Chapter Sixty-Six
To: Miss Piggy
From: Kermit (/Rowlf and Fozzie)
That was the message on the heart-shaped box of chocolates Miss Piggy received that day. Rowlf and Fozzie had explained that, before he’d left, Kermit had asked them to make sure she had
something on Valentine’s Day. It had made her smile. Fozzie was always a little awkward with these things, but even Rowlf had been squirming when they gave it to her.
And then she saw the e-mail Kermit had sent. It didn’t at all acknowledge Valentine’s Day. In fact, it had a much different message.
We’ll be fighting tomorrow. I can’t tell you where, but you’ll see in next week’s show. I don’t know how it’ll turn out. Keep your fingers crossed for us.
The words haunted her. “Tomorrow” was now “today,” at least for him. What was the time difference? Eleven hours? Twelve? They had just had dinner, but he was probably just waking up or maybe already fighting as they sat down to watch the second episode of the show.
The chocolates weren’t making Miss Piggy smile now. In fact, they were about the farthest thing from her mind.
Happy Valentine’s Day, indeed.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“No grenades,” Larsen whispered. “It’s too risky.”
“Yeah, well, bullets aren’t exactly
safe,” Pine muttered.
They were crouched behind a stack of oil barrels. Gunshots hammered through the air around them.
Plank peered over the top of the barrels and immediately ducked back down. “Two to the right, three to the left.” He winced. “Four straight ahead.”
“This is only a safe hiding place until they know someone’s back here,” Larsen said, looking around. “Plank, Pine—and Emerson, stay on my tail. Frog, take Holt and Geraldson back that way. Try not to get shot this time.”
Kermit nodded grimly. As he had already explained for the benefit of the camera, this was the Mina Al Ahmadi oil refinery, which had fallen under terrorist control. If the U.S. military could capture it, they could guarantee
some amount of gasoline to transport food and water to their troops. So that was the plan.
Kermit, Geraldson, and Holt shuffled themselves back behind some hopefully-less-explosive-crates, and Larsen led his group forward, guns aimed and ready and—
bang—in action.
“Holt, be ready to fire,” Kermit said as they moved. The frog had been promised he wouldn’t have to touch a gun, but what that promise really meant was that he wouldn’t have to
fire a gun. He was armed, just in case. Holt was trained to fight, but the camera would slow him down. That left Geraldson to do the shooting. It wasn't by accident that Larsen had directed them to move back.
“Just the three of us now, right?” Geraldson glanced over his shoulder to make sure the group had split as planned.
“You, me, and Holt,” Kermit confirmed.
Geraldson was watching over the crates, his gun aimed. “Holt, if I call you Rivers by mistake… consider it a compliment.” He fired.
Kermit nodded. “We spent a lot of time with Rivers,” he said for the benefit of Holt and the camera, but his eyes were on the enemy. “…He had to go home.”
“We all did. He had to
stay home,” Geraldson added. He tilted his head. “Move to the next crate. I’ll cover you. Wait for my signal.”
They crouched low, ready to move. Holt tucked the camera against his chest. It wouldn’t be the most visually interesting shot, but that wasn’t the main priority just then.
“Go.”
They darted past the gap, and once they were safe, Holt set the camera down and aimed his gun so Geraldson would safely be able to follow. Shots were fired as Geraldson ducked down beside them. Holt immediately picked the camera back up.
“Frog, do me a favor,” Geraldson muttered as he lifted his gun again.
“What?”
“Keep your helmet on.”
Battle changed the definition of facial expressions. The look on Kermit’s face would have been a grimace in most contexts, but here, it was considered a smile. “I’ll remind you it was
my helmet that saved your life, Bob.”
“No, it was your shoulder.”
“It was both.”
“Just keep the dam—“ Geraldson glanced at the camera. “
Dang helmet on.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As darkness fell, Kermit stood just outside of camp with Geraldson, waiting for the others to return. For once, the camera was off and out of sight.
“Next division’s moving in?” Geraldson said softly.
“That’s what Major D. said,” Kermit nodded. “The guys should be back soon.”
“Major D. thinks it’s going well?”
“Pretty well. Keep your fingers crossed.”
Geraldson pulled his hands out of his pockets and folded his arms over his chest. “Think we’ll be able to hold it?”
“Hope so. Won’t be our job, though. One of the other divisions… or maybe the Army. They’re here, too. We’re just not telling the viewers that.”
Geraldson smirked. “I know we’ve got a rivalry with the Army, but don’t they get
any credit for this one?”
“Whatever we tell the viewer, we also tell the enemy. They don’t need to know how many of us there are.”
Geraldson looked at him. “Kermit… they
know we’re here.”
“Do
you want them to send for reinforcements?” Kermit looked at him. “We need this refinery, Bob.”
Geraldson sighed and looked towards the refinery. Even from here, they could hear some of the gunshots. “How long do you think until Larsen gets back?”
“Soon.”
“He’s babying me.”
Kermit frowned. “Babying?”
