It was the middle of the night and Danforth and Krakauer had been drinking in the otherwise empty tent, for quite some time.
“It sure looks like we’re really going home. Sure, it’s only home on leave mind you, but, in any case, its home just the same,” he said.
The base seemed a lot calmer than it usually was that night.
“At least Ortega isn’t leaving after all,” said Danforth.
“Yeah, I know. He’s always wanted stay in Vietnam, even before we did Op. ‘No Man’s Land’ so I guess he has his reasons,” Krakauer replied. “If you ‘wanna know what I think, spending your leave here is definitely not a good idea. Trautman will sucker him into doing something dangerous because the Colonel always seems to need one thing or another. He’s never let Ortega be, at least not for an entire leave he hasn’t, and definitely won’t if he stays in Vietnam. Come on, give me a break.”
Krakauer nodded because it was the most likely thing to happen.
What he didn’t bother saying to Danforth was that Ortega probably knew it better than they did and that was precisely the reason he stayed in the first place.
Krakauer was of the opinion that their team leader had “crossed” the line.
He was an adrenalin addict and had been for a very long time.
“What’re you gonna’ do, Krack?” Danforth asked.
“I don’t know,” replied Krakauer losing his train of thought. “I'm not too crazy about going back to the US though.”
“Jesus Christ,” Danforth said somewhat surprised.
“Come on, not you too! What the fuck’s going through your heads for Christ’s sake? The same shit? I wish somebody would just tell me what the hell’s so fucking special about this place. I don’t know about you, but I feel like it’s been ten fucking years already and not a day passes that I don’t risk my fucking life because of it. Jesus. Even when we’re on the base I’m worried about getting attacked or something for Christ’s sake.”
Krakauer stopped for a second to think about it and then added:
“Oh, come on,” Danforth insisted. “How can you not have anything there, you must have someone waiting for you. Not Even I have someone for God’s sake, even if he probably wants to kill me, I guess.”
“Come on, please.”
“Seriously, I’m not joking. The Lodestone Sheriff can’t wait to give it to me.”
Krakauer chuckled at his friend’s comment.
“I’m telling you, he wants my ass, and wants it bad,” Danforth repeated. “I can’t show my ugly face back there again, especially not in my old neighbourhood, believe me. If I do it won’t be fun.”
For a moment, they were lost in their own thoughts.
Krakauer lit himself a cigarette, took a few drags and then said:
“I don’t want to stay here, but I wouldn’t know what to do in the US either. I’m telling you man, I haven’t got any kind of life in the real world right now.”
“Oh come on, what the fuck are you saying!”
“I mean it. There isn't anything there for me.”
“Ok, alright, I believe you, I believe you.”
“No, you don’t. I can see it in your face.”
“Listen Krack, here’s what we’re gonna’ do. You’re goin’ back to the US because we’re goin’ together. Then we’ll go to Lonestone together: get stoned together; go to the movies and we can even hit the casino that’s less than a mile from my house together. Besides, it’s only five nights so it’s like being on a holiday or something.”
“I suppose we could,” replied Krakauer.
“Of course we could. It’ll be fun, you’ll see. If the Goddamn Sheriff starts busting our balls, it won’t be a problem either. We’ll just blow his fucking head off if he does and dump the body in a trash-bin because it really isn't that different from Vietnam. It’s practically the same when it comes to dumping bodies I'm sure!
That’s only if you really don’t have anyone to say hello to back home.
‘Cause if that someone finds out you were back, but didn’t bother stopping by, then they could get pretty fucking pissed off.”
Krakauer exhaled a cloud of smoke, and finally said:
He turned to look at Danforth.
“There’s nothing for me back in the US, so don’t ask me again, please.
I don’t have a past.”