>>5646846“This is Gallipoli,” says Martino. He’s just woken up as well, and has his own mug of coffee. “This was disaster, once.”
“I’ve heard,” you tell him.
“Lots of lessons were learned here. Modern naval invasion started here. Tanker’s worth of bodies left in its wake.”
“God,” you say to the sky, “Don’t ever make me a Marine.”
“Now that’s the first smart thing you’ve said since I met you, Serb.” Martino looks at you like a proud father, and then looks to you both, “Okay, gentlemen. Brighten up. Across here, and we’re away free. Finn, you dumped the weapons last night like I told you?”
“We’re riding totally clean. Except for all your liquor. I’m absolutely certain it was stolen.”
“People buy alcohol?” Martino asks. You’re not sure if he’s kidding or genuinely curious.
“Why not just make it yourself?” You ask.
The two of them look over at you with dangerous looks. Animalistic hunger and unrestricted greed shine through their eyes.
“What,” Martino asks very carefully, “Can you brew?”
“Oh, me? No, I don’t know. My father, though, would make votka if we ever stopped moving around. Cheaper, he said. Better, too, if you ask me.”
The Finn lets out a desperate, disappointed sigh.
“Not learning his secrets was a big failure on your part, Vojislav.” Martino puts a hand on your shoulder, “A big failure.”
“Died before I could,” you plead with him.
He wags his finger, “No excuses.”
