CHAPTER TWO
Outside of the administration building, the sun is still up in the sky, but I don’t feel particularly warm. We take our time along the clean sidewalk and she says, “You were temporarily assigned to us, to provide intelligence when we went after that Creeper Dome.”
“Domes.”
“Sure, there were two Domes, but that mission is over. It’s time for you to go back to your own unit, in New Hampshire.”
For some reason my throat is choked up. I can’t speak.
Wallace says, “Sergeant, don’t you want to go back to Ft. St. Paul?”
“Sure I do, Captain.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Well . . . ma’am, I’ve sort of gotten used to being with you and the company.”
“And your platoon,” she says.
“That, too,” I say. “Then there’s my dad, ma’am. I’d like to find out where he is, maybe visit him. But . . .”
My voice dribbles off. Wallace’s voice, though, gets stronger. “I’m surprised you haven’t learned this, in your four years of service, Sergeant Knox. The requirements of the service supersede your own personal needs. I’m sure that your unit back in Concord will welcome you back. They must be shorthanded with you and your K-9 unit deployed elsewhere, especially with your experience.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, feeling like a dopy recruit.
Then her voice softens. “There’s a convoy heading through here tomorrow. They’re going to Connecticut and then Massachusetts, and they’ll be passing by a bus station at their end destination. I’ll make sure you have a travel chit ready for you and your dog, and you’ll be on your way home.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I repeat.
She says, “And you’ll have full rations and kit before you leave. Anything else?”
“No, ma’am.”
Wallace surprises me by giving me a gentle tap on my shoulder. “Before I leave, I also promise to find out where your dad is and how he’s doing. Fair enough?”
That lightens my mood. “That’d be great . . . Captain.”
“Good,” she says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a hell of a lot of work to do. Feel free to join us at the mess.”
“Yes, Captain,” I say.
But I choose to skip the mess and the food and the fun chattering among my squad and the other troopers, and I mope around until I see Corporal Serena Coulson, standing at the edge of a paved lot, with a knapsack at her feet, with her quiet and very scary younger brother Buddy standing next to her.
Serena is one year younger than me, with a pretty, flawless face and long blonde hair, and she’s wearing clean Army fatigues and turns and smiles at my approach. It’s against regulations but we hug and she kisses my cheek and says, “Buddy and I are going back with Captain Wallace.”
“Oh,” I say, and my gut feels heavy. Serena and I have a relationship of sorts, with some hand-holding, kissing, and affection, but things have changed a lot in the past few days. I had been hoping that she might be going back with me to New Hampshire, and now, well . . .
She doesn’t seem to note my disappointment. “We’re going back to that hidden Air Force installation in Stratton. Captain Wallace thinks me and”—she turns to her brother—“Buddy belong there. Isn’t that right, Buddy?”
Her brother, out on medical leave from the Army, just stares out, his face blank, wearing blue jeans rolled up at the legs and a too-large old sweatshirt that says navy. He stands still, not even moving when Thor comes up to him, whining and pushing his muzzle up against his still hands.
“Buddy?” I ask. “Thor wants some attention.”
The twelve-year-old boy doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word. Thor keeps on nuzzling him. Serena slips her sweet arm into mine. “Poor Buddy. He’s been like that since . . . last night.”
“When we saw the replacement battle station up there in the sky.”
“That’s right.”
I like the sensation of her arm through mine, and I don’t want to disturb her, but I also need to know something. “Last night, Buddy said something about the battle station. He said, ‘Please don’t send me up there again.’ Serena . . . what does that mean?”
Serena slowly withdraws her arm from mine, and I feel a slight tingle of defeat. But she doesn’t move, doesn’t break away.
“Serena?”
She says, “Last year . . . some men came to our station, up near Bar Harbor. At Jackson Labs. A woman was with them as well. They met with Dad, and Buddy. I wasn’t allowed in. They . . . took him away for a couple of weeks. Then he was gone, about a month.”
I kept quiet.
“I should have done more,” she says. “I was his older sister. It was my responsibility. When he came back . . . it was worse. He had suffered when he was with the Observation Corps, all that standing around at night, looking up at the sky with telescopes, trying to track the killer stealth satellites. But he changed.”
“He learned some of the Creeper language.”
“Yes.”
“The battle station . . . he must have gotten up there somehow.”
“I . . . I only found that out last night, same as you.”
“How did he get up there? And how did he get back?”
Serena says, “I don’t know.”
“Serena . . .”
She snaps at me, “Randy, I don’t know! Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
Not a bad suggestion. I step closer to Buddy and gently take his arm. “Buddy, it’s me. Randy. And Thor. You like Thor. C’mon, tell me, what happened up there? How did you get there? Who took you?”
Buddy doesn’t say a word.
And neither do I.
I let loose of his arm, and I now see closer, what’s going on.
His whole body is trembling, like he’s seized with a fear so strong that he just might faint.
I step back. “It’s okay, pal. Sorry.”
Horns honk from the other side of the building, and I help Serena with her gear, as we head to the sound of grumbling engines. She takes Buddy’s hand and she says, “Time to go,” and he walks with her with no resistance.
As we go along, Thor sticking close to Buddy, tail wagging, Serena says, “How about you? Are you coming back with us?”
“No.”
Now she takes my hand. “Going back to Ft. St. Paul?”
I say, “That’s where I belong . . . but it feels different, now. So many days away from the base, so much that’s gone on . . .”
