Minutes to Burn

He caught Szabla's eye again and stared her down. "Getting these GPS units in place is my way of singing through the disasters, of trying to win something back for our side." He laughed a short, dying laugh and ran his hand through his lanky black hair. "I know you all think the military has better things to do right now. I know that I'm an arrogant, narcissistic bastard, and that doesn't help much either. But we have the opportunity to accomplish something here. So what do you say you all just back off a few steps and give me a hand?"

They sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the island. Rex cuffed his sleeves, revealing a deep scar on the back of his right forearm.

"What's that?" Cameron asked, indicating the scar with a flick of her head.

Rex glanced down at it, as if noticing it for the first time. "Candle-stick, eighty-nine World Series. The Loma Prieta quake. I caught a flying hot dog vendor's box on the arm." He laughed. "Hardly heroic."

Szabla dug a piece of dirt out from under a blunt fingernail. She sat up straight and pulled off her cammy shirt. Her skin was dark and smooth, the blocks of her stomach standing out like bricks beneath her jog bra. She turned around, revealing a knot of scar tissue just below her left shoulder blade.

Diego glanced over from his sprawl on the cruise boxes. He was tick-ling his face with a strand of beach morning glory. Clearly uninterested in their story telling, Savage began doing push-ups on the sand outside their circle, slow and methodical.

"Trying to help an old lady in Bosnia," Szabla said, patting her scar. "House caved in, she was stuck beneath some stones. Picked her up, threw her over a shoulder to clear her from the building. She pulled a knife on me."

"That's a stab wound?" Rex asked.

Cameron smiled, knowing the story. Szabla hooked Justin's neck with her hand and yanked it roughly and affectionately. "You think my buddy over here would let me meet my end from Mother-fucking Hubbard?"

Justin grinned. "I hit her with a board."

"And missed."

"Well, Szabla tripped and dumped the old bitch-"

"And the board hit me instead, right on the shoulder."

"A board left a scar like that?" Rex asked.

Szabla and Justin exchanged a glance, starting to laugh. Cameron smiled, looking down and shaking her head. "It had a nail in it," Justin said.

"So genius over here wallops me, I got a two-by-four stuck in my ass, and the cunt claws her way up and takes off down the street like Jesse fuckin' Owens."

"You think that's bad? You want to talk stupid?" Cameron stood up, pulling down her pants and turning around to display a four-inch scar beneath her right buttock.

"Cam, Jesus," Justin said.

She yanked her pants back up and zipped them, forgetting the top button. "We're lifting out to Alaska of all places, for a block of winter warfare training. I have my blade out to get through a canvas strap on one of the supply bags and I catch a glimpse out the window of the sun setting over the tundra-just beautiful. So I put down the blade and lean forward, watch for a few seconds until it dips below the horizon. I sat back down, right on my knife."

"She screamed so loud the pilot thought we were under attack," Derek said. "Thirteen stitches. Right on the helo, in fact." Derek laughed. "Cam bent over the corpsman's knee like a wayward school-girl."

"And boy did she holler," Tucker added.

"I did not. Not after I first sat down and the damn thing went up my ass."

Szabla grinned. "There was definitely some whimpering going on, girl."

Justin shook his head. "I should have married a teacher." He looked at his wife. "All right, baby. Button your pants."

"What? Oh." Cameron looked down and fixed her top button.

"Gotcha beat," Tucker said with a wry smile. He held up his left hand and spread it before the light. His entire palm was scarred with dark burn tissue.

"Jesus, Tucker, when did that happen?" Cameron asked.

"About a year back. I was fucking around with my thermite grenade, spinning it around, watching a little tube. Well, the spoon flew and I didn't notice. So I keep spinning it, Duke's up four in the third quarter, and all of a sudden I look over, the thing's glowing that hard white flame. So I yell, try to dump it, it's stuck to my hand for a second and I shake it loose. It burns through the sofa, the floorboards, and down into the apartment under mine. I had to run down the stairs, bang on the door to warn them." He ran the hardened flesh across his cheek. "Went straight through their kitchen table."

They all laughed, and Tucker lowered his eyes to the light of the hur-ricane lamp.