The Fungus

Anger flared up in Wilson but he held himself in check. The trouble was, Slocock was right. One of them should stay on guard and it was obvious that he was the most rested. So he simply muttered goodnight and made his way forward. Kimberley already appeared to be asleep.

“Don’t slam the door on your way out,” said Slocock, and sniggered.

Wilson sat alone in the cab feeling absurdly jealous. He was certain — almost certain — he had nothing to be jealous about, but the small amount of doubt was sufficient to make him acutely uncomfortable.

He told himself it was inconceivable that Kimberley would let herself be touched by Slocock. He had seen the antagonism between them.

And yet this evening the antagonism seemed to have vanished altogether. And he remembered how she’d defended Slocock after the shooting incident that morning.

And they’d been working together all afternoon.

And he called her “Kim” now.

Wilson lasted for an hour and then, hating himself, he switched on the intercom.

Immediately he heard a cry from Kimberley. It sounded like a cry of pain.

Christ, Slocock’s raping her!

But before he could leap up and go to her aid he realized the true nature of her cries. It wasn’t rape. On the contrary.

Wilson sat there frozen. He didn’t want to listen. Each sound she made cut through him like a hot knife. But he couldn’t switch the intercom off.

“Oh, God. yes. harder. harder. come on, hurt me. harder. yes. ohhhhh. “ Her voice rose almost to a scream.

Wilson felt like screaming himself.

They lay limply entwined on Slocock’s bunk, their bodies covered in a sheen of sweat. They were both breathing heavily. Slocock figured they must have used up half a cylinder of oxygen with their exertions. Still, it had been worth it. Hell, yes.

“Hey, Doc, you know you had a pretty rare experience tonight,” he told her.

She half-opened her eyes and looked at him drowsily. “Well, I’ll admit it was good, but it was far from rare.”

“I meant me. That.” He pointed at his penis which lay, still tumescent, against his right thigh. “First time I’ve managed to get it up in ages.”

Her eyes widened with surprise. “Seriously?” He nodded. “Yeah. One of the reasons Marge — my wife — left me. The main reason actually.” He didn’t mind talking about it to her. He felt too pleased with himself to care.

“So how come you were able to just then?”

“Partly you, I guess. And the situation. The excitement first time in a long time I’ve felt really alive.”

“You mean you find being in danger a turn-on?”

“Something like that.”

“You’re full of surprises, Sergeant.”

“So are you, Doctor.” It had been she who’d made the first move. He’d woken up to find her standing naked beside his bunk. “I didn’t think I was your type. And I didn’t figure you for the type who liked it rough.”

“In a way I’m like you. I like to feel threatened. I like men who scare me. But the men I know wouldn’t really harm me.”

“You want to feel safe and threatened at the same time?”

“You could put it that way.”

“I know where I’d like to put it.” He took her hand and placed it on his penis which was becoming fully erect again. “How can you be sure I won’t hurt you for real?”

“I’m 90 percent sure. The other 10 percent is what makes it exciting.”

He was thoughtful for a while, then said, “Know what I’m going to do to you?”

“No. Tell me.”

He told her at great length and in great clinical detail. When he’d finished she nodded. She said, “In my medical bag over there you’ll find a jar of Vaseline. Make sure you use a lot of it.”

Wilson kept listening, still unable to press the switch. His imagination created images to match the sounds that were probably even more outrageous than the reality.

The sound both infuriated him and aroused him to an intolerable level. Eventually they stopped. There was silence for a time and then Slocock started to snore.

Wilson switched off the intercom. And sat staring off into the blackness of the night.

14

Slocock was back in Belfast.

He and his unit were in the Falls Road. They were in full anti-riot gear. Behind them, as back-up, was a Saracen armored car. In front of them was a mob. Kids, mainly, and a few young men. All of them were heaving stones, half-bricks and chunks of pavement.

The rain of missiles was so dense that the sound they made hitting the armored Saracen was deafening. Occasionally one of the men would receive a direct hit and, despite the protection of his helmet, have to be helped away towards the rear of the army lines.

As Slocock watched the taunting mob through his transparent riot shield he itched to have the freedom simply to open up with his rifle.

A different type of missile came hurtling out of the crowd. Slocock glimpsed it as it arced overhead. He saw the red sparks and his bowels went icy cold.

A gasoline bomb.

He had a fear of fire. It was his big weakness.