maryilee

Writer's Block: Back to School

Wed, 14 Jan 2009 21:54:00 GMT

What fictional high school—from tv, film, or a book—would you most like to attend? Or would you rather never go near high school again, fictional or otherwise?

View 502 Answers

Tyra's Essay

Tue, 13 Jan 2009 16:16:05 GMT

Contains a transcript of Tyra's Essay from season three.
Two years ago, I was afraid of wanting anything.

I figured wanting would lead to trying and trying would lead to failure.

But now I find that I can't stop wanting.

I want to fly somewhere in first class.

I want to travel to Europe on a business trip.

I want to get invited to the White House.

I want to learn about the world.

I want to surprise myself.

I want to be important.

I want to be the best person that I can be.

I want to define myself instead of having others define me.

I want to win, and have people be happy for me,

I want to lose and get over it.

I want to not be afraid of the unknown.

I want to grow up to be generous and big hearted, the way that people have been with me.

I want an interesting and surprising life.

It's not that I think I'm going to get all of these things,

I just want the possibility of getting them.

College represents possibility.

The possibility that things are going to change.

I can't wait..

Yuletide: A Big Thank you!

Sun, 04 Jan 2009 22:37:56 GMT

I want to thank everyone for their comments on my stories. I've never done Yuletide before and I thought I'd be able to reply to comments on the site after the first of the year, so I didn't save all my emails. Whoops! Anyway, I hope everyone who commented enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Maryilee

Yuletide

Thu, 01 Jan 2009 01:14:01 GMT

It occurred to me that I never said anything here about the wonderful fic written for me for Yuletide. My apologies, fantastic yuletide writer. I love that it sounds just like a missing scene from the show. I haven't seen that episode in quite some time, but I remember it well. While I didn't say anything here, (mainly because I just don't post that often on my LJ), I did mention the story here: FanNation Forum

My color

Sat, 29 Nov 2008 23:43:38 GMT

I'm amazed, this thing actually got me right.

Your rainbow is strongly shaded red and blue.

What is says about you: You are a tranquil person. You appreciate energetic people. You share hobbies with friends and like trying to fit into their routines. You get bored easily and want friends who will keep up with you.

Find the colors of your rainbow at spacefem.com.

Fanfiction: "The Agony of Defeat"-FNL

Thu, 13 Nov 2008 01:13:42 GMT

The first line is a prompt for a one hour multi-fandom writing challenge. When I read the prompt, I immediately had an image of a dark angsty story from Early Edition, but somehow, when the hour began, this little ficlet came out. It's not angsty. It's not dark. It's not even Early Edition.

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue and Eric crossed his arms. He grimaced, hoping it would pass for a grin. “Yeah, it look’s great, babe.”

“Does it make me look fat?” Tami twirled in front of the triple mirrors, looking over her shoulder at the back of the dress.

“Fat? You could never look fat.” Eric glanced at his watch. Every other day this week, he had been coaching Smash after the team had finished, watched game tapes all evening and dealt with the other demands of being the athletic director. It figured that his one day when he had nothing pressing to do, Tami insisted that he go help her pick out a dress for Jason Street’s wedding. “That one looks great on you. Really.”

Tami pursed her lips at her reflection. “I don’t know. The skirt is kind of big.” She tossed a glance at the hanging rack with her other five selections. “Let me just try on the red one again.”

Eric widened his eyes in panic. That would entail another trip out to the shoe department to find the right shoes to go with that particular shade of red. “No!” At her startled look, he held up his hands. “I mean…why do that when what you’re wearing is the perfect dress?” He cocked his head and made a motion with his hands. “It’s so nice and…and puffy…yeah, that’s it. It’s puffy.” He grinned for real this time, sure that he’d hit on the right adjective.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Puffy? Is that just another word for fat?”

Fear drenched him like a cold shower. “Haha! I didn’t mean puffy. I meant, it’s just, you know, just fluffy. Around the waist there.” He pointed at the large satin bow in the rear of the dress. “And that bow. It’s a great bow, hon.”

“You think so?” Tami’s eyes opened wider as hope filled them.

His confidence soared. He could make the save after all. “Oh yeah. It just draws the eye right away from all the polka dots.” Maybe he’d get back to the house and be able to catch the last half of the Cowboy’s game. He could almost taste the beer and pretzels.

“What’s wrong with the polka dots?” She stepped towards him and prodded him with her index finger. “Don’t you like polka dots? I think they’re cute.”

Eric swallowed, not sure if he was treading on dangerous ground. Was she serious? He stepped back and rubbed his hand over the spot she had stabbed. “Cute? Yes! They are adorable. My mom has a polka dot dress. It’s my favorite.”

Tami glared at him and spun, holding her hair up off her neck. “Unzip me.” Her voice reminded Eric of Sigourney Weaver’s in Ghostbusters. He half expected her to inquire if he was the keymaster.

“What? Aren’t you going to get this one?” He mourned the beer and pretzels. Eric wished he could call a time out and regroup. It was fourth and goal. He had to go for it. “Come on, babe. It’s a great dress. Nobody’s gonna be looking at the bow or the polka dots anyway. The way the top dips down...” He wiggled his eyebrows and then winked at her image in the mirror.

Tami’s mouth dropped open and she slapped a hand across her chest. “Are you implying it’s indecent?”

Without a word, Eric slid the zipper down. He knew when it was time to punt. “You go on and try on that red dress. I’ll go look for shoes. Sandals or pumps?”

Dear Yuletide Santa

Wed, 12 Nov 2008 22:02:33 GMT

I've been a good girl this year, so I hope you put a special present under the tree for me! I've never done Yuletide before, so please forgive me if my letter is all jumbled up. In general,I love angsty or hurt/comfort stories, but I also enjoy light-hearted stories. Good characterization and believable dialogue is very high on my list.

For EE, I love when Gary is faced with a dilemma regarding the paper--where he has to make a choice. The more angst, the better. I don't mind a Gary Owie, Whumping, or whatever the current phrase is either.(in fact, done well, I love it!) However, I would also be happy with something funny involving Gary and Chuck or some romance with Gary and Brigatti, or even an original character. (Just, no Erica please!) The romance/loving can go as far as you want to take it, as long as it's not clinical in regards to body parts. ;-) ETA: Crumb and Armstrong are fantastic characters too, so I wouldn't mind if they showed up in the story somewhere. Not a requirement though.

For FNL, I love anything to do with Coach/Tami. Banter, touching, arguing in only the way that they can do and then later, they have one of their bedtime talks/cuddles and Eric tells Tami about all his needs. :-P Oh, and some Gracie/Daddy interaction is great too. You can never go wrong writing something where Eric imparts his wise and fatherly advice to Julie. Can you see a pattern here? Basically, anything having to do with Eric. See the EE paragraph for the reference to sex. Only thing different is that because Eric and Tami have been married a long time, there can be a certain sense of being extremely comfortable with each other...in a good way. Not that they get in a rut, but there is absolute trust, so they may actually be more adventurous than Gary/Brigatti or other partner. If that makes sense.

My third choice was Emergency, I believe. Johnny should be the main character. I love fics that are true to the show as far as showing Johnny and Roy responding to calls/rescues, but having a sub-plot as well. It wouldn't be Emergency without a good JohnnyOwie, so that would be really nice. :-D Nothing too drastic though! I want him in one piece and not maimed for life.

I can't remember if I put Quantum Leap on my list. I don't think I did, only that I could write it, but if I did, anything where Sam is longing for home is good.

Happy Halloween!

Sat, 01 Nov 2008 00:21:29 GMT

Here's the pumpkin I carved with a little bit of my daughter's help. (hey, she's only 8, I don't let her handle sharp, pointy instruments yet!)

Friday Night Lights

Wed, 01 Oct 2008 16:29:14 GMT

Finally, it's back and from what I've read, it's back to its first season goodness. The characters aren't all off in their own little shows, there are no murders or live in nurses. Thank God! Don't get me wrong, season two was still better than anything else on television, it just wasn't up to the perfection that was season one.

So, if you're lucky enough to have DirecTV, watch FNL tonight. If you're not, you may have to resort to other means, but you STILL need to watch it on NBC when it comes out in the spring! Do NOT blow it off because you've already seen it. The way to make this work is to blog about it, without too many spoilers, and get people interested in it, so that when it DOES finally come on NBC, maybe a few curious will wonder what all the buzz is about. Then, watch it again on NBC, because really, watching a repeat of FNL still beats watching a new episode of some stupid reality show or any other show out there. I'm not making that up. It's true. If you can't watch it on NBC because you absolutely have to watch something else at the same time, at least dvr it. Okay? Thanks! :-)

Me, I just got my DirecTV installed two days ago. :-D Hey, we got rid of the landline phones a few months ago. I figure I can justify the expense since we cut in another area. And the price of gas is down a bit this week. I'll bring my lunch to work. (okay, I do anyway), I'll even let up on my diet so I won't have to buy any new clothes this fall. (the things I'll do for this show!). Oh, and I've seen pics of Kyle Chandler from this season from an extra, and he just gets better with age. I might have to start hating him for that. ;-)

FanNation--it's here

Sat, 30 Aug 2008 04:24:09 GMT

FanNation is a multi-fandom fanfic archive. It's modeled after Fanlib, but is non-corporate. It's fan run. What makes it unique is that many of the members read crossfandoms due to member run contests of Fanlib. Many of us learned to appreciate other fandoms and even became fans of previously unfamiliar ones. It makes for a great atmosphere and interesting talk on the forums. Speaking of which, the forums have a much better set-up than the fanfiction. net forums. I'm a mod in both places and FanNation wins hands down. I can say that after only one day because the forums are also modeled after the Fanlib forums, which was my favorite feature of the site.

Anyway, if you're looking for a place that will allow your stories to be read by others, especially if you put in the effort to read other people's stories, then FanNation is the place for you.

fannation.shades-of-moonlight.com/archive/index.php

Enemy Combatant--Chapter 11b,---Conclusion

Fri, 15 Aug 2008 16:25:40 GMT

Okay, so this was part of the last chapter but it was too long for LJ. So, tell me again why people love this site for fanfic? Grrr...it's so clunky. Sorry about the rant. Anyway, here's the conclusion.

Gary looked over to see Michael standing in the opening. He twisted a Chicago Cub’s hat in his hands.

“Hey, Michael.” Gary motioned him in. “How’s it going?”

“So this is how you’ve been slacking off and pretending to be sick,” Michael said, his voice teasing as his gaze swept the room, paused on Marissa then settled back to Gary. He stood at the end of the bed, the hat almost a cylinder in his hands. “So, you got yourself shot I hear.”

Gary grinned, at ease with Michael’s straightforward manner. “Yep. Marissa, I’d like you to meet Michael. I work with him at the warehouse.”

Marissa stood and held out her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

Michael shook her hand, covering it lightly with his left one and hanging on for a second. “The pleasure is all mine, Marissa.” His hand brushed lightly over her wedding ring. “I’m always a dime short and a day late.”

Her dark skin made it hard to tell, but Gary could have sworn Marissa was blushing even as her smile widened. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me? Would you two like me to leave?”

Michael released Marissa’s hand and shot Gary a look and then grinned. “It’s all good, man.” The grin faded and he glanced at Marissa again as she settled back on the edge of the bed. “Did you get shot taking care of things like we did a few weeks ago?”

Puzzled, Gary tried to figure out what Michael meant. “Oh. You mean the paper?”

Michael’s eyebrows shot up and he said, “You don’t keep it a secret?” He sounded disappointed.

Marissa laughed. “Oh, he does, but I take it Gary told you.”

Gary shifted in his seat. His wound was sending bolts of pain through him and he was finding it hard to concentrate on the conversation. “Yeah, Michael found out, kind of by accident.”

“Yeah, you shoulda seen this guy--” He broke off suddenly when he remembered that he was speaking to a blind woman. “I mean, uh…”

Shaking her head and chuckling, Marissa said, “It’s okay. Go on.”

“Yeah, okay, so he goes racing out of my car claiming he had to pee right then because he had a bad prostate! I’m thinking, ‘Man, this guy really has a problem!’ and I slam on the brakes. But instead of going to the port-a-potty, he pushes some road worker out of the way of a moving car! I was looking right at his paper when he did it. Didn’t take a genius to figure it all out.” Michael grinned then shot a look at Gary. “You were making up the prostate problem, weren’t you?”

Gary smiled wanly. “Yeah. No problems in that area.” He tried getting more comfortable but the muscles in his back ached.

Marissa’s brow furrowed. “Are you okay, Gary?”

He hated to admit it but he needed to lie down. “I think I need to get back to bed.”

“Yeah, even for a white guy, you’re pretty damn pale.” Michael, all joking gone, moved over to help Gary as Marissa stood and took a few steps out of the way.

If he didn’t hurt so bad, he would have laughed but he needed all of his energy just to stand and hobble the few steps back to the bed. It took a little maneuvering to get situated and by then, he was panting. “Thanks.” He held up his hand. “Wait, don’t leave…yet. Give me a sec.”

Ignoring him, Michael said, “I’m gonna find your nurse.”

Before he could call out to stop him, Michael left the room. Gary closed his eyes.

“Gary, what about Michael?”

“What about him?” Gary draped his left arm over his eyes.

“How attached is he to the warehouse job? Is it something he loves?”

Ruefully, Gary shook his head. “Nobody is attached to a job like that, Marissa. It’s what someone does to pay the bills.”

“Well, maybe he’d be interested in another job. Say, as a manager of a bar?”

Gary lifted his arm from his eyes and looked at Marissa, considering the suggestion. “Maybe he would be.”

“What if he is interested? Is that something you might consider?”

“Sure. He’s a hard worker. Dependable. Smart.”

“You guys talking about me?” Michael bounced back into the room, a nurse trailing after him, a syringe in her hand.

A few minutes later, Gary began blinking, finding it impossible to follow the conversation that Marissa and Michael were having. They didn’t seem to notice his silence as they made plans to get together so she could show him the ropes. His muscles relaxed and he was almost asleep when his parents returned.

He faded shortly after his mom’s hand went to his forehead and his dad mentioned something about the paper showing up at their house that morning. He tried to rouse himself to ask about that, but found it impossible and gave in to the pull of the medications.

The next day, he wrote his dad a check and had him buy some lottery tickets. That night, they all quietly celebrated their winnings. His dad at first refused to take a share of the money but Gary stubbornly insisted.

“I might need some help with the paper at first and I can’t have you working when I need you here.” Gary knew playing up the paper aspect would do the trick and, reluctantly, his parents agreed to take it. Relief swept through Gary.

The rest he gave to Marissa to get things in order at McGinty’s.

She took a few days off and helped Michael at the bar. They worked at getting things back in shape and she went over the bookkeeping system with him. Marissa reported back that Michael was a fast learner. Gary remembered his quick connection with the paper and wasn’t surprised.

Gary wished he could be there helping them, but Marissa and his parents told him that he just needed to get healthy as soon as possible. He did his best to achieve that goal.

On the day he was released, his parents arrived at the hospital. His mom smiled at him when he came out of the bathroom wearing the new jeans and white oxford shirt. “You look great, honey.” She reached up and smoothed his collar down.

“Mom, you’d say that no matter what.”

“He takes after his old man.” His dad grinned and winked at Gary. “Ready to go, kiddo?”

His heart began hammering. “Yeah, I think so.”

Gary followed his dad into the dim interior of McGinty’s. Lemon furniture polish scented the air and the wood trim gleamed. He had expected cobwebs and dust and he stopped in surprise. Gary figured that Michael and Marissa had been focusing on the bookkeeping part, but the whole bar area shone. It even looked like there were a few new barstools lined up in front of the bar.

He walked up to the bar and put one foot on the shiny brass footrest at the bottom and skimmed his hand along the polished wood. A couple of new televisions angled down from the corners. Customers would like that.

Gary moved to the kitchen, taking in the spotless stainless steel appliances and workstations. The stock shelves were bare, but that didn’t bother him. They still had a ways to go before the bar could re-open. Inspectors needed to come in and permits renewed, but it was almost ready to go.

His mother moved to the stove, admiring the professional grade appliance. “These stoves are so nice, hon!” She turned a burner on, and smiled before turning it back off. “I think I need one like this, Bernie.”

His dad moved up behind him, resting a hand on Gary’s shoulder. “So, what do you think, Gar?”

The door to the office opened and Michael and Marissa came out. “Yeah, Gary, what do you think? We did some kick ass cleaning here, don’t you think?”

Gary nodded at Michael, his eyes roving the kitchen. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat and blinked hard. “Yeah, you did. It looks great.”

Marissa smiled. “We didn’t get much done in the office yet and there’s paper everywhere, but that’s next on the list.”

Glad that something was left for him to do, Gary said, “I can start working on that tomorrow.”

“Well, why don’t you see how you feel first, Gary?” His mother moved to his side and began to reach up to touch his cheek with the back of her hand.

Gary stepped back, gently pushing her hand away. “I’m fine, Mom.”

His mom smiled. “Yeah, I know. I can’t seem to help myself though. I’ll do my best to stop.”

Returning her smile, Gary said, “Well, you don’t have to stop entirely, Mom.”

Beaming, his mother rested her hand in the crook of his left arm. “Why don’t you go up to the loft and lie down? I put some fresh sheets on the bed.”

Gary rolled his eyes at his mom’s complete failure at suppressing her motherly instincts. Grinning, he asked, “I thought you just said you’d try to stop doing that?”

Shrugging, his mom winked at Michael before turning back to Gary. “I did try.”

“You heard your mother. Go on upstairs and lie down. You think I want to do all this paper stuff for any longer than I have to?” His dad’s voice was gruff but the laughter in his eyes belied the tone.

“Fine. Just give me a minute.” Gary turned to Michael and Marissa. “The place looks great, you guys. Really great.”

Marissa crossed to him and gave him a gentle hug. “It feels like old times.”

Gary gave her a squeeze with his left arm; his throat once again felt like it was swelling. “It does. Thank you.”

He climbed the steps to the loft, hanging onto the wooden banister tightly. It was the most exercise he’d had in while and he paused at the top, catching his breath. His stomach twisted in knots. It was almost two years since he had been home. He turned the knob and entered the loft.

The lemon scent was up here too, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he took in the rough brick walls, dark wood trim and his familiar furniture. Voices below floated up to him and he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He needed a few minutes alone to get his bearings.

Blinking hard, he crossed to his bed. The comforter was the same dark green down filled one his mom had given him the Christmas before September eleventh. He sat, sinking into the thickness of the filling and smoothed his hand over the soft fabric. Kicking off his shoes, he carefully lay back against the fluffy pillows and sighed.

Lavender.

Gary smiled and closed his eyes. Everything was exactly how he remembered it.

EE Fanfic: Enemy Combatant--Chapter Eleven

Fri, 15 Aug 2008 16:23:24 GMT

Gary woke up and realized his parents had left. He didn’t remember falling asleep when they were here. It seemed like they were all talking one minute, and the next, he was waking up to a darkening room with the nurse sticking a thermometer in his ear.

“Well, hello there, handsome.”

She was a different nurse, probably in her fifties and her manner was easygoing and friendly. Gary liked her immediately. “Hi.”

“I’m Karen and I’ll be your nurse tonight. I’m so glad to finally meet you.” Karen smiled at him and checked his IV sites. He discovered he had one going into the side of his neck as well as one in his arm.

“I’ve had you as a patient my last two shifts and you’ve slept right through both of them. I was starting to get a complex.”

Gary didn’t know if she was expecting him to respond to that and so he remained quiet. She managed to do a lot of different checks, all the while, chattering away. “So, Gary, how are you feeling tonight?”

It took him a moment to realize she was actually waiting for a response and wasn’t going to sail right into the next topic. “I feel okay.” His back throbbed but he thought he could deal with it.

She beamed. “Good! I ordered a liquid tray for your dinner. And then, if you feel up to it, you have another visitor waiting patiently out in the lounge. Should I send her in?”

Gary wondered who it was but there were only two women that might visit him besides his mother. Both made his stomach twist into knots. With Brigatti, he never knew what she was going to say. Sometimes she was gruff and sarcastic and other times, warm and caring. Marissa was the other possibility and while he knew he had nothing to worry about from her, he felt a flush of guilt that he hadn’t gone to see her since his return.

Karen stood waiting, her mouth turning into a frown. “You don’t have to see anyone if you don’t want to. I can tell them that you’re not feeling well.” She put a hand to his cheek. “Your temp is a little elevated, but you look a lot warmer than the thermometer says. Maybe I should re-take your temperature.”

“No, I’m fine. You can send her in. It’s okay.”

Hands on her hips, Karen studied him for a moment, glanced at the monitors and then nodded. “Okay.”

Fifteen minutes later, after Karen had helped Gary clean up a little, Toni Brigatti stepped hesitantly into the room. “Gary? Uh, Hobson?”

When she called him by his first name, he suddenly remembered that she had used it in the mini-mart. She seemed embarrassed to call him that now and he wanted to put her at ease, so, even though it felt odd and unnatural, he said, “Hi, Toni.”

She stopped and blinked, then smiled. “Hi. You look a lot better than you did the last time we spoke.” Toni approached the side of the bed, her eyes darting to all the medical equipment around the bed. “You got rid of some hardware, I see.”

“Hardware?” Gary scratched his head.

Toni waved vaguely at the IV poles and monitors. “The other day, they let me in and you had a lot more stuff on and around you.”

Gary glanced around. “Oh. I guess so.”

“Do you remember what happened?” Her voice held a note of uncertainty, as if she was afraid of something.

“Sure. I remember the robbery.”

“Do you remember how we got out of it?”

His mind was fuzzy on the details, but he vaguely recalled asking her to read the paper. Gary’s eyes opened wide. “The paper.” It came out as a whisper.

Toni pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. “Yeah. The paper. Your special paper you tried to tell me about before…when you were arrested.” Her gaze dropped to her hands that were busy twisting the strap of her purse.

“Yeah.” Gary nodded even though she wasn’t looking at him. “The Sun-Times.”

Looking up, Toni tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and bit her lip. “I’ve been so mean to you; how can you stand looking at me let alone save my life?”

Puzzled, Gary shook his head, trying not to wince at the stab of pain that motion caused in both his head and his back. “You haven’t been mean.” At her look of disbelief, he smiled, “Well, not all the time, Brigatti.”

Just as he had hoped, his parroting of the phrase he had used the one time they almost kissed made her blush and smile. “Listen, Toni. How could you have believed me? The one time I told you about it, after I was arrested, I didn’t have any proof. I wouldn’t have believed me either.”

Toni sighed and her mouth quirked to the side. “You’re too forgiving, Hobson, ya know that?”

Gary thought of his feelings towards various guards and interrogators he’d had. Grimacing, he said, “No, I’m not.”

