Becky's Marine Ch. 01

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Former Marine meets a girl and wrestles with his past.
3k words
4.54
34.9k
71

Part 1 of the 7 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 10/22/2015
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This is my first work. I originally published it or another site, and have since made a few changes. I felt them necessary, as it made the story more complete.

This is a story about life, not just sex. Sex is coming, but other things must come first. Please rate, comment and enjoy.

******************

The world was swimming around me, the force of the blast had blurred my vision and I could hear bells ringing. As I climbed out of the wrecked humvee, all I could see was smoke and dust. I heard the screaming of my fellow Marines and was climbing out when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I swivelled around in the bar stool and saw Carl chuckling at me, his face turning into a slight frown as he saw the glassy look in my eyes.

"You okay?" He asked in a hushed tone which was barely heard over the music.

"Yeah, I'm good," I said, failing to convince myself.

"Flashbacks again?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Only to those who know you. Come on, we're headed to the bonfire."

Carl Branson was my best friend of 20 years and is 5 years older than I am. We had grown up together in California and left when we both got a job at an oil refinery in the south. He was 6 feet tall and skinny as a rail, his meager 150 lbs covered in tattoos. He had been going bald for years and had taken to shaving his head every few days. Though most people wouldn't find him intimidating, he had a mean streak in him and was stronger than he looked.

My name is Andrew Anderson, I'm 28 years old, stand 6'3 and weigh 200 lbs, though most of that is muscle. Growing up in California, I graduated high school in June of 2005 and by July I was at Marine Corps Recruit Depot, San Diego. I served for 7 years and went on 2 tours of duty, one in Iraq and one in Afghanistan. I was medically separated in 2012 after our convoy was hit with an IED, killing 3 of my friends and injuring me with shrapnel through my right arm. I had what the doctors called 'a mild case of PTSD' which brought the occasional flashback as well as reactions to sudden loud noises and horrible nightmares.

Shaking myself from the dark memories of the past, I finished my beer, paid my tab and headed for the door. Carl was waiting outside by my truck with a few of our coworkers and several women. None of them really caught my eye and most had been hanging on to one of the other guys the whole night. That is, until I heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, wait up!"

It was Becky, Becky Seiver. She was a local girl about 25 years old and was a regular to Smokey's bar, which was the best local watering hole. She was 5'5 and maybe 110 lbs sopping wet. She had long brown hair and a body that would drive any man crazy. Her breasts were on the small side, though it didn't bother me, as she was well proportioned. Her past relationships had been with some pretty rough boys and I couldn't help but feel bad for her. I wanted to protect her from making bad choices again but I knew I couldn't. I wasn't my place to interfere.

"Y'all going to the bonfire?" She asked with hope in her eyes and that southern drawl that melted my heart.

"Yeah, hop in if your coming," I said, receiving a grin from Carl. He knew how I felt about her and we never kept secrets. She walked toward the back of the truck when Carl stopped her.

"Where do you think your going?"

"With you guys."

"Not back here your not, you ride shotgun."

"Isn't that your spot?"

"Not tonight it isn't," He gave a nod in my direction. As she turned toward me I opened the door for her. She smiled at me and walked to the open door.

After closing the door I looked at Carl and mouthed a 'thank you'. He nodded and climbed in the bed of the truck. My truck was nothing special, just a beat up '87 Ford F-250, but it got us where we needed to go. Carl had installed a nice sound system in it which I greatly appreciated. And over the past several years of our employment at the refinery we had made various upgrades to it such as a 6 inch lift, a brush guard and a new transfer case for the 4 wheel drive.

We left Smokey's headed down county road 41 until we reached the Marshal county line. Then we took a left on a dirt road for about a mile until the road ended. Most people would stop there but those of us with trucks would drop them into 4x4 and head into the light forest. After another 10 minutes of slow going we would come the fire pit we used fairly regularly. The ride over was relatively quiet, Becky finally breaking the silence.

"So... How's work been going?"

"It's okay I guess, pretty quiet lately," I didn't take my eyes off the road for fear that I wouldn't be able to take them off of her.

"That's good. When do you work again?"

"Tomorrow night. Tonight is the up all night to get my clock turned around."

There was another silence, this one slightly awkward. Again, she broke it.

"What was California like?"

I was a bit taken off guard. Having known her for a few months I had never really mentioned home or much of my past at all.

"It was OK I guess. I grew up about an hour from San Francisco and it wasn't too bad. I absolutely hated LA though."

"Did you live down there?"

"I was stationed about 45 minutes away at Camp Pendleton for 7 years. Longest years of my life."

"I didn't know you spent time in the military. Did you go overseas?"

Old memories came flooding back to me. This was one of the very few subjects I didn't like talking about to anyone, not even Carl.

