"Attention."

He looked up and saluted someone; unfortunately it was a person he could not see. He figured it was another one of those nasty generals he'd come to meet over time. He had joined the army two weeks ago. Today he was being shipped out to war.

As the angry man talked on and on about whatever slipping the word fuck in every chance he got, the new soldier dared to look around at the others. He noted that most of their heads were shaved, in fact all except for his own. Yet again, that was the deal he had made with his father: he would join the army if he didn't have to shave his head. He made that deal at age six. Yet after his father had died, he still followed through. So did the army.

He looked back up at the sky with a small frown and noted that helicopters were coming in from all angles to take him and his comrades away. He figured to somewhere farther out into the desert because the hell hole that he'd been thrown into just wasn't enough. Noting and figuring, that was what he was good at. Paying attention and guessing, most of the time guessing right. That was why he was there, wasn't it?

He heard the rest of the soldiers give their standard 'yes sir!' and he was startled out of his thoughts. The next thing he knew, a tall lanky man no more than three years older, he guessed, was standing before him.

"You got anything you want t' say, private?"

The soldier dared to look away from the sky and up at the man. The man also didn't have his head shaved, but instead a wild head of red hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. He had the greenest eyes on the earth, greener than any leaf or emerald he'd ever seen. He couldn't help but gulp as the fair skinned man gave a smirk that would have easily made any girl faint. But he was a man.

"N-no."

"N-no what," said the man pointedly, mocking the soldier's stutter.

He closed his eyes. "No sir."

"What's your name, private?"

"Finn, sir. E-edmy Finn."

"Well, Finn, I don't give a rat's ass as to what your first name is. Now get you and your sorry-ass David Bowie haircut into that chopper before I make you. Is that clear?"

He sighed. Always making friends… "Yes," he said quietly. "Yes sir."

"Now, we'll be landing at base first. There you'll get your living arrangements. Luckily we're two men to a bunk—recently we got a shit load of money so it'll be pretty spacious. Get to know the man you're with, he might save your life someday."

Edmy rolled his eyes as the general prattled on and on about something or other. He was a big man, probably weighing two-hundred pounds. He was tall, about six and a half feet. He had arms the size of pillars and legs that probably were pillars. His shaved head and scar going across his face gave him a tough, mean look and Edmy couldn't help but respect him. He must have really been something… But then something went wrong and he was stuck with them.

He fiddled with one of the straps on his uniform, frowning as it wouldn't pull any tighter. He wasn't exactly a wimpy, but he didn't have the army kind of muscle. He had lean muscle, the kind that really didn't show and didn't help being the skinniest white guy on the helicopter. He heard bits and pieces from the speech that mattered like when you could get food, what time you had to call relatives, and who you shouldn't bother. One part in particular caught his attention, though.

"You will all be bunked with a senior. Any questions that aren't pertaining to what I just told you, ask them."

Senior? As in someone who'd toured already? He heaved a sigh of relief and smiled in a very small, secretive way. At least he'd have someone to talk to that understood what was going on. He hated not knowing things, and he figured that his bunkmate would be his sole source of information about daily army life. Maybe this would be good…

But how very, very wrong he was.

"Finn, you're with Johnson. Number six."
He looked warily from the helicopter to the small hut with the number six crudely painted on the door in white. It was old and the paint was chipped (not to mention a ghastly shade of beige that looked like it might have at some time matched the color of the sand) and the place looked like something he might find in a war zone. Suck it up, he though angrily. He was in the army now: he could do this.

He opened the door and was greeted by the gut-wrenching smell of alcohol (not allowed), cigarettes (only on your own time), and… Well, he didn't want to think about it. He flipped a switch on a small lamp in an attempt to see where he was going. It was then that he got a good look at the musty old room. It had two beds that sheets lazily thrown on with a single, flat pillow, a large dresser with clothes falling out of the drawers, and what he supposed was an entertainment center which had a small, old looking radio which he doubted worked and books galore. He sat on the bed closest to the door and sighed.

"Might as well look around…" He trailed off and looked at the bed next to him. The wall above the headboard was probably dilapidated and crumbling, but one couldn't have guessed if they didn't know where they were. The wall was covered with postcards running as wide as the bed and as high as the ceiling. Some were flipped to the picture, others to the writing on it. He looked to the desk that had the small lamp on it and saw a cross on the wall with the words 'never forget' printed neatly under it. He saw no paper or pens on the desk, only a bible opened to some prayer he hadn't bothered to memorize. He wasn't much of a religious kind of guy.

Edmy looked at the other books on the self. Most of them were classics like 'Moby Dick' or 'Black Beauty'. He rolled his eyes and kept on reading the titles until he came to a few he didn't know, all by the same person. Paulo Coelho, a man he'd never heard of until then. He looked at the leather bound books and read each title carefully, but his eyes landed on the one that looked the most battered. It was titled simply, 'The Alchemist'. He leaned forward and carefully pulled it out; almost afraid it would turn into dust and blow away. He sat cross-legged on the bed and opened the book, skipping the title page and such until he got to the page that read 'Chapter One'. He began reading quietly, not caring that he was supposed to be unpacking what little belongings he had.

"That one's my favorite."

That voice. No, no way in hell was it that voice. Slowly, with the courage of a mouse, he looked up to see the man from earlier. Again, he had that killer smirk and lightly amused eyes. Not quite amused though—more like he was watching some kind of kid's movie that was incredibly boring, but amused him because it was so childish and ridiculous. Instantly Edmy felt his cheeks burn. Trying to stay cool, he decided to strike up a conversation.

"Y-you must be Johnson."

"Do you have to stutter every time to talk to me?"

"I-"

"No, you don't." Johnson frowned and opened a window that Edmy had failed to notice earlier. "It's annoying as hell when you do that. So stop it."

He paused, looking from the book to the man at the window. The way the light came in, the man's frown looked more artistic than it should have. His lips were soft-looking and pink, his eyes were an even more intense color of green than before, and his lightly tanned skin looked as though it were made of porcelain. Despite his delicate features, though, he still had a strong look about his angular face. Like he could kill anyone if he had enough meaning to.
Embarrassed, he looked back to the book. "So, we're bunkmates?" It seemed like the stupidest thing to ever come out of his mouth, but he couldn't help it. Word vomit.

"'Less you just got a crush on me, I figure so." He let out a small chuckle and walked to his bed and sat, looking at the postcards on the wall.
"What?"

This time he laughed, and his laugh was like music. Edmy blushed even more and buried his face in the book. "It's a joke—you know what humor is, right?"

"Of course I do," he answered moodily. He closed the book and put it back down on the bookshelf.

"I'd suggest you sleep a bit a 'fore dinner. Get adjusted to the time, and all." He stood and walked to the door. He paused, kissed his middle and index finger, and then placed the two on the cross. "See you at supper, blondey."

Edmy sighed and fell back on the bed. "Fuck."