Alpha Xander: His Contracted Luna

***PRIVATE CHAPLIN***

Missiles fired in the air. The soldiers took in smoky and harsh breaths. This was the second deployment for Private Chaplin. He applied pressure on his comrade’s bleeding torso. Heavy shots were taken by his fellow squad members over the sand heap barrier.

He tapped his cheeks incessantly, “Stay with me Amez.”

“I am going die man,” Amez whimpered with a light note of anguish and pain.

“Put the cloth on the wound Hugo,” Chaplin turned to the quivering private who had his cap on sideways. The private hurriedly went down to his knees. “And don’t let go of him,” Chaplin pulled away.

“It is too late for me now, tell Isabela I love her and our unborn child,” Amez groaned pulling out a black and white photo of a young woman with a rose in her hair.

Chaplin grabbed the picture and held it in Amez’s hand, “You are going to tell her yourself. A mile from here and we’ll reach our outpost.”

“What makes you say that?” Another soldier joined them on the ground. “For all we know they might be dead. We are all we’ve got now.”

“They are our stronghold,” Chaplin grinned. “They can’t be taken down so easily. We have to move. And we have to move now.”

Amez’s eyes began to close slowly. “We are losing him,” Hugo hesitated.

Chaplin raised his head to the surface and took Amez by the arm, “We are getting to the outpost. We are getting there. You are getting there, you hear me, soldier?”

“I hear you,” Amez groaned and released the picture in Chaplin’s grip.

He stuffed the picture in his chest pocket, “Just know… you are going to take it back from me when I get you to health care at the outpost-

The second private next to Chaplin was shot straight in the head by an assailant. The assailant steadied his rifle standing on top of the heap, pointing his trigger at them.

“Take cover,” Hugo left Amez’s side and rolled away to the ground.

Chaplin pulled the assailant by the boots. He fired a few shots that missed the private as he slipped into their ditch. Chaplin struggled with the assailant on the ground. The latter swatted Chaplin’s face with the back of his rifle.

The private was down in the dirt. The assailant was ready to make another shot. Out of nowhere, he had summed the courage. Hugo stuck a knife in the side of the assailant’s neck. He pulled it out and let the assailant fall to the ground like an Easter turkey.

“Are you good,” Hugo strapped his knife back in his holster. “He hit you pretty bad across the face there Chaplin,” he gave Chaplin a hand.

Chaplin took his hand and rose to his feet. Quickly, he turned to check on Amez. The wounded private suffered three bullet shots in his face. The assailant’s shots were on target to Amez lying low and not to Chaplin.

Chaplin sniffled. The dirt and blood from the rifle jack made his face look like a smudged pie. He lowered and took off Amez’s chain. Amez’s death was a dreadful pain to Chaplin’s militant heart. He couldn’t look away from the bullet holes in his comrade’s face. He balled his fists. The thought of him having betrayed a man that was his closest, since their first day as cadets.

The smoky air had dispersed. The grounds were no longer shaking. Hugo looked up to the surface. A pile of bodies laid to waste. He placed his palm on the soil, the rumbling of the convoy was approaching.

“We are good,” Hugo smiled. “I guess the outpost came to us. Well that’s a relief am I-”

Hugo turned back to pause at the casualty.

“I told him we’d get him to the outpost,” Chaplin inhaled sharply.

“People die. That’s war, life and death. Denzel never believed,” Hugo took off the other private’s chain. “He never believed any of us could make it out alive. Amez on the other hand, fought hard at first, but…” he shook his head.

“I hate to break the news to Isabela,” he glanced at Hugo. “I promised I’d bring him back in one piece. He promised the same thing to my folks. I didn’t hold up the end of the bargain.”

“It is what it is my friend,” Hugo took off his cap.

A flare lit up in the sky. The Privates crawled there out of the ditch. They were met with the rest of the convoy. They were the battalion at the stronghold. The medics rushed to them with their kits wobbling in their grip.Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

Chaplin left the army. At home, he now worked at the seaport. He loaded shipments off at the docks. It wasn’t the life, but never imagined letting someone put their trust in his hands again. He took loyalty to heart once. He knew he’d regret doing it again. He went with the regular boring life.

He earned minimum wage. He was compensated greatly by the army for his service. He dedicated that money to the Rodriguez family far away in Brazil. The family wasn’t recognized as Amez’s relatives. The private was not in contact with them but always told Chaplin all about them.

Isabela was distraught by the hearing of her lover’s death. She was pregnant with a child. Chaplin supported her for the first weeks when he got back. She delivered her baby, and he was the godfather at the baby shower.

He recalled the last conversation he had with her. They sat on a stretcher in the backyard of her family’s house. The day was bright and glowing to the skin. Her baby was sleeping soundly in a cradle on the porch away from the sunlight.

