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Gruber was the last of the crew to sit at the long picnic table outside for breakfast. He squeezed in between Tinker and Edwards. He took some fruit from the tray in the center and poured himself some juice. “Beautiful day, guys. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and Mr. Parker is back.”
“It’s sure good to be back, too,” Parker gushed. He suddenly frowned. “Staying with ol’ Leadbottom was torture.”
Edwards laughed. “I still can’t believe he bought it that Mr. Parker was a vampire.”
Christy joined in. “He believed the rest of us disguised as monsters, too.”
Parker’s grin was back. “It was fun wearing the cape and the teeth.”
McHale chuckled and sipped his coffee. “I thought he was going to throw us all in the brig when he found out we were trying to pull a fast one on him.”
Tinker pointed at Parker. “But by then, he was so tired of having Mr. Parker as a roommate, he ordered us to take him back.”
Parker folded his arms across his chest and pouted. “He’s not so easy to live with either. He hogs the bathroom in the morning.”
Gruber looked around and gave a sneaky smirk. “Guess what I heard from one of my buddies over on the main base.”
Tinker nudged him with his elbow. “Well, spill it Grub.”
Gruber eagerly rubbed his hands together. “The Captain had nightmares about monsters all night.”
“How do you know?” Parker asked.
“Shore patrol heard him yelling in his sleep. The first time, they rushed in to save him. They found him hugging his pillow and sucking his thumb. He saw them and blew his stack. The rest of the night, they just left him alone.”
“Serves him right,” Moss put in. “Taking Mr. Parker from us because he thought they have the same rare blood type.”
Parker grabbed the coffeepot and offered to his commander first. “Refill, Skip?”
McHale hastily covered the top of his mug with his hand. “No. No thanks, Chuck.”
Parker nodded, not the least bit offended. He noticed something on the side of McHale’s neck. His eyes got wide and he tripped over the bench as he tried to stand. He sprawled on the ground and dropped the pot. He squirmed to get up and away from the hot coffee but he kept slipping. “Oh, my God!”
McHale hauled Parker up. “Are you all right, Chuck?”
“Fine. Fine.” Parker yanked his arm free and brushed himself off. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Skip,” he stuttered.
McHale reached out to touch his shoulder. “What are you babbling about?”
Parker ducked out of range. He hugged his arms across his chest and looked everywhere except at McHale. “Nothing. Nothing. Everything’s fine.”
The rest of the crew stood. Moss was the first one to get the question out. “What’s the problem, Mr. Parker?”
Parker held one hand up to hide his face from McHale. He waved the other one in a cutting motion under his chin to signal them to be quiet. “No. No problem,” he announced with false cheer.
McHale pushed Parker’s hand down. “Have you flipped?”
Parker chewed on his bottom lip. “I know it’s not your fault, Skip. I’d rather not say anything.”
McHale pushed his cap up on his forehead. He scratched his head. “Chuck, what are you talking about?”
Parker rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants. He looked at them mournfully. “There are vampires on Taratupa,” he said seriously.
The crew groaned and sat back down. “I guess Leadbottom’s not the only one who had nightmares,” Gruber commented.
“No. No.” Parker pointed to a red mark on McHale’s neck. “What do you call that?”
Edwards was on McHale’s other side. He stood up again and peered at it. He laughed and resumed his seat. “It’s a hickey.”
“I’m sorry, but you guys will have to hold him down while I go get a wooden stake.” Parker paused and blinked a couple times. “A hickey? Really?”
McHale felt the flush creeping up the back of his neck. He straightened his collar and glared at Parker. “Yes, it’s a hickey.”
“Oh,” Parker said sheepishly. “I had no idea Nurse Turner was like that.”
“I doubt it was her,” Edwards muttered.
McHale saw Parker’s brow furrow. Before Parker could ask, he steered him away by the elbow. “Chuck, go change your uniform.”
Parker nodded. He lowered his voice. “It’s really not a vampire bite.”
“No.”
The crew snickered and started making lewd jokes back and forth.
McHale turned back to them and cleared his throat. “All right, you eight balls,” he growled. “I don’t want to hear any more about it.”