“How’s your dad?”
“Not sure,” I say. “Captain Wallace says she’s going to find out what she can. Last she heard, though, is that he’s doing okay, even with one leg gone.”
We turn a corner and three vehicles are lined up, with the members of First Platoon, Kara’s Killers, gathered around. Serena sighs. “My dad . . . nobody knows where he’s buried. Or if they do know, they’re not telling. I . . . you’re lucky, Randy. Even with your dad hurt like that, you’ve got him still. My dad . . . last I saw, he was shot, helping me and Buddy escape. And nobody knows where his body is.”
“I’ll try to find out.”
She squeezes my hand, and we move forward, and First Sergeant Hesketh comes to us, an old guy with leathery skin and a leathery attitude, and he says, “Corporal Coulson, if you and your brother will follow me.”
I follow as well, and I look on with amazement now at the three vehicles that will be taking Kara’s Killers home. They’re prewar pickup trucks, with double cabs and a bed in the back, and they’re painted dark blue with yellow letters on the side of the doors: u.s. navy official business only.
Balantic says, “Look at that, will you? Traveling in style. Up front and in real cushioned seats.”
“Looks great,” I say, my words empty. I should be looking forward to going back home to Ft. St. Paul, but I’ve fought with these guys, and have eaten and drunk with them, and have served with them in rain and sunshine, night and day.
I realize how much I’m going to miss them.
There’s laughter and a few shouts, and gear is passed up and put in the rear of the trucks, and then Commander Morong comes out, and confabs with Captain Wallace. One by one the members of First Platoon come forward and shake my hand, and there’s murmured words of thanks, and good wishes, and the ever popular “keep in touch.”
But they don’t stick around. They want to get moving, and I don’t blame them. Doors open up and each pickup truck has a Navy driver, and from the sound of the engines, I note they’re all diesel. Not electric, not steam, not coal or wood powered. Diesel. The Navy is sure going all out to help their fellow service members.
For a moment I lose track of Serena, and then I see her blonde hair from inside of the second truck, and I go over, and she rolls down the window, extends a hand, and I squeeze it. I so want to give her a kiss, but in the midst of all these troopers, I see how it won’t work.
Serena holds my hand with two of hers. “Randy . . . you know where I’m going. Write to me, all right? And I promise, I swear, I’ll write you back.”
“Deal,” I say, and then I say, “Buddy, be a good guy. Don’t fight.”
He just stares straight ahead.
Thor jumps up, puts both of his paws on the side of the door, and he whines.
Buddy turns his head.
Thor yelps with pleasure.
Buddy looks to my K-9 buddy, and for the very briefest of moments, so quick I wonder if I’m imagining it, he slightly nods, moves his mouth in what could be the beginning of a smile, and then he turns back.
I decide that’s good enough, and I say, “Be safe, Serena.”
“You too, Sergeant,” she says, and she rolls up the window.
“Sergeant Knox!” comes a voice, and at the head of the three-vehicle convoy is Captain Wallace, and since the both of us are wearing our covers, I salute her as I approach and she salutes right back.
She’s smiling. “I just got a telegraph from the Red Cross about your dad. He’s in stable condition, and he’s being transferred to the VA center in Northampton, Massachusetts.”
My feet and hands suddenly feel light and airy, like they’re made of paper. “Captain . . . that’s great news. Thanks, thanks so very much.”
Wallace steps over to me. “Glad I could pass it along. When you visit him, give him my best, will you?”
I have a brief memory, of seeing her and my dad kissing and in an embrace a couple of days ago. At the time, it bothered the hell out of me, thinking Dad was somehow betraying the memory of Mom. But now . . . it’s been ten years since Mom and my older sister Melissa died, in the first attacks. Who was I to tell my dad what or what not to do?
“Captain, I’ll make sure I do that.”
“Good.” Her face changes, as she looks up and down at me and says, “Knox, why are you out of uniform?”
I’m puzzled. “Ma’am?”
She smiles wider, reaches into a pocket, pulls out something that she presses in my right hand. I open up my hand, see that I’m now in possession of a set of single silver bars.
“Fix that, Lieutenant, will you?”
“Captain . . .”
She reaches up, removes the metal chevrons of a sergeant from my collar tabs, replaces them with the lieutenant bars. “It’s a battlefield commission, and it might be reversed, but I doubt it. The first sergeant and I can write one hell of a recommendation.”
“Ma’am . . .”
“There,” she says, stepping back. “Lieutenant, safe travels, and good luck back at Ft. St. Paul. If you care to drop a line to me at some point, to let me know how your dad is doing, and you, and that mutt . . . well, that would be a delight.”
“I’ll make sure.”
One of the Navy drivers honks a horn. “Time to leave,” she says.
Damn it, tears are in my eyes. She turns and I call out, “Captain?”
“Yes, Lieutenant Knox?”
Lieutenant Knox. It’s going to take a long while to get used to that.
I salute. “Ma’am, it was an honor and privilege to serve with you, and your troops.”
She returns the salute. “Very well, Randy.”
Then she surprises me, and everyone else who’s looking, when she comes to me, gives me an embrace and a kiss on the cheek, and then goes to the lead pickup truck. With a roar of engines and honking horns, they soon leave, and I’m by myself with Thor and no one else.
I touch the side of my cheek.
I guess I got my kiss after all.