As if guessing his thoughts, Toni nodded, her eyes downcast again. “Well, some things aren’t forgivable.” She looked up and her eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m sorry there wasn’t something more I could have done to help get you freed, Gary. And I wish you hadn’t been shot because of me.”

“None of it was your fault. What could you have done about getting me free? Did you know someone who could have freed me and you just decided not to talk to them?”

Toni shrugged. “No.”

“I didn’t think so.” Gary smiled and rested his head back against the pillow. “Let it go, Brigatti.”

That night, Gary slept fitfully. His slight temperature he’d had earlier climbed and the acetaminophen Karen gave him only brought down but didn’t break it. He alternately shivered with chills or kicked off the covers in an attempt to cool off.

When he slept, he had dreams that moved in double time and involved grotesque faces that he somehow recognized from his imprisonment. He would find himself being chased by the faces and end up in the mini-mart.

“Shhh…it’s okay, Gary. It’s just a dream.”

Gary’s eyes snapped open as he felt a cool cloth pressed to his head. He started to ask for a drink of water. “Ah. I…uh…” He lost his train of thought and licked his lips; he felt so hot and pushed the covers down.

“Here, take a sip.” Karen held a straw to his lips and he drank eagerly.

“Thanks.” Gary blinked and looked at her. “What time is it?”

“It’s about one a.m. Since you’re awake now, I’m going to do some vitals and get you a dry gown. This one soaked.”

Gary nodded and closed his eyes. He liked it better when he was sedated. Now, he felt like one big mass of misery. His head pounded and his shoulder and back felt like they had gone through a meat grinder. Dully, he lay passive as Karen removed the gown, swiping the cool cloth along his torso before drawing the fresh gown over him and fastening it at the shoulders. It had all been done so quickly and efficiently; he didn’t have time to feel embarrassed.

“I’m going to give you something for pain, and another does of Tylenol. Then, I’ll let you be so you can sleep.”

While waiting for the meds to kick in, Gary thought about his visit with Brigatti. He felt good about it. When she had left, she had promised to see him again soon. There was a new note in her voice. He couldn’t quite figure it out but it just thinking about it and the way she had smiled when she said good-bye caused a flutter in his stomach that had nothing to do with his current state of misery.

He started shivering and knew that his fever was climbing again. Damn. That meant he was in for more dreams. He had to shake this so he could get out of here. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes, then reached for his water and took a long drink. The coldness made his shivering worse, but it felt so good sliding down his throat. His eyes became heavy and he slept.

At four a.m. his fever broke, soaking the gown again and he sleepily apologized to Karen who didn’t look nearly as fresh as she had when she had come into work earlier.

“Hey, it’s fine, Gary. I’m just glad the fever’s gone. Now, you try to get some sleep before everyone starts parading in here to get their turn at you.”

Gary nodded and closed his eyes. “Okay.”

She spread a clean sheet over him and he barely heard her when she said she’d try to hold off the tests he had scheduled as long as she could. “I’ll stand at the door and beat them back with a stick. How’s that sound, Gary?”

“Mmmhmmm…thanks.”

Later, he awoke feeling much better. His morning flew by in a flurry of x-rays, visits by physical therapy and the doctor. He got out of bed and sat in a chair. His parents came by just as he began eating his lunch.

“Well, look at you! Looks like you’re ready to blow this joint.” His dad’s jovial voice boomed in the small room as he entered.

Gary grinned. “Not quite, but getting there.” He craned his head to see out into the hallway then turned to his dad. “Where’s Mom?”

“Oh, she wanted to look around in the gift shop. She saw some little geegaw that she said would look adorable on the front porch.”

Knowing his mom, it was probably several items. Gary lifted the dome on his tray and eyed the meatloaf. It didn’t look horrible, but looks could be deceiving. The mashed potatoes looked safe enough so he scooped up a forkful.

“You get to eat real food and everything! That’s great, Gary.” His dad sat on the edge of the bed.

Gary nodded and tried to talk around a mouthful of the meatloaf. “Yeah, I had eggs. They were better than this.” Making a face, he managed to swallow the food.

“Well, you need to eat up and get your strength back.”

His dad’s voice had lost the teasing tone and Gary looked at him, puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

His dad took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Look, son, the nurse told us about your rough night. We’re just so worried that one of these days…” He shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor.

“One of these days?” Gary set the fork down.

“That one day, we won’t get lucky. You won’t get lucky. It would kill your mom.”

Gary saw the pain in his dad’s eyes and slumped back in the chair. “What should I do, Dad? I tried ignoring the paper but I just couldn’t.”

His dad nodded. “I know.” He straightened his back and rested his hands on his knees. ‘You gotta do what you gotta do.” His dad’s eyes took on a hint of their usual humor. “And we’re you’re parents and we’ll do what we gotta do.”

“What do we have to do?” Gary’s mom entered the room, her arm entwined with Marissa’s. “Look who I found out in the hall.” His mom smiled at Gary, apparently not requiring an answer from her husband.

“Marissa.” Gary’s voice was thick with sudden emotion.

She turned, following the sound of his voice. “Gary?”

He pushed the tray table out of the way and stood, trying to hide how unsteady he was from his parents. Gary took a few steps towards Marissa and she met him, her arms wrapping around him in a hug that was warm but mindful of his injury. His mom said something about needing Bernie to see the cutest thing in the gift shop and they left.

Marissa and Gary held each other for over a minute before his legs began to wobble and she stepped back. “I missed you so much, Gary.”

Gary swallowed hard, trying to suppress the moisture in his eyes from spilling down his face. “Yeah. Me too.” He sat down and closed his eyes.

Marissa had no such compunction and tears coursed down her cheeks. She laughed and swiped them with her hand. She swept her cane in front of her and found the bed and after feeling to make sure it was clear, she sat. “So.”

They both laughed and then Gary sobered. “I’m sorry I never called you again.”

Marissa shook her head. “It’s okay. I have an idea of what you were going through. Sometimes people that have been through a traumatic experience just need some space to deal with it all.”

Gary smiled ruefully. “Wow, you really are a psychologist, aren’t you?”

Marissa ducked her head and chuckled. “I guess I am. Sorry, I’ll try to keep my analyzing to myself.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better,” Gary said, but his voice was teasing.

Marissa smiled then it faded and she asked, ”How are you doing? And I don’t mean physically. I just need to know, as a friend, not a psychologist.”

Gary took a deep breath. “I’m…better. Better than I was, anyway. I can’t say I don’t ever think about it what happened because not a day goes by that some image pops into my head.” He shifted in the chair and then the tube in his side began pulling. With a muttered curse, he twisted to get the tube in a better position.

“Of course. It’s natural to think about it.” Marissa nodded.

Gary took a moment to gather his thoughts again. “I think the hardest part wasn’t what…what they did to me. It was the fact that I wasn’t a person any more.”

Marissa’s brow furrowed. “Of course you were a person.”

Gary’s mouth set in a firm line and he tried to think of a way to make her understand. “No…no, I wasn’t, Marissa. I think for almost a year, nobody ever even used my name. Did ya know that?” Gary shook his head, his breathing became ragged and his voice rose as he continued, “I was the only one in my cell, so when the guards spoke to me, it was just an order, like, ‘Get up! ‘Put your hands out!’ or ‘Don’t move!’”

He swallowed hard as the memory of those orders and the mental images that went with them flooded his mind. Images of standing immobile for hours with his arms bound behind him and raised so that he had to bend forward. Sometimes he was blindfolded at the same time. “All the while, I knew they hated me and thought I was a traitor to my country. They would look at me like I was something on the bottom of their shoe.”

His throat felt like it was closing up as he finished the sentence and the last word came out as a hoarse whisper. He cleared his throat and took a deep shuddering breath. “I see it all again, in my head, and I…I don’t want to.”

“Oh, Gary,” Marissa said, shaking her head, her eyes filled again. “I didn’t know.”

Gary looked down and nodded even though she couldn’t see him. “Yeah. I know. I couldn’t face those images a few months ago. That’s why I couldn’t go see you.” He glanced up to see her wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, Marissa. Here it is, the first time we get a chance to really talk and I unload all this stuff on you.”

Marissa was silent for a few moments. “I understand completely, Gary. You don’t have to apologize.” She gave a strangled laugh, “Besides, you know I hate the word, ‘sorry’.”

They remained quiet, and Gary tried to repair the breech in the wall he had built in his mind. He found it was getting easier to do and for that, he was glad. “So, as you may have figured out by now, I’m back to using the paper to fix things.”

Marissa smiled and shook her head. “Yes, I am aware of that. And I know that Toni Brigatti knows too. I hope that goes okay.”

“I think it will. I spoke to her last night and we have a new understanding.”

“Well, she should. After all, you did save her life.”

Gary tilted his head at the trace of anger in Marissa’s voice. “Is something wrong?” He felt like he was missing something.

“No, there isn’t. I guess I’m still just a little bit angry at how she dismissed your explanation back in the beginning. We had a little…talk…about it after you were…were gone.”

“Ah.”

“But she did apologize the other day, so I guess I should let it go.”

“Yeah, because I thought you didn’t like the word ‘sorry’,” Gary joked, trying to lighten the mood. It worked. Marissa smiled.

“Only from you. She can say it till the cows come home as far as I’m concerned.”

“Marissa, it’s not like she could have done anything anyway. Didn’t she try? I thought I heard from my parents that she did.”

“That’s true. I guess I’m angry at the wrong person.” Marissa smiled ruefully. “I suppose the fact that she tried despite not believing about the paper says even more for her.”

“I think so too.” Gary winced as he moved a little. His back was beginning to really bother him but he didn’t want to take pain meds and get sleepy. Not yet. He sighed.

“Are you okay, Gary?”

“Yeah. Just wondering what I should do now.”

“Now? Do you want to get back in bed?” She made a move to stand.

“No, not now now. But when I get out of here. I can’t keep working that job and trying to do saves during the day.”

“No, that’s crazy. You’ll wear yourself out doing that.”

Gary laughed and bit back a groan when that action caused a stab of pain. “Tell me about it.”

“What about McGinty’s?”

Gary thought about that. “I don’t have the money to get it up and running again. I figured we’d sell it and split the profit.”

Marissa leaned forward. “Gary, you need to listen to me and not dismiss what I’m going to say without thinking about it carefully.”

Taken aback at her sudden intensity, Gary just said, “Okay.”

“Good. Now, take that paper and use it to make some money. It owes you! Then use that money to get the bar back to how it was.”

Gary thought about what she had said. “I don’t know, Marissa. I don’t like using it for financial gain. It’s not meant for that. Besides, if I did get any money, I’d give it to my parents. I owe them that.”

“Do both. It’s not about making money, Gary. It’s about making things right. The paper can’t tear your life apart and then expect you to come back without some help. It. Owes. You.”

Gary thought about what she said. He hated to think of it like that, but she was right. If he hoped to continue, he’d have to have a way to make a living that didn’t need him to work regular hours. “But I don’t have anyone to manage it any more. Not someone I can trust who knows about the paper. Anyone I hire would wonder where I’m going all the time.”

A light knock sounded from the doorway. “Gary?”

EE Fanfic: Enemy Combatant--Chapter 10

Fri, 15 Aug 2008 16:14:26 GMT

Toni hung up the phone and took a deep breath. At least someone out there knew what was going on in here. Gary groaned and she looked down at him. His eyes were only half open and had a glazed look. It frightened her and she brushed his hair back from his forehead and leaned down, talking in his ear, “Hang in there.”

She was rewarded with a slow blink. “Thirsty.” He licked his lips and she could see that the blood loss had taken a toll. His lips were dry and almost as pale as his skin. Toni knew that if he made it out of here, he’d go straight to surgery, but according to his newspaper, that wasn’t going to happen, or at least not for several hours. In the meantime, if a drink helped him feel better in the smallest way, she wasn’t going to deny him.

Well, one thing going for them is that she had a choice of juices, bottled water, and soft drinks. She reached through the broken glass and chose a classic electrolyte drink, figuring that would be the best bet. Some nearby juice boxes had little straws attached to them and she tore one off and stuck it in the open bottle. With one hand, she steadied the bottle in Gary’s hand, with the other, she tried to raise his head a little. Some of the liquid spilled out of his mouth despite the straw, but some made it in and his eyes closed after the effort. Over the next several minutes, she was able to get almost half a bottle in him. It seemed to help a little. He didn’t look quite so out of it. Toni went behind and checked his back again; the towels were soaked and she applied more.

“Hey.”

Toni looked over his shoulder. “Do you need something, Gary?”

“Why’r you callin me Gary?” He actually cracked the smallest smile. “Kinda scares me. I must be dyin’ or something”

Toni blinked back sudden tears. So far, she had been able to function as an officer, but now it hit her hard that this man would be out of her life for good very soon. She had always treated him as a nuisance except for the one time they’d had that one moment after he had saved her life atop the hotel. She was sure they were about to kiss and maybe more except for Marissa’s phone call interrupting them. Later, when he emerged from the bathroom, having changed into his tux to go along with her undercover ruse as husband and wife, he had put the necklace around her throat and she still shivered whenever she thought of that moment.

His hands had lingered for a brief moment and when she closed her eyes, she could almost feel it again, as they sent a chill down her sping. But then things went sour and she had once again blamed him for things that went wrong. Then nine-eleven came.

All along, she had thought he was just a touch crazy, and now, when she finally understood him, he was going to be gone.

“I guess the paper says I’m gonna die?”

He’d turned his head and Toni tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She could only nod.

“Read it to me.”

“I can’t do that, Gary. I…I just can’t.” How could he want to read about his own death?

As if reading her thoughts, he said, “Won’t be the first time.”

Toni saw that he was serious. Clearing her throat, she quietly read the entire article. Towards the bottom, it mentioned the mother of one of the gunmen, how upset she was to lose her son. It quoted her saying that he hadn’t always been bad, that as a little boy, he had loved to play baseball. His dream had been to be a major league pitcher.

Gary’s eyes had closed and he was so still that, for a brief, heart stopping second, she thought the worst. The he coughed and tried to speak, but his voice was so weak, she had to lean in close to hear him.

“Talk to the gunman.”

Toni looked up in the mirror. The man was just visible sitting behind the counter, only a few tufts of hair gave away his position. The clerk stood beside him, her face red from crying. “How? About what?”

“Ask about…his mom.” His breathing was more shallow.

Toni thought about if for a second. She wasn’t really sure what she could say. “Like how sad she’s going to be? That kind of thing?”

Gary gave a small nod.

“Why should he believe me? He thinks he’s going to make it out of here.” Toni tucked her hair behind her ear and saw Gary watching her. It wouldn’t hurt to try. She looked up the gunman’s name in the paper, then took a deep breath. “ Roger! Can we talk? Maybe we can work this out without anyone else getting hurt.”

There wasn’t an answer for a few seconds, then the guy called back, “How’d you know my name?”

Toni looked up at the mirror. The guy was sitting straighter and she could see his head peering over the counter towards the back. “I heard your friend call you that when the shooting began.” She didn’t know if he would buy that story but in all likelihood, the events had happened so quickly, he wouldn’t remember if the friend had used his name or not.

He bought the lie because he said, “I don’t know how we can make it work. They want to kill me out there.”

“No, they don’t. Nobody wants anyone to die. If you put your gun down, this can all end right now; if you don’t, you’ll run out of here and die in the parking lot.”

“You don’t know that! I asked for a car. They said they’re getting one.”

Toni knew that never would never happen. The police never gave in to demands like that. However, if he thought that they were getting the car, he might decide to wait too long. It might be the difference between life and death for Gary. She felt a tug on her sleeve and looked down.

“Prove it.”

Confused, Toni shook her head. “Prove that he dies? Show him the paper? That might incite him to become more violent.”

“Tell him I knew.”

“He won’t believe that.” She was afraid that he was becoming confused.

He licked his lips again and Toni gave him a little more to drink. “I left you a voicemail.”

Toni took her phone out, surprised that there was one missed call. She listened to Hobson’s message from earlier. It had a time stamp. It proved that he had known about this.

“Have you been planning on robbing this store? Did you case the place?”

“No! We were just out driving. I needed cigarettes, so we stopped here. I swear to God, we just wanted a little money. Nobody was supposed to get hurt! Just in and out. That’s what Al said.”

The guy’s voice broke and Toni could hear the truth in it. That didn’t mean the gunman would get off easy but it gave her hope that he would believe Gary’s message. “What if I said I have proof that the guy you shot back here knew you were going to rob this place before you did? And that he also knows that if you don’t give up right now, that in a few hours, you’re going to be killed in the parking lot?”

“I’d say you’re a lying pig!” His voice lacked conviction though and she took that as a hopeful sign.

Toni pulled out her phone. “I’m going to slide my phone across the floor, no funny business. I’ll set my gun within sight so you’ll know I’m not looking to shoot you. But you have to set your gun on the counter too. Then, get the phone. I’ll slide it as far as I can. Believe me, I don’t want you coming any closer to me than you have to. Call the voicemail number. It’s right there. Listen to the message from this morning.”

There was silence for a couple of minutes. It seemed like the guy was never going to respond but finally he said, “Okay. You show me your gun on the floor and slide the phone.”

Toni reached out with her left hand and set her gun in his sight, but still within her reach. Then, she slid the phone across the tiles, the metallic scrape letting her know it went a good distance. She checked in the mirror and saw him dart out to get the phone and run back behind the safety of the counter.

She thought she’d have to tell him how to retrieve the message but he must have figured it out on his own. Toni kept her eyes glued to the mirror, ready to snatch her gun up at any moment.

“Shit!”

Toni flinched at Bennett’s curse and had her hand an inch from her gun when he said, “How did he know? We didn’t know we were going to stop here.” He slammed something on the counter and the sound made her duck. “Dammit! We just wanted some money!”

She glanced at the rumpled newspaper and for the first time, realized the implication of the paper and how if it fell into the wrong hands, how it could be used for purposes other than the purpose Hobson used it for.

If Bennet knew that she had the whole story sitting right there, he would probably fight even harder to get free. After all, his golden ticket was printed in the box scores and lottery numbers. Even the stock market, although Toni didn’t think the guy would go that route. She glanced at Gary, wondering how he kept the temptation at bay. How did he not give in and get rich off of the paper?

“I don’t know how he does it, and if he dies here, we’ll probably never know.”

“If he really knows the future, then he would know that he doesn’t die or he wouldn’t have come in here in the first place.”

Toni had to admire the guy’s logic, but he didn’t know Gary Hobson. “He came here to save me. You were going to kill me. He changed that. Remember the first part of the voicemail?” She didn’t even know for sure that she would have died, Gary never got a chance to explain, not that she would have listened anyway. She bit her lip and looked down at him. He was very still, and hadn’t said anything or even groaned for a while.

“Look, Roger, you need to decide now. If you wait longer, I won’t be able to help you. There won’t be a reason to because Hobson will be dead and I know how this all ends. I come out fine and you die.”

There was a loud sigh and then, “Okay. How…how do we do this?”

Toni picked up her gun. “First, set your gun down, then slide my phone back to me. Then lie down on the floor, face down with your hand on the back of your head.”

Bennett complied and Toni trained her gun on him, retrieved his weapon, then hit the speed dial for Armstrong’s number.

“It’s all clear. The perp is down on the ground, he’s given up. Send in paramedics.”

Armstrong acknowledged her and she heard him yelling instructions to the police. In a few seconds, all hell broke loose as police stormed the store. As soon as they secured the site, the paramedics rushed in.

Armstrong approached and even he blanched when he saw Hobson on the floor. He turned to Toni, “You okay?”

She nodded but her knees were shaking.

“Sit down, Toni.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m sure you are, but do it anyway.”

Reluctantly, Toni sat on an overturned milk crate that Paul had grabbed out of the cooler along with a soft drink. He handed her the drink when she sat. “Here, drink this.”

Numbly, Toni took a sip. The can rattled in her hands. She couldn’t take her eyes off Gary and tried to decipher the medical lingo being tossed about. He moaned a little when they moved him to look at his wound. She supposed that was a good sign.

“We were wrong about Hobson all these years, Paul.”

“What do you mean?” Paul stood with his arms crossed taking in the efforts of the medical crew. He turned to Toni, his expression questioning.

“He knew about this. There’s proof on my voice mail. The gunman confirmed that even he hadn’t known that he was going to rob this place until a few minutes before they did. Hobson left me a voicemail with the guy’s name and this location. The time was about an hour before the robbery.”

Paul’s face grew thoughtful and he said, “That was right after he called looking for you earlier.” He grew silent then and she knew he was thinking over all the things he had always said about Hobson. Mostly derogatory things.

It was then that she got the idea to check the paper again. If it really told the future, the story would have changed. She couldn’t do it in front of Paul though. It didn’t make sense, but she knew that she didn’t have the right to tell anyone and the fewer people who knew, the better. She thought of an excuse to send him away.

Shivering, she asked, “Could you see if anyone has a blanket? I’m freezing.” As he rushed off to find one, she realized that she really was cold. Before he came back, she glanced through the paper. The story was gone from the page and was instead, farther back in the paper, a much smaller article. It had fewer details and listed Gary in critical condition and the first wounded gunman as in stable condition, the other one in police custody.

Toni breathed a sigh and closed her eyes in relief. Gary wouldn’t die today. Toni knew that it was no guarantee that he might not die tomorrow or even later, but for now, she let herself relax just a little.

Gary first awareness was of pain. His whole right side and his head felt like they were trapped in a vise with someone cranking the handle as tightly as they could. He tried to tell someone, but his throat hurt from some other torment and his efforts resulted in more pain. He heard voices and then the pain receded along with his awareness.

Vaguely, he recalled that cycle repeating and then one time, he was able to open his eyes and the thing in his throat was gone. The pain remained but slightly diminished. The room was dark but was lit by a soft glow and when he turned his head, he saw monitors and knew where he was.

The next time he opened his eyes, the room was bright and he blinked and squinted at his surroundings. White walls, a window with mini-blinds and a tv high in the corner. He closed his eyes. It was a typical hospital room, which meant Brigatti must have succeeded in changing things. His eyes snapped open in a panic when the next thought that entered his mind. What had happened to her? He didn’t remember much except lying in a mess of milk and chips, with Brigatti going through paper towels faster than the lady who did the quicker picker upper commercials.

He went to move his right arm to find the call light but a bolt of agony shot through his right shoulder and back. His breath caught and he squeezed his eyes tight. It took a minute or so for him to get past the pain and then he, very carefully, moved his left hand, sighing in relief when that movement didn’t result in pain. His efforts to find the call light ended in futility. If he had one, it was somewhere he couldn’t get to. Gary heard chatter outside his room so he knew that help wasn’t too far away. He tried to call out but his voice was weak and hoarse, and nobody heard him. The attempt also elicited a harsh cough and his groan of agony at least had the desired effect of summoning a nurse.

