Excerpt: Guns Death & Love

Here's an excerpt from the story, Guns Death and Love. It's a short novel about the perseverance of love in Iraq. A soldier finds forbidden love, but then what can he do when he knows it's destined to fail? Find out in this great romantic tale!
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Enjoy:

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A bottle of beer fell, and everyone laughed. Joe wasn't certain whether he liked this revelry, but he was new so he had to keep quiet. That was the rule.

"You gonna drink at all?" Dean, a large man, with chest and arms that looked inflated, leaned into Joe's vision.

"No thanks," Joe replied.

"Leave him be," Tony said and pushed Dean. Tony was skinnier than Dean, but seemed to be made of sterner stuff. Dean huffed, sneered at Joe, and walked back to the gaggle in the corner of the room. The room, their de facto lounge, was large with several worn out coaches, dust collecting on them. The windows were sealed with sandbags, and the cracks on the walls spoke of shoddy engineering and multiple mortar attacks.

"Thanks," Joe said, though he wasn't certain about how to take this kindness. The dust from outside filtered through the air and moved into his lungs causing him to cough. He was the new guy to the team, and as such was being treated with sneers and jokes. No one had really talked to him, but he was happy to be here, Iraq. Baghdad. He hated, however, the dust and pollution that was making his mucus turn black.

"Not a problem bud," Tony said with a measured smile. "You don't drink?" he asked as if he didn't really believe it.

"No."

"You will."

Joe stayed silent as he didn't want to offend the only friend he had just made.

Tony looked him up and down then walked away. Joe felt like he should say something to make him come back, but couldn't form the words with his mouth. Joe had been here a few days now and hadn't done much. It would only be a matter of time before they got into a hairy situation and he could prove himself. Then he would be accepted by the team.

"You going to be ready to work?"

Joe turned and saw his boss, everyone's boss, Bob.

"Yeah, I'll be ready to work," Joe said, not certain why the question was asked.

"Good, that's what I want to hear. I'll have you working with the Iraqis, squeezing them for all they're worth. All right?"

"Got it," Joe replied, trying to sound as tough as he could. It sounded like legwork, but everyone had to do their part.

Bob grazed him with his eyes, then back at the crowd.

"Remember that in the end the team is everything."

Joe nodded his head. He wasn't certain why Bob had to say that either. It seemed to be apparent.

Bob placed his hand on his shoulder. "You don't know it now, but when things get rough, the team is the only thing you can count on. Got it?"

"Yup," Joe said, his blood pressure rising, and he could see himself drinking.

The party continued, everyone laughing and Joe stared at the ground in front of him. The aroma in the room smelled of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and testosterone.

He decided he needed some fresh air. Outside he climbed up a ladder that led to the top of the building. There were guards up there, but he stayed away from talking to them. The night air was perfect compared to inside the room. The pollution had decreased in the hours that the sun went down.

Joe inhaled. It felt strange to be in a foreign country, so far from home. He surveyed the vista. The lights twinkled like any other city, but the few minarets that poked up made it foreign. The few palm trees in front of him rustled to the wind. A chopper flew in the distance, shaking the ground around him.

He walked to his room and opened up his laptop. It took a few minutes for it to connect to the Internet. It was early morning in the States, and he hoped that his girlfriend, Jessica, was up. He pressed the call button on the video chat. He hadn't talked to her yet, only a few emails had been exchanged. He wasn't certain if he missed her, or the moments in bed that they had.

"Joe?" Jessica answered the call.

The video image was a mix of stills and blanks. He could barely see her.

"Hey babe, how's it going?"

"Great, I'm about to head out to work."

"Oh," he said. It was funny to think that she was going on with her life just like she always did. It was funny to think of the entire US going on like it always did. It seemed to take away from what he was doing. "You don't have to head out right away, do you?"

Jessica pantomime thinking about things for a moment. "I guess I can be a little late," she said and flashed a smile.