“You were all ever talked about at the base,” he looked over to the right. “And him too.”

“He always wanted a boy,” Isabela chuckled softly. “Angel, was if we ever had a girl or boy. He chose just right.”

“Amez would have been a great father,” Chaplin cleared his throat. “Just know I am here If you need me for anything. Absolutely anything, I am here for you and Angel.”

She stared at the wooden fence with a stern, “How do you feel?”

“I feel bad Isabela. Really bad,” he glanced at her glowing brown skin.

“That’s not the answer Jackson,” she crossed her hands under her chest.

He was shocked to hear her call his first name. He got anxious and rubbed his palms, “What do you-what do you mean?”

She locked her fingers. “Just tell me how you were breaking your friend’s trust?” she looked at him and took off her shades.

Chaplin sat upright and placed a palm on her hand, ‘I understand your grief.”

She raised a brow and pulled her hand from him, “No you don’t.” She shook her head in complexity, “In fact you understand nothing. You gave me your word. You gave him your word!” she rose to her feet.

He stood up and proceeded to caution her, “Isabela please calm down.”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down,” she pushed him back. “For months I tried to convince myself you were not in the wrong. You gave him this whole fucking speech about fighting for his country. You forced this on him goddammit.”

An old woman opened the door out back, “What’s all the fuss Mia?” she opened out her palms drooping.

“It will be over soon mama,” Isabela pointed angrily. “You are not a man, let alone a good one. If you were a man, you would have gone to fight the war by yourself. Enlisting by yourself, and not groping him into your bullshit.”

Angel started to cry in his cradle. Isabela’s mother hurried to carry him out of the cradle carefully. She patted him gently on the back.

She turned to Isabela, “Now look what you did.”

She held him steadily on her bust and went inside.

“I am not a good person, yes. I made promises I couldn’t fulfill, yes,” he inched forward. “Will I regret it for the rest of my life, of course I will. Isabela let me make amends with you if I can’t with him.”

“Get away from me,” she scowled. “You got my baby’s father killed,” her voice started breaking. “You are a very terrible person. A very bad friend.” She started hitting Chaplin on his chest, It should have been you, not him. It should have been you.” She broke into tears.

Jackson just stood there and let her deal with it this way. He said nothing till she fell back and wiped her palms over her face.

“I am sorry Isabela.”

“Go away. And don’t come back!”

Since the not-so-great moment with Isabela. It was clear all his connections to his late comrade were gone. The only thing he had was just memories. He often thought of him at the seaport. Although Amez had a wife at the time, he and Jackson were a little more close than the other shoulders, and everyone thought them to be.

It had been Jackson’s secret his whole life; being queer. It did get made known at the seaport one night. The fellas were having a beer on the dock. When he came on to a guy who he thought was giving off a vibe, the latter smashed a bottle on Jackson’s head.

When the others found out that night, they tied him up and dumped him in the water to drown. Jackson had given up on life. And everything he had accomplished. The water was turning red around him. He imagined he was bleeding from his head. The bodies came dropping into the water. The fella who had attacked him first was sinking with his throat ripped out.

Jackson was slowly drowning. He opened his eyes one last time. A man with black hair and green eyes came swimming down to his rescue. He closed his eyes when they made contact.

Who is this man?

Jackson woke up on the sofa. The room was heated and comforting. His arm had a bite mark that was aggravating.

“What the hell?” he grunted. “I don’t recall getting bitten by a shark or whatever the hell this is…”

The man who saved him came down the steps with a mug, smoky at its surface. The perforated steam. The malted fragrance. It was scintillating.

“I understand you must be confused right now,” the man sat across from him. He looked at the mug and back at Jackson, “Oh you thought this was for you? No, the maid will get you something less hot.”

Jackson nudged, “Who are you?”

The man relaxed in his chair, “Xander Marion,” he put down his mug. “And you are Jackson Chaplin.”

A maid came to offer Jackson a tray. It had the same mug. Less steamy and less aromatic than he’d expected.

Jackson rose to his feet defensively, “I want to believe you are of help,” he held out his hands, “But you don’t just wake up in a handsome stranger’s house with a bite mark on your hand. That’s kinky but it’s not me man. You got the wrong guy.”

“Let me give it to you straight. You are a werewolf,” Xander lopsided a smile. “Soon-to-be, at least when you kill someone and finalize. Your body must be feeling weird after I bit you. Well… I save your life and this is what you get in return human.” Xander reached for his mug.

“I see we have got a new one,” A red-haired beautiful lady in tight leather pants came to sit on Xander’s lap. They kissed passionately. And then she turned to roll her eyes at Jackson. “From today forward, you will be under command. Beta.”

On the spot, Jackson realized what kind of bite mark was on his arm. The wolf structure displayed on the top of the door gave it away. It was like his arm was on fire.