“Good morning, Gary. I’m Jen, I’ll be your nurse today.” She smiled and moved to the side of the bed and began pushing buttons on one of the boxes on the IV poles.

The young blond nurse wore a colorful scrub top of blue with little sunflowers splashed across it. Nobody wearing anything that cheerful could have bad news, so Gary cleared his throat.

“Hey?”

She stopped and turned to him. “Yes?”

“I need to…know about Toni Brigatti.” He stopped to catch his breath. “She was there with me.”

“Does she have dark hair and about my height?”

Gary had a hard time determining her height from his vantage point, but the dark hair was right. “Yeah.”

“She’s fine and has been in to visit you every day.”

Gary closed his eyes in relief, then opened them when it registered what she had said. “Every day? How long have I been here?”

Jen jotted something down on a piece of paper and then said, “You’ve been here for five days. You were very sick but you’re getting better now.”

“Five days?” Huh. Gary pondered that. He reached up and touched his head where he remembered hitting it when he fell. Thread from stitches poked his finger and under those, he felt a light scabbing.

Jen finally stopped fiddling with stuff and gave him her full attention. “Yes. You have a bullet wound in your back and the doctor had to go in and fix up the damage. The main concern was shock and blood loss, so we pumped you full of blood and fluids and kept you sedated to give your body a chance to heal and recover. The bullet also caused a partially collapsed lung, so you have a tube going in your side to help correct that.”

She smiled at him and pushed a sticky patch back onto his chest that must have come loose. “There, now your monitor looks right. The doctor will be here in a little while. So, you can ask her any questions you have.”

She then had Gary turn as much as he could, so that she could check the dressings on his back. When she was finished, his body trembled from the effort. The doctor came in and re-hashed what Jen had told him with a few more details, but the only thing that really sunk in was there wasn’t expected to be permanent damage, and he would probably be able to go home in three to four days. He could live with that.

Gary must have dozed off, because when he next was aware of anything, Jen was back with a basin of water and an older nurse. The two of them proceeded to give him a bath. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the whole event. When the ordeal was over, he had to admit he felt better. They had even shaved him and left him with a toothbrush and water to do that chore on his own. Thoroughly exhausted, he slept again.

Late afternoon sun spilled into the room the next time he awoke to a pleasant tickling sensation on his head. His mom stood at he bedside and it was her hand on his brow, feathering back his hair that had awakened him.

Gary felt shame and guilt heat his face. After the way he had left, he didn’t deserver her attention any more.

“Hey, there he is. It’s about time, sweetheart.” She smiled across the bed and that’s when Gary saw his dad on the other side.

“Hi, Mom. Dad.” He fumbled for the button to raise the head of the bed.

“How are you feeling, son?” His dad’s hand rested on Gary’s lower leg and gave little squeeze through the blankets.

“Okay.” He couldn’t meet their eyes.

“We were so worried about you. You gave everyone a scare,” his mom said, her hand tugging the blanket higher on Gary’s chest.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Gary slid down in the bed. “I’m sorry about everything; about leaving and stuff.”

His dad sighed. “No, we’re sorry. Me especially. I should’ve never taken the paper. What kind of dad am I? I realized you just needed some time and I should have backed off. ”

“We wanted to tell you that so badly but we didn’t know how to get in touch with you.”

Gary started to speak but his mom held up her hand. “Not that we blame you for not wanting to talk to us. Whatever you decide to do, we’ll support you and try to stay out of the way.”

Gary smiled and shook his head. “You guys are the best, but I guess I just needed to get away and clear my head.” His mom nodded and tears swam in her eyes. “Aw, don’t do that, Mom.”

“She’s been a regular waterworks since you left, but now I think, these are happy tears, right, Lois?”

“We just want you to be happy, Gary.” She skimmed a hand down his face.

“I know you do and I think I might have some things figured out.”

Fanfiction: "The Cat's Meow"

Mon, 04 Aug 2008 03:28:47 GMT

Title:"The Cat's Meow"
Fandom: Early Edition
Rating: PG
Status: Complete--One Shot

Gary tries to save a boy from a group beating. This is my first attempt at first person pov and I had a lot of fun writing this. I loved getting into Gary's head and who knew that he had such a dry sense of humor?

My eyes snapped open and I rolled my head to see the clock. Six-twenty-nine. Taking a deep breath, I rubbed my hand through my hair and scrubbed my fingers on my scalp. I had one more minute of blissful ignorance before the paper arrived heralding the day's events and tragedies. One more minute of not knowing what was going to happen today. One more minute to just be me, Gary Hobson, ordinary guy.

I thought about closing my eyes again but instead I sat up and slid the alarm to the off position. A yawn overtook me as I swung my legs off the side of the bed.

I watched the clock and waited. The numbers morphed into a three and a zero. At the exact same instant a plop and a meow sounded outside my door. I couldn't help it; a little bit of adrenline shot through my body. Gentlemen, start your engines!

I snickered as I crossed to the door and thought how apt that phrase was for me. How often did I race all over Chicago trying to save people? Too bad I didn't have a pit crew to help me.

The cat gave me a haughty look as he entered, tail held high. I felt a sliver of dread in my gut. I was getting pretty decent at reading the cat's body language and right now, it was telling me that he didn't think that I, a mere human, could handle it today. I shook my head. How sad was it that I based my day on a cat's body language?

I leaned over and snatched the paper off the floor where the cat had left it. It didn't look like there was too much on the front page, just the usual city council wars and international news. The President was off to Camp David for a working vacation. Sheesh, must be nice.

I tossed the paper onto the bed as I headed towards the kitchen to feed the cat. In some hopeful corner of my mind, I still thought that if I fed the animal really well, it would somehow give me easier jobs to do. The last time I purchased cat food, I even bought the expensive stuff. What a waste of money. The very next day, I had to prevent an armed bank robbery. It was back to plain old cat chow for the furball now.

Cat blinked at me in confusion as he sniffed his breakfast. Ha! Guess he was expecting Fancy Feast. It felt good to be the one in charge for once. I grinned but tried not to let the cat see it.

I left him to his meal and sat on the bed, the paper opened on my lap as I skimmed the pages. I was getting pretty good at finding the stories I could or would change, and the scent of coffee hadn't even wafted from the kitchen before I found the first item that needed my attention.

Damn! I am fluent in cat. I must be, because right there on the front page of the metro section was the story the cat had warned me about with his scornful look.

I swallowed hard and shook my head, letting a curse slip out. The article reported how a middle school boy had been jumped by a mob of kids while on his way to school. The boy had been taken to the hospital with severe head injuries.

The article didn't give the exact time or even the exact address. Just somewhere on Belmont near a middle school. At least it gave the name of the school so that narrowed the area. I guess I would just have to cruise the neighborhood looking for a mob of kids. It looked like I had my work cut out for me. I glanced at the clock. If I hurried, I might have time for both a shower and a quick cup of coffee.

I circled the neighborhood several times in the McGinty's van before I came to the realization that just hoping to find a mob of kids was a really stupid plan. The sidewalks were full of middle school kids walking to school. Mobs were everywhere. That's how kids this age traveled--in roving packs. I pulled the van up against the curb and threw the vehicle into park.

"There's gotta be more in here. Another clue...something." I grabbed the paper from inside my jacket and re-read the article. Ah-ha! A witness stated that she lived right around the corner on Wolcott and said that these kinds of incidents were happening more often. She was afraid to walk to school some days.

Well, that narrowed it down. I ducked my head and looked at the street sign on the corner ahead of me. North Wolcott. Okay, it should happen right around here somewhere. I tucked the paper back into my jacket and exited the van. I had no idea exactly what I could do to prevent this. Maybe just walk near the intended victim, if I could pick him out in time, and hope my presence would make a difference.

A brisk wind blew in from the east, bringing Lake Michigan cold and dampness with it. I turned my collar up and hunched into my coat wishing I had worn something warmer. Overhead, weak sunlight filtered through a thin layer of gray clouds.

I paced the sidewalk, keeping a lookout for anything unusual. I stood out like a redwood in a forest of maples and I just hoped nobody would call the cops on the strange guy watching the children.

Shouting behind me caught my attention and I turned just in time to see a boy get knocked down by another larger boy. The bigger one started to pummel the smaller one and, like ants to a picnic, I saw kids come running from all directions.

"Hey!" I dashed to the fighters and grabbed the attacker by the back of his coat, lifting him off the smaller boy. The victim had a bloody lip and a scrape on his cheek but didn't look too badly injured. "What's going on here?"

The bigger boy glowered at me and snapped, "What's it to you?"

"What's it to me? Well, I'll tell ya. I don't think it's right when a big guy like you beats up someone smaller than they are. That's what it is to me." The smaller boy began picking up the contents of his bookbag.

I tried to hide my nervousness as the group grew larger and pressed closer. Apparently, having an adult in their midst didn't faze them at all. "Look, school's about to begin in a few minutes. If you hurry up, you all can get there before the first bell rings."

The bully smirked. "Like we care if we're late. They'll just send us to detention hall. Big deal."

The bolder kids in the group laughed and snickered at Bully's comment. "Well, whatever. I don't care." I tried to play it casual as I turned towards the smaller boy, intending to tell him to hurry to school. He was no longer in sight. The smart kid must have escaped while I was talking. Well, good. My work here was done. I really wanted to pull the paper out to check the story, but it would have to wait.

I began sidling towards the van. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll get going."

I almost made it but then the bully sneered."I was only going to get some lunch money from Bradley, but I bet you have a lot more than that." He motioned to the crowd. "Who wants some easy money?"

I bolted for the van. I almost made it too but something hit me in the back of the head. A flash of light erupted in my vision and a sharp pain blasted through my head. I stumbled forward. A second later, I was down on the ground with at least five kids on top of me. This must be what it was like for a stag to be taken down by a pack of wolves. Individually, I could take any one of these kids. Even a couple of them at a time, but not a whole group at once.

I tried to fight back but there were too many and soon, I stopped swinging my arms and just wrapped them protectively around my face and head. That left my body unprotected and my ribs vulnerable. I curled into a ball, trying not scream when a strong kick caught me low in the back. The world diminished to a red haze as the beating seemed to go on forever.

Eventually, I became aware that the kids had gone. I don't know what happened but for whatever reason, they had stopped. Distantly, I head a bell ring. Probably the school bell. Maybe that was the reason.

I groaned and uncurled my body. There wasn't an inch of me that didn't feel battered and bruised and when I brought my hands down, they were covered in blood from the back of my head.

It occurred to me that I probably shouldn't move, but instinct took over and I retreated to the safety of the van. I think I must have passed out for a few minutes once I got behind the wheel because the next thing I knew, I was slumped over and someone was knocking on my driver's window. I started violently and thought I might vomit from the sharp pain that lanced through my head. Please don't let it be the mob.

I turned my head to see a police officer looking at me, his expression unreadable.

"You okay?"

"Uh..." My brain didn't seem to be processing right and I just stared stupidly at him.

He reached for the handle but I must have locked the doors at some point. "Open up."

I guess I unlocked the doors but I don't remember too much after that until the next day when I woke up in the hospital. I was sore and my head hurt but my mind was finally clear. I had a bunch of tests and ate some green gelatin before they released me later that afternoon.

The doctor told me I had a pretty severe head injury and I should take it easy the next few weeks. I told him no problem. I prayed I wasn't lying.

The police came and questioned me. They practically implied that I was some kind of child abductor who had been thwarted by the children. At least, that's how they made me feel. No charges were pressed against me and none of the kids in the mob were identified.

I guess sometimes I can't actually save the victim. I just get to trade places with him.

I should have listened to the cat. He tried to warn me.

Enemy Combatant--Chapter nine

Wed, 30 Jul 2008 04:06:58 GMT

The next morning, Gary retrieved the paper as he trudged through the door after work. Michael and Jose had invited him to go to breakfast with them again. They were good company and he stayed longer than he had intended.

The last few days had been spent running around trying to make saves and catching a few hours of sleep before reporting to work at ten o’clock for his shift. His eyes felt gritty and burned with fatigue and he rubbed them, unable to even focus on the paper for the moment.

He winced at his reflection in the mirror after taking a five minute shower. Something was going to have to change. He kept meaning to talk to Marissa about selling McGinty’s, but now he had no time to do anything but work, attend to the paper and sleep when he could. Gary needed to sell McGinty’s so he wouldn’t have to work so much and could deal with the paper. But he didn’t have time to spare to talk to someone about selling the place because he had to work. It was a vicious circle.

After a quick shave, he looked at the paper. The front-page story shocked him awake. Wide awake.

Police Detective Slain in Botched Robbery

Detective Antonia Brigatti, a six year member of the Chicago PD, and a former U.S. Marshal, was killed when she stopped at a mini market around nine-thirty yesterday morning. A man approached the clerk while the detective was in the back of the store. According to the clerk, Brigatti identified herself as a police officer and pulled her gun. A second gunman in the store opened fire, hitting Brigatti in the head. She died at the scene.

The suspects fled the scene and were apprehended a short time later when a patrol officer spotted them in a vehicle matching the description of the getaway car. One suspect, Roger Bennett, was killed when he attempted to flee the car.

Gary glanced at the clock, just about eight-thirty. It was still early enough to stop this. He grabbed his Chicago Bears sweatshirt off the back of chair and threw it over his t-shirt. Shoving the paper into his pouch-like front pocket, Gary raced out the door. At the first payphone he came to, he shoved some money in and called Brigatti’s precinct. He groaned when Paul Armtrong answered the phone.

“Detective Armstrong.”

Gary cleared his throat. “Hey, Armstrong, is Brigatti in?”

“Who is this? Hobson? Is that you?”

Gary could hear the puzzlement in the other man’s voice. “Yeah, it is. Is she in? It’s urgent that I speak with her.”

“How are you? I heard they let you out?”

Gary didn’t have time for idle chitchat and pounded his fist on top of the phone box. “I’m fine. I need to speak to Brigatti.”

“Well, she’s not in yet. She had a dentist appointment first thing and was going to be in around ten. Why? What’s up?”

“Nothing…I guess I’ll try to catch her later.”

“You don’t have one of those funny feelings again, do you? You know. the ones that tend to land you in trouble?”

Gary ran a hand through his still damp hair, not caring that it was probably standing on end now. “Look, Armstrong, I don’t have time for this. I just need to speak to her right away. Is there another way I can reach her?”

He heard Armstrong sigh. “Well, I guess I can give you her cell number.”

Gary pulled a pen out of his back pocket and jotted the number on the palm of his left hand. “Thanks.”

Digging in his front pocket, he found some more change and fed the phone a second time. He waited impatiently and could have screamed when her voice mail came on. “Hey, Brigatti, it’s Gary Hobson. There’s a mini-mart on the corner of Fullerton and Clark. Don’t go to it, okay? I know you think I’m a nut case, but just humor me; it’s very important.”

Gary hesitated, not sure if he should add the next bit, but he did hoping it would add credibility to his story. “There’s a couple of guys who are gonna rob the place around nine-thirty this morning. One guy’s name is…” Gary pulled the paper out and held the phone against his shoulder with his chin as he scanned the page looking for the name again. “…is Roger Bennett. I know you think I’m crazy, but I’m not and if you go there, this Roger guy; he…he’s gonna shoot you. Later, he gets killed too.”

The message clicked off and Gary slammed the phone down. The story hadn’t changed but it still could if she picked up the message soon enough. He had to get to the mini-mart and the time was already eight forty-five. Gary tore off for the nearest El station and hoped on a northbound train. He had to switch trains twice to get to the station nearest the mini-mart. He took the steps down from the platform two at a time and tried not to plow over the slower moving commuters ahead of him. “Excuse me!”

Clear of the crowd, Gary sprinted down the walk. He passed by a bank and the clock outside read 9:25. His last check of the paper while sitting on the train hadn’t revealed any changes in the story.

His shoes slapped a tattoo across the mini-mart parking lot and he scanned the area for anyone matching the pictures of the men in the paper. He didn’t see them but didn’t know if that was good or bad. They could already be inside the store. Gary skidded to stop just before going through the doors. He didn’t want to burst in on the robbery and make things even worse. He pushed through the doors. The woman behind the counter glanced at him but returned to making change for a customer.

The mini-mart was fairly large with built-in coolers and freezers along the back wall. Aisles ran parallel to the coolers and the checkout counter in the front. He didn’t see Brigatti but she could be in an aisle. He didn’t see the robbers either. Gary was torn between wanting to get Brigatti safely out of the store and trying to get the cashier to call the police in an attempt to pre-empt the robbery.

He stepped to the counter. The cashier had turned her back after the previous customer and was stocking cartoons of cigarettes in the slots above her head.

“Excuse me!” Gary rapped on the counter and took a peek over his shoulder before facing the clerk.

“Can I help you?” The cashier looked annoyed that Gary had interrupted her task.

“I heard some guys out there talking about trying to rob this place. You might want to call the cops? Okay?”

The woman crossed her arms and made a face. “Why should I believe you?”

Gary shrugged. “I don’t have a good answer to that, but I’m telling you the truth.” He had tried; he turned away and headed for the back of the store.

“Hey! Come back here!”

Gary ignored her and glanced down the first row he passed. Nothing. He saw a cooler door open and quickened his step.

“You don’t get back here, I’m gonna call the police!”

Gary glanced over his shoulder, ready to tell her to do just that, when two men entered. One headed immediately towards the back of the store, probably to scout the place, the other studied the candy near the counter. He couldn’t see their faces, but he just knew they were the ones.

“Brigatti!” He kept his voice low but tried to project it.

The cooler door shut and she walked around the end cap. She held a bottle of pop in her hand and her expression was puzzled. “Hobson?”

“You gotta get outta here, quick!” Gary shot a look around the store, spotting a service entrance to his left. There had to be a back way out of here. He grabbed her arm and began tugging her with him.

“Hobson! What the hell are you doing?” She resisted his tugging and her voice rose in pitch.

Gary moved closer and leaned towards her ear. “Those guys are going to rob this place and shoot you if you don’t get out of here.”

“What guys?” Instead of going with him, she pulled her arm free and reached under her jacket. Her eyes scanned the store. “How do you know?” Toni looked at him and he saw the exact moment when it dawned on her what he would claim. She relaxed. “I thought you were done with that story, Hobson.”

Gary swallowed back a retort and glanced at the front. The first guy was stepping towards the counter, his hand going to the small of his back. The second man was nowhere to be seen. He turned back to Brigatti, who was now focused on the man at the counter. She was a cop and Gary knew she had figured out the situation when she started for the front. This was just what had happened originally. Nothing had changed.

Brigatti reached for her weapon just as the man at the counter withdrew his gun and pointed it at the clerk. “Empty the drawer!”

“Chicago PD! Drop your weapon!” Brigatti stepped forward and assumed the classic police stance with both arms outstretched, her gun leveled.

Gary, slightly behind her, caught movement on the right. The second man was taking aim at Brigatti! Gary jumped forward, putting himself between the gunman and Brigatti. “Get down!” He shoved her backwards, and into space between the coolers and the last row of shelves. Her gun discharged towards the front and more gunfire erupted.

Gary felt like a mule kicked him in upper right back, the blow propelling him over Brigatti’s legs and his head cracked against the ledge at the bottom of the cooler door. The world swam in and out and his vision began fading. He tried to hang onto consciousness and lifted his head, searching for Brigatti. There. She had rolled to her hands and knees and she looked unharmed as she peeked around the corner of the shelves. He had done it. Brigatti wasn’t dead.

More gunfire and shouting erupted but the sounds were distant. Glass shattered and Gary felt bits of debris raining down on his back. He heard Brigatti’s voice ask him something, but he couldn’t process the question and everything went black.

**********************************

“Hobson! You okay?” Toni cast a glance at Hobson. He lay face down but turned partially on his right side. The front of his face was against the floor. That didn’t look good. The fact that he didn’t answer her was even worse. She scrambled to her feet and crouched, peering around the end of the shelves. She heard sirens and wondered how they had arrived so quickly.

The first gunman, the one who had been at the counter, was down on the floor clutching his thigh. Toni realized she must have hit him despite Hobson’s interference. The other gunman was trying to help him up. Someone was screaming hysterically and Toni guessed it was the cashier. The sound was straining her already frayed nerves.

Toni leveled her gun ready to shoot the second gunman when the guy noticed her and fired in her direction. She ducked and bags of chips flew off the end cap along with the metal brackets that had been holding them.

Glass, chips and milk littered the floor, and the gallons of milk that had been hit in the initial shots still pumped their cold liquid out onto the floor. A puddle was forming around Hobson and some of the milk had a pink cast. She took another look around the corner, hoping the gunmen had fled, but they were still there, only now the uninjured one had the cashier by the hair and held the gun to her head. He dragged her behind the counter, taking cover behind her. He had a perfect view of the back of the store too. Damn it! The cops outside must be keeping him from fleeing. For once in her life, Toni wished her coworkers weren’t quite so efficient.

She glanced around, trying to make a plan. Mirrors high in the corners, meant to discourage shoplifting afforded her a warped view of the front. That was good. Of course, that meant they had a view of her too. She heard a strange gurgling and her eyes shot to Hobson. The milk had reached his head and he was so out of it, he was breathing the stuff in.

Toni grabbed the pouch on the front of his sweatshirt and yanked so he was more on his side with his face out of the liquid. The movement elicited a faint groan, which she took as a good sign. A gash on his right temple dripped onto the floor and she looked on the shelves behind her. Paper towels were lined up on the other end of the row and after glancing up at the mirror to see where the gunmen’s locations, Toni crawled over and grabbed several rolls.

Returning to Hobson, she tore the plastic away and ripped off a wad of towels. He moaned when she held them to his head. His eyelashes fluttered but that was all. “Hobson? Can you hear me?” She tapped his cheek and then rubbed her thumb down it. “Come on! Wake up for me.”

“You let us come out, and we’ll let everyone go!”

Brigatti turned to look at the mirror.

The voice belonged to the robber with the cashier. “I don’t want to hurt no one! We just wanted a little money!”

Toni saw the gunman on the phone behind the counter. His head turned from side to side as he tried to maintain a watch out the windows to see where the cops were. He raked a hand through his hair and then pounded his fist on the counter and said to no one in particular, “How’d they get here so fast?” Then he turned to the cashier and demanded, “Did you call them?”

The woman, shaking like a leaf at first remained silent then Toni saw her nod.

“What the hell for?”

The cashier whimpered then said, “I called because of the other guy.” She pointed in the direction of Toni and Hobson. “He was acting weird.”

Toni sighed. So, that’s why they were here so quickly. She looked down at Hobson. He was beginning to stir. His face contorted in pain and she eased up the pressure on the cut.