"Yeah, I did 2 tours. Once to Iraq and once to Afghanistan."

"How was it?"

I couldn't talk about it. It was still painful to think of those who died. Those three whose names are tattooed on my ribs.

"It was like living a nightmare. I'd rather not talk about it now."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," I could tell by her voice this wasn't the answer she was expecting.

"It's okay, its just hard to deal with sometimes. How have things been with you? Still have all the boys chasing after you?"

"I've been OK. There are a few who have been interested, but none of them really interest me. I'm waiting for a special someone."

"Well whoever he is, he's one lucky guy."

"You know, if you ever need anyone to talk to or just need to vent, I'm here."

"Your sweet Becky, but I wouldn't want to bother you with my troubles."

"No trouble at all." She reached into the cup holder and grabbed my phone. "If you need me, call me."

When she finished putting her number in my phone she put it back in the cup holder. I brought the truck to a stop and let out a sigh. We had a problem.

Carl tapped on the back glass, motioning me to open the window.

"Is that a fence? When did that get there?" He said with a hint of disappointment.

"That's a fence all right," I shut the truck off and got out, walking around to the back.

"What do you wanna do guys?"

Carl looked at the fence. The metal posts were so new they didn't have any rust on them yet. "Ram it, you have a brush guard."

"And be stuck out here with a flat? No thanks. That's barbed wire." I said

"Can we cut it?"

"Maybe. Check in that crate for bolt cutters. I usually have some back here."

Carl uncovered the small footlocker I kept in the bed of my truck and began digging through it. He pulled out a small axe and folding shovel, some cold weather clothing and finally handed me the bolt cutters.

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Becky asked as I walked to the fence.

"Sure. I don't see a 'no trespassing' sign."

She stopped by the front of the truck as I went to cut the wire for the fence. When the wire was clear I handed the cutters back to Carl and drove us to the bonfire sight.

By the time we got there it was almost midnight. The full moon illuminated the small clearing in the woods. 15 large stones that had taken hours of work to move sat in a large circle in the middle of the clearing with a large pile of ashes in the center of them. Much of the grass had been dug up in a 20 foot circle around the rocks to make sure we didn't burn the woods down.

I backed the truck up to the edge of the exposed dirt and everyone climbed out. There was some wood in a pile by a tree which we kept for starting the next fire. The guys worked on the fire and unloaded the truck of alcohol, while I retrieved the small axe to cut more wood. After a short walk, I came upon a creek with several fallen trees, perfect for firewood.

I must have been gone for a while because Becky showed up with 2 beers. She handed one to me as she sat down on a log.

"How 'bout a break?" She asked with a smile that stole my heart. I could never tell her that, but I thought about it just the same.

"Now that you mentioned it, I could use a break, thanks"

We sat on the log for a minute before she spoke. "How much wood have you cut?"

I pointed to a large pile by a bush, "that much."

"That should be plenty. Let's grab some and head back to the party," She went to grab some but I stopped her. She looked at me puzzled until I took off the black zip up sweater I had on.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Pile it on here and it'll take less trips. Not to mention save our backs. You can go back to the party and I'll get this."

"I'll help," Before I could say another word she was piling wood on my sweater. I stood there for a moment enjoying the view. Her tight, athletic ass almost staring back at me. Shaking my head, I snapped back to reality and gave her a hand. Once the wood was piled up, I hauled it back to the fire. By this time, most everyone was drunk and more people had shown up. Probably invited by Carl or the others.

We drank, danced and had fun until about 4:30 am. The fire started to die down and people started to get tired, leaving in ones and twos. Carl and I, both having to work tomorrow, were still up and worked on getting people ready to leave. I went to get some water to put out the fire from the creek when I saw a scene that broke my heart.

Becky was sitting by the creek making out with another guy. I guess I can't be too mad because we weren't together but it still hurt. I went to walk further upstream to give them some privacy when I heard what sounded like Becky trying to get him off of her.

I tried to focus my mind on what was happening around me, make sure things were really as they seem; my PTSD was known to play tricks on me. I stood there listening to the sounds around me: the stream flowing over the rocks, the wind in the trees, a twig snapped making me turn to see Carl standing near the clearing. Then I heard the only thing I needed to.

"Stop, get off me!"

Carl must have heard it too and anticipated my reaction, rather correctly I might add. Before I realized what I was doing, I was walking towards where Becky was sitting, trying to push this man off of her. He was too preoccupied with her to notice me.

He did notice Carl walking up. He stood up to challenge Carl, never noticing me behind him. He stood 5'10" and was a bit on the heavy side, probably about 215 lbs or so. In the moonlight it looked like he had short brown hair and about 4 days worth of stubble.

"What the fuck do you want?" He said to Carl as he approached.

