feel restless and want to get up. I was never very good at just lying down when I had energy to burn. Still, I think I’ll lie here and mull things over in my head.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Dad,” Bri says rising.
“Me too, sweetheart,” I reply.
“Yeah, I’m glad you’re okay too, Dad,” Robert says. I nod my thanks to him. I hear footsteps and watch as Gonzalez comes into my vision and kneels beside me.
“Good to see you’re okay, sir,” she says and reaches down to my arm. I watch as she removes the tape holding the needle in my arm and slides it out.
“Thanks,” I say. My mind is still reeling too much to say anything else.
A couple of hours pass and I can’t lie down any longer. I am feeling very restless and want to be up. This time, Lynn allows me to rise but is watchful. I’m sure at the slightest stumble, although that is something I do during the normal course of my day, she will have me back in the cot. I pay careful attention not to trip, falter, or even breathe for that matter because, as much as I like to think so, I don’t have the final say. As weird as the thought is that flies through, I think about having missed getting some — however long ago that might have been. I’m still not completely convinced that almost two weeks have passed.
One thing I am certain of is that I’m hungry. No, strike that. I’m ravenous. After assuring herself that I can still tie my shoes on my own, Lynn walks with me to the dining room. I can’t get enough to eat; however, I do get to the point where I don’t have a bottomless pit in my stomach. I see from the light streaming in the open doors that it’s still daytime and I want to go out. Not much is said between Lynn and me as she is still ascertaining whether I can walk on my own two feet. I get several pats on the shoulder as I pass others on our way out.
If I doubted that time had passed before, looking outside erases any and all doubt. They’ve been extremely busy. Where large fields of only grass once grew, there now stands several barns in various stages of completion. Looking north, large greenhouses stand in the fields. Near the walls and close to our sanctuary are lines of shipping containers with a dirt road in front of them. A mobile crane is situated next to them. As startling as the other sights are, the sight of a giant wind turbine next to the building is even more so.
“We still have to figure out the engineering to gear it into the pumps but we managed to get it upright,” Bannerman says behind me.
“Yeah, I, um, see that. Nicely done,” I say. I’m in awe of the change in our surroundings and that only adds to the confusion that my waking has brought.
“We also have walls around the hospital and are working on the housing development on McChord,” he adds.
“Maybe I should pass out more often,” I say amazed at the progress. Yes, that’s how I’m going to refer to it — passing out.
“Another day or two and we should be able to start bringing livestock in depending on how we want to prioritize that,” Bannerman says.
I’m still too stunned to answer. One thing that does come to my attention is the odor I’m emitting. They apparently fed me and took care of me, for which I’m thankful, but there was a distinct lack of clothing changed. I’m surprised anyone can stand within twenty feet of me. I turn to head in to remedy that. The sun is low in the western sky signifying this day, whichever one it might be, is about to end. I hear the approach of vehicles.
“Who’s that coming in?” I ask.
Lynn, Bannerman, Robert, and Bri all turn toward the entrance road. They stand shielding their eyes from the sun. “What do you mean, Jack? I don’t see a thing,” Lynn finally says.
That’s another thing I notice, the overly brightness of the day I had in the days previous, well, weeks I guess, isn’t as bad as it was. It still seems bright out but not blindingly so. “No, I mean the ones I hear coming in. Who’s out?” I ask.
Lynn looks at me with her sidelong expression that says she’s trying to figure something out. It’s her ‘what the fuck’ look. “We have teams out for the walls and escorts for the trucks. They should be returning shortly,” she answers.
“That must be them then,” I say. Now I’m getting funny looks from all everyone.
“What?” I reply to those looks.
“Nothing,” Lynn answers.
This is a day for confusion as I hear vehicles approaching and they should be at least showing up on the entrance road by now. I shrug and turn to head back in to take care of my offensive nature. Just then several Humvees appear in the distance over the entrance road hill. Following are several semi’s with shipping containers on their trailers. Lynn gives me her ‘what the fuck’ expression again.
“How in the hell did you hear them, Jack?” She asks.
“I just did. Must have just been a trick of nature, the way sound was carrying, or something,” I answer but am confused myself. It seemed so clear that they should have crested the hill long before they did. Maybe they stopped or something.
“Yeah, well, the ‘trick of nature’ didn’t work for me,” she says. “And I know your hearing ability, Jack. It’s non-existent.” I am about to do the ‘huh, didn’t hear you’ thing but realize this isn’t the time. I’m not in the mood to get my ass kicked just now.
“I really don’t know. I just heard them, that’s all,” I say fully realizing that my times of selective hearing are over.
“Hmm,” is her only response.
I head into Cabela’s to change as the vehicles pull to a stop outside. To be honest, I don’t feel very comfortable having heard the vehicles from so far. My hearing has been shot for years from jet engines and gunfire. I shrug the uncomfortable feeling away thinking it was just sound carrying on the wind. Sometimes one person will hear something another right beside them doesn’t due to whatever filters they have going on in their mind at the time.
In the shower, the thought returns and parts of previous missions filter through my mind. Most of the thoughts center around the senses and I think about the sights, sounds, and smells trying to fit them into hearing the vehicles from so far away. The dampness and heat of the jungle with its associated smell of mulch; the dry arid air of the desert. I think back and know I was always the first in our team to see movement but then I’ve always had good eyesight. I was also able to smell them first. Another funny thing is that, with my hearing loss, I was usually able to hear things out on a mission first as well. I know, go figure, right?
I remember one time when I first starting going out with the teams. Even though I had rank, that mattered little when out in the field. It was a matter of experience. With that, I was put in the fifth position — second from last — and carried the spare radio, batteries, extra med gear, and anything else the others didn’t want to carry. We were on a solely recon mission to locate the base camp of a local guerilla group. I won’t say where but let’s just say that it involved a lot of double and triple canopy.
We were paralleling a moderately used path in a small draw that ran between two steep ridgelines extending from an even larger ridgeline to our front. The terrain wasn’t too steep along the path that ran close beside a fast moving creek coming off the ridge; running over smooth gray, water-worn rocks and forming small pools with silt beds. Intel had put a possible location for the camp at the head of the creek and that is the area we were creeping toward. The path showed recent movement where we intersected it and began our climb. The dense underbrush made our going slow as silence was the key. It wouldn’t do at all for anyone to hear us and give them the advantage of knowing where we were without us knowing where they were.
It was later in the afternoon and about an hour and a half into our climb. The air finally started dropping from its sweltering temperature well into the nineties and humidity running around 267%. — well, that’s what it felt like. We made several forays to the creek, always careful to cover our tracks, to fetch a resupply of water. I remember thinking I really hoped the guerillas at the camp, which was supposedly at the head of the fast-moving water, weren’t using the creek as their latrine and laundry. With that thought, I plopped in another iodine tablet.
I suddenly had this bad feeling come over me. Not necessarily a sense of impending doom, but more that we were not alone and shared this vine-laden, towering tree-clad, tall fern and bush section of the world. With this feeling came the faint scent of unwashed bodies. I looked at our teammate in the drag position and then at the one in front. They gave no indication they felt or smelled anything. They just continued the climb with the person in the drag position covering our tracks. Being the newbie, I didn’t want to say anything about the feeling thinking it