“Hey, Hobson?”

He didn’t respond, just blinked slowly, his eyes unfocused and then he coughed and grimaced. Afterwards, his eyes drifted closed again.

“Gary? Can you talk to me?” It felt odd using his first name but she figured he’d be more responsive to that.

His eyes opened once again and roamed until they found her. “Uuuuhhhh…”

“That’s it. Keep your eyes open for me. You got a bump on your head.” Toni tossed the saturated paper towels aside and tore off some more.

Gary tried to push her hand away and said, his voice barely above a whisper, “Back. My…back. Hurts.”

Toni stopped dabbing at his head and craned her head to see his back, gasping at the large milky red puddle behind him. She leaned over and saw a large dark stain on the right side of his back, up high by his shoulder blade. In the middle of the stain was a neat round hole.

She felt her heart begin to race and her hands shook as she tore off a bunch of paper towels. She eased his sweatshirt up as much as she could. The pouch in the front had something in it keeping it from going up. She reached in and removed Hobson’s newspaper and threw it aside. The sweatshirt moved easily then, and she swallowed hard when the bullet wound came into sight. Blood poured out and she held the stack of paper towels firmly, applying as much pressure as she dared.

“Ahhhhhhhh!” Gary’s eyes flew wide open and he tried to squirm from beneath her hands. “No! Stop it!”

“I’m sorry. I have to, Gary.” Toni cursed the gunmen and looked at the mirror. The one she had hit was lying on the floor now, possibly unconscious. The other one was on the phone still.

Gary’s breathing changed, speeding up and becoming more labored. Sweat dotted his forehead but she felt him shivering too.

“Gary, try to relax, okay?” Her stack was already soaked through and she grabbed more as fast as she could.

“Can’t.”

“I know. We’re going to get you out of here as soon as we can.”

His left hand went to his front pouch and then his eyes opened in panic. He lifted his head, searching. “Where…where…?” His head flopped back, his energy spent.

“Try not to move.” Toni put her hand on his chest to keep him still.

He couldn’t finish the question but he didn’t have to. Toni reached for the discarded paper and shook some milk off before showing it to him. “It’s right here.”

“Wha’s it say?”

Toni decided to humor him. Maybe it would keep him quiet. She began to read about the city budget, but Gary shook his head, his brows knit in confusion. “Is that…front page?”

Toni looked to make sure, but, sure enough, the blue letterhead was splashed across the front. “Yes, this is it.”

Gary raised his left hand, rubbing his forehead. “Musta changed.” He dropped his hand down and closed his eyes for a moment.

Toni set the paper aside and checked the towels again. Blood gushed out and she didn’t know what to do to stop it except keep putting more towels on it.

His jaw clenched as she flipped the wad of towels over, but he didn’t fight her any more. A few seconds later, he said, “Find the story.”

“What story?” She bit her lip, worried that he was becoming confused. He had lost a ton of blood already. At least, it seemed that way to her.

“This story! Dammit!” He pounded his fist on the floor then his eyes sought out her’s before pleading, “Please. Jus’ look.”

“Okay. I will. Just calm down.” With one hand, Toni obliged him and began perusing the paper, holding pressure with the other, thinking how odd this would appear to be leisurely reading the newspaper in the middle of a crisis. She stopped suddenly, recalling all the times she saw Gary do just that.

Glancing at him, she saw that his eyes were closed now. His skin had a pale ashen look and she changed the pad again before continuing her search for whatever it was he wanted. She thought about putting the paper aside but she had promised, so she kept turning pages. On page four, a picture caught her eye. It was a photo of the outside of this mini-mart. The headline read, “Two Dead, One Critical After Botched Robbery”

It went on to say that Gary died, along with Roger Bennet. The one Toni had injured was critical. The other was shot in the parking lot after attempting to flee the scene. It said that the men had remained holed up in the store for three hours before the Roger Bennet had tried to escape.

Toni looked between the paper and Gary, a sense of shame washing over her. His claim had been true all along. He did get the paper a day early. His body shuddered and she put the shame aside for the moment. Right now, she had to figure a way to him out of here.

Three hours? Toni took in Gary’s labored breathing and coloring and knew he didn’t have three hours. Her cellphone started vibrating and she almost fell backwards. She looked at it. Armstrong. Putting it to her ear, she took a quick peek at the mirrors. “Yeah.” She tried to keep her voice low.

“Hey, Brigatti. You almost done getting your teeth drilled? Because I’m on my way to a hostage situation—“

“I’m here already, “ she broke in. “I’m inside, stuck in the back aisle.”

“You okay? There were reports of shots fired.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. But Hobson is here too and—“

“What the hell is Hobson doing in there? That guy can never keep out of trouble!”

“Shut-up and listen. I’’ll explain later. He has a gunshot wound to the right part of his back, up high.” She turned her head and spoke as quietly into the phone as she could so that Gary wouldn’t hear her. He didn’t look conscious but he might be a little bit. “He’s not going to make it long. You have to hurry in here and get that idiot with the gun from the front of the store!”

She heard him sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m almost there now. Is it safe to talk?”

Toni glanced at the mirror, momentarily panicked when she didn’t spot the gunman behind the counter. Then his head popped up from behind it. He was looking at her in the mirror. His face was angry but there wasn’t much he could do without risking being shot. “Um, yeah, for the most part. I’m behind a tall shelf between the coolers and the last shelving unit. I can see him in the mirror. He has at least one gun, and his partner has one, but he looks unconscious. The partner is lying on the floor in front of the counter.”

“Where’s Hobson? Is he out of the line of fire?”

Toni tucked the phone up to her ear with her shoulder and checked the pad yet again. The bleeding seemed to be slowing but for all she knew, it could be because he was out of blood. “He’s here beside me. Paul, he pushed me out of the way and took the bullet that was meant for me.”

Fanfiction: Enemy Combatant--Chapter 1

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 17:07:55 GMT

Fandom: Early Edition
Rating: pg-13
Status: WIP, but only one chapter left to write. Should be completed in less than two weeks.
Genre: Angst
Pairings: none

Chapter one excerpt:

His mouth was dry. Dry and stale and he opened his eyes with the intent of searching out a glass of water. Cold water. Icy cold water. Gary Hobson licked his lips in a futile effort to supply moisture and then blinked as an unfamiliar gray ceiling came into focus. He forgot about his intense thirst as the horror of the last few days flooded his mind.

Characters and premise borrowed from Early Edition.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At six-thirty a.m. on September 11th, he’d been the only one who knew what was going to happen in the next few hours. Well, almost the only one. The terrorists knew. He’d tried so hard to warn someone, to get someone to listen to him, but nobody would. Not the police, the FBI, the CIA or the Secret Service. He’d tried them all, even the Defense Department. Anger suffused Gary as he thought of how his warnings had been blown off. When the first plane had hit, he had been on hold with the FBI. His hand still ached where he had punched his refrigerator when the news had broken on the television.

All those innocent people were dead. Thousands of them. His efforts to avert the disaster had landed him here--in a padded cell.

The guys in the suits had come for him yesterday morning. Or was it the day before that? Gary ground the heel of his hand against his forehead, unsure exactly how much time had passed. His still felt the burn of humiliation and shame as they snapped the cuffs around his wrists while his employees looked on in disbelief. He’d wanted to die.

He sat up and closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Absently, he rubbed his arm where they’d given him the injection. Bile rose in his throat as he flashed back to the scene in the interrogation room.

“Why, Hobson? You gotta beef with the U.S. government?”

“No! I didn’t do anything! I swear to God.”

“What was in it for you?”

“Do you get your jollies out of killing children? Or didn’t you even think about the innocent kids?”

The thought of those children and how terrified they must have been made him physically ill and he had barely made it to a small trashcan in a corner. The sounds of disgust from the agents had heightened his shame. When he had finished emptying his belly, he had gone silent.

That didn’t go over well with the suits. They called in the big guns.

“Tell us who you reported to?”

“No one.”

And then the piece of cloth had been placed over his nose and mouth. Gary felt the fear return as he remembered the water trickling onto the cloth. He'd had to breathe through that cloth. That’s when he began fighting them. He didn’t know how long that had gone on, but it had seemed like forever. Gary began hyperventilating as he remembered the feeling of drowning. All out panic had set in and he had tried to kick and punch but they had held him down.

Then they had shoved the needle in his arm.

“Hey, Hobson.”

Gary’s head shot up, his eyes widening as he saw Toni Brigatti sitting in a chair across the room. She looked at him intently, her expression wary. “How are you feeling?”

Gary swallowed and looked away. She thought he was crazy. He could see it in her eyes. “Dizzy. Sick. What’d they give me?” His voice was rough and he tried to clear his throat.

“Some kind of tranquilizer. It was quite a heavy dose. You’ve been out for hours.”

He cradled his head and grimaced. Well, that explained the fog in his brain. All he’d tried to do was get someone to believe him. Gary braced his elbows on his knees and raked his hands through his hair, freezing in the act when his gaze fell on his bare feet and the thick metal cuff around his right ankle. His eyes followed the short chain back to the leg of the bed and saw that the leg was bolted to the floor. He gave a tug on the chain even though he could see that there was no way it was going to budge. “What the hell?”

“It’s the only way they’d let me in here, Hobson.”

Gary looked up in disbelief. Did the guys in the suits, the feds, actually believe that he could hurt her? That he could hurt anybody? His stomach clenched as a stab of pure agony shot through him. They did think that, and soon, everyone he knew and loved would believe that too. Oh God. He wrapped his arms around his belly.

His gaze dropped, focusing on a stain on the floor that looked like the remains of a roach. Gary didn’t know what to do any more. He’d told them everything. Explained about the paper and the cat and how it came every morning. It wasn’t like he had a choice. There was no other way to explain his prior knowledge of the sickening acts of violence perpetrated against the United States. “They think I’m crazy, don’t they? You think I’m crazy.”

Brigatti tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and avoided looking at him, her gaze seeming to land somewhere over his left shoulder. “What do you expect? You claim that a cat brought you a newspaper warning you of attacks and then you wonder why nobody believes you?” She finally shifted her gaze and looked him in the eye, anger lacing her voice. “Come on, Hobson!”

“I don’t know about them, but I thought you’d believe me.” Gary stood and took a step towards Brigatti, barely catching himself when the chain brought him up short, the metal cuff biting into his ankle. With a cry of frustration and anger, he yanked his foot, not caring about the pain or the blood that began trickling down over his ankle. Gary jerked his leg again and again, futile rage against the injustice of it all fueling his actions. How many thousands of people died because nobody would listen to him? And yet, here he was chained up like some kind of dangerous animal.

“Stop it! You’re hurting yourself! Are you crazy?” Toni moved as if to stop him, but hesitated, fear flashing in her eyes. It was just a glimmer and it was gone almost instantly, but he saw it and stilled.

The realization that she was truly afraid of him was like a blow and Gary staggered backwards, a harsh bark of laughter erupting from his mouth. “Crazy?” He sank down onto the hard bed and held his arms wide. “Look around you, Brigatti. I guess…I guess I am…crazy.” The last word tumbled out as a sob as he bent his head and covered his face with his hands. He wanted to hide, to find some corner and curl up with his shame and humiliation. He dropped his hands and leaned against the wall behind him, his spirit as bleak as his surroundings.

It almost killed Toni to see him withdraw. She didn’t want to believe that he’d had anything to do with the terrorists but how had he known? His story about a cat was ludicrous and she wished he had said anything but that. “Why can’t you just tell them the truth? If you somehow got mixed up in all of this by accident…tell them that!”

Hobson’s eyes flicked to her then settled once more on some spot across the room. “You gotta talk to me, Hobson.” Toni walked over to the door to see if she could hear anyone outside it. “They’re going to make me leave soon. You need to tell me what really happened so we can get this whole mess straightened out.”

That plea didn’t even rate a flicker. Toni felt her own anger rise up. Didn’t he care what happened to him? “Listen, I’m the only one you have right now and the only reason I was able to get in here was because of my past work as a U.S. Marshal.”

“I thank you for coming, Brigatti. You’ll have to see yourself out,” Gary replied in a monotone, his gaze still fixed on a spot on the floor.

Toni stalked to the bed and stopped in front of him, forcing him to see her. Hands on her hips, she ground out, “I don’t think you’re quite understanding the situation, Hobson. The guys who interrogated you,” she swept one arm out in gesture, vaguely pointing out towards the hall, “they’re not the local police, or the state police. They’re so high up, they report to the Secretary of Defense and maybe even higher. And the usual rights don’t apply.”

She heard him swallow and he shifted slightly, the only indication that he was listening. “They’ve labeled you an enemy combatant.” Toni paused and when there was no reaction from him, she shook her head. “You have no idea what that means, do you?”

He gave a slight shrug. “No.”

Hobson’s eyes remained downcast and she didn’t think he was really listening. Toni wanted to shake him, instead she reached out and grabbed his stubbled chin and raised it. The raw pain in his green eyes hit her like a sucker punch and she softened her tone. “It means that they can keep you locked up indefinitely without even pressing charges. That means no lawyers, no trials--just you and them.”

His eyes widened and she saw fear in their depths. It made her wonder at the interrogation techniques they’d already employed on the Hobson. She’d heard rumors before about prisoner interrogation and barely suppressed a shudder as a few remembered details ran through her mind. Toni prayed he hadn’t been subjected to any of the practices she had heard about.

“What can I do, Brigatti? Help me…I…I know I don’t deserve it…but I need your help.”

Toni closed her eyes, unable to face the naked vulnerability on Hobson’s face. She sat beside him and put an arm around his shoulders, feeling his body shudder. “I don’t know what I can do, but I’ll try to talk to some people I still know. But, Hobson? I have no clout. You have to understand that. You have to talk to them.”

“I tried that. Didn’t work.” He pulled away from her and she could practically see the walls rising up in the man as he withdrew again.

“Well, try again, Hobson! Just tell them the truth and they’ll—“

“Set me free?” He bit the question out, his voice tight. He stood and went as far as the chain allowed and leaned his forehead against the padding, his shoulders slumped.

There came a clink of a key in the lock and a scrape as the bolt slid free. Hobson jumped away from the wall, his eyes shooting to Toni’s in a wordless terror.

“I have to leave, Hobson.”

She wanted to go to him but the guard was already opening the door. “I’ll do what I can.” Toni’s heart felt like it shattered into a thousand pieces as she turned and exited.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

One year later:

Toni Brigatti took a swig of her coffee and set it beside her on the desk. She groaned at the mountain of paperwork she still had to do on her last case. Resolutely, she reached for a file.

“Detective Brigatti?”

Toni opened the file and flipped a few pages. “Yeah, who’s asking?” She glanced up at the man. He looked slightly familiar. Two cameras hung around his neck.

“I’m Miguel Diaz, a photojournalist with the Sun-Times. I’m doing a story for next week’s nine-eleven tribute section. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”

Toni’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of questions?”

Diaz pulled out a chair across the desk and began to sit, but stopped halfway, his eyebrows raised as though asking permission.

“Have a seat.”

“Questions about Gary Hobson.”

Toni barely stifled a gasp. “I don’t have any comment.” It was still too painful for her to talk about. Many nights she dreamed about Hobson and how terrified he’d looked right before she had left.

“Listen, Detective, I’m not here just as a reporter. I knew Hobson. I wrote the exclusive story on the Scanlon fiasco.”

Toni sat back, her arms crossed. So that’s why he looked so familiar. “What’s your question?”

“I heard you were the last person to report seeing him. I want to know where he is.” Diaz sat forward, his gaze intense.

A lump formed in Toni’s throat and she tried to swallow it. It took several seconds before she trusted her voice. “I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen or heard anything about him since right after he was detained.”

There was a long silence as that information sunk in. Diaz looked up, blinking, and then cleared his throat. “So that’s it? He’s just…gone?”

Toni nodded. “I’ve heard that some lawyers are fighting this enemy combatant status that leaves prisoners in a legal limbo, but it’s going to be a long fight.”

Diaz stood. “He was a good guy. There’s no way he had anything to do with nine-eleven. He was too straight arrow for something like that.” He chuckled and shook his head. “First time I ever saw the guy he was stopping traffic to allow a family of ducks to cross the road.”

Toni smiled. That sounded like Hobson all right.

Shaking his head, Diaz pulled out his wallet and removed his card. “Here. If you find anything out, call me.”

She took the card. “I will.”

Diaz left and Toni sat for several moments, cart wheeling the card in her hand as she thought about Hobson. She wondered how he was doing. If he was okay. She was startled out of her reverie when her phone rang. “Detective Brigatti.” She listened for a second then sighed. “Yeah, I have the file right here. I’ll have it on your desk by lunch.”

Opening a drawer, she tossed the card in and then tackled the papers on her desk.

Enemy Combatant--Chapter 2

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 16:57:39 GMT

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 2

Can’t,breathe! Can’t breathe! Don’t breathe!

Gary tried to hold his breath as long as he could. He tried to resist the instinct to take that next breath as he lay stretched out on his back, his mouth stuffed with a cloth. A now soaking wet cloth that was becoming wetter by the second as the guard slowly poured a pitcher of water over Gary's face.

His need for oxygen overpowered his will and instinct kicked in. He gasped, his lungs filling with air and water. Lots of water. If only he could filter it out. His airways spasmed and closed down in defense as they rebelled at the repeated intrusion of liquid into a space meant only for air.

Desperate to breathe, he inhaled again, unable to stop himself. The air-water mix sent him into a mindless panic. Writhing beneath the guards’ hands holding him down, Gary’s stomach finally heaved in a last ditch effort to rid its lungs of the water. His gut contracted and he gagged and then finally vomited.

The guard holding his head down released him just enough to allow him to turn his face to the side, not that it mattered much since so little came up anyway. Gary coughed and spat, and despite inhaling what felt like a gallon of water, he felt like his mouth was lined with cotton. His breath wheezed in and out and he trembled as his sweat- drenched body began to dry in the cool air.

No matter how often he underwent this form of interrogation, he could never control his panic. He had spent whole afternoons repeating this cycle and he wondered how long it would last this time.

“You know what you need to do to stop this.” The voice was so calm. So reasonable. Gary found himself wanting to tell this man whatever it was he wanted to hear. “Talk to us, Gary.”

Gary blinked in surprise. They never called him by name. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had used it. It felt foreign to his ears and it took him several seconds to respond.

“I…I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” His voice was rough and speaking hurt his throat still raw from vomiting. Gary almost wished he knew something--something that would sound plausible. If he had any details of what they wanted, he would have made up a story at this point.

He had been forced to remain awake the last several days. They were masters at keeping a person awake, knowing just when to change the music to some other loud beat or to flash the bright lights. He was exhausted and would have told them anything to be allowed to sleep. Anything at all.

“Stand!”

The guards holding Gary stepped back and allowed him to stumble to his feet. The task was made even more difficult because his arms were bound in front. He stood, head hanging, his chest heaving with the effort. Dimly, he heard the door open and footsteps cross the floor. A whispered conversation followed.

Gary’s interrogator swore a blue streak then said, “You mean right now?”

“Yes, sir.”

Gary didn’t recognize the voice but didn’t look up to see who it was. Nobody had asked him to.

“Fine. Get him ready for transport.”

Gary heard the order but was too tired to summon up anything but the mildest curiosity about where he was being transported. Wherever it was, he was sure he wouldn’t like it, but since he didn’t like where he was now either, it didn’t much matter to him. He barely flinched when one guard put large blackout goggles on Gary’s face and the other put ear phones on him, effectively shutting out all sights and sounds.

A hand gripped each arm and he staggered between them.

He had no idea how far he was led; it felt like quite a distance and the sensation of walking in complete silence and blackness was something he never got used to. It was a total disconnection and if weren’t for the hands on his arms, he would have felt like he was the only person in the universe. Then, even the hands dropped away.

Panic flooded him. He turned and took a few hesitant steps but stopped when he found only empty space. His mind wandered in the black silence. He used to think of his parents, home, Marissa and even the cat. Now he thought only in the moment. He had no past and no future. Only the present.

Gary lost all track of time and it could have been minutes or an hour that he waited. He wasn’t even sure what it was he was waiting for. He tried to call out but wondered if he actually made any sound. Where was everyone? Were they going to leave him here? For how long? Would anyone ever come back for him?

Suddenly, the floor beneath him lurched and he fell to his side. The surface began vibrating and he realized he was in a vehicle. That knowledge calmed him somewhat. Someone had to be driving so he wasn’t completely alone.

The vehicle must have turned a corner because Gary found himself sliding fast and his shoulder collided hard with the side of the truck. He lay against the wall, his shoulder throbbing and he began to sweat in the stifling heat. Now that he was lying down, his need for sleep pushed his other discomforts aside and he slipped into oblivion.

Hands pulled him to a standing position, and disoriented, Gary stumbled in an attempt to get his balance. The sleep had helped a little but made him more aware of his thirst and hunger. He tried to forget about those needs. He would eat when they decided he should eat.

Gary shuffled along between the hands, almost welcoming their presence. The one on his right had a tighter grip, the fingers nearly circling his bicep. It must belong to a big man. Gary became attuned to the subtle shifts in pressure and stopped when he sensed that was what was wanted.

The earphones were removed and the first thing Gary heard was the hollow drip of water on tile. Then the goggles came off and he blinked in pain at the sudden brightness. After a few seconds, his eyes adjusted and he glanced around at what appeared to be the shower area of a locker room.

His arms were released, his orange jumpsuit pulled down and his arms re-secured. The movement caused both relief and pain. He had learned long ago to stifle any groans and now was no different.

“Jeez, he stinks.” The smaller of the two guards grimaced and kicked the discarded clothing out of the way.

Gary showed no reaction but could feel his face heat up.

“Well, why do you think they told us to get him cleaned up first?” This was from the big guard as he reached into the shower stall and turned the water on, stepping back quickly to avoid getting wet.

They gave Gary a little push forward and so he stepped into the cold spray. He shivered, the only sign of his discomfort, but in a minute or so, the water began to warm up, much to Gary’s surprise. He let it wash over him and opened his mouth a little, catching some water and swallowing greedily. A bottle of shampoo rested on a shelf beneath the showerhead and Gary eyed it, longing to use it but trying not to look. If they knew, it would be used against him. He closed his eyes, taking in the sensation of the water cascading over his skin and running in rivulets down his legs.

A sharp prod in the back made him flinch and his eyes flew open as he looked over his shoulder at the guards. The smaller one nodded his head at the bottle on the shelf.

“Wash up! We haven’t got all day!”

