Woodenly, John turned. All were now staring at him, all silent. Hands to mouths, a few were crying. The way they looked at him, it was different, different from anything he had ever seen before in the eyes of people gazing at him. Fear… awe… revulsion… from a few strange glazed eyes almost a look of envy and lust.
He felt the vomit coming up. He had to control it. He held the Glock up, not sure if he had actually emptied it or not. His student Jeremiah was standing in the crowd, and John made eye contact. Jeremiah stepped forward and John handed him the gun.
“Secure the gun and meet me at the car,” John whispered.
He turned and walked away from the crowd, got behind the concrete wall, bent double, and vomited.
Gasping, he remained doubled over.
“It’s ok, sir.” It was Washington.
John looked up at him, suddenly ashamed.
“Puked my guts out the first time I killed a man. Sir, if you hadn’t I’d of been worried about you.”
“Stop calling me ‘sir,’ god damn it,” John hissed between the continuing heaves.
“You did the right thing, sir. You did it well.”
“Well? How can you say killing a man like that was done well?”
“No, sir. Not that. It’s always a stinking mess. I mean what you said. That’s why I call you ‘sir’ now. We used to joke about it before. Frankly, sir, you were a professor type, but I knew you were a colonel, so I played along. But today, sir, you led out there, you faced something horrible, and you led.”
“Ok,” John sighed.
“Come on; let’s get out of here.”
John nodded. Wiping his mouth with the hack of his hand. He winced with pain. His finger was infected and the act of shooting the Glock had ripped the cut wound open.
He came back around the wall and the crowd, mysteriously, was all but gone. Few had hung around. The bodies were gone, Bartlett’s van already driving off.
John realized he must have been behind the wall for long minutes.
He was glad no one was around to see him now.
A bit wobbly, he headed for his car.
“John?”
It was Makala.
He didn’t recognize her at first. Gone was the sexy business suit. She had on a pair of baggy jeans, a few sizes too big, and an old faded T-shirt from Purdue University.
“Thank you, John.”
“For what, damn it?”
“What you said back there before you had to shoot those two.” He nodded.
“It’s been getting a little tense between those who lived here before and people like me who have wandered in. What you said needed to be said. It reminded us we’re one in this.”
“Ok.”
He really did not want to talk and he slowly continued to the car. “Let me look at that hand.”
She stepped around in front of him and he winced as she pulled the bandage off.
“John, it’s getting infected, badly infected. I told you to go home, wash it, and keep it protected.”
He thought of the nursing home, carrying his father-in-law, the filth there.
“I need to clean that out for you, John; it really should be stitched up.”
“It can wait,” he said woodenly. “I just want to go home now.”
“Ok then, I’ll go with you.”
He glared at her coldly, a sick thought crossing his mind that perhaps she was turned on to him because of what he had just done, that or as an “outsider” she was ingratiating herself with a man who now obviously had power in the town.
She stepped back slightly.
“John. First, you’re getting an infection; in this situation you could lose your hand, or maybe even your life. Second, I heard about your father-in-law and the nursing home. I volunteered to go up there to help clean and take care of the folks. After I’m done with you, it’s a far shorter walk. Third, John, your little girl—Jennifer, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Monitoring her diet now is going to be tough. She should be checked every couple of days by a nurse or doctor. So just take me home with you; I’ll get done what needs to be done and then go up to the nursing home for the night.”
“Ok.” It was all he could say.
He got to the car, Washington and the two boys standing by it. Jeremiah handed the Glock back to John.
“It’s cleared and empty, sir. Tom gave me a fresh clip; you’ll find it in your glove compartment.”
Washington took the AR-15 and the two shotguns out of the vehicle.
“We’ll walk back to campus, sir. Why don’t you just go home?”
Phil stepped around and opened the door for Makala, who got in.
John looked back to the blood-splattered wall and then, almost ironically, fifty yards beyond it, the flagpole and the flag floating atop it. The sky beyond it was darkening. A late afternoon thunderstorm building.
He thought of Jeremiah’s question and wondered. Can we still keep this as America? Are we still America?
As he drove home he did not say a word.
“Vomited, didn’t you?” she finally said, breaking the silence.
“Yeah.”
“I thought you were a soldier.”
“I am.… I mean I was. Not many soldiers, though, are trigger pullers. I was in Desert Storm, exec for a battalion with the First Cav. Saw fighting from a distance, but never actually pulled a trigger. Most of the time I was just hunched over a computer screen trying to direct the action.”
“Sorry, that came out wrong,” Makala replied. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. It’s just the way you handled that guy in the drugstore the other day. You struck me as someone who had seen combat before.”
“No.”
“It’s all right. I still get queasy at times during an operation. I damn near died when I walked into that nursing home last evening.”
“Thanks for doing that.”
“My job now, I guess.” The conversation died away.
They pulled into the driveway. The two fools Ginger and Zach came running up, and at the sight of a stranger they showed typical golden retriever loyalty and went running straight to her, ignoring John.
She laughed, scratching their ears as they jumped up to lick her, both starting to bark as they danced around her. John headed for the door where Jen stood.
“Thank God you’re home,” Jen said. “What happened? I’ve been worried sick all day about you.”
“Went to Asheville like I told you.”
She looked past John to Makala, who was coming up, the dogs trailing beside her. Jen’s eyes widened slightly and John could sense she was not pleased, that this woman was an invader in her territory.
“Mom, I’d like you to meet Makala Turner. Makala, this is my mother-in-law, Jennifer Dobson.”
The two nodded and shook hands.
“Mom, you might recall Makala; she was the woman on the road the first evening.”
“Oh, oh yes. My dear, I didn’t recognize you, given how you are dressed now.”
“She’s a nurse, Mom. Head RN with a surgical unit, actually. She came here to check on Tyler, Jennifer, and this.” He held up his hand. Jen’s talons retracted and there was a smile. “Oh, come on in, dear.”
“How is Tyler?” John asked.
“Resting comfortably,” she said quietly.
“The girls?”
“Jennifer’s taking a nap. Her sugar level was up and she just took a shot. Elizabeth is out for a walk with Ben.”