Joe grinned. He watched as she removed her dress jacket, then shirt, then bra. It didn't take long until he quivered, gasped, and finished into the garbage can next to him. Jessica gave him a knowing smile and put her shirt back on. He kissed the camera good bye and went to sleep.

The next few weeks he was too busy to call her. Instead he met with Iraqis, picking apart their stories for information.

"You ready?" Bob asked and patted him on the back. They were waiting in a line of Humvees. Night had set and Joe was making sure his night vision was on tight. The information said that they would find some Sunnis holed up in a house on the outskirts of town, possible Al Qaeda of Iraq members. That meant they could expect a serious firefight.

Ten minutes later they were driving, all black, and Joe watched the cityscape peter out. They drove hard and fast once they got past a checkpoint. Shiites manned the checkpoint, so they wouldn't be giving the Sunnis any information, but it was always good to be safe.

Joe could feel his heart beating and as soon as the vehicle came to a halt he leaped out, adjusting his night vision as he ran. He got to the back of the house, pointed to a concrete barricade, and watched as his Iraqis fell in behind it. The house bathed in the eerie white-green paint of night vision. It was two stories high with a wall all around it.

The boom of the door being blown off sounded, and Joe clenched the handgrip of his M-4. Shots rang out. Then automatic gunfire. Yells. He wanted so much to be inside right now, but he still had to earn his team's trust. The sound of crashing broke out and he saw a man in white leap over the back wall.

"Waqiff!" one of the Iraqi soldiers yelled out. The man turned with a gun in his hand and fired. The bullets came nowhere near Joe and he aimed the dot on the man's chest and fired. Then he fired again, and again until the holes appearing on the man hit his neck and he collapsed.

The all clear was given over the radio and Joe stepped from the wall to go search the dead man. The flash threw him back and a blackout followed. He came-to and could feel something wet dripping down his shoulder. Was he shot? He could see Tony on top of him yelling, but all he could hear was a whining, ringing sound.

The piece of shrapnel that grazed his neck left an open mouth bruise. Joe was somewhat proud of it. That night he celebrated with the team and felt like he was now accepted after what he had been through.

"You scared me out there. I thought you were done," Tony said, patting him on the back. They were in the lounge.

"Yeah, I thought the same too," said Joe with a grin.

"Want a drink?" Tony asked, holding out a beer.

"Naw, I'm good," Joe replied. He needed to stay away from drinking. His father had been a raging alcoholic and Joe didn't want to walk the same steps. His father died when he was ten, in a car accident, though his mother never gave him details about what happened.

"All right," Tony said and Joe walked with him to the rest of the team and joined in on the laughter.

When he went back to his room to sleep, he checked his email. Jessica had written to him. He hadn't replied in some time and she was worried.

Please let me know that you're okay. Just one word would be nice.

Joe moved the cursor over the reply button and hesitated. He wasn't certain if he should say anything. He rather liked that she was disconcerted. It made everything he was doing seem worthwhile. Thoughts about what it was she was doing trickled through his mind. Maybe he could get her to video chat in a few days.

"Joe, anything the matter?" Bob asked.

"None, why?"

"Well your work has been off lately."

Joe nodded, and Bob furrowed his brow to indicate that Joe was on thin ice before walking off.

None of the Iraqis Joe had been working with had been worthwhile so far. The information on the Sunnis was the only thing he had dug up so far, and that was more than a week ago. There was hope, though. A woman had approached one of their Iraqi workers and Joe met her a few days ago. She had some inside information on the Shiite militias working in their neighborhood. Joe interviewed her earlier that morning and found out that her father, her only remaining relative, was killed in a roadside bomb that was meant to hit an American convoy. She must have been furious, but kept it under a veneer of serious docility that surprised Joe.

"That's where he's keeping the bombs?" Joe asked, as he pointed on the map.

The woman, Sanaa, stared at the map and nodded her head. He had known her for a month now, and he and the team had gone on almost nightly raids because of her.