Did he dare? Hesitantly, Gary reached for the shampoo, ready at any second to snatch his hands back. He fumbled with the bottle, unable to figure out how to get some in the palm of his hand because the shackles were too close to tip the bottle. The other guard took the shampoo from him and Gary immediately dropped his hands and looked down. Just as he expected, they hadn’t meant for him to use it after all.

“Hey! Hold your hands out.”

When Gary looked at him impassively, the guard sighed and motioned for Gary’s hands while he turned the bottle upside down. When Gary complied, he squeezed out a generous amount of the fragrant stuff.

This simple act of kindness was almost Gary’s undoing. His eyes began to sting and ducked his head into the stream of water. Then he soaped up his head, almost trembling as the scent filled the stall. He spread the shampoo over the rest of his body, or at least everything that he could reach. He didn’t care that it was shampoo. It smelled so wonderful and the lather was rich and smooth.

Reluctantly, he rinsed and the tall guard reached in and turned the water off, then handed Gary a towel. It was soft and thick and when he raised it to dry his face, it smelled of sunshine.

When he was no longer dripping, the taller one indicated that Gary should wrap it around his waist. This surprised him even more than the shower. To be allowed the dignity to cover himself was a privilege he hadn’t experienced since he had been arrested.

His hands were bound again then their hands once more gripped his arms, but this time, not so hard, more as guidance and he went with them to the outer part of the locker room.

The shorter one nodded to a pile of clothes on a bench. Gary looked at the khaki pants and white polo shirt, unsure what was expected of him. He glanced around for the orange jumpsuit.

The shorter one nudged him towards the street clothes. “Go on, get dressed.”

Wordlessly, Gary picked up a clean pair of boxers and pulled them on, followed by the khakis. When it came to the shirt, he didn’t know what to do and stood with it in his hands wondering how he would get it on with the shackles.

“Here.” The tall one unlocked them and stepped back.

Quickly, before anyone changed their minds, Gary pulled the shirt over his head and tugged it down. A pair of socks was the only thing remaining on the bench and he reached for them, hoping against hope that he would be allowed to wear them too. He hadn’t worn socks since his own had been taken away.

Briefly, he wondered if they were getting ready to execute him. The thought made him pause then he put the thought aside. There was nothing he could do about if they were. He was clean now. He was dressed in real clothes; it was enough to think about. The last surprise was the pair of brown shoes under the bench, nice looking shoes and they even fit him.

The tall guard replaced the shackles but gave Gary an apologetic look as he did so. Gary was stumped. Something was up but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

After his shower, he was led into a small courtroom. A group of military personnel sat at a table and across from that was another smaller table and chair where Gary was told to stand.

With no fanfare, and very little explanation except that there was insufficient evidence to hold him any longer, they told Gary that he was free to go. He stood stunned before his knees buckled and he sat down hard on the chair. The same two guards released his shackles and the tall one asked if he was okay.

“Yes, sir. I..I just…” Gary began shaking and put his head down on the table. He covered it with his arms. Tears spilled out of his closed lids and he couldn't stop them. Embarrassed, he kept his head buried. Someone cleared their throat and he knew they were waiting for him. Gary turned his face and swiped his eyes on his shoulder before straightening.

It was over. Finally.

Gary didn’t expect an apology and he wasn’t given one, but he was handed a thick manila envelope. Inside was his wallet with all his identification, five hundred dollars and a one-way ticket to Chicago. The plane was scheduled to leave in just a few hours. A court appointed attorney had him sign some papers and told him that his assets were still frozen but that as soon as possible, that red tape would be cleared up. Gary nodded.

Then the tall guard showed him to the door of the building and hailed a cab for him.

Everything that had happened in the last few hours was surreal and he was afraid that he was hallucinating. It wouldn’t be the first time. Any minute, he would come out of it and find himself on the metal shelf that served as his bed with the damn noise blaring and the incessant lights shining down on him.

As the cab wound through traffic, Gary gazed out the window, drinking in the sight of people going about their daily lives. It wasn't until he spotted a newspaper box that he realized that he was in Charleston. No one had ever told him were he was. At a stoplight, a woman held the hand of a little girl and waited to cross. The child looked right at Gary and waved.

For the first time in eighteen months, Gary smiled.

Enemy Combatant--Chapter 3

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 16:55:54 GMT

______________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 3

The cab dropped Gary off at the airport and the driver gave him an annoyed look when he had to break a hundred dollar bill.

“This is all you got?”

Gary nodded and his hands began sweating. He hadn’t spoken to anyone other than guards in a year and a half. “Sorry.”

Shaking his head, the driver made change and even a generous tip didn’t keep him from grumbling, “At least I don’t have to unload any luggage.”

The comment brought to mind that Gary really didn’t have anything except the clothes on his back. He stopped in a gift shop and looked at some clothes but the price was steep and his would have to make his money last awhile. After browsing some other items, he finally selected a toothbrush and toothpaste. His mouth still felt stale from his earlier session with the water and vomiting. When he went to pay, he spotted a candy bar and bought it on impulse.

The clerk raised her pierced eyebrow at the odd combination and cracked, “Your dentist must love you.”

Gary shrugged. “It’s been awhile since I had something sweet.”

She cast a glance at him then smiled as she took the ten-dollar bill he handed her, “Yeah, looks like you stay away from the good stuff.”

The truth of it was that the food, while adequate and not horrible, also wasn’t very appetizing. He supposed it met the caloric requirements, but only if he ate every bite of it.

Sweets were rare. That, and the endless hours in his cell with nothing to do but hundreds of sit-ups and push-ups had trimmed his body. He had probably lost at least fifteen pounds, but he had built up some muscle too. Gary looked at the cashier and felt his face flush as he gathered up his small bag. Her admiring gaze flustered him and he turned quickly, almost knocking down an older lady behind him. “Excuse me, ma’am.”

“Wait!”

Gary jerked to a halt as though someone had bolted his feet to the floor.

“Hey? Hello? You forgot your change.”

He turned and spotted the clerk waving some bills. “Oh. Th…thanks.” His heart hammered as he stuffed them in his pocket.

“You’re welcome. Have a good trip.”

It took him a few minutes to find his terminal, and since he didn’t have any baggage, he looked for the counter to check in. When he attempted to head towards the boarding area, a guard stopped him and pointed him back towards a security checkpoint. Gary didn’t know what to make of it. He hadn’t seen anything like that before, but it looked as though everyone was going through without difficulty, so he stepped to the end of the line.

He craned his head to see past those in front of him, and felt his body tense up as several people seemed to be randomly pulled aside for a more thorough check. His hands began to perspire. What was the hold up? It seemed to be taking a long time for people to move through the metal detectors.

That’s when he noticed people taking their shoes off. Gary’s pulse began to race. It was irrational because it was obvious that no one else was bothered by the practice but still, he hesitated. Tying the shoes on this afternoon had been his first step to freedom. To being a real person and not just a number. To being human.

“Excuse me, sir. Could you please come this way?”

Gary turned to his left to find one of the security people motioning for him to step to the side. Nodding, he swallowed hard.

“Take your shoes off, please.”

His mouth went dry, but he did as he was told.

“Do you have any carry on luggage?”

“No, sir.” Gary put his arms out to the sides when the guard indicated that was what he wanted.

With quick, efficient movements, the man patted Gary down.“ What’s your business in Chicago?”

“I…I’m going ho…home.” His voice cracked on the last word and he lowered his head.

The search was over quickly and the guard sent him through the metal detector without another word.

Gary checked in, and then sank into the nearest chair in the waiting area. His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair. He hadn’t had a haircut for a while and probably would have had one within a few days. Maybe his prison haircut wasn’t too obvious. Not that he really knew what he looked like afterwards. He had stopped looking at his face in the mirror long ago. The blank expression in his eyes scared the hell out of him. He hadn’t wanted to gaze into the mirror one day and find that he didn’t recognize the guy staring back at him.

His brief time shaving in the mornings with the prison issue razor was spent just trying to get done as quickly as possible. He only focused on the section of face that he was shaving. The rest didn’t exist. The guards hated waiting for him to shave, but it was the one choice he had in prison and so he refused to grow a beard. As soon as he was finished, the razor was confiscated.

Gary jumped when his flight was announced and then stood and approached the tunnel. He couldn’t help glancing back down the terminal, half-expecting one of the guards to come running down the corridor telling him that there was a mistake and he had to go back.

He wished he had bought something to drink. The last liquid he’d he had was the few sips in the shower. Gary shrugged it off. He’d survive.

As the plane descended in Chicago, Gary caught sight of the familiar skyline and felt a lump in his throat. He had always admired it before, but now, it was as if the lights were brighter and welcoming him home.

A flash of white on the ground startled him. It had been so warm in Charleston that it hadn’t occurred to him that it was still winter in Chicago. Snow blanketed the town, and by the looks of it was fresh and deep. Like it or not, he was going to have part with some cash to buy something to keep himself warm.

When he exited the plane, he suddenly realized that he had no idea where to go. McGintys had been part of the list of frozen assets. He headed for a phone and thought for a minute, trying to remember Marissa’s number. It was a number he had called every day for the five years before he had been arrested and after a moment, it came back to him.

A recording informed him that the number was no longer in service. Gary tried information, but the address he gave them didn’t yield any results. He hung up and dialed his parents’ number. They lived too far away to pick him up at the airport, but he wanted to talk to them. He needed to talk to them.

Gary had no trouble recalling their number. It was the same one he had grown up with. It was a part of him and remembering the sequence of numbers made him think of his mother’s smile and his father’s laugh. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he pushed the numbers. He turned his face away from the corridor.

His mom’s voice sounded in his ear and Gary started to say something then realized it was just an answering machine. He slumped against the box holding the phone. Damn it! He thought about leaving a message but changed his mind and hung up. It didn’t seem right to leave a message like that with no way for his parents go get back to him. He’d take a bus there.

The bus was freezing, but the hooded Chicaog Bears sweatshirt he had bought at an airport gift shop, kept Gary from shivering too much. Still, he couldn’t sleep from the cold. The sun was just peeking over the horizon.

His eyes felt dry and gritty as he rubbed them with his thumb and first two fingers. Even his mouth felt like old shoe leather and he was glad for the toothbrush and toothpaste, taking them to the tiny bathroom. He finished cleaning up just before the bus arrived in Hickory, Indiana.

Gary returned to his seat and leaned with his head against the icy glass as the countryside sped past. Sunlight gilded the snowy fields a pale pink and gold, outlining last year’s corn stalks as they stood dry and broken; their shriveled tan leaves reaching to kiss the tallest drifts.

The town’s church steeple stabbed the blue sky with it's white point and was the first thing he saw as the bus topped a low hill. Before him, as pretty as a postcard, lay his hometown. Gary took a deep breath at the sight and his eyes burned with more than just fatigue.

The bus depot was only a few miles from his parents’ house and he decided to walk the route. It was still so early; his folks would probably be sleeping. The ice crunched under his loafers and he raised his hood against the biting wind. He huddled into the sweatshirt and set a brisk pace in hopes of staying warm.

The way home took him past the local diner and his mouth watered at the scent of bacon and eggs wafting out of the restaurant. If he hadn’t been so anxious to see his parents, he would have stopped and even so, his steps faltered. A few early birds sat at the counter and Gary felt light-headed at the sight of a man digging into a stack of pancakes. Even from the sidewalk, he could see the syrup dripping down the sides. The candy bar he had eaten on the plane was a distant memory and his stomach felt like it was saying hello to his backbone.

The town began stirring, with lights brightening windows while doors creaked open and the occasional voice called out good-bye to a spouse or child. Dogs barked and Gary smiled when he heard a woman pleading with her pet to hurry up and do his business because she was freezing her ass off.

He turned a corner and halted, drinking in the sight of his boyhood home. It looked the same as he remembered. A bright yellow Cape Cod with white trim and a welcoming front porch. He broke into a trot the last few yards and raced up the steps.

Gary’s finger shook as he hit the doorbell and he lowered his hood, not wanting to frighten his mother. He heard her come down the steps, the tread too light to be his dad, and then he heard her grumbling as the doorknob turned.

“Isn’t it kind of early to…” She looked up from toeing a throw rug out of the way of the door. Her face drained and her hand flew to her heart. “Oh my God!” She sobbed and threw herself at him.

“Mom.” His throat seemed to swell and his voice broke as he held her tight.

“Lois? Who’s at the door?”

Gary looked up at the sound of his dad’s voice, seeing him come down the steps, stop short and then blink in confusion.

“Gar?” In an instant, the older man was down the stairs, his arms circling Gary and his mom. He could smell his dad's aftershave. Old Spice. Some things never changed.

They stood like that for what seemed like several minutes and then Gary shivered hard.

“You must be freezing, hon! Come in!” His mom stepped back but before letting him go, she raised a hand and brushed it against his cheek. “You’re real. I…I’m not dreaming am I?”

Gary shook his head and tried to smile. “Not unless I’m dreaming the same thing.” He tried not to think of all the times had dreamed this very thing.

His dad got a horrified look on his face and took a quick look up and down the street before shutting and locking the door. “You didn’t bust out, did you son? Like you did that time they thought you murdered Scanlon?”

His mom’s eyes widened in fear.

Gary shook his head. “No, Dad. They released me. I don’t know why. Just said they didn’t have enough evidence.” He moved down the hallway, instinctively heading for the kitchen. It was the heart and soul of the home. His mother walked with him, her arm around his waist.

“Don’t you have any luggage?” His mom looked at his empty hands.

Gary laughed, the sound harsh. “No, Mom. They didn’t send me home with any souvenirs.” At least, none that anyone could see. He swallowed down the bitterness. This was supposed to be a happy day. His parents didn’t need to know the details.

He pulled a chair out from beneath the oak table and sank down onto it with a sigh, exhausted down to his bones. Sunlight streamed through the window above the sink and danced and shimmered on the yellow throw rug in front of the stove.

It felt good to be home, but at the same time, he felt a deep sadness that he hadn’t counted on feeling. Like every emotion he had repressed for more than a year was battling to escape and he was too weary to fight it back. His knees began shaking and he tried to hold them down with his hands.

“Are you hungry?” His mom opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of eggs.

“Yes, ma’am,” he managed before his teeth started chattering.

His mom laughed. “Since when do you call me ‘ma’am’, sweetheart?”

Gary couldn’t answer. His body was trembling too hard. The suddenness of it and his inability to control it scared the hell out him. He thought he had managed to remain fairly sane throughout his imprisonment but maybe he was wrong.

Pulling a chair out, his dad bent down and looked right in Gary’s eyes. “Son? Are you okay?”

Gary nodded and closed his eyes as he tried to quell the rising panic. He attempted to take slow deep breaths but his efforts were futile and he breathed as though he had sprinted from the bus station. His heartbeat sounded deafeningly loud in his ears, almost drowning out his mom’s panicked voice.

“Honey? What’s wrong?”

He felt a hand on his forehead smoothing back his hair. At the touch, Gary flinched and his eyes flew open, meeting his mother’s startled blue eyes only a foot away. “I…I’m okay. J-just really t-tired.”

Gary hunched his shoulders and wrapped his arms around himself, his eyes lowered to the honey colored tabletop. Yellow checked napkins and placemats decorated the surface and he vaguely recalled buying them for his mom on her birthday when he was just a kid.

“You must be freezing. Did you walk from the bus station in just that sweatshirt?”

“Yes, s-sir.”

“Sons a bitches! What kind of people send a guy home to Chicago in early March without a winter coat?” His dad’s voice held a note of anger that Gary had never heard before.

“It…was…warm in Charleston,” he said in their defense.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” His mother’s hand tentatively went to his hair. He tried his hardest not to pull away.

His dad cursed again and Gary hung his head. He didn’t notice his dad leaving the room but a moment later, he felt a quilt drape around his shoulders. It smelled of lavender. His mom always believed that the scent helped relax a person and he almost smiled as he felt his body relax the tiniest bit.

“Hon? Do you want to eat or lie down first?”

His stomach growled and as tired as he was, he didn’t think he’d sleep much with his it so empty. “I’ll eat. Just whatever you have. Don’t go to any trouble.”

“I’ll make you some fried eggs and toast. That’s nice and quick.” His mother bustled around the kitchen, pulling out a frying pan and he could see that her hands shook a little.

“Sound great.” Gary wanted to lay his head down on his folded hands but knew that he’d fall asleep instantly if he did.

His dad sat down beside him and tried to make conversation with him. “So, the Cubbies look like they could be good this year.”

Gary looked at him in confusion, taking a moment to process the statement. “Yeah?”

“Yep. Sosa’s gonna get his five hundredth homer this season. That’ll be something. Hey, maybe we can catch a game soon.”

The thought of sitting in Wrigley Field under the blazing sun watching the game appealed to him, but somehow, the idea that he might find himself there this year seemed about as remote as going to the moon. “Sure, Dad.”

They fell into an uneasy silence. “Did you have a good flight home?”

Gary shrugged. “Yeah. I guess. I tried to get some sleep but couldn’t really relax.”

“Did it take a long time to board? I hear that the new security checkpoints since nine-eleven are a hass--” His dad’s face turned a deep red.

He knew that his dad was embarrassed and he should say something; tell him that it was okay, but his mind was moving in slow motion and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He reached for a napkin and folded it and then unfolded it, repeating the process a few times. “They call it nine-eleven?”

“Yeah, or September eleventh. It kind of became the shorthand for it. Sorry, Gar.”

“It’s okay. I just feel a bit out of touch with stuff.”

“Yeah.” His dad cleared his throat then said, “Hey, hon, you making me some eggs and toast too?”

“Of course. But Gary gets his first. He’s about to nod off at the table.”

With that, his mom set the plate in front of him. Instantly, his mouth flooded at the scent. Gary ate quickly, glad for something to do. When he finished, he put his plate in the sink.

“Uh, do you guys mind if I go lie down for a bit?”

His mom set her toast down and jumped up. “Here, let me get you some fresh sheets on the bed in the spare room.”

“No, Mom. It’s okay. I can just sleep in my old room.”

“Are you sure, Gary? It’s no trouble.”

His mom looked so anxious to do something for him that he felt his eyes sting. He rubbed them under the guise of fatigue. “I’m so tired now, it doesn’t matter where I sleep.”

“Okay, sweetie. You go on, and when you wake up, I’ll make a nice meal.” She approached him with her arms open and Gary allowed her to hug him. He saw the hurt in her eyes when he didn’t hug her back like she wanted. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. It must have been a crazy day for you.”

Gary thought back to twenty-four hours ago and where he was at that time. “Yeah. It has been.”

“Night, son.”

Enemy Combatant--Chapter 4

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 16:54:11 GMT

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 4

Bernie watched his son walk down the hallway, his gait unsteady and waited until he was gone from sight before turning to Lois. “Hon, he’s in bad shape.”

Lois sat heavily and her eyes welled up. “I know. What did they do to him?”

“Whatever it was, he’s not going to tell us.” He drummed his fingers on the table, anger burning through him. “Did you see his eyes?” Bernie didn’t think he’d ever forget the look of terror in his son’s eyes when he had begun shaking. For one moment, his face had been unguarded and so full of pain and fear that Bernie had felt it like a blow to his heart.

Then he had closed his eyes and the next time he had looked at Bernie, his eyes had been dull and flat. Bernie wasn’t sure which scared him more. Maybe it was just exhaustion.

“He looks thin. When I hugged him, I could feel his ribs.” Lois stood and pulled a tissue out of dispenser on the countertop and blew her nose. “I need to go to the store and get the stuff for his favorite dinner.”

Bernie nodded. “Okay. I’m going to call in sick to work.”

“Oh! I completely forgot you were supposed to work today! You won’t get in trouble will you?”

“Does it matter? Nothing could keep me away today. What about tomorrow? Are you going in?”

Lois shook her head. “No. I’ll take tomorrow off. I think someone should be here with him, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. He might take some time getting used to us again. You know how crazy we drive him when we visit him.” Bernie tried to joke but his usual humor had disappeared along with Gary a year and a half ago. He pushed away from the table. “I think I’m going to go call the lawyer and see if he knows anything about this. I just don’t get it.”

“Bernie?”

He turned around before leaving the kitchen. Lois looked at him, her eyes brimming once again. “Can you believe it? He’s back! I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.” The tears broke free and spilled down her cheeks.

Bernie crossed to her and put his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. “I know. I didn’t think we would either.” He had never admitted that fear before. Admitting to it would make it come true. “Everything will be fine. He’s tough.”

Gary pulled the covers back on the bed. It was only a twin, but even that size looked large compared to the narrow shelf he had become accustomed to sleeping on. He stripped down to his boxers and lay down on the blessedly smooth sheets. The soft cotton felt like heaven against his skin. He pulled the fluffy down comforter up to his chin and turned on his side. Lavender again. His mother’s hand was everywhere in the home. It used to drive him nuts that his room smelled ‘girly’ but now he felt the scent envelope him in feelings of security.

The room was bright with winter sunshine, but he was used to trying to sleep with bright lights and shut his eyes against the glare. His mind, so tired, seemed to flit from one thing to another. He wanted to just think about his homecoming, but other images played out in his head. Gary felt his limbs relax into the mattress. It was almost too soft and he shifted trying to find another position. His shoulder was bruised from his run in with the side of the truck but it was just a minor annoyance. Relaxing, his body finally gave in to sleep.

Gary’s finger shook as he hit the doorbell.

He tried to speak but couldn’t.

“Lois? Who’s at the door?”

Gary looked up at the sound of his dad’s voice as he came down the steps. He wore some kind of uniform. A shiny badge decorated his chest. Gary blinked in confusion.

“Gar?” In an instant, his arms circled Gary and his mom.

They stood like that for what seemed like several minutes and then Gary shivered hard.

“We’ve missed you so much, Gary.” His mother reached up and stroked her hand down his face. “It’s too bad you can’t stay.”

Gary stepped back. “Wh…what do you mean?”

His dad’s hand gripped Gary’s bicep and he pulled Gary’s arms behind him, snapping cuffs around his wrists. “Sorry, kiddo. After what you did on September eleventh, you should know that you have to go back to prison.”

“But they let me go…Dad.”

“They called and told us to send you back.”

His mother smiled, and shook her head. “We love you, honey, but it’s for the best.” Then she pulled a pair of blackout goggles from behind her back.

Gary didn’t know where she had been holding them. “Mom…you know I didn’t do anything!”

When he could see next, he was back in the prison. His shoulders ached so badly but he couldn’t find relief. The cuffs bit into his wrists as they held his arms impossibly high behind his back. He bent forward trying to relieve the pressure, even though he knew it was useless. The posture made it difficult to breathe, but straightening made his shoulders feel like they were being pulled inch by inch from their sockets.

He bit his lip in an attempt to hold back the groans that rose from the depths of his being. Gary’s legs shook with the effort of remaining upright, but he knew if he fell, the time would begin all over again. How long had he already been in this position? An hour? Two? He couldn’t go through it again, so he locked his knees, his eyes screwed shut in agony.

