Chapter 9

9

SARAH

K ylee and I collapsed into our seats in the dining hall, our plates piled high with food as we recounted the day's events. I needed some major calories. The run had left us both exhausted and sore. Our muscles protested against the sudden burst of activity after weeks of summer break laziness.

"God, that run was brutal." I took a bite of my dinner and grimaced at the tasteless mush in my mouth.

Kylee nodded in agreement, her expression mirroring my own. "Tell me about it. I don't think I've ever felt so out of shape in my life."

I chuckled, poking at my food with my fork. "I thought I was keeping up with my PT over summer, but clearly I was lax. I should have pushed myself harder. That was embarrassing."

She shrugged, her brown eyes sparkling with amusement. "Freshman year all over again. I remember thinking I was in shape then too. Then they showed us how wrong we were."

This made us both laugh. During our freshman year, we had been so optimistic and innocent. We got to be the big fish in our little pond for a while and now we were back at the bottom. The newbies trying to get it together so we didn't look like new recruits.

We continued to eat and exchange horror stories about the run, wondering aloud what torturous training would be thrown at us tomorrow.

"Davis seemed to have it out for us," Kylee said after a moment of silence. She was using a piece of bread to scoop up the last of her unappetizing stew. "I swear I saw him hide a smirk as we were all heaving by the end."

I snorted at that. "Maybe you're right. He did seem unusually satisfied. I'd wager he does this to all the first years. He knew we would be soft after summer break."

We fell silent for a moment, both lost in thought as we mechanically chewed our food.

"But we did it," I said. "And our times were pretty good. I have a feeling we'll bounce back. I'll be leading the pack. I'm going to blow away any previous records. I might be shorter than a lot of them, but I'll be faster."

"Just remember I'll be right on your heels."

"We'll see about that."

Our conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Captain Davis, his uniform crisp and his posture commanding attention. The chatter in the dining hall fell to hushed whispers as he strode down the aisle, his gaze scanning the room. Most of us had been put through the wringer by him and had a healthy fear and respect for the man.

His eyes landed on us. A slight nod of acknowledgment was all we received before he continued on, leaving a trail of silence in his wake. I didn't dare complain about PT, not with him in the room. I didn't care if it was a huge room and he was way on the other side. I wasn't convinced he wouldn't catch an echo or something.

"Do you know any good places around base to go?" I asked. "Beyond the approved places. I want to have fun without having an MP drag me to the dorm. I don't want to have to watch what I say and drink because there is a higher-ranking officer watching me."

Kylee shrugged. "Not really. I haven't had much time to explore yet."

"There has to be a place." I sighed. "There is always a place off base. It's usually kept on the downlow. Only the cool kids get to know about it."

"Are you saying we're not cool?" She grinned.

"I'm saying we haven't gotten the chance to show off our coolness," I replied.

One of the young men sitting at a table behind ours leaned over. "We know a place."

I looked at him, trying to decide if he was being honest or if he was acting like he was cool just to talk to us. "There is a run-down place pilots like to go I heard about," he said. "It's about the only place."

"Yeah?" I asked. "Where?"

"It's supposedly the only place around for miles, but I think it might be a myth."

I leaned in, intrigued by the idea of a hidden gem waiting to be discovered. "A myth, you say?" I asked, a hint of excitement creeping into my voice. I was always looking for something edgy. I hated the rigor of living on a base and going to bed at the right time and keeping everything spotless. I liked to live on the edge, even if I would never cross the line. It satisfied my need to rebel without breaking any rules.

The guy nodded, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "Yeah, it's apparently down some backroad in the middle of nowhere. A real backwoods place for bikers and strays. And pilots. The kind of place with dirty floors and a sticky bar, but it's got the best damn beer in the state and a jukebox full of old records. They say it's so hidden and out of the way, even the MPs don't bother with it."

"That sounds like a place we need to go," Kylee said, her mischievous side showing through. I arched an eyebrow at her. She was more by the book than I was.

"But none of us have been able to find it," the man admitted, more than a bit sheepishly. "All we've got are directions that sound like they've been ripped straight from a treasure map. ‘Take a left at the twisted oak and follow the setting sun.' Nonsense like that."

"Well, we have nothing to lose," I said, grinning. I was invigorated at the idea. It was something that broke up the monotony of training schedules and rules. "We'll find it. Maybe it is a myth but at least we'll have an adventure."

"It's better than sitting around here waiting for Captain Davis to breathe down our necks again," Kylee added. "I say we give it a shot."