"Yes," the woman said in broken English.

Between Joe's Arabic and her English, they were able to conduct a basic conversation.

After he tied up all the information and paid her, he dropped her off at the usual pre-designated spot.

Driving back, Joe thought about her mannerisms. He found them to be very amusing. She never looked him in the eye; her gaze always nibbled around his face. And before she removed her veil, as she stepped into the house where they met, she would glance around as if she were about to strip naked.

As he entered the team's compound, Joe saw his phone ring.

"Hello?" Joe answered.

"I need help," Sanaa whispered, her voice tarnished with heavy breathing.

"What is it?"

"I need..." the phone cut off.

Joe turned the vehicle around and drove as fast as he could to where he dropped off Sanaa. The place was near some bushes and palm trees behind buildings that faced a major street. The bushes covered Sanaa's walk back to the street. That way she wouldn't be seen being dropped off by a questionable man. The place normally had few people near it, so it increased the odds of there not being any one to see her. Now, however, there were Iraqi soldiers everywhere and a large truck.

Joe's heart jumped. One never knew if the Iraqi Army unit you were dealing with were legit, or worked for the bad guys. It could be that they had arrested Sanaa. If that was the case, his valuable lead for information would be gone. He couldn't have that. He parked the car next to the truck and walked to a man in the center of the commotion who was pointing and yelling.

"Hello," Joe said.

The man stared at Joe with his eyes squinting.

Joe knew he looked out of place with his jeans and white dress shirt. That meant he would have to push this man to get what he wanted. The man's rank was that of captain.

"What are your men doing here?" Joe asked.

"We're searching for a bomb. Someone gave a call that a bomb was placed here."

"Have you arrested anyone?"

"No," the captain answered.

Joe scanned the area again. Sanaa could be hiding in the bushes. If that was the case it would only take a few minutes before she was found. Then what? Joe didn't know if this was a legitimate bomb threat. It didn't seem like a place for that, besides it was more likely that someone called in a prank. Or that this man worked for the militias in the area who were willing to do anything to catch someone like Sanaa, take her to a basement somewhere and fill her body with holes.

"There's no bomb here," Joe said with as much certainty as he could muster.

"How do you know?"

There was no way he could know, but Joe couldn't get called on his bluff. "There's no bomb here," Joe said and stepped closer to the captain. It worked, the captain visibly shrunk about a quarter of a millimeter.

"Call you men and leave," Joe continued, feeling himself waiver in his resolve.

The captain's eyes darted around. Joe knew he had to make a case for himself or else this wouldn't end well.

"Listen," Joe said and put his arm around the Iraqi. "You, your men, look like you could use some vests and helmets, right?"

The Iraqi thought for a second. "We could."

"Good. You do me this favor, and I'll make sure that you get them."

The captain's eyes studied Joe. "You can?"

"Of course. How many men?"

"Twenty."

"No problem."

The captain smiled and exposed yellow and brown teeth. He turned to his men and yelled. They turned and headed for the trucks without hesitation. They must have been tired of what they were doing.

Joe exchanged numbers with the captain and watched as he got in the front of the truck and drove off. When he was certain the truck was gone, Joe walked over to the bushes.

"Sanaa?"

He heard a rustle and moved towards it. In the middle of the bushes was Sanaa, crouched and trembling.

"Come," Joe said and reached out his hand. She grabbed his hand instinctively and followed him out of the bushes. Joe realized that it was the first time that he had touched her. Before this he had strictly followed the recommended custom of staying away from touching local women. He also realized that her hands were soft, and that he liked holding her. It felt natural.

When they stepped outside of the bushes she hugged him. Joe wasn't certain where to place his hand. Placing it on her body would seem like too much, and yet, what was a hug without a squeeze?

"Thank you," she said as she pulled away before he could decide. She stared at him for a second, and Joe could feel her brown eyes parsing him. She looked around and walked off.