They didn’t even ask him any questions this time, not that he had answers for them anyway. It was just a way to punish and torment him. In their minds, he was guilty of aiding and abetting the terrorists and he deserved everything they meted out.

It’s not true! Gary hung onto the thought in the deepest part of his mind—desperate not to lose it. It was so hard to remember that he hadn’t done anything. Every day, they hammered into him that he was the scum of the Earth and guilty as hell.

It began to wear on his psyche and his mind wanted to create the scenario that his captors planted in his mind. He almost remembered terrorists training camps, the picture of them on the fringes of his mind, the details hazy and so fuzzy he wondered why he couldn’t remember it better. The pain. That’s why he couldn’t remember.

No! That wasn’t it. He was innocent!

The torment increased as the tendons in his back twisted and jerked, protesting the unnatural position.

His leg muscles burned and trembled. The guards shot the breeze with each other, playing cards and making plans for Christmas. It was the second one that Gary would miss. Thoughts of past holidays entered his mind and he snatched those ideas and held them fast. He saw his mom baking cookies and his dad untangling lights. Gary saw himself as a child wrapping homemade gifts for his parents. A macaroni necklace for his mom. She would love it. He had used different colors of pasta and he beamed as he thought of his mom wearing it to church Christmas morning.

For his dad, he had made a hotdog cooker out of some wires, a two by four and some nails. He had cut the cord off an old lamp and spliced it onto the contraption. At least, Gary had hoped it was old. He had found the directions in a book from the library and when he had tried it out, the nails got really hot. The book warned never to touch the nails while it was plugged in, and after seeing how the hotdog bubbled and crackled, Gary didn’t’ need a reminder. His dad would love it. His favorite food was a hotdog at the ballpark.

Gary’s legs quivered and he knew he was going to lose the battle. He fell hard onto the cement, his cheekbone smashing onto the pavement. Christmas past winked out just like it had for Scrooge. All he had now was Christmas present. Gary shuddered as he thought of Christmas future. They were probably already digging his grave. He laid gasping, sweat stinging the new cut on his face.

“Goddamn it!” The guard talking about Christmas cussed and jumped up from the table. Gary heard the slap of the cards hit the table as the chairs scraped back. Black boots stepped into his vision and hands clamped onto his elbows, pulling him from the floor. He screamed in agony!

“Gary? Are you okay?” The door to his room banged open.

Gary bolted up in bed as his mother’s voice dragged him from the nightmare. Sweat drenched his body and his shoulders still felt the ache from the phantom pain. Pain that had been all too real in the recent past.

Lois rushed across the room. “Gary? What’s wrong?”

Her son looked at her with wide terror filled eyes as he scrambled into the corner of the bed. He looked wildly around the room. “Wha…where…what…?” Gary’s eyes scrunched closed and he rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Bad dream. Sorry.” His hand fell to the bed and he slumped against the headboard. He didn’t meet her eyes, but instead, his gaze focused on the ceiling fan.

“Hon, there’s nothing to be sorry about.” It was so hard to keep from touching him, from smoothing his hair back from his brow. Every motherly instinct in her screamed to comfort her child but she had already picked up on his body language and restrained her desire to offer comfort with touch.

“Did I wake you?” Gary’s voice was rough and deeper than she was used to hearing. He swung his feet out of bed and then pulled the covers over his waist, his cheeks flushing. Stubble darkened the lower part of his face and it dawned on her that he had lost his little boy look. Even into his thirties, his face had retained the look of innocence. He was still good-looking, but in a more rugged way.

“It’s the middle of the afternoon, sweetie. I was in the kitchen and your dad is outside shoveling the back walk. It snowed yesterday and he never got around to that.”

“Oh.” His body was lean, only the muscle definition keeping him from being skinny. She guessed that weight loss was probably responsible for his older look. He finally raised his eyes to hers and the lack of expression almost made her gasp.

“I should get up and shower.”

Lois nodded. “There’s clean towels in the linen closet.” It occurred to her that Gary didn’t have a change of clothing. She crossed to the closet. “Hon? There’s a box of some of your old clothes in here. I know they aren’t the latest style, but I think they’ll fit you. You look about the same size you were in college.” She began to tug the box off the top shelf. It was stuck at first but suddenly came loose and would have fallen on her if Gary hadn’t reached over her head and caught it.

“Thanks, Mom, but I can manage.” He held the box in front of himself and shifted it a bit to get a better hold.

Her eyes fell to his hands where he gripped the carton. Red marks circled his wrists and beneath them, she could see older pale pink scars. A stab of pain shot through her, twisting like a knife in her stomach. When she looked up to his face, it was apparent that he had been aware of her observation because his expression mixed equal parts embarrassment and anger. He didn’t want her pity so she did her best to crack a smile.

“I know you can, but you know me. I always have to fuss.” Her eyes filled despite her best intentions and she blinked furiously.

Gary’s face softened. “I know.” He looked like he was about to say something else but then dropped his focus to the box. “Well, I guess I’ll go through this and see what I can wear today.” He turned and set the box on the bed.

Lois saw a large dark bruise on his shoulder but made no comment. Once in the hallway, she made a beeline for the kitchen and checked the roast chicken in the oven. Its skin was a beautiful golden brown but the carrots and potatoes circling the bird were only a blur through her tears.

___________________________________________________________________

Gary dipped a bite of chicken in the rich gravy, the seasoning was perfect, just how he had remembered it tasting. Steam rose from his plate, and melted butter drizzled down the sides of his potatoes mixing into the pale brown gravy. Carrots, with just a hint of nutmeg, lent the plate a splash of color. It was almost too beautiful to eat.

He used a hot crusty dinner roll to push the stuffing onto his fork and the scent brought to mind a lifetime of Thanksgivings. A lifetime of sitting at this table with these two people and laughing and chatting without a care in the world. The food was just as wonderful but the atmosphere was no longer carefree. The weight of the last year’s experiences cast a pall over the meal.

“How’d they feed you in there, kiddo? You look kind of skinny.”

Gary’s fork froze in mid-air and he swallowed hard, barely able to get the previous bite down without choking. He reached for his milk, washing it down with a gulp.

“Bernie!”

“What? You want to know too.” His dad shot his mom a look and Gary knew that they must have been talking about him when he was asleep.

Of course they had questions and were curious. He expected that but knowing it didn’t make talking about it any easier. The thought of trying to answer any of the questions in a way that wouldn’t tear them up made the food sit like a rock in his gut.

“They fed me okay. The food wasn’t horrible but it couldn’t compare to Mom’s.” There, that should satisfy them. He ate a carrot and pushed his potatoes around with his fork.

“Then how come you’re so thin? You must have lost twenty pounds.”

Gary shrugged. “I don’t think it’s that much but it’s not like they have bags of chips lying around to snack on, Dad.”

“Hmmm.” His father stabbed a piece of chicken.

“It looks like they tried to keep you in shape though, so that’s something, right, hon?”

Gary’s mom smiled at him and he tried to smile back and think of a way to tell her that sometimes the only thing that kept him sane was doing so many push-ups that his arms would quiver with exhaustion, but that it beat sitting in the dark as his mind slowly disappeared into the blackness.

Or that doing a thousand sit ups as a way to challenge himself and make his body so exhausted that he would be able to sleep even with the horrible sounds and floodlights in his cell. “It’s gets boring in there so sometimes I’d do some exercises to help pass the time.”

His dad gave him a hard look but his mother nodded. “Well, if you’re ready, I have your favorite dessert. Pecan pie with vanilla ice cream.” She jumped up from the table and went to the counter to get the pie.

Gary tried his best to finish his slice of pie but the rich food churned in his stomach. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed the plate away.

“You’re gonna let that slice go to waste?”

Gary pulled his plate back; ready to try to finish it off but his dad stopped him, his hand lightly resting on Gary’s forearm. “I was only kidding, son.”

“Oh.” He felt his ears burn and a wave of nausea swept through him. Oh no.

His father took the last bite of his own piece and then sat back with a contented sigh. “That was fantastic, Lois.”

“Thank you.” His mother beamed. “I still can’t believe you’re really home, Gary. I keep pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. Have you talked to Marissa yet?”

Gary felt his mouth begin to water and tried his best to swallow the down the bile that rose in his throat. “Uh, no. Her phone was disconnected.”

“Oh, that’s right! You don’t know. She married Emmett last August so she moved to his place. She hated to give up her own because she knew it so well, but his apartment was closer to her office.”

“Emmett Brown?” Gary recalled the cabby who had been studying law. He was a good guy and Marissa deserved someone like that. “That’s really nice.” Then he thought about what else his mother had said and he tore his gaze from the scraps of pie swimming in melted ice cream to look at his mom. “What office?”

His parents exchanged a glance and his dad said, “She passed her licensing exam to be a psychologist and was offered a job with a group practice.”

Gary took a deep breath and let it out slowly. So much had changed. McGinty’s was still frozen and who knew how long that would take to re-open, if it ever did. Marissa was married and had her own life now. “Th…that’s great.” And he meant it because he knew it was Marissa’s dream, but it was another piece of his life torn away. “I bet she’s happy.” He tried to smile.

“I have her number in my address book. I’ll get it for you in a little bit, hon.”

Gary nodded. So much had changed. Another wave of nausea shuddered through him and he jumped up from the table and made a dash for the bathroom.

Enemy Combatant--Chapter 5

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 16:52:25 GMT

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 5

Gary gagged and spit, his stomach twisting as it tried to rid itself of the rich meal. He flushed the toilet with a shaky hand and turned to the sink, splashing his face with water and rinsing his mouth.

“Gary? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Dad.” He cleared his throat and washed his hands, taking his time so that he could get his trembling under control. He knew his parents would be right outside in the hallway and he didn’t want them to see him like this.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and tried to give his mom a grin. “Sorry, Mom. I guess my stomach isn’t used to such good food.”

His mother looked at him in concern. “Are you sick, hon? Maybe you should go see Doc Evans tomorrow.”

“No, I’m fine.” Gary sidled past them, heading for the living room. “I don’t need to see some doctor.”

“Gar, it’s Doc Evans. You’ve been going to him for twenty years.”

“I’m going to call him in the morning, hon.”

Gary didn’t argue. He didn’t have the energy or the inclination. His parents trailed after him and his mom took his arm and guided him to the sofa. He felt a little bit of relief that his mother’s touch was tolerable when it didn’t come as a surprise. Still, it made him feel more comfortable when she left the middle cushion between them. His dad sat in his usual recliner.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about things, but maybe it would help. Your dad and I are here for you.”

Gary sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Mom. I’m not sure I’m ready for that and, hell, I don’t even know where I would start.”

His dad drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and gave Gary a long steady look. “Well, what if we tell you what happened from our side? Maybe you can’t talk about it, but it’s been killing your mom and me.”

Gary nodded, raising his gaze to meet his dad’s. His dad had been less than his usual fun-loving self, and Gary had noticed weariness in his eyes that had never been there before. It was hard to remember that he hadn’t been the only one affected by his imprisonment but the evidence was right there in his father's eyes.

“Nobody told us anything, Gary. Marissa called and said you’d been arrested. She was frantic. Had Emmett looking up all kinds of legal mumbo jumbo to try and find a way to get you free.”

Gary dropped his head and looked at his feet. He was wearing his old faded jeans and a pair of his dad’s black socks. He dug his toes into the carpeting. It must have been hard on them, and that was one of the hardest things about being in prison. Even having just one phone call to put their mind at ease would have made the imprisonment more bearable. Gary swallowed and picked at a tiny hole in the knee of the jeans.

“We tried calling anyone we thought of who might be able to help. We practically have the Indiana and Illinois state senators on speed dial. We wrote letters and showed up at every political function that we could, son. But it was like you had disappeared off the face of the Earth.”

“Yeah.” Gary propped his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands behind his neck, his head bent. “I’m s…sorry for putting you both through all that.” His eyes filled and he kept his head down as he said, his voice cracking, “I appreciate everything you guys did.”

“Not just us, honey. Lots of people. Marissa and Emmett, of course, but also Marion Crumb and Toni Brigatti tried to contact people who might be able to help. Even that one detective you seemed to have run ins with, Paul Armstrong, tried to get in touch with an old buddy who went into the CIA.”

“I guess I caused a lot of trouble,” Gary mumbled. He couldn’t see his feet any more, just watery black shadows. His chest hurt with a pain so sharp that it made drawing a breath hurt.

“You didn’t cause this! We aren’t telling you this to make you feel bad. We wanted you to know how many people cared about you, son.” His dad was crouching in front of him, looking up into his eyes. “You have a lot of friends. They’ll want to help you get on your feet.”

Gary closed his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t see anyone now.”

“Why not?”

His mother had come closer and began rubbing circles on his back. Half of him wanted to lean into her and soak up the comfort like parched earth in a downpour, but the other half shuddered in revulsion at the contact.

“Because I just can’t.” If any of them ever found out about the things that he had been forced to do in prison, they would look at him in revulsion. How he had puked and been put in ice water and left to cry out in pain as his muscles contracted against his shackles. Or how he had sung and talked to himself in the darkness of his cell just so he could hear something and know he was still alive. He had made it through that hell and he just wanted to put the whole thing behind him.

“Well, you don’t have to do anything right away. It’ll be okay, son.” His dad then patted Gary’s knee just like he had the time Gary’s dog had died when he was thirteen.

Gary nodded. Sure it would be okay. His dad had said so.

His mom continued rubbing his back and he leaned against her, giving in to the desire for human contact. He took several deep shuddering breaths as he forced his body to allow his mother’s touch. She pulled his shoulder towards her and he found himself lying with his head resting on a pillow in her lap.

“Come on, sweetie. Put your feet up and relax.”

Her hands feathered his hair and he felt safer than he had in a long time. The room faded and he heard soft murmurings between his parents but they sounded distant and finally he slept.

**************************************

The tantalizing aroma of pancakes and sausage awoke him slowly. At first, he thought he was dreaming and then his eyes opened to see the caramel colored upholstery of his parent’s sofa right in front of him. He rolled over and the same quilt he had used yesterday fell to the floor in the process.

Standing, he stretched, feeling better than he had in ages. The room was bright and dust motes floated and sparkled near the window. It looked like it was mid-morning at least.

After making a quick pit stop in the bathroom, he ambled into the kitchen. “Something sure smells good.”

His mother turned from the stove, spatula in hand. She smiled and said, “Good morning, Gary. How’d you sleep?”

She faced the stove again and Gary heard a sizzle as she flipped a pancake. “Great. I’m starving though.”

“I figured, since you brought up last night’s dinner for a second look, you would be.”

Gary felt his face flush as he pulled a chair out and sat. “Sorry about that.”

His mom set a steaming pancake on top of three others and put the plate in front of him. “I’m only teasing you, hon. Here...try these and see how they set with you. If you think they’re too rich, I can make you something lighter.” She rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before moving to turn the burner off.

The syrup was already on the table along with a plate of sausages. Gary poured some on the stack and took one sausage. He wanted more but didn’t want to chance a repeat of last night.

“These are great, Mom.” He could barely keep himself from stuffing them in his mouth. He made himself slow down. He looked up, another forkful poised near his mouth. His mom was watching him with one hand resting on the back of a chair. She wore an odd expression. “What?”

She shook her head and smiled. “Nothing, sweetie. I just like looking at you. You seem better today.”

Gary ate the bite and nodded. “I feel better.” It was true, he did. His head didn’t feel stuffed full of cotton from lack of sleep and he finally had lost the surreal sensation that it was all a hallucination that would end with him back in his cell. He could smell, hear, taste and touch as well as see everything so clearly. It was a good feeling.

He motioned with is fork to the other side of the table. “Aren’t you gonna eat?” He stuffed another mouthful in, and said around it, “Where’s Dad?”

“Oh, we ate earlier. You’re dad went on to work. He’s going to try and get off early though.”

Gary stopped mid-chew and his eyes flew to his mom’s. “Work? Dad’s retired.”

His mom went to the sink and started scrubbing a pan. “Oh, he got bored and took a little job at the discount store down the road. It keeps him busy.”

“Oh.” Something wasn’t right. His dad was never bored. He loved to putter, moving from one project to the next. And when he wasn’t doing that, he would get Gary’s mom to go on a road trip in the Gray Ghost. That old travel trailer had been all over the country. His stomach felt full after only half a plate and rather than force more down, Gary set his fork down. “That was really good, Mom.”

Unsure what to do next; he sat. He was out of the habit on making decisions on how to plan his day. He had nothing to do and no money to do it with. “I guess I’ll go shower.”

“Oh, I washed your clothes. They’re folded in a basket in the laundry room.”

Gary nodded. “Thanks.”

In the laundry room, he found the basket and was about to turn and leave, when a familiar blue smock caught his eye. It hung from a rack near the dryer. It was small, certainly not big enough to fit his dad. Emblazoned in white script across the front was the name of the discount store where his father now worked.

Carrying his basket, the smock now resting on top, Gary returned to the kitchen. “Uh, Mom? Who’s is this?” He held up the article of clothing.

His mother’s face turned pink and she took it from him. “I have a job there too. It gets us out of the house.”

Gary set his basket on the table. He was getting an idea of what was going on. “Mom, tell me the truth. Why are you and dad working? I can’t believe you have nothing better to do than spend your time there.”

She bit her lip and glanced away before meeting his eyes. “We needed the money, hon.”

Gary sank onto a chair. “But…but what happened to dad’s retirement fund? I thought you were set?”

His mom folded the smock into a neat little square and shrugged. “We had unforeseen expenses.”

The first thing that popped into Gary’s mind was that one of his parent’s was ill. They both looked healthy enough although he could see new lines on their faces that had never been there before. Probably caused from the stress involved with his imprisonment. Like a bomb going off in his mind, it hit him. He was their unforeseen expense. His dad had mentioned their lobbying to get him released. What else had they done? “Did…did you spend it all on me?”

The pancakes rumbled in his belly.

His mother turned her back and put the apron on the counter, making sure the strings were tucked neatly beneath it. “Oh hon, it doesn’t matter. You’re home now.” She faced him with a smile on her face. “That’s all that matters.”

“Damn it!” Gary shoved away from the table. He had learned early in his imprisonment that anger had to be suppressed and so it took a few seconds for him to recognize the strong feelings that rose in him. His hands shook as he grabbed the basket and headed for the bathroom.

When he was done with his shower, he sat in the living room staring out the window. Icicles glinted in the sunlight but the beauty was lost on him. Guilt engulfed him as he thought of his parents forced to go back to work to make ends meet. He didn’t know how long he sat, the anger burning through him, because he had lost all his ability to judge time but after awhile his mom entered the room.

”Gary? I made an appointment for you with Doc Evans. It’s in about thirty minutes.”

“I don’t need to see the doctor.” He focused on a lace doily but didn’t really see it. Instead, he saw how gaunt he’d looked in the bathroom mirror. Gary didn’t need another person to see that.

“It would make me feel better.”

Gary turned to look at her, his anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “I don’t have money to pay a doctor, Mom.”

“Don’t worry about it, honey.”

Gary jumped up from the couch. “How can I not worry? I have no job, no business, no home and now I’ve caused you and dad to have to go back to work!” He shook his head and swallowed hard as he moved to the window. “ I’ll pay you back for everything. Somehow.”

“You don’t have to pay us anything. You should know that, Gary.”

He heard her come up behind him, but he couldn’t look at her and in a moment, she left.

An hour later, he sat in the doctor’s office slipping his arms back into his shirt. “Well, what’s the verdict? Am I gonna live?” He smiled but his voice came out harder than he intended. Gary couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to be here.

Doctor Evans didn’t smile back; instead he turned from writing in Gary’s chart. “Do you want your mother in here while I discuss my findings?”

Gary shrugged. “Might as well. It’ll save me having to explain everything.” He knew she would badger him for details otherwise.

Doc Evans hair was almost snow white now. Last time Gary had seen him had been about five years ago when he was visiting his parents and had caught a flu bug. The doc’s hair had been steel gray then. He had always been cheerful. He must be having a bad day. Gary knew how that felt. The doctor opened the door and motioned his mom into the room.

His eyes were still the same startling blue and full of concern when he looked at Gary. “I’m confident that you’ll live. However, you’re malnourished and anemic.” He glanced at his notes and said, “You’re down about thirty pounds from the last time you were here.”

His mom gasped and Gary buttoned his shirt up, not meeting her eyes. Maybe he shouldn’t have had her in here after all. He didn’t think he had lost that much weight.

Doc Evans sat on a stool beside the counter. “I think the anemia will correct itself with a proper diet, so we’ll just give it some time and re-check it in about a month.”

Gary nodded.

The doctor sighed. “I’m a bit more concerned about your shoulders. Your range of motion is pretty limited and I think, from your description of how the…injuries occurred, that you probably have torn rotator cuffs. Surgery might be in your future.”

He felt his face heat up as the doctor brought up the conversation he’d had with him about how he had hurt his shoulders. It was something he didn’t want his mom to know.

“You also complained of some pain in your ribs, so I’m going to send you for x-rays for those.”

“What about his stomach, Doc? He’s been having some problems with food.”

Doc raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Really? You didn’t mention that, Gary.”

Gary shook his head and shot his mother a look. “No, I’m fine. I got sick last night but only because I ate more than I’m used to. I did better this morning.”

“And that ‘s the only time you vomited recently?”

Gary squirmed, his feet dangling off the exam table. He couldn’t look at Doc in the eyes.

“Gary? Is there something else you need to tell me?”

The tone of voice sent shivers down his spine. He couldn’t not answer. Not anymore. Questions were meant to be answered. “Uh, a couple of days ago I got sick, but only because I had some water that went down the wrong pipe.”

“You aspirated water? Enough that you vomited?”

“I…I guess.”

Doc scribbled something else down in Gary’s chart, shaking his head. “Do I want to know how you managed to aspirate that much?” He glanced up at Gary. His face wore a look of pity and revulsion.

Gary looked at him, barely managing to speak. He shook his head, ducking it and pulled at some cotton fibers stuck to the end of his finger from the poke he’d received when his blood was checked. “No, sir.”

His mother’s gaze went between Gary and the doctor. “What?”

“May I tell Lois, Gary?”

Gary looked at her and then the doctor. He shrugged. Why couldn’t the doctor let it go?

“There’s a barbaric practice that is simplistic but terrifying. I’ve heard of it but didn’t know it was still done. I don’t know exactly how it’s done, but a person is made to breathe through a cloth over their nose and mouth while water is poured over the cloth. Or the cloth is already saturated. Is that about right, Gary?”

Gary’s heart began pounding and stood up and crossed to the door. He stopped for a moment, his hand on the doorknob. He saw the horrified expression on his mother’s face and it about killed him. He fled the room.

