Cupid de voir plaindre au vent la plume.
Triremes full of captives of every age,
Good time for bad, the sweet for the bitter:
Prey to the Barbarians hasty they will be too soon,
Anxious to see the feather wail in the wind.
“Come on, Jefe. Time to wake up!”
Why was it that lately, I always seemed to awaken to the feel of someone shaking me and calling my name? There must be a sign on my forehead that read, “Go ahead and wake him up! He doesn’t really need any rest.”
I tried to tell whoever it was to stop shaking me and let me die in peace, but all that came out was “Shunnggghhh.”
“That’s it, Jefe! We almost home.”
“Stop shaking me,” somehow got lost in translation once more, although “Shtothing ma,” was closer than the previous grunting.
“Come on, Sensei. You can do it.” Sarah’s voice caused me to turn my head, an act which I had immediate cause to regret. Sudden nausea and dizziness accompanied by pain sent excruciating flashes of light to my brain, which for some odd reason, seemed to remind me that my eyes were still closed. I opened them without thinking, causing even more agony.
“Umph!” I explained firmly, clenching my eyelids tightly closed once more. Now, if I could only get them to stop shaking me.
“He acts like the light hurts his eyes,” Sarah said.
“Of course it hurt his eyes! Don’ it hurt your eyes when you first wake up? Come on, Jefe!”
This time Rene’s voice accompanied a firm slap to my cheek. The pain in my head hurt immeasurably worse than the slap could account for. “Ow!” The single syllable was simple enough to make it through my scrambled neurons exactly as I had intended. For some reason, however, it only seemed to encourage another light slap.
“Good, Jefe! You need to wake up an’ stay awake. You hear me?”
When I refused to answer, someone decided to raise my eyelid to see if I was really home. I jerked my head away and immediately suffered another wave of pain and nausea.
“Jefe, you gotta concussion. You gotta stay awake! Fight it, Jefe. Open you eyes!”
I cracked one lid a fraction of an inch and squinted at the two women hovering over me. Both Sarah and Rene smiled when they saw that I was mostly cognizant.
“Stoshnme,” I mumbled, but it only earned a puzzled frown.
“What he say?” Rene asked. Sarah shrugged.
I took particular care with my pronunciation, forming my lips into the proper shapes and enunciating slowly and deliberately. “Stob. Shakin’. Me!”
Rene laughed. “Ain’ nobody shakin’ you, Jefe. You in the back of a Humvee an’ we takin’ back roads to keep from being spotted. The roads, they jus’ a little bumpy.”
I braved the light, cracking my eyelids a bit more. Sarah nodded encouragingly. “That’s good, Sensei. How do you feel?”
“Like I’m gonna throw up and die. And not necessarily in that order.”
“Considering what you’ve been through, I’m not surprised.” She placed a carbine in my hands. “We were able to get some people back to see what you and the others did with that ambush of yours. We found this and the rest of your squad, most of them dead.”
“Most of them?”
“We found Billy and that Filipino guy still alive. What was it, Ed, Edward…?”
I laid my head back and smiled. “Billy and Edwin. They’re all right?”
“They say Billy’s going to be fine. Don’t know about Edwin. He looked pretty bad.”
“How about Ken?” I feared what I might hear. The last thing I remembered was the tank rushing directly at the building where Ken and the rest of our people were holed up. My imagination supplied countless scenarios involving a runaway Abrams crushing them all to a pulp.
The reassuring answer came from the driver’s seat in front. “I’m doing just fine, thanks to you and your asinine stunt with that tank.”
“Ken!” Grinning from ear to ear, I struggled to sit up. Rene and Sarah helped me, and seconds later I was clapping Ken on the shoulder as he tried to drive and look back at me at the same time.
“’Bout time you woke up.”
Somewhere on the ride back to the factory, I lost my battle with consciousness and succumbed once more to the exhaustion that permeated my being. At least I had something to smile about when oblivion reclaimed me.
My next coherent thoughts involved intense feelings of vertigo and the uneasy, not-quite certainty that something was wrong-not threatening, but still wrong. Confused, unsure of where I was, my mind tried to sort through a collage of unfamiliar sensations.
Soft cushions, the smell of mildewed fabric, and the dank, humid atmosphere served to let me know I was no longer in the back of the Humvee. I heard the echoes of voices in solemn conversation beyond the door of my room. I concentrated on the voices. Only a word or two made it through, but I recognized my wife’s, and her tone was somewhat less than friendly. My memory was a bit fuzzy, but I recalled flashes of her alternating between laughter, tears, and anger when she saw my condition upon my return from our raid. Then, after examining my head with the experienced eye of a nurse’s daughter, she had decided I was in no real danger and prescribed compresses and bed rest, concussion notwithstanding.
Under her direction, Rene, Ken, Jim, and Sarah had moved me into Jim’s office and laid me down on the sofa, where she threatened dire consequences should I dare get up.
She needn’t have worried. As badly as I had felt, it wasn’t likely I could have gotten up if the building caught fire. I didn’t even recall hitting the cushions, so quickly did my exhaustion overcome me.
My body seemed to have recovered somewhat. I swung my feet over the edge of the couch and sat up, barely catching myself in time to keep my face from introducing itself to the floor. Weak and trembling, I raised my hand to touch a makeshift bandage over a huge knot on the front of my skull; I vaguely recalled everyone’s worries about a concussion. Memories of a nightmare tank ride reminded me that if a concussion was the worst of my injuries, I had probably gotten off lightly.
The exhaustion that had previously overwhelmed everything else was gone, replaced by aching, stiff muscles that stubbornly resisted my brain’s commands to rise. Synaptic impulse slowly won out, and I carefully limped through the door and down the hall toward the sound of the voices.
I couldn’t hear much of what was being said through the door, only enough to hear Debra adamantly refuse to allow some person or persons to awaken me.
Woe to the foolish mortal who dared the wrath of Debra. I smiled a bit at the thought and wondered how long I had slept. Snatches of conversation filtered through the door.
“… let him get some rest… already done enough?” I couldn’t hear it all, and my head hurt too badly to concentrate much, but it soon became evident exactly who she was arguing with. Ken’s voice, firm and calm as always, answered, though I couldn’t hear what he said. Jim joined in a few seconds later.
With a little grimace at the ache in my forearm, I turned the doorknob and entered. The previously animated discussion abruptly ceased, and the three occupants of the room turned to face me, suddenly seeming unsure of themselves. I turned from one face to the other, hoping to show them that I was all right. “Am I interrupting?”
Their lack of response was less than reassuring. I had just heard them arguing about me. Now… nothing. “Come on, guys, how would you feel if you walked into a room, and everyone stopped talking all at once?”
Jim grinned a little and waved me to a chair. “Come on in and sit down before you fall over.” Ken pulled the
