competition, not something sneaky. Deal?”

“We’re Special Forces. Everything we do is sneaky.”

God help me.

“Nathan, we’re on the same side. We have the same King. We’re doing this for something more than our own egos, yeah?”

“Oscar wasn’t going to share any information.”

“I think he was joking. It’s for the good of all of us if we do things as a team, out in the open, fair and square. Nobody will feel they were cheated out of something they really wanted. It will be a test of skill, not who can be the biggest jerk.”

He slapped at his neck. “Aren’t you getting bit?”

“You’re the bait. Hazel and I put on some repellent when we came out here for our quiet time.”

“She’s pretty quiet but she’s also a bit of a brain. Something to do with crypto and comms.”

“Is she? I might put her onto intel for the team.”

“Deal. We share information. Let the best man win.”

“Nathan!”

“Just kidding.”

I stood up.

“Thanks for being a gentleman, Nathan. See you in the morning.”

He offered me his elbow as we walked back up to the barracks. A perfect gentleman. Thank the Lord he didn’t try to kiss me, because this time I don’t know if I could have held back.

Next chapter:

The whole story:

Notes:

Four weeks ago — 26 October — I bought a notebook and pen, sat down in a burger joint and wrote down a few notes for this novel. I hadn’t even committed to doing NaNoWriMo and there were only a couple of days to think about it.

I scribbled down a few sentences, gave myself a model — Hero’s Journey — opened accounts on Medium, NaNoWriMo, and social media, published an announcement and as the clock ticked over to midnight, commenced writing, trusting that I’d be able to tell a story and the details would appear when I needed them.

Which they have, mostly. I soon worked out that my novel wouldn’t be 50,000 words. Not unless I cut a lot of what I’d written so far and worked on telling a barebones story.

Not really an option; it would be going backwards if I actually cut the words, and cheating if I kept them in so as to cut them in December.

Besides, 50,000 words is too short for a novel. Somewhere within a loud shout of 100,000 words is more like it.

Each day has been a step on the journey. Usually what happens is that I think of what I have planned, write a title and generate an AI image and then find that after writing for a day, I haven’t gotten to where I thought I would.

Because the story is telling itself. My subconscious is inserting details and characters that may come in handy.

I passed by that same burger bar yesterday. I had the same notebook and pen with me. I would have stopped in but the time wasn’t right. Instead, I thought about where I was in plotting a larger story.

I began thinking that there was enough material for more than one model. A series of novels based around Molly’s employment by the American Kingdom.

Then I began thinking about what that would mean. And then I really began thinking and came up with a brilliant arc for the novel series.

It all hangs together — at least the skeleton model I’ve sketched out over the past day — and it has plenty of opportunity for conflict and resolution.

Details to be worked out but that’s something I can do day by day, novel by novel. I know where I’m going even if I don’t know how to get there.

Molly