“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking to. Step away. Now.”
The former college football player turned, a joyfully vicious grin on his face. “Your girlfriend? No way. First Platoon is all fags. Go jerk off with your boyfriends over there.”
Hicks set his feet. “I’m not going to tell you again.”
Wilson reached out and seized Hicks by the front of his shirt, obviously not expecting trouble from the smaller man. But half a second later, Hicks was behind him, one hand on his wrist and the other on his shoulder, twisting Wilson’s arm until it was barely an inch from ripping out of socket. He buckled the bigger man’s knees and dropped him to the ground.
“You motherfucker-”
Wilson’s voice cut off with a squeak as Hicks cranked up the pressure on his arm. “I’m done messing around with you. I’ve been putting up with your bullshit for weeks, and I’m sick of it. Now here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to let you up, and you are going to do the smart thing and walk away. If you choose not to, I’m going to beat you within an inch of your life. Do I make myself clear?”
“Okay, okay. Jesus, man, I was just messing with you.”
Hicks knew what was coming before he let go. He could feel the tension building in Wilson, waiting to be unleashed. The big man sprang up amazingly fast for someone his size and swung a backward elbow at Hicks’ head. The young soldier ducked it easily, hooked a foot behind Wilson’s ankles, and shoulder-checked him in the chest.
It would have been just as easy to rupture Wilson’s testicles, stomp his knee in the wrong direction, or break his teeth with an upward elbow strike, but Hicks only wanted to teach him a lesson, not maim him for life. So when Wilson crashed to the ground, instead of stomping on his neck, he delivered a sharp kick to the big soldier’s kidney. Wilson writhed in agony, a hissing cry erupting from his throat. While he was stunned, Hicks grabbed him by the front of his shirt and started hitting him.
He knew punching someone in the face full-force was a good way to end up with a broken hand. But long training had toughened his knuckles, and he knew exactly how hard he could hit someone without risking more than a few bruises to himself. He let Wilson have six of them, then bashed the back of his head on the concrete floor hard enough to make his eyes roll up.
The room went silent.
Hicks let him lie groaning on the floor a few seconds, then grabbed the nearest drink and dumped it on his face. Wilson came back to himself, sputtering and coughing.
“Had enough, or do I need to bust you up some more?” Hicks asked.
Wilson said nothing. He simply struggled to his feet and began stumbling and weaving his way to the door.
“Hey,” Hicks called.
Wilson stopped, blood dripping from his face.
“You’re done talking shit to my platoon. I took it easy on you tonight. Next time, I won’t be so nice.”
After that night, First Platoon had no further trouble from Private Randall Wilson. Or anyone else, for that matter.
In the wake of the incident, Hicks fully expected to find himself standing at attention in front of his company commander, Captain Harlow. Fighting was grounds for an Article 15, which could result in reduction of rank, forfeiture of half a month’s pay for up to two months, and 45 days restriction and extra duty. But days went by and nothing happened. Finally, a week after the incident, Lieutenant Jonas approached him just after dismissing the platoon for the evening.
“Specialist Hicks, a word with you,” he said quietly. Staff Sergeant Thompson looked on but said nothing.
“Yes sir.” Hicks dropped his equipment and followed his lieutenant.
“I heard about what happened,” Jonas said when they were out of earshot of the rest of the platoon.
Hicks nodded. “Yes sir.”
“I’ll tell you I’m not happy about it. I know Wilson is a royal pain in the ass, but you are well aware the rules, Specialist.”
“Yes sir.”
“I talked to Lieutenant Chapman. He’s willing to let the matter slide, but there are to be no more altercations between the two of you. Any further incidents will be punished harshly. And just so you know, Wilson is getting the same speech from his CO you’re getting right now. The message to both of you is that these hostilities are to cease and fucking desist. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal, sir.”
Lieutenant Jonas straightened. “You’re a good soldier, Hicks, and that’s why I’m cutting you some slack this time. But in the future, I expect better from you. Disappoint me at your very great peril. Understood?”
“Yes sir.”
“Now I need you to answer me a question.”
“Sir?”
“How in the hell did you beat that big son of a bitch? I mean, the thing with Cole doesn’t surprise me. He’s huge. But Wilson must outweigh you by at least eighty pounds and none of it fat.”
Hicks shrugged. “If you want, I can show you sometime. The techniques are simple. Wilson’s problem is he relies too much on strength. All things being equal, in most cases, the bigger guy is gonna win. But if one fighter has better technique, and he’s big and strong enough not to be overwhelmed, it’s possible to beat the bigger guy. Wilson’s big, but I’m not so small myself, and I know how to fight. He doesn’t.”
Jonas gave him a long, measuring look. “You know, Specialist, I get the feeling there’s a hell of a lot more to you than meets the eye.”
Hicks looked away and said nothing.
*****
“Earth to Caleb,” Miranda said, tapping a finger against the back of his hand.
He looked up. “Sorry.”
“You went away for a minute there.”
“Yeah. I do that sometimes.”
“I noticed. Where did you go?”
He shook his head. “Nowhere good.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I’d rather not.”
“You were thinking about the fight with Wilson.”
Hicks said nothing.
“I was afraid for you. He was enormous. I thought he would snap you like a twig.”
“He’s an idiot. All brute strength. Doesn’t know the first thing about fighting. If he had, I might have been in trouble.”
“When I saw what you did to him I was surprised, and kind of turned on.”
Hicks raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Miranda smiled. “Then I got to thinking, where did he learn how to do that?”
Hicks lowered his eyes again, suddenly finding the rippling surface of his drink interesting.
“Don’t do that,” Miranda said.
“What?”
“Shut me out.”
“I’m not shutting you out.”
“I asked a question. Are you going to answer it?”
Hicks spun his glass and sighed. “What difference does it make, Miranda? Can’t we just be who we are now and leave it at that?”
“The other day when we were walking along the wall,” she said, “I looked at you in the afternoon light, and the sun cut through your eyes from the side, and they looked like stained glass floating in water, and I loved you so much I thought my heart would burst. Then you smiled at me with your mysterious little smile, and leaned over and kissed me, and that love rose through me like a fire and burned me up inside, and I wished in that moment I had all the world to give you. If I could have, I would have reached up and given you the sun, and the moon, and the stars, and heaven, and Earth, and everything in between. Then we walked again, and I held your hand, and I thought about your hands, how big and strong and gentle they are, how your lightest touch can send me trembling like a schoolgirl with her first crush, and how I watched you use those same hands to beat a three-hundred pound ex-football player senseless. I realized, then, that I want to know you. Not just who you are now, but all of you, and everything you were before. I’m in love with this handsome, quiet, sincere man who treats me with so much kindness, and dignity, and gentleness, and love, and he’s the most dangerous man I know.”
Hicks remained silent.