“Sheltering.” Geraldson glanced at him. “Since I got back, every time we fight, he puts me in the least risky, least
useful position. Every time.”
“…You’ve already been hurt once, Bob.”
“I can handle myself.”
“He knows that. There’s a reason he sent
you back with us—“
“Where it’s safe.”
“—And
only you. Getting
back here wasn’t safe. I’m not supposed to fight, and Holt’s got the camera. I count one person to defend
three, Bob. And I know about counting. I don’t think he’s babying you.”
Bob thought about it, sighed, and shoved his fingers through his hair. “You know how we didn’t feel like we were doing enough back home?”
Kermit nodded. “It’s why we came back.”
“So how do we know
that’s enough?”
Kermit shook his head. “We don’t,” he whispered. “But it’s all we’re physically capable of. There’s only so much any one person can do to fix all of this.”
“…Won’t be worth a dime, if Congress pulls us out, or the whole U.S. condemns us for being here.”
“Or if we can’t move at all because we have no fuel.”
“Or die of dehydration because we can’t get any water.” Geraldson sighed. “Well, this is an incredibly uplifting conversation.”
“We should get to sleep, anyway. Another long day tomorrow.”
“Frog, you know as well as I do you’re not gonna turn in until Larsen, Emerson, and everyone else is back here.” Geraldson slapped his hand on Kermit’s back. “You big brothers are all the same. Over-protective to a fault.”
Kermit smiled faintly. “I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.”
“It gets annoying.”
“That’s what my siblings tell me.”
“BOYS!”
They whirled around and snapped to attention as Major D. marched straight towards them.
“It’s real CUTE how you’re standing watch for your buddies, but you’d actually know what’s happening if you stayed INSIDE the camp.”
“Sorry sir,” they both said quickly.
“They’re on the way. Geraldson, go help ‘em. Frog, get Holt. We’ve got POWs.”
“Yes sir.” Geraldson double-checked that he had his gun and hurried towards the refinery.
“How many, sir?” Kermit asked as he and the major marched back into camp.
“Four. Two adults, a teen and a kid.”
Kermit winced. “How long are they staying?”
“Don’t know. We may or may not be escorting them to the Navy. Now stop asking questions and get Holt. He may have to turn the camera back on.”
“Yes sir.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As Kermit watched their new prisoners arrive, he knew it would be a touchy subject for the viewers at home. The two adults obediently marched, hands tied behind their back, eyes downcast. The teenager—he looked about fifteen—also marched as he was told, casting venomous glares at everyone he saw.
And then there was the boy. Kermit didn’t think this prisoner could have been more than ten years old. Pine and Plank each had a firm grip on his arms as he kicked and screamed and bit, trying to fight his way free.
The Marines escorting these captives looked ill, their stony faces unnaturally pale. Larsen looked like he was in physical pain as he kept his gun aimed at the older prisoners and his eyes locked on the boy.
As the ten-year-old passed Kermit and Holt, he paused his furious rant to spit on the frog. Kermit silently wiped the spit off as Larsen stopped beside him and the prisoners filed past.
“This won’t be easy,” Larsen said softly.
Kermit nodded. “I’m guessing we don’t want to know what he was screaming?”
Larsen sighed heavily. “Oh, mostly telling us how we’ll all burn in—“ he glanced at the camera. “Well. You know.”
“Think we’ll get any information from the older ones?”
“…If we have enough time, maybe the oldest two. Make sure their faces are blurred when this airs.”
“What about the other two?”
Larsen winced and then closed his eyes. “Blur the teen’s eyes. I don’t think we’ll get much from him, but just in case.” He sighed, and his heavy eyelids slid open. “The only thing we’ll get from the kid is bruises and bite marks.”
Kermit put a supportive hand on Larsen’s back. “He’ll calm down in time, Guss. They always do,” he said. “By the time we’ve captured this refinery, he’ll stop fighting us. With enough time…”
“
Months, at least, to get through to this one,” Larsen said. “I’ve never seen ‘em bite so much. He drew blood.” He held up the back of his hand to prove it. “I’ve gotta stop by the med tent before I go talk to them. God, Frog, it had to be about fifty percent Child Corps out there.” The heel of his other hand wiped at slightly damp eyes. “How could
anyone…” He clenched his fists and his jaw.
Kermit quickly fished a candy bar out of his pocket and handed it to Larsen. “Give this to him,” he said gently. “He probably can’t remember the last time he had chocolate.”
Larsen looked at the candy bar in his hand and smiled faintly. “Neither can I,” he said, and he gave Kermit’s shoulder a pat. “Thanks, Frog.”
Kermit nodded as Larsen walked away. “He won’t be getting much sleep tonight,” he quietly predicted. “He has to try to talk to all four of the prisoners—standard processing. And even getting a name out of the kid will be next to impossible.” He sighed. “Whenever he finishes that, he’ll
try to sleep… and then we’re up before the sun to go fight again.” He shook his head and absently reached out to tap Holt’s elbow. “C’mon, Holt. Let’s try to get some sleep. We’ll get into all the intricacies of this tomorrow.”
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