"I want you to get your hands off her, she told you to stop," was Carl's retort.

"Fuck you. I'll kick your scrawny ass!"

"I'm not the one you should be worried about," He pointed towards me. Judging by the look on her face, that's when Becky first noticed me as well. It was a look of fear and salvation, all at once.

When he turned around he jumped a mile. He raised his fist to strike, but was too late. The last thing I remember was grabbing his fist and wrenching his arm around behind his back, blackness of rage overtaking me.

When I came to, I was sitting I was sitting on the tailgate of the truck. My face was a bit sore, no doubt from him landing at least one good blow. Carl was sitting next to me.

"What happened over there bro?" Carl asked, his tone was more of amazement than anything else.

"I.. I don't know. The last thing I remember was hearing Becky telling that asshole to stop. How bad was it?"

"Dude, it was amazing! Who knew you could make someone cry like that by only holding their fist."

"Is Becky OK?"

"She's fine, she's sitting in the truck keeping warm. I offered her one of ur jackets from the crate in the back but she refused."

"Thanks man. What would I do without you?" I put my hand on his shoulder before hopping down. Looking around I saw that the fire was out and everything was back as it was before.

I climbed into the cab and sat down, Becky put her hand on my right arm. I jumped a bit, more from pain than from fright. The wounds I sustained had never fully healed, though I would never admit it.

"Thank you for that," She said, smiling at me. It was a genuine smile, one I could look at forever.

"No problem. If he ever gives you any shit again, just let me know."

"Oh, he won't," she said smiling, "he was so scared I don't think he will ever be back."

I couldn't help but smile, though not about the things I had done, but about helping Becky. It felt good to know she could trust me a bit more. I was brought back to reality when Carl pushed his head through the back window.

"Everything is cleaned up and everyone is loaded up. Ready when you are."

"Thanks Carl, let's go home," with that I put the truck in drive and we headed back to Smokey's, where everyone had left their cars.

The ride back was quiet. I had some music turned on low and I could hear the slow, rhythmic breathing of Becky as she slept. When we turned back onto county road 41, Becky's head fell slowly sideways onto my arm. I winced in pain, but kept quiet and still so as not to wake her. I could feel her cool cheek on my arm and it sent a feeling of joy through my body, like someone hit me with a bug zapper. I never wanted this moment to end.

When we arrived at Smokey's, everyone got out of the truck and went to their vehicles. Before Becky got out she leaned over to me and whispered in my ear.

"Don't be a stranger," she said and gave me a kiss on the cheek. It was hard to maintain my composure, but I must have done a good enough job because she didn't say anything more. Just got out and went to her own truck. Carl and I headed back to our house in our separate vehicles to rest up for work the next night.

As I laid in my bed, I thought about the events of the night. My mind drifted to how Becky managed to get down by the creek with that jackass, finally resigning to the conclusion that he followed her down there. I kept trying to remember what had happened after I blacked out, but nothing came to me.

My thoughts slowly wandered to Becky, her dark brown hair cascading down to her mid back, framing her soft, feminine face. Her blue eyes like sapphires, glowing in the moonlight. Slowly, sleep took me back to darker times.

---

"Mortars!"

I shot out of my cot, hitting the floor and finding cover where I could. Explosions rocked the ground and shook the foundation of the rickety building we were staying in. When the distinctive whistle and the blasts had stopped, we gathered outside, prepared to fend off an attack.

Moments later they were upon us, shooting wildly with AK-47's and small machine guns mounted on pickup trucks. Time seemed to slow, seconds feeling like minutes as we struggled desperately to repel the sudden attack.

Bullets kicked up dust around my feet, causing me to move to a more covered position. On the run I fired a few rounds, mostly as covering fire, reaching the side of a corrugated steel building and sliding to a stop. As I peeked around the corner, I saw a rocket being fired directly at the corner I had just slid behind.

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12 Comments
dgfergiedgfergieover 2 years ago

always the rescuing of damsels in distress.

AnonymousAnonymousover 6 years ago
More than 1 pagers Dude!

'Nuff said! 4*

SampkyangSampkyangover 7 years ago
I see this is a developed story

I rarely read multi chapter stories, I read too slow. But having run out I decided to read the story. 3*'s for this one only for the extreme disrespect of cutting fences. Hry the guy is 28??? and still acts like a 16 year old??? THAT IS NOT A MARINE! Yeah I said it author...

rightbankrightbankover 7 years ago
remarkably unaware woman

emotionally troubled guy with little or no regard to property rights with PTSD given as the root cause of his social ineptitude. All part of a disjointed group of disrespectful misfits.

not a strong beginning.

AnonymousAnonymousover 8 years ago
Spell check

Your spelling is in need of work!

Please know that it's You're for you are, and also it's not UR for you are!

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