The sun had risen to its apex and beamed down mercilessly upon the hapless souls of FOB Salamander. Jay Westmore and Travis Kitter sat in the shade of the concrete T-wall. It was almost time for them to roll out on another ‘escort’ mission. The soldiers kidded among themselves that they were the lowest paid escorts in the history of prostitution.
“My God it’s hot today,” Jay said. Travis Kitter and Jay could trace their friendship back to the first grade. Travis spat tobacco juice at the carpet of flies on the ground. The flies didn’t notice.
“Yeah. It is hot. You want some chew?”
“No thanks. I could of swore they said be here at 1300. Where is everyone?”
“Maybe it got canceled.”
Jay smirked and shook his head. “We aren’t that lucky, brother.”
A small kid came running up. “There’s not a lot to these local folks,” Jay thought. He waited for the boy to catch his breath.
“Meeting is canceled,” he said. Kitter spat at the flies and offered the boy a pinch of chew. The kid wrinkled up his nose and shook his head no. Kitter and Jay laughed.
“Smart kid,” Jay said.
“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” said Kitter.
“What was bound to happen?”
“That we would get our orders from the kids.”