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"Can't believe this ♥♥♥♥..." I mumbled, walking back to my station at the vaccination tent. Higgins, that lazy ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥. Always finding some place to help himself, and never the squad. Selfish bastard...
I thought what HQ had told me. "Grant, Unit 697 has gone AWOL. We need your unit to pick up the slack and see CEDA to the next checkpoint." I held my gun in both hands and stretched toward the sky. The next checkpoint was in the middle of Union City. It would take up another four days before we could all go home.
"Four ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ days..." I tried to get the air to circulate in my uniform, to little avail. This heat was unbearable. It was this very reason I found myself frequently lost in thought about my childhood in snowy Nova Scocia, where the temperature never reached above a toasty sixty-five degrees in the sun. Not like here in Savannah, Georgia, where for the past two and a half weeks, it had been at least a hundred and ten in the shade. At least I had shade, though, standing by the CEDA worker giving out flu shots.
I remembered Nova Scocia again as I stood there, waiting for the sun to set. Sunny afternoons in the backyard with my younger brother, Sheldon. Making snowmen, snow angels. Frequently nailing each other in the head with a snowball or an icicle. Mom had always told us not to play with icicles. Always told us we'd poke an eye out. Of course, we never got hurt too badly. I wondered where Sheldon was now. Probably still making hockey sticks and snow cones in the shop on the corner.
I, in all my wisdom, couldn't stay at home any longer and just had to come down to America and see what all the fuss was about. My home accent had long been panned out of me, but I was still the same man i was when I left home. Of course, I had to join the military after September eleventh. Looking back, i know now that i was just swept up in the paranoia-fueled patriotism of the time. Now I was stationed in Georgia in the middle of summer. Absolutely wonderful...
I would have done anything to return to Canada again. To return home and pelt my brother with snowballs and icicles again. To get the Hell out of this heat.
I grinned at Patterson's remark. "Sweatin' like a cold beer in Hell." I chuckled. "Beer in Hell don't last long."

The sun was sweltering overhead as the roar of the CEDA trucks ripped through the air. Nothing but a bunch of clowns dressed in colorful garbage bags,if you ask me. The Green Flu epidemic had piqued the interest of the Civil Emergency and Defense Agency. "Just a flu." They said, "Just a seasonal flu."
I was part of a military faction devoted to protecting CEDA. Keep people from stealing flu shots and keeping the peace, generally. We were still in full uniform, regardless. It was mostly for show, to intimidate any would-be attackers. I brought my right cuff to my forehead and wiped away some sweat. Several previously popped pimples burned as I scratched away the scabs and wiped the salt into the open wounds.
The gun I was holding grew weighty in my hands. It was a typical M16 military assault rifle, nothing special. We were told to keep the safety on until a threat presented itself, an order we obeyed mostly just to avoid getting chewed out by our superiors.
There were twelve of us, including me, in our squad. We were the 501st civil defense squad, just twelve more grunts out in the field.
"Hey, Patterson." Said a deep voice behind me. I looked over my shoulder just as a man of color rested his hand on my helmet, tipping it side to side vigorously. He had an aged face, a black beard, and short black hair that poked out under his helmet. His name was Sargent Theodore Grant, my commanding officer and head of the 501st squad. "How ya holdin' up in this heat?" He asked.
"I'm sweatin' like a cold beer in Hell, sir." I responded. He grinned at my analogy. "We almost done here?"
"Just got word from HQ." He said, a more stern look on his face, "We're stickin' with these guys till we reach the next checkpoint."
"♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥." I sighed, looking away from him and down at the asphalt. He shook me side to side playfully.
"Hey, at least in a few hours, the sun'll go down and some of us will get some shuteye." He said, trying to sound reassuring, "I'll make sure not to pout you on first watch, alright?"
"Thanks, Sarge." I said, flashing a fake grin to show my thanks. He walked to the back of the CEDA van behind me and started yelling at Seymour Higgins, apparently asleep inside the air-conditioned van.
Everyone in the 501st wished we hadn't gotten stuck with Higgins, but we couldn't exactly choose who we had to work with. It was all organized by some big computer back at HQ based on our individual skills and whatnot. It was all a numbers game. If the number's matched, they were stuck in the same squad.
One of the few, thin clouds in the sky breezed over the sun. I closed my eyes and took off my helmet, enjoying the temporary shade.

:c...... -rage FAKUALL BE ACTIVE UHOES