“Would you shut the curtains, please?” I asked him.
He turned to me; this was the first time in weeks he looked more like the boy I knew than the man he was becoming.
“What now Dad?” He asked.
I was out of answers. I sure as shit wasn’t going to tell my youngest that we were waiting for death. I turned to Tommy who had somehow got a hold of Tonka truck that looked suspiciously like the rolling death machines outside. He was peering into the plastic windshield in an attempt to get a closer look at the figurine driving the truck.
“What’s going on Tommy?” I asked him. Something had fastened itself to his attention and I wanted to be there for the reveal.
“Ryan keeps telling me to look closely at the synthesizers.” Tommy answered, his tongue nestled securely between his upper and lower jaw. Henry had come over to sniff at the purple goo covered appendage.
I couldn’t have been any more confused if I had just tuned into an English Cricket match. Flat bat, bouncing pitches -- it’s madness!
“Did he mean ‘sympathizers’?” BT asked.
“Well that makes a shitload more sense.” I answered.
“Talbot.” Tracy said.
Damn cursing. “Tommy, what are you looking for?” If Ryan thought it was important enough to share with Tommy, than it was.
“I don’t know, it’s really fuzzy. It looks a lot like the old cable boxes TV picture when you would try and watch the scrambled adult channels.”
“Hey wait now, I was just a kid.”
Tommy looked at me funny.
“Okay so you weren’t talking about me personally then, I take it?”
“Talbot what is wrong with you?” Tracy asked?
“Come on BT, help me out every kid did that.”
BT looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, we couldn’t afford cable when I was growing up.” He winked at me again over Tracy’s head.
I flipped him off.
Tracy thought I had done it to her and reciprocated the gesture.
“No wait, honey it wasn’t for you it was for that effen big jerk behind you.” BT winked again. “You’re lucky you’re that huge.”
Tommy spoke up, the room instantly quieted down. “Ryan keeps saying we have to go look at the humans. Like now.”
BT made as if he was going to get up.
“Not this time BT.” I said. He looked hurt. “BT, I can’t think of a better friend I would want to stay here and defend everything that is sacred to me.” Now he looked honestly touched, I couldn’t leave it like that. “And besides I think your cherry red scooter might draw us some unwanted attention.”
“I know where you live Talbot.” BT rumbled.
“What are you going to do Mike?” Tracy asked.
“Most likely the stupidest thing possible. Justin, grab your stuff.” Travis made to get his gear too. “I put my hand on his shoulder. “Not this time. I want as few of us out there as possible.” I thought he might be hurt from my decision and maybe he was and wasn’t showing it. But not having to go out into a deadly nightmare has its pluses. Justin’s health was vastly improved from when we had arrived on base, but he still harbored the virus within him. I was hoping that this would somehow benefit us while we looked for some answers to Ryan’s questions. Uncertainty mounted upon ambiguity, sounded like a crappy foundation from which to launch an escape.
I hesitated in the stairwell. Sure, part of it was because who willingly wants to go into battle. What really had me stopped in my tracks was how were we going to blend in, and a lot of that had to do with how the battle outside was going. If we ran out there in civvies (civilian clothing), it was damn sure guaranteed the army and Marines weren’t going to ask whether we were refugees or invaders before they shot at us. If we went and changed into camos and the attackers were winning we pretty much were going to suffer the same fate. Dead is dead, doesn’t really matter how you get there.
“I think we need to cover both bases.” I said to Justin. Not being privy to my inner dialog he was now thoroughly confused.
I ran back into the apartment; not much had changed in the 15 seconds I had been gone. “Trav, get away from the window.” The fighting had not yet reached this far into the base but it was only a matter of time and an eighth of an inch thick pane of glass would do little to stop a bullet.
“What are you doing Mike?” Tracy asked looking up from the couch. Stress was etched into her features. The small reprieve from a world gone mad had done us all some good, but that plush rug had been violently pulled from beneath us and we were going to have some serious difficulty righting our collective equilibriums.
“Blending in.” I told her.
There were many reasons why our marriage had survived and she continually never ceased to amaze me. Her insight into my mind could at times be frightening, but not this time.
“You know, Mike, that we don’t all reside in that head of yours right? We are not figments of your imagination. Unless you tell us what is going on we don’t just know.”
I’ve referenced it before but I’ll give you some more clarification. The male mind is truly only designed for the task at hand. If we were an operating system and you were to take a look at the resources being used for the job we were working on (whether it was sex or watching a football game or just eating a sandwich) we would be pinned at around 98%, the other 2% would be available for possibly looking for dangers that threaten like a rabid polar bear crashing through your front door during the third quarter. We would have just enough system resources left to recognize that and then shift over into survival mode.)
And being prior military that 98% might actually get ratcheted up to 99ish percent, when there is a military operation running through my grape, I am constantly thinking through contingency plans and odds of success and failure. Banalities and frivolities are things of a peaceful civilized society, they have no place in conflict.
So when I answered Tracy with “Huh?” it really shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone.
Seeing the stonewalled face I portrayed, she turned to Justin.
He shrugged his shoulders. “He didn’t tell me anything either.” Justin told his mother.
I ran into my bedroom and into the closet rooted around for a few seconds and was rewarded for my trouble. I came out and threw a pile at Justin. “Put these on.”
He started to take his jacket off. “No, put the cammies on over your other clothes. I think we’re going to need to have both teams' uniforms on for this.”
Tracy placed her face in her hands. Nicole emerged from the bathroom, morning, afternoon and evening sickness had settled in for the long haul with her. The road was no place for anybody, much less someone in her condition.
“Hi Dad.” She said, her pale green color nearly matching the decor of the room.
“What’s the matter ‘Oley, I don’t smell any buns?” Tommy said with a sorrowful look on his face. The room turned to look at him. “Are they hot cross buns?” Tommy asked. “Cinnamon buns? Because that would be awesome, but that doesn’t make sense because those would be rolls. Corn muffins?” Tommy asked expectantly.
All this talk of food was not having an agreeable turn with Nicole’s fragile stomach so she launched herself back into the bathroom, the door barely closing as the first of the retches racked through her.
“What’d I say?” Tommy asked nervously.
“Tommy what are you talking about?” Travis asked him.
“Ryan says Nicole has a bun in the oven. Is it a big bun? I mean because how is everyone going to be able to eat it, are we only going to get one bite to eat each, because I really like hot buns. Do we have butter? I don’t really like margarine, I could put some peanut butter on my bite though, that would be pretty good.”
I was tense because there was still some serious danger in my immediate future but Tommy’s words always had a way to warm my heart. I could tell that BT was near to out loud laughing. The embarrassment he would cause Tommy was the only thing keeping that in check.
