Greg was the only one who had not experienced an earthquake yet, only a few tremors. Dean rarely acknowledged them; California was sitting along the ring of fire. Thad had lived in Japan and he’d mentioned there had been quite a few earthquakes during his time there with his family. One time, nearly six months ago, Marco had been out in downtown Naples with Thad when a good-sized earthquake hit and he wasn’t ashamed to admit he nearly shit himself. Around him, people cried out in panic and he’d heard the deep rumbling of the earth. Both men had stood rooted to the ground, for there was nowhere to run.
They weren’t near any really tall building so they didn’t have to worry about getting hit with falling debris. They only worried about a stampede from frightened people if they were so inclined to run. Thankfully, the quake had ended just as abruptly. Mount Vesuvius was letting them all know it was still there and still active. When he’d gone shopping in Pozzuoli, he could smell the solfatara, which stank like rotten eggs and sulfur, after a tremor. It was just one of many such occasions that Italy moved and shifted. This morning, before he’d gotten out of bed at the hotel, he’d felt the faint rumbling and shifting of the earth and he was on the third floor. He hadn’t moved and just laid there and hoped it would end quickly. It did.
“Dude, it’s called gelato. It’s not ice cream,” Dean said, looking over his shoulder.
“I know, I just call it ice cream, you know,” Greg said and shrugged easily. He reached out a long arm and patted Dean on the head, causing Thad to laugh. Dean swatted him away and snorted. Dean was a cocky bantam rooster, in Marco’s eyes. If it wasn’t for the fact that Dean never took himself seriously, he would probably be despisable, but Dean was good people, despite being a former cheerleader. Thad was a good man too and they had hit it off immediately. Marco had been Giangreco’s sponsor, the man who helped him get settled into his new surroundings and job, when he’d first arrived in country.
Thad was easygoing until you stepped over an invisible line. Marco guessed it was because he had been raised in a military family. Thad had a sense of quiet kindness about him and didn’t tolerate bullies, assholes and shitheads. Because he was a big man, some of the Marines had tried to test him. They had severely regretted their mistake. He sniggered. Thad was a second-degree black belt.
“What on earth are you laughing at?” Thad asked.
“Nothing. Just thinking about that dickwad, Winks, when he wanted to do a throw-down at the gym,” Marco said as he caught up.
“That guy has a hard-on for you. Seriously,” Greg said.
“That’s cause he’s sketchy and all talk and no substance. Thad kicked his ass at the gym and rocked on Call of Duty, man,” Dean said.
“Winks is just an asshole,” Thad said and shrugged.
Though Dean was the shortest man in their group, he was deemed the best looking, since nearly all of the Italian ladies went gaga over him. He was a blond haired, blue eyed American with deep dimples on each side of his smile. The group depended on Dean to draw the women in and Thad acted as translator since he was fluent in Italian, though Marco was getting better at it. The night before the men had gone clubbing in Rome and had spent the night dancing with beautiful Italian women. Only Greg seemed a little bleary this afternoon, he’d had a little too much to drink.
“You’re not gonna puke are you Greg?” Marco asked.
“Naw. Why?” Greg asked.
“You look a little rough,” Marco said.
“That’s cause I was streamin’ Mandalorian after I got back to my room,” he grinned.
“Dude, you’re such a geek. I thought black dudes were supposed to be cool and all,” Dean said and shoved Greg.
“Geek is the new cool,” Greg said and laughed.
“Hermono. No. No it’s not,” Marco said, flailing spastic hands beneath his chin and made a goofy face. They continued their meandering down the street.
They were a cohesive group and each of their personalities meshed well with the others. Though Marco had been enjoying Italy before he met Thad, it seemed to get a little better as their friendship and camaraderie grew. Dean and Greg added to that and though all missed their families, it was nice to belong to a group. It was also good to get away from base and the strict rules and comportment of being a Marine. Thad was the oldest of the group and they unofficially looked to him for direction.
Thad stopped and looked around; he read the street sign, Piazza del Colosseo Via Labicana. He still couldn’t get over the fact that he was in Italy. He had requested Sicily, Italy as his first duty station and had been surprised to get Naples. It wasn’t often that a Marine got his first or even second choice of duty stations. Naples hadn’t been on his list, but it was close enough to Sicily that he was happy about it. He and his parents planned to meet up in Sicily in a year. They wanted to walk the streets of Catania, Sicily, where his great-grandfather was born. Until that time, Thad was immersing himself into the Italian culture.
Though Thad could speak Italian, it was quite a bit different from the Americanized style of it. He was self-conscious when he spoke it around the locals; they always gave him a funny look. They understood him perfectly, but they knew he wasn’t born or raised in Italy. However, being fluent
