I still search the night skies when it rains, hoping to see....
It's been a lot of years since my tour ended. Most of them have been all right. But there are times when I think about Scolini, and wonder where he is. And there are times when I wish I'd gone with him.
First there was the heat, wet and heavy and solid around us. Then there was the stifling, lush growth of the jungle, choking the air with its humid breath. And finally, there was the rain. Monsoon season had just begun. The rains came, and did not seem to leave. Even though they stopped during the day, the air was so humid, and we sweated so heavily, we hardly noticed the difference.
Scolini was reading a novel then, Lord of Light, by Roger Zelazny. "'It was in the season of the rains.... It was well into the time of the great wetness...'" That's how the book started, and that's how it was in the jungle. Scolini used to quote those lines over and over at us as we humped through the paddies and over the dikes and into the dense trees and brush and tall grass, weapons turning hot and slick in our hands, the heat leaching water and energy and life from us.
"Fuck you, Scolini," Spider called. "No more."
"'It was well into the time of the great wetness'!" Scolini yelled back.
"I'm gonna pound your face into the fucking great wetness you don't shut the fuck up." Loud, coarse grumbling from the Wizard.
I said nothing. I didn't care, and neither did anyone else, really. It had been a bad week, and we'd been out in the bush too long. Bitching was a way to stay awake, stay alert, and stay alive.
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