Gary didn’t speak much on the way to get his x-rays done and his mom’s attempts fell flat. When they arrived back home, he went straight to his room with the excuse that he was tired. It wasn’t really an excuse. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

He lay on his bed looking up at the ceiling fan. A few posters from his teen years still decorated the walls, their edges curling from age. Cheryl Tiegs smiled at him, her body toned and glistening. A poster of Ryne Sandberg adorned the opposite wall. It was of his rookie year playing baseball for the Chicago Cubs. On his dresser sat a photograph of him at his junior prom. He wore a goofy grin and a white tux. His date had a pale dress made of some fluffy material. Her hair was sprayed and teased to amazing heights.

Gary wished that he could go back to that time where his biggest worry was whether the Cubs would win or lose or what shirt to wear on a date.

He rubbed his fingers into his eyes and tried to think of what he was going to do with his life now. The last thing he wanted to do was live in the past. He was out of that hellhole and he needed to put it behind him.

What he needed to do was talk to Marissa. He hadn’t even had a chance to speak to her yet. He rolled to a sitting position and thought he’d grab something to eat too. It was too early for dinner, but he hadn’t felt much like eating at lunch. Feeling better now that his mind was on other things, Gary headed towards the kitchen.

He wondered if his mom had any apples. His mouth watered at the thought of fresh fruit. Gary heard voices in the kitchen and paused. He didn’t want to see any of his parent’s friends yet. Then he recognized his dad’s voice. A pang of guilt shot through him as he thought of his dad having to work and he wasn’t sure he could face him yet. But he needed Marissa’s number and his mom had it in her address book somewhere.

“…it sickened me, Bernie, the things they did to him. They almost drowned him…and that was just a few days ago!”

“The senators promised me that he was being treated well. The lying bastards!”

Gary froze as he turned into the doorway.

Enemy Combatant--Chapter 6

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 16:49:31 GMT

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 6

“Hey, Gar!” Bernie greeted his son, even as guilt rose up and heated his face. Gary stood in the entrance, his face a mask.

“Hi, Dad.” Gary moved towards a corner of the kitchen and reached into a bowl of fruit, fishing out an apple. He looked at the golden fruit and took a bite then wiped some juice from his mouth. His eyes closed for just a few seconds and Bernie could tell he was savoring the taste.

“That a good one? I had one the other day that didn’t have too much flavor.”

“It tastes good to me.” He leaned back against the counter and took another bite. His face was still blank and Bernie glanced at Lois. She returned his look, her face scrunched into a worried frown.

“You overheard us talking?”

He nodded, not meeting their eyes, instead, studying the apple as if he'd never seen one before.

“The doc mentioned some stuff to your mother after you left the office. He thinks if you wanted to pursue any legal avenues, he has plenty of physical evidence that would help a case.”

Gary’s eyes flew to his and widened in fear. “No! I…I don’t want to…to do anything like that.”

“Hon, you should think about it. It’s not right...what they did to you.”

“I’m fine now, Mom.” Gary looked down, studying his apple some more, then his arm dropped and his gaze focused beyond the window. “I just want to forget all about it,” he said simply, his shoulders slumping. He moved to the trash-can and threw the half-eaten apple away. He stood for a moment as though lost in thought then said,“I came out here to get Marissa’s number.”

Lois hopped up from the table. “I have it right here.” She opened a drawer by the refrigerator and pulled out her address book, flipping through until she came to the correct page.

Gary took it. “Thanks. I think I’ll go in the other room and call.”

He didn’t have to say it, but Bernie got the message that Gary wanted privacy. “Okay, son.”

***********************************************

“Marissa? It’s me.” Gary smiled at Marisss’s cry of surprise and joy and traced a finger in circles on the smooth cherrywood of the dining room table.

“I’m at my parents right now. Got out a few days ago.” He cleared his throat in an attempt to clear the emotion out of his voice.

“Are you okay, Gary? We were all so worried!” He could hear her concern and it touched him. He had missed her. She had been his confidant, best friend and surrogate sister since before the paper had begun arriving. Marissa had been the one to set him straight when he needed it and to give him strength when he felt weak.

He scratched the back of his neck. “I...I’m fine. Lost a little weight, but my mom’s doing her best to fix that." His voice faltered. He was not really ready to say any more about his detention and then he thought of her happy news. "But, hey, how about you? I hear congratulations are in order. Or is it best wishes? I never know what the right thing is to say to the bride.” He laughed and knew he was rambling.

“Thank you. We missed you so much at the ceremony, Gary. Emmett made you honorary best man. We left a spot for you at the table.” Her voice cracked and she sniffed.

Gary felt like a large rock had lodged itself in his throat and he tried to swallow the lump. “I…I’m sorry I missed it.”

“I know. Me too.”

There was a long pause and Gary didn’t know what to say. “Uh, they say that my assets and stuff will be unfrozen shortly. Not sure what I’m going to do about McGinty’s though.”

“Oh, Gary. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to tell you. I paid the taxes on it, but I had to get another job since they closed the place down.”

“No, it’s okay, Marissa. Of course you couldn’t hang around waiting for me. You had to move on.” He paused and then went on, “My mom tells me you’re a psychologist now.” He tried to smile but rubbed the heel of hand against his eye and up through his hair.

“Yes. I finally finished school.” He heard her sigh. “What are you going to do now, Gary?”

He scratched the back of his head and then propped his head on his hand, leaning his elbow on the table. “I'm not sure. Get a job somewhere, I guess.”

“There or in Chicago?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to sort it all out yet. I don’t even know what I can do.”

“You’re a smart guy, anyone would be lucky to have you. Emmett can probably put out some feelers for you. See what’s out there.”

“I’d appreciate that. I don’t know what I’ll put on my resume for the gap in my work history though.” He sighed and stared straight ahead at the dishes in the china cabinet. “I’ll think up something though. I can’t live off my parents.” He couldn’t help the guilt that leaked into his voice.

“Gary, you know your parents would do anything for you. You take the time you need to recover.”

“They’re working at the discount store, Marissa. All because of me.”

“Listen to me, Gary. Your parents love you and would give up anything for you and not care a bit about it. The same as you’d do for them. That’s what family does.”

Gary scrubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah. Hey, we should get together for lunch or something soon.” He hated the way he sounded, like he was talking to an acquaintance but he had run out of things to say.

Marissa didn’t speak for a long moment, then said, her voice sounding hurt, “Okay. Gary, we all care about you. Don’t forget that.”

He hung his head. “I won’t. Bye.”

******************************************

The next morning, he woke up to a knock on the bedroom door. Groggy, he glanced at the bedside clock. Six-thirty. He flopped back. “Yeah?”

“Gary! You won’t believe what I found outside this morning!”

He sat up in bed, a feeling of dread churning in his gut. Gary rolled out of bed and stumbled to the door. His dad stood on the other side, a big grin splitting his face as he held up a Sun-Times.

Gary grabbed it from him and staggered back until his legs bumped into the bed. He sat heavily, studying the front page. “No…no!”

“What? Gary, don’t you see? You can get your old life back now!”

Gary jumped from the bed and stormed past his dad, out into the kitchen and through the back door. He ran to the trash can and after tearing the paper into tiny pieces, he threw it in. He leaned on the can, his hands shaking. His dad stood a few feet away looking at him like he had gone crazy.

“Gary?” His eyes went to the closed trash-can and to Gary’s face. “There was an article about a guy getting crushed by a snowplow.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not my responsibility any more!” Gary pushed off of the can as if it contained radioactive material and held his hands up to this dad. “I…I can’t do it.”

He became aware of his feet as they started aching in the icy snow. Gary threw his arms around himself and dashed back into the house. Lifting up one foot and then the other, he rubbed the snow off them, standing to the side when his father entered behind him.

“I know you got a bad deal out it, Gar, but think of all the people you helped.” His dad stomped snow off his slippers.

Gary put his foot down and hobbled to a kitchen chair. At least he hadn’t been in his skivvies, having slept in a t-shirt and sweats. He leaned his forehead on his hands, his fingers digging into his scalp. He glanced up at the sound of a door opening down the hall.

“What’s going on? I heard yelling and slamming?” His mother came into the kitchen, her work smock tied on over her white blouse and khaki slacks.

She looked from one to the other in puzzlement.

Gary shook his head. A shiver swept over him. A chunk of snow melted between his toes.

His dad stood in on the mat by the door and swiped at some snow clinging to his pajama bottoms. “The paper came.”

His mom looked confused at first and then understanding dawned. “Gary’s paper?”

“It’s not my damn paper.”

“Yeah, that one.” His dad sank into the chair opposite him and pointed a finger at Gary. “You know what it means, don’t you?”

Gary remained silent. He didn’t care what it meant; he never wanted to see the thing again.

“How could you say that, Bernie? After all he’s gone through for that paper?” His mother glared at his dad.

“Don’t you guys see? This is his chance to prove what he was saying was true!”

Gary rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. “Even if it did, so what? You think they’re going to issue an apology, Dad? Say, you’re right, we were wrong. Here...here’s your life back.” His voice dripped sarcasm.

“Don’t you want to redeem yourself, Gar?”

Gary pulled his hands down and looked at his dad in disbelief? “Redeem myself? Do I need to? I thought the people who mattered already knew about the paper. Knew about my innocence.”

His dad leaned forward. “That’s not what I meant, son. I meant you could show the authorities.”

“I don’t think it works like that. If it did, it would have shown up sometime during my…my imprisonment.”

His mother shut the back door that his dad had left open. “Well, it’s gone now, right? It may not even show up again.”

“But what about the guy who gets clobbered by the plow?”

His mother gasped. “Oh no.” She gave Gary a worried glance.

Gary closed his eyes as anger shot through him. “I don’t know, Dad! Maybe he should look where he’s going!” He opened his eyes and tapped his chest. “Why is it my problem, anyway? I have enough of my own, don’t ya think?” He jumped up and headed for his room.

When he came out later after showering, both his parents had gone to work. His mother left him a note about various meal possibilities. He rummaged around in the cabinets and had bowl of cereal and a banana.

Later, he turned on the television, but it was filled with talk of impending war and he turned it off. He spent most of the day lying on the couch, finally getting up and making his parents dinner and shoveling a few inches of new snow that had fallen during the day. The physical exertion cleared his head somewhat.

Dinner was strained and guilt lay heavy on him like a lead blanket. Some schmuck was dead now because he hadn’t done anything. Gary went to bed early, citing the shoveling as having tired him out.

His mom asked if his shoulder bothered him and he grunted a short no. How he wished she didn’t know that about him. Now he’d never hear the end of it.

He wasn’t the least bit sleepy and he tossed until past midnight before finally falling into a fitful sleep. He awoke once, a nightmare blinking out as he opened his eyes in his room, lit faintly from the streetlights. He had dreamed of the newspaper in his mouth while the guards poured water on him. The paper had literally been killing him.

The next morning, he entered the kitchen.

“Did the paper come?” He hated to ask but had to. He prayed that yesterday had been an aberration.

“Nope. Guess you scared it away.” His dad smiled at him.

He felt relief but at the same time, he was puzzled that it had given up so soon. Whenever he had tried getting rid of it before, it had always come back. Well, he wasn’t about to question his good fortune.

His parents both headed out to work shortly afterwards, taking separate cars because his dad’s car needed an oil change.

After breakfast and getting dressed, he skimmed through his wallet and checked the money he had left. His cash was down to just over three hundred dollars. The bus ticket and sweatshirt had set him back a lot. He needed a job of some sort. Maybe he could get one at the store where his parents worked. It was a start.

Gary pulled on his sweatshirt and found an old jacket in his closet. He dug up some spare gloves in the hall closet and began the walk to the store. It wasn’t far. Nothing in Hickory was far from anything else.

At the discount store, he wandered for a little while, and spotted his mother working as a cashier. She got a strange look on her face when she saw him. Was she ashamed of him?

His smile died and he turned to head back to hardware. He figured that’s where his dad would be working. He stopped an employee.

“Excuse me, but could you tell me where Bernie Hobson is? I’m his son and I just need to see him for a minute.”

The man’s brow furrowed. “He called in sick today.”

Gary tried to control his expression and thanked the man. Turing, he strode back to the front of the store. He caught his mother’s eye and from the way guilt flushed her face, he knew.

He knew why the paper wasn’t there this morning. It wasn’t because it never came, like he had hoped. It was because his dad had taken it. That’s why his parents took separate cars. His dad was in Chicago taking care of the paper.

Fuming, he made quick work of heading back to his parents’ house. He threw a duffle bag he found in the back of his closet onto his bed and tossed his old clothes in it. He’d have to pick up some socks and underwear but the rest of his old stuff would do for now.

Gary would have to leave. There was no way around it. As long as he was here, the paper would come and his dad would feel compelled to act on the stories.

It didn’t take him long to pack. Other than his clothes, he only had some shaving gear and other toiletries his mom had picked up for him at work the day before. He set the bag on the floor of the living room. He rummaged in a junk drawer for a pad of paper and a pen and scrawled a quick note telling his parents that he loved them, but he had to go back to Chicago. He’d call them as soon as he could.

A quick search in the pantry came up with some granola bars, tuna in a little pouch, which was something he hadn’t seen before, and some packages of crackers. He made a few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches too, added a couple of apples and a bottle of water. He hoped he could refill the bottle as he went.

He threw the straps of the duffle over his shoulder, wincing it contacted his not quite healed bruise. Hiking it up, he pulled on his gloves and left the house. If he hurried, he could make the highway before dark and hoped to catch a ride with a trucker.

Gary trudged through the snow for three hours, two of them on the highway before a trucker stopped for him.

“Hop in.”

“Thanks.” Gary tried his best to hop in, as bid, but his feet were nearly frozen. Finally, he managed to climb up into the seat.

“I don’t usually take on riders, but it’s awfully cold out there tonight.” The man pulled back onto the highway. “You goin’ far?”

Gary tried to catch his breath. He guessed this was where the anemia kicked in. He felt his heart pounding and his breathing came in rapid pants from the exertion. “Chicago.”

The trucker nodded. His gray beard held a few crumbs from some cookies from a bag beside him. “Can do. I’m heading to Milwaukee, so I can let you off somewhere. It’ll be a bit outside the city though. I try to go around when I can.”

“No problem. I can take a bus from there. I appreciate the ride.” Gary took his gloves off and rubbed his hands in front of the heat vent.

“Want a cookie? Help yourself.” The man nodded towards the open package.

“Sure, thanks.” He had to make his own food last a little bit. The cookie was good. The first he’d had in a long time.

After a few attempts at making small talk, the trucker turned up his music and Gary leaned his head against the door. The warmth seeped in and he relaxed, falling asleep within minutes.

Gary awoke when the truck’s engine changed sound. Sitting up, he scrubbed his eyes and twisted a kink out of his back.

“I’m coming up to a truck stop just outside the city.” The trucker glanced over at him, his bushy eyebrow raised. “You got some intense dreams there, buddy.”

Gary looked blankly at him. He didn’t remember dreaming anything. “Huh?”

“You kept mumbling about how you didn’t do it and then it sounded like someone was beating the crap outta you.”

His face burned and he was glad for the darkness of the cab. “Wow, must have been that old movie I watched earlier today.”

“Oh yeah? What movie would that be?”

Gary shifted in his seat. “I don’t know the name. Just some old black and white about a prisoner of war during World War Two. Pretty scary stuff.”

“Ah. Well, here we go.” The man pulled into a parking lot and set his truck to idle as he exited.

Gary grabbed his bag and stiffly climbed down. He circled the rig and put his hand out to the trucker. “I really appreciate the ride. Sorry for talking in my sleep.”

The trucker laughed and shook the offered hand. “Don’t be. It was entertaining. Of course, would have been better if there had been a female involved.”

Gary forced a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” He began to walk away.

“Hey!”

Gary turned, walking backwards. “Yeah?”

The trucker stood, his hands shoved in his pockets. He shrugged. “Take care, man. I was in ‘Nam and, well, I don’t know where you been, but it don’t sound like it was fun.”

Gary stopped and then gave a short nod. “Thanks. You too.”

It was late enough that by the time he found the El tracks and rode in towards the heart of the city, the sky to the east was turning pink. He found the warehouse district and waited outside one until the offices opened. Gary filled out some applications, answered some questions and his willingness to start immediately and work night shift got him a job. He was instructed to come back that night at ten o’clock.

When he exited the warehouse, he heard a meow and looked down. The Sun-Times lay in front of him, the cat sitting beside it. He sighed. At least it wasn’t on his dad’s doorstep. He couldn’t chance what happened to him happening to his father.

Gary paused for a second then swung his bag over his shoulder and stepped over the paper.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Enemy Combatant--Chapter 7

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 16:47:24 GMT

Chapter 7

Gary walked the neighborhood. It was a far cry from the River North area around McGinty’s, which was full of trendy lofts and fun, popular chain restaurants. Two blocks from the warehouse, he found a little motel. The sign outside said ‘ acancies’ so he headed in.

A woman sat at the check in window and glanced up from the TV on a table beside her, obviously put out being pulled away at whatever she was watching. Gary set his duffle bag down and glanced around at the lobby. A musty odor seeped up from the steel gray carpet and the smell of cabbage and garlic wafted from somewhere within the building. “How much for a room?”

“Twenty-five by the night or one-sixty for the week. If you pay by the day, you have to pay the daily rate.”

Gary thought for a second. That would take more than half of his money, but he had to live somewhere. If he was careful, he’d have enough left to eat with until his first paycheck.”

“I’ll take a week.” He hoped he’d get paid by then. He pulled out his cash and paid in advance then took the key and headed for room eighteen.

The room held a double bed made up with a drab gray bedspread and faded gold curtains. The cabbage smell was less noticeable here but a rank mildew smell hit him like a brick when he opened the bathroom door. Oh well, he’d certainly made do with worse. He was happy that there was a tiny kitchen. At least he’d be able to cook and save some money that way.

Gary ate a sandwich and eyed the other one but put it back, deciding to save it for later. Instead he ate an apple and a granola bar, washing it all down with water. One good thing about Chicago was that the water coming out of the taps in March was ice-cold lake water.

He stretched out on the bed intending to just take a short nap but when he woke up, it was dark already. Panicked, he fumbled for the light switch and then looked around for a clock. What if he had missed his first day of work? He didn’t have a watch and there was no alarm clock in the room. A clock on the stove read seven thirty-eight. Whew. He was okay.

Gary unpacked and then took a shower. Afterwards, he refilled his water bottle and ate the last sandwich, deciding to take some crackers and the other apple with him for his break. He thought of the doctor’s advice about a proper diet and vowed to get some good stuff after work tomorrow morning.

He tucked his lunch in a plastic bag he found beneath sink hoping the smell didn’t seep into his food. The walk only took ten minutes and it was another hour of paperwork before he got to actually work. After that, it was seven hours of loading and unloading trucks. Sweat ran down his back and his muscles quivered with fatigue when he sat down for his lunch break. He gulped the water and looked at the crackers, not really hungry but ate a few anyway. The apple was good though and the break went way too fast. He stood and tried not to stagger as he became light-headed. Gary knew he really should have eaten more. He shook it off and finished his shift.

He trudged back to the hotel after stopping in a small grocery for some staples like peanut butter, jelly, bread, milk and a few other items. The prices were higher than he expected and he wondered if he would be able to make his money stretch after all.

He turned the corner and switched the bags to one hand, fumbling for his key. His focus was on turning it to fit in the lock and he almost tripped on the cat. “Damn it!”

The cat licked a paw and regarded him with unblinking golden eyes. Gary didn’t look at the headline and opened the door, careful not to touch the paper. “Go on, git outta here.”

The cat stretched languidly and sauntered towards the open door.

“Uh-uh, no you don’t. They’ll kick me out if I have a cat in here. Besides, I don’t have enough food for you.” He blocked the entrance with his foot and nudged the cat back before shutting the door. Why didn’t the animal go back to whoever had fed him while Gary was gone? Had someone else been receiving the paper in that time?

Gary unloaded his few purchases and decided to make a tuna casserole out of the package of tuna he had brought and the large bag of egg noodles. He wasn’t exactly sure what he needed besides milk, tuna, peas and noodles but he figured if he mixed them all together and baked it, it would be edible at least. Opening the few cabinets, he swore. He couldn’t find any dishes or pans. Then he remembered the one he had seen under the sink.

It was full of murky water and stunk, but he found a quarter bottle of dish soap and scrubbed it out. It was big enough for the casserole and he’d just have to eat it out of the pot. Rummaging in some drawers, he was relieved to find some utensils.

The meal came out better than he hoped. He ate some then slept the rest of the day, woke up, ate some more and went to work.

The next two weeks were a repeat. Every morning the cat was there, but he ignored it. With his first paycheck, he bought a wider variety of food, paid another week on the room and bought some pots and pans at the thrift store. A couple of times, he went out with a few guys from work for breakfast. Mostly, he kept to himself. He found a used bookstore one Saturday and spent five dollars on a half dozen paperbacks.

He should call his parents and Marissa, but he avoided it out of guilt. He supposed he should check on the status of his assets, maybe they were unfrozen. Gary went to his old bank and tried to write a check. No luck. His account was still frozen. The cashier looked at him with disdain.

One morning he came out of work, thinking of nothing more than taking a shower and going to sleep. He trudged down the sidewalk, his eyes on the pavement as he avoided some broken sections of sidewalk. He was startled to hear someone call his name.

“Hobson!”

The voice was female and he recognized it. His heart began to race. He looked around and spotted Toni Brigatti coming towards him from across the street. Shoving his hands in his jacket, he waited for her to get closer. Her cheeks were pink and her hair was longer than he remembered, but it still shone a glossy black. “Hey, Brigatti.”

“You know you have people wondering where the heck you disappeared to, Hobson?” She stopped in front of him and crossed her arms.

Gary schooled his features into a blank expression but inside his anger rose, mixing with hurt that this was the greeting she gave him. “You know where I went, Brigatti. You were the last person I saw besides guards for a year and a half.”

Her face turned crimson and her eyes slid away from his. “That’s not what I meant. Marissa called me about your release and then a few days later, your mom called me and told me that you were out.”

“Oh.” Gary waited to see where she was going with this.

“They’re frantic about you. I had to do some investigating to find you.”

Gary narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry that I didn’t call my folks or Marissa, but since when is that an offense worthy of a police investigation?”

“It’s not a police investigation. I just did some looking as a personal favor for your mother.”

“Well, you found me. I’ll call my mom as soon as I get a chance. I don’t have a phone right now and money’s been kind of tight to spend on a long distance call from a payphone.” He felt his face heat up from the admission of how dirt poor he was. He looked down at his faded jeans. The thighs were dirty from work and it was an effort to keep himself from rubbing the day’s growth of beard he knew he had.

Brigatti’s face softened. “I’m sorry for how I blurted that out.”

Gary nodded. “How have you been, Brigatti?” Try as he might, he couldn’t hold a grudge. She was just acting how she always did. It was actually refreshing to have someone treat him the same.

“I’ve been okay. Still trying to catch bad guys and put them away—” She stopped and winced, and Gary looked away in embarrassment.

Just then, one of Gary’s co-workers sauntered out of the building. Michael was a dark skinned African American with the whitest smile Gary had ever seen. He flashed it now and called out to him, “Hey, Gary, want to go to that little diner for breakfast? Jose is getting his stuff and he’s going too.”

Gary glanced at Brigatti and felt a sense of both relief and regret. Here was the perfect excuse to get away from her and yet, he didn’t really want to. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

Michael approached them, his smile turned in Brigatti’s direction. “Hey, man, if you got some other type of…activity planned, don’t let us keep you.”

Gary shook his head and tried not to smile at Brigatti’s stained cheeks. “Michael, I’d like you to meet Detective Brigatti.”

At the mention of her work title, Michael’s smile fell from his face. “Oh. Nice to meet you, Detective.”

“I’m here as a friend, not a detective.” She held her hand out. “I’m Toni Brigatti, nice to meet you, Michael.”

Michael’s grin returned. “The pleasure’s mine, pretty lady.”

Gary rolled his eyes.

“I haven’t seen Hobson in awhile. We’re old friends and I just thought I’d stop by and say hello.” She shot him a tight smile, triumph in her eyes.

“Old friends?” Gary couldn’t help the trace of bitterness in his voice. Their history included a lot of things, but friendship had been pretty far down on the list.

Brigatti turned to him. “I thought we were.”

He heard the hurt in her voice and regretted his comment. “Yeah, I guess we were.”

Michael looked between the two of them and began backing away. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Toni.” He inclined his head back towards the warehouse door. “Gary? I’ll wait over here for Jose. I hope to see you at breakfast.” He turned and left.

“You going with them, Hobson? You look like you could use a good breakfast.”

Gary crossed his arms, feeling self-conscious of his thin frame. The weather had been warm for mid April and he wore only a light jacket. He thought he’d regain a few pounds, but it was hard to gain weight when he did hard labor at night and had to eat on a tight budget. “Thanks,” was all he managed to get out. He looked beyond her to the tractor-trailers parked in the lot on the other side of the street.

“I did it again, didn’t I?” Brigatti shook her head.

Gary didn’t respond and was trying to think of a way to get away from her. He wished Jose would hurry up. He jumped when Brigatti touched his arm.

“How are you doing? Really? Your mom is worried and told me that you were malnourished. It was thoughtless of me to say what I said.”

Gary took a step back, his eyes barely landing on Brigatti. Who else had his mom told? “I'm fine. You can tell my mom that when you speak to her next. I have a job, a bed and enough to eat."

“She’s just worried, Hobson.”

He ran a hand through his hair and laughed sarcastically then gave Brigatti a hard look. Her position as a detective had afforded her some insights to interrogation techniques. “And guess what else you can tell her, Brigatti? Tell her that I even get to keep the food in my belly long enough to digest it. See, nobody’s half drowning me any more and making me puke my guts out.” He paused and took a deep breath then said, “So, I think I’m getting better pretty damn fast considering.”

Brigatti’s mouth dropped open and before she had a chance to reply, Gary spotted Jose exiting the building. “It’s been nice talking to you. I gotta go.” He turned and jogged a few paces, catching up to his co-workers. He forced himself to look straight ahead.

*********************************

Gary squinted at the invoice and then looked at the rows of shelving. He spotted the correct shelf and began loading his handcart up with boxes. He paused for a second and rubbed his shoulder. He was fine with movement up to his shoulder level and could lift and move boxes, but getting anything from an upper shelf always involved pain.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

Michael stopped his cart beside Gary and began loading it. The shift was almost over and both men were dusty and sweat-stained, but Michael never seemed to tire. Gary rotated his shoulder and nodded. “Yeah. Just pulled something a little.”

“Ice it up when you get home. That’s what I used to have to do.” Michael reached up and retrieved a box. “Oh! I saw your detective friend the other day.”

Gary paused in the process of grabbing a box. “Yeah?”

“Yep. You in some kind of trouble?”

Swiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm, Gary shrugged. “Not that I know of. Why?”

“She was asking me all kinds of odd questions about you. Like what you’re up to. Where you live. If you leave work for silly reasons or, and this was really strange, if you suddenly start reading the newspaper.” Michael gave Gary a grin.

Anger simmered in Gary. It wasn’t enough that she snooped around until she found him, now she was going around behind his back questioning his coworkers. He couldn’t imagine why, but he didn’t like it one bit. “What did you tell her?” He tried to sound casual.

“Wasn’t much to tell her. Just said that you come to work, work your ass off all night, go home and come back and repeat the excitement the next night.”

“Good.”

“I think she has the hots for you, man.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Gary snorted and shook his head. “Hardly.” He snagged the last box in his order and plopped it on top of the others.

“Why else would she ask what you do in your time off?” Michael finished filling his order and the two moved towards the truck backed into the loading dock. “I told her that I seen you around with a six foot tall blonde babe with the body of a goddess!” He made curvy motions with his hand. “Uumph!”

Laughing harder than he had in a long time at Michael’s vivid imagery, Gary unloaded his handcart. “And where can I find this blonde goddess?”

“I have no idea, and if I did, I’d beat you to her.” Michael moved farther into the truck to unload on the other side. He called over his shoulder, “Besides, you got a hot little mama in the detective. You don’t need no blonde.” The conversation died as both men turned their efforts to finishing their tasks.

Gary sighed and picked up his next order.

*****************************

“Detective Brigatti speaking.” Toni shook her head, giving the detectives at the other desk a glare as they argued Cubs versus White Sox. “Say again?” She put her finger in her other ear. “Hobson?”

“What are you doing asking my coworkers all kinds of questions about me?”

Toni winced at the hard anger in his voice. “Your parents wanted to know how you’re doing. You said you were going to call.”

“Look, I’ll call them when I’m ready. You have no right to pry into my life!”

“I’m not trying to pry. Besides, if you’d call them yourself I wouldn’t have to question anyone at all.”

She heard him sigh and there was a long silence. She looked at the phone, thinking maybe it had become disconnected.

“I appreciate you putting my parents’ minds at ease. You’re right, I shoulda called them. But, now, just back off, would ya?”

She tried not to feel hurt at his words. While it was true that his parents had asked her to find out where their son was living and what he was doing, she had also wanted to know for herself. The brief conversation at his work had been so awkward, she had hesitated to go to him again so, instead had looked to the only person who seemed to talk to the guy, and that was his coworker. “You got it, Hobson. I’m amazed that anyone still cares after the way you’ve ignored them since getting out. Marissa, at least, deserves an explanation.”

She heard rustling on the other end and could picture him running his hand through his hair in that nervous way he had.

“Yeah. She does. I…I just…” His voice faltered.

After waiting a long moment, she began to get concerned. “Hobson? You there?”

“I’m not the same…the same person. Nothing’s the same any more.”

The line went dead and Toni closed her eyes, her heart aching at the anguish in his voice.

***************************

Gary set the receiver down and walked back to his room. He knew he needed to speak to his parents and Marissa. His parents had a right to know that he had left to protect them. Marissa deserved to hear from him after all the pain he had put her through. She’d had to deal with all the mess left behind with McGinty’s. He just couldn’t face her yet. She would ask him about his imprisonment and he wouldn’t be able to keep anything from her. She knew him too well and he didn’t have the energy to lie.

He picked the paper up as he crossed the threshold of his room. It went right in the trashcan along with the one from yesterday, which was now today’s paper. Gary never read them, not even after they were old news. The last time he had gone to the diner with the guys, the news had been on the television and, not thinking, he had been looking at the screen when a sobbing mother came on and told the reporter what a sweet boy her son had been. He had been killed in a hit and run the day before. Gary’s appetite died and he had feigned illness, leaving the diner before ordering.

The next two weeks passed and Gary checked his bank account again. He was pleasantly shocked to find that it was unfrozen. He mailed a check to his parents. It wasn’t nearly enough to cover what they had spent, but it was a start.

He could sell McGinty’s now. He couldn’t afford to re-open it and Marissa was half-owner and he didn’t want to borrow anything from her. Gary knew that he should talk it over with her and discuss the sale of the building. With his half, he could at least find a decent place to live and have a little cushion to look for a better job.

He arrived home one morning to find the cat on his doorstep, which wasn’t unusual, but what was different this time is that the feline didn’t give him a placid look when he went past him. Instead, he hissed.

Fanfic: Enemy Combatant--Chapter 8

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 16:44:14 GMT

From Early Edition
Pairings: None
Genre: Angst
Rated:PG-13
Status: WIP, but next two unposted chapters just need a little editing, and only one chapter after that. Story should be finished within the next couple of weeks if not sooner.

Gary is detained post-September 11th when his attempts to avert the tragedy bring him to the attention of the authorities.

This story is about how Gary Hobson was affected by September 11th. It's a delicate subject and I tried my best to handle it with care.

Characters and premise borrowed from Early Edition.
Comments welcome.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 8

Gary shook his head and attempted to skirt the feline and get his key in the lock. The cat had other ideas and swiped at Gary’s leg with his claw. Dancing back out of the way, Gary held up his hands. “Fine, I’ll look at the paper. Will you let me in then?”

A woman from two doors down exited her room and gave Gary a wide berth as she went by. She threw a look at him and then the cat and muttered about the crazy riff-raff all over the place.

Gary glared at her retreating back then turned back to the cat. “See what ya did? You’re gonna get me kicked outta here.” Warily, he leaned over and retrieved the paper.

The cat allowed him to open the door and sauntered in behind Gary and let out a low menacing rumble when Gary set the paper on the bed. “Hey, keep your fur on straight, I just have to take off my jacket.”

Gary’s attempts at stalling the inevitable didn’t calm him at all. His heart pounded and his hands shook as he picked up the Sun-Times. He skimmed the front page and didn’t find much. Flipping the pages, he found one article. It involved a road construction worker getting killed on the Dan Ryan Expressway.

Gary dropped the paper on the bed and scrambled backwards, trying to avoid looking at the smiling picture of Dennis Mattson, the father of three who would meet his demise before the day was out. He ran his hand through his hair and his eyes shot to the cat. “I said I’d look at it. I never said I’d do anything.”

The cat jumped onto the bed and promptly curled up and went to sleep. Gary longed to do the same thing and headed into the bathroom to shower. When he came out, the paper hadn’t moved and Dennis Mattson continued beaming at him from the newsprint. His eyes seemed to follow Gary as he crossed the room to the kitchen area.

Grabbing his clean bowl, he poured what was left of his corn flakes into it and covered them with milk. He didn’t have a table and usually just sat on the bed to eat. The cat was still sleeping and the paper rattled as the heat kicked on. Wanting to let sleeping cats lie, he ate standing at the foot of the bed. All the while, the picture glared at him.

The flakes sat in his stomach like lead and he couldn’t take another bite. He poured what was left in the garbage and tossed the warped plastic bowl in the sink where it flipped and wobbled in a circle. Gary braced his hands on each side of the sink and watched it spin. Could he do it? Could he do this one save? Gary’s head sagged down and he took a deep breath, easing it out as a certainty came over him. How could he not?

Gary looked at the paper, his mind made up, but even so, his feet felt nailed to the kitchen linoleum. Sweat broke out on his forehead and he moved to the bed, reaching for the paper. As he read the details, his brain was trying to form a plan. The car that hit Mattson would be speeding through the construction zone at around 2:30pm. That gave Gary plenty of time.

He stretched out on the bed, but sleep was slow in coming. Not only did dread and fear keep him awake, but a shiver of excitement coursed through him as well. He tried to shake it off and turned over. Later, he woke up and his eyes shot to the kitchen stove in a panic, worried that he had overslept. Why it mattered to him now, he didn’t know, but ever since the paper had come to his parents’ house, he had felt guilty over the death of the man from the snowplow. In his mind, he knew that every day since then, more deaths had been racking up. The reminder on the television at the diner had only twisted the screws of guilt into his head.

A knock sounded at his door and he jumped. Nobody had ever come to his room before and he hesitated before tossing the covers aside and pulling his jeans on. Still zipping them, he peered through the peephole. Michael? What was he doing here and how had he known where Gary lived?

Gary opened the door. “Hey, Michael.” He scratched his head. “What’s going on?”

Michael grinned at him.“ I hope you weren’t sleeping, but I just bought a car and wanted to show someone. Wanna go for a ride?”

“Oh.” Gary had always assumed that Michael had a ton of friends. Why wouldn’t he? He was a friendly guy and always seemed to have a smile on his face, but right now, even though he grinned, Gary sensed a hesitation; as though he feared Gary might reject the offer. “Uh, sure. Let me just get my shoes on and grab my sweatshirt.”

Gary held the door open and allowed Michael in, trying to ignore his feelings of shame at his living arrangements. "How did you know where I lived?"

"I had to stop by my sister's apartment one morning and headed east instead of west. You were a bit in front of me and I saw you head in here. The desk clerk gave me your room number. Hope you don't mind."

Gary shrugged. "No, not at all." He grabbed his shoes out from under th bed and sat down to slip them on. “What kind of car did ya get?”

Michael had found the cat and was petting it, not even taking a glance around the room. “It’s a ’95 Oldsmobile Cutlass. It' one sweet ride. Not too many miles on it either. All leather interior. Man, you gotta see it!”

Gary laughed and tied his shoes. “I’m coming.” He started for the door, and paused for just a moment. It would be so easy to just dash out and ignore the save. The cat didn’t even hiss at him; he just regarded him with those amber eyes. Gary snatched the paper off the bed and called over his shoulder to Michael as he locked up his room, “Hey, can we take it out on the expressway?”

**********************************

Gary had hoped that he could figure out an inconspicuous way to make the save, but it wasn’t like he could go traipsing around in a construction zone. He thought that if he could be in the right area at the right time, he could get Michael to go really slow or something and hold up traffic. That didn’t happen. Traffic was just speeding along. According to the paper, the section where Mattson would be killed was just ahead. Gary looked at the clock on the dash. Only two minutes and he still didn’t have a plan. He noticed a porta-potty for the workers up ahead in the construction zone. An idea sprouted.

“Stop!”

Michael stopped singing along to the radio and gave Gary a confused look. “What?”

“I…I gotta go to the bathroom. There’s one right there.” He pointed at the blue latrine.

“Are you crazy, man?”

“No, I just have to go now. I…I...have prostate problems.” He felt his face heat up.

Michael’s eyes bugged out. “No shit?” He glanced in his rearview mirror and pulled onto the shoulder. “I don’t know if they’ll let you…”

Gary didn’t hear the rest; he sprinted from the car as soon as he spotted Mattson along the lane about to remove some construction horses. “Dennis!” Traffic was noisy and the man didn’t hear Gary.

He felt the heat of a car on the back of his legs and dug deep to put on a burst of speed. Gary snatched Mattson by the armhole of his bright orange and yellow vest just as the construction horse the man was reaching for went crashing into the one in front of it. Mattson and Gary tumbled to the ground, the fall jolting Gary’s right shoulder.

Mattson was the first to sit up. His eyes were wide as he looked at the debris from the destroyed horse. “That woulda been me! How’d you know?”

Gary grit his teeth and clutched his shoulder. “Saw…saw you standing there and remembered seeing a car driving like a bat out of hell.” He paused to sit up, groaning and listing to the right, not quite able to focus on his reply.

“Gary!” Michael ran up. “What in the world just happened? You okay?”

“Shoulder hurts but I think it’ll be okay.” Gary took several deep breaths. The pain was easing.

Mattson stood and leaned over Gary. “Should we call an ambulance?”

More construction workers arrived and Gary gingerly rotated his arm, trying his hardest not to wince. He saw Michael do a double take when Mattson glanced at him and wondered if they knew each other. “ No, I think I’m fine now.” He held out his left hand to Michael, who carefully hauled him to his feet.

Gary swayed and Michael steadied him. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Mattson shook his head while extending his hand. “I owe you. Thanks.”

Gary smiled and clasped the hand, trying not to wince when they shook. “You’re welcome.” He straightened as much as he could and walked back to the car. Inside, he leaned back against the cream colored leather. His shoulder hurt like a son of gun but he felt good. Better than he had in a really long time.

Michael started the car and didn’t say anything for a long time. When he did, his voice shook. “What the hell was all that about?” He took the first exit to come up, heading back to the city.

“Nothing, just saw that car driving fast and erratically and when I saw that Mattson fellow, I figured I’d try and warn him.”

“While you went to the bathroom?” Michael shook his head. “That is one bullshit of a story, Gary.”

“Huh?”

Michael pulled into a fast food restaurant parking lot. “You left your newspaper on the seat and I picked it to read while you were gone. That guy’s picture was there one second and I was in the middle of reading about him getting killed when I heard the crash. I happened to look back down at the paper and the guy’s picture and the article…they were just gone!” He made a 'poof' motion with his hands.

Gary remained silent, his mouth set in a firm line.

“Then I go over there, and that guy you saved is the same one who was supposed to be dead. And how did you know his name anyway? Did he introduce himself as you guys were falling to the ground?”

“Okay, hold on.” Gary pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use denying what Michael had seen. “I get…get the Sun-Times a day early.” He looked at Michael to see his reaction.

The man studied Gary for several seconds then said, “And then you change the stories?”

Gary looked out the window, surprised at Michael's quick connection. It took a couple of tries but he finally said, “Yeah. I used to.”

“Used to?” Michael gestured vaguely out towards the road. “What was that I just saw?”

Gary shook his head and rubbed the heel of his hand against his brow. “What you saw…was the first one in a very long time.” He dropped his hand and closed his eyes.

“You mean you just stopped? Why?” There was an edge of anger to Michael’s voice and Gary gave him a puzzled look.

“I didn’t have a choice in the matter.” His own voice took on an edge and he gave the other man a hard look.

Michael looked away but his hands clenched the steering wheel. His voice was low and intense. “When did you stop?”

Gary had no trouble recalling the exact day. “I…I made my last save on September tenth in two-thousand and one.” It had been the last normal day for him.

“Oh God.” Michael’s throat convulsed in a sob and he pounded a fist on the wheel.

Gary’s anger died and he reached over to Michael, giving his shoulder a little shake.“What?”

Michael turned to him and Gary was shocked to see tears streaming down the other man’s face. “If you would have gone just one more day, you might have saved them.”

Gary turned and faced forward, fighting the feelings of guilt threatening to wash over him. “I tried to stop the events that day but no one would listen to me. I’m sorry.”

Michael turned, bending one leg and bringing his one knee up onto the seat. His rested on the rim of the steering wheel and he had his fist up against his mouth, as though trying to hold back what he was about to say. “It’s always about the hijackings and the Twin Towers. Nobody remembers the other people that died that day.” He shook his head and anger mixed with the sadness in his voice.

“How’s that?”

“My wife and daughter died that day.”

“They were on a plane? I’m so sorry. I did everything I could.” Gary slumped in his seat.”

Michael didn’t reply at first and then gave a harsh laugh. “No, everyone assumes that. My family died less dramatically. A semi hit them as my wife was driving Felice to school.”

Gary stilled and a cold sick feeling washed over him. He didn’t remember checking the paper that morning for any other accidents. He had just been frantic with the news of the hijackings and plane crashes. Oh God! “Was it in the newspaper? On the twelfth?” It would probably kill him, but he had to know.

Michael sucked his lips in, and gave Gary a look that needed no words. Then he simply nodded. He rubbed a hand over his face and looked out his side window.

“I’m sorry.” There was nothing more Gary could say. They sat in silence for about ten minutes then without a word, Michael drove Gary back to his room.

The next two night at work, neither spoke except to get the work done. Gary kept silent out of guilt and Michael acted distant. On the third day, Gary sat at a table in the break room eating his sandwich. The tv droned on with some infomercial and he stared blankly at it as he worked his way through the rest of his lunch.

“Hey.”

Gary glanced over in surprise to see Michael sit down at the table next to his. “Hi.”

The other man pulled out his lunch, and paused with his hand on a can of pop. “I’m sorry about the other day.”

Gary shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry about. I messed up.” Suddenly, his lunch tasted like sawdust and he could barely choke down the last bite.

“I been thinking about it, and if I had a newspaper like yours, I would probably have done the same thing. I mean, why save two when you can possibly save two thousand, ya know? It makes sense.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “Still pisses me off, but it’s not your fault. We all have to make choices.”

“I didn’t make a choice.” He could hardly bear to even look at Michael but he had to come clean. “It didn’t occur to me to look at anything else.” His voice cracked on the last word and he balled up his wrappers and paper bag.

Michael paused with his sandwich halfway to his mouth. He took a bite and chewed in silence, then said, “Still. Not much you could have done if you were trying to stop the other stuff from happening.”

Gary clenched the bag in his hand.

“Hey man, you hold that any harder and it’s gonna turn back into wood.”

Gary glanced at his hand then flung the bag at the garbage can in the corner, feeling no satisfaction when it went right in.

“Nice shot.” Michael took a sip of his drink then raised an eyebrow at him. “Why’d you have to stop?”

Gary glanced at him and then looked down at the tabletop. Someone had carved their initials in it and he traced the letters with a finger. “I…I was arrested because they thought I had something to do with…with the terrorists and stuff. They came a few days later.”

Michael was silent a long time and Gary couldn’t look at him. Finally, the other man said, “How long they keep you locked up?”

“Until about two months ago. Just before I got the job.”

“Wow. That’s rough, man. What did they charge you with?” Michael shook his head and ate a potato chip.

“They didn’t.”

Michael gave him a confused look and said, “What do you mean they didn’t? They gotta charge you with something. Can’t just keep you locked up without charges.”

“It’s different when they decide you’re an illegal enemy combatant.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

TBC...

Happy 21st Birthday, Joe!

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 00:43:30 GMT

Hey Joe! I was going to write a fic for you, but then I had another idea. You know I love Fanlib, so I thought, what if I could get some fellow Fanlibbers to read one of your stories? Ideally, I was trying to get 21 comments on it, but didn't quite make it. (although, they may still trickle in!) Lots of people are on vacation this week, so the forums have been kind of slow. Even so, I'm very happy with the turnout. So, go read your birthday thread on Fanlib Forums. Not only did many comment on your story directly, they also made some nice comments in the thread. :-)

Happy Birthday Thread

"Not a damn laurel."

Sat, 12 Jul 2008 19:30:38 GMT