"You know it could all be bullshit," one of the other guys said. "It could be a hazing thing. Setting us up to look like a bunch of dipshits, like sending us snipe hunting."

"Do any of you guys have a car?" I asked.

"I do," one of them said. "I think if we pile up, we can all fit."

"That sounds safe," I said sarcastically.

"It's supposed to be close." The guy shrugged.

"Let's go," I replied.

Getting in a car with strange men from base wasn't quite the same as hopping in a car of strangers. The car ride was a blur of introductions. When you were sitting on some dude's lap, it only seemed right to know his name. The windows rolled down to let in the warm evening air as we bounced down the road. Names were exchanged, assignments divulged, and our shared complaint to be anywhere but here.

"Turn here," the passenger said.

"Dude, there's nothing down there but darkness," the driver muttered.

"That's what it's supposed to look like."

"How would you know?" the driver shot back but he turned down the road anyway.

The dirt road was only dimly lit by the pale glow of the moon, bordered by overgrown trees. It seemed to stretch on indefinitely, a path to nowhere. We continued down the unsettling road, the car's headlights cutting through the darkness like a dull knife.

A normal person would think this was a really bad idea, being in a car with four guys we didn't know from Adam going deep into the woods. I was pretty sure it was the premise of a horror movie I once watched.

"This is where we're supposed to find a haunted oak tree?" the driver muttered, more to himself than anyone else, his voice filled with skepticism. He turned on the radio to break the eerie silence. A soft melody played through crackling static.

Suddenly, up ahead, a lone building stood out against the backdrop of trees, its neon sign casting an eerie glow around the area. Fly Trap , it said, bright as sin in the darkness.

"Looks like a dump," I remarked.

"It fits right in," one of the guys quipped.

There were a few motorcycles, a pickup truck, and a couple of cars around the area. None of us moved. We could turn around and leave or see what the stories were about.

"Let's go," I said.

"Sarah," Kylee hissed. "Look at this place."

"It's a dive," I replied. "That's exactly what I was looking for."

"You're out of your mind," she muttered.

We all piled out of the car and made our way inside, curious to see what it was all about. To our surprise, the interior of the Fly Trap was much nicer than its name suggested, though it was clear it had seen better days.

The walls were covered with faded posters and old photographs, relics of a bygone era that spoke of the bar's history. The air was thick with the scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke. The exact smell I knew would turn off a lot of potential customers.

Despite its worn appearance, there was a sense of warmth and familiarity about the place, a feeling of belonging that washed over me as I took in my surroundings. It may not have been the fanciest bar in town, but it had a charm all its own. This was exactly the kind of place I was looking for.

With a smile, I turned to my new friends. "Well, what are we waiting for?" I exclaimed, gesturing toward the bar. "Let's get a drink."

We moved forward as a group, the floorboards creaking under our weight. The man behind the counter, a grizzled, middle-aged guy with a silver beard looked up at us. The older man's eyes were as sharp as the jagged scar running across his cheek, but they also held a sort of welcoming warmth in them. He wasn't a man I wanted to meet in a dark alley.

"First time here?" he asked, setting down the glass he was cleaning.

"Yeah," I replied. "Can we get a round of whatever's on tap?"

He nodded, clearly approving of my order. I was glad I was the one that did the ordering. I didn't want to offend the man. We found our way to a table. Kylee's lip curled when she saw the outline of boobs carved into the scarred wood.

"That's not quite the art I was expecting," she remarked dryly, flicking the woodwork.

I shrugged. "Artists have been drawing tits since drawing and art were invented."

Our drinks arrived within moments, served in mismatched mugs that bore their own history of countless patrons. The beer was cold and surprisingly good, with a smooth taste. Kylee took a drink and grimaced.

I took a long sip from my mug and set it down with a satisfying clunk against the solid table. "That's exactly what I needed."

The guys sipped their drinks and looked around.

"Do you think this place is licensed?" one asked.

"Who cares?" I asked. "It's cool. And that's all that really matters. No loud music or obnoxious punks dancing like they're auditioning for a sex scene."

Being proactive, I took the liberty of ordering another round for all of us except the driver, who had his one beer and was now relegated to water.

Kylee began to warm up to the Fly Trap. It might've been the alcohol or just the general atmosphere, but she no longer held her nose high up in distaste. A few burly dudes sat at one table and another group of slightly younger men and a couple of women hanging on them had pushed a couple of tables together. I didn't miss one of the girls looking at me, eyeing me like she was trying to decide whether she wanted to be like me or she hated me. I paid her zero attention and focused on my friends.

Time to get the party going, haters be damned.