by Joe Nobody
It dawned on Helen that they were still standing in the doorway. Again she offered, “Would you like to come in? My place is a mess, but you’re welcome to come in and sit down.”
“No, no thank you. I can’t stay long. Gotta get back to the unit. What about if I pick you up at 1900 hours tomorrow night?”
Helen’s brow wrinkled, not understanding. “What time? I don’t under…”
Pat interrupted her, “I’m sorry…I’ve been doing this for too long. Let me try again. Can I pick you up at 7 tomorrow evening?”
Helen smiled, “You bet. Do I need a formal gown?”
“No,” Pat said shaking his head. “Jeans will be just fine. There’ll be food as well. I’ll have you home by 11.”
After a quick goodbye, Pat pivoted and was gone. Helen closed and relocked her door, lost in a torrent of emotions. Things really are looking up, she thought.
Matagorda Island
July 4, 2017
Sage had been in a funk all day. It was her turn for dishwashing and fire patrol – random luck of the draw that she’d been assigned her two least favorite jobs on the same day. With the way things were going, laundry would be on tomorrow’s list.
“I’ll post about my crappy day on Faceb...” she started to mumble to herself. The realization social networks no longer existed stopped her cold. We’ve been here four months, and I’m still thinking about Facebook?
As she meandered back toward Boxer, she overheard two of the men talking about it being Independence Day. Maybe that’s why I’m in such a down mood, she thought.
Sage’s mind wandered back to last year’s Fourth of July holiday. She had met up with Karen and Teresa for a trip downtown to see the big fireworks display. The trio had run into some boys and shared their blanket at the park, oohing and ahhing at the colorful display.
The trip down memory lane led to concern over her friends. She knew Karen was probably okay – her folks had a country place outside of town. Teresa was a different story. Her folks were divorced, and her mom had to work two jobs just to pay the rent on their little apartment. She wished there was some way to talk to Teresa, just to see how her friend was doing.
Sage stopped walking and absentmindedly gazed at a flock of birds banking in formation. “I wish I had your freedom,” she whispered quietly to herself. That statement caused another wave of depression to roll through her mind. Her nineteenth birthday was coming soon. Who would have thought my life would be over after only 19 years?
She realized that was the crux of the problem. She had no life. Gone was her hope of becoming a nurse like her mother. Her social activities had vanished into thin air. She couldn’t watch a new movie, go to the mall to flirt with the guys, or even chat with her friends on the phone.
The more she thought about it, the more her feelings felt like a heavy weight on her chest. Sage’s eyes watered up, thinking about everything that was no more – all that she had lost and could never recover. There was no future here, nothing to look forward to.
Standing alone at the dock with her shoulders slumped, arms hanging loosely from her sides, Sage began to weep. At first, her eyes felt wet, and she had the sniffles. Then her throat felt tight, and her lungs needed breath. When her mind found the memories of the stuffed animals still lying on her bed back at the apartment, her body was racked with sobs.
Sage didn’t hear the footsteps behind her. Despite the near hysterical tears, she jumped a little as a strong pair of arms pulled her into a gentle embrace. She knew from the smell and touch that it was her father. She glanced up, realizing some minor comfort from the concerned look on his face.
For a brief moment, embarrassment flashed across her face, but it faded instantly. Her father didn’t say anything – he held her tight in a loving embrace and slowly petted the back of her head. Sage let it go. The emotional floodgates opened, and her body shuddered with the release. For several minutes it all poured out, and she felt like a little girl again.
When she was empty, she pulled back from Wyatt and rubbed the tears from her cheek. Wyatt produced a familiar handkerchief – one he had carried for years. That small square of cloth almost made her start again – it had been used to dry her eyes for as long as she could remember. The worn cotton carried a heritage of comforting skinned knees, healing broken hearts, and mending fences with her brother.
“It’s alright, baby…it’ll all be okay,” were her father’s first words.
Sage dried her face and cleared her nose, folding the hanky to find a dry spot. “Daddy, I’m sorry…I don’t know why I’m so…”
Wyatt pulled her close again, expecting another barrage of tears. Sage controlled it this time, pushing it back down inside. “I just miss my friends…and school…and life.”
“Come on baby, let’s go for a walk.”
Sage nodded, and the two turned to stroll down one of the many paths leading away from Army Hole. After they were out of sight of the dock, Sage gave voice to her fears. “It’s just not fair. Everything’s been taken away from us. I’m nothing now – just a dishwashing blob that gets up every morning and repeats the same routine…like a zombie.”
Wyatt nodded his understanding. “Sage, there are positive things about this life. I know it’s difficult to find them sometimes, but they exist.”
Sage wasn’t buying it. “Name one positive thing.”
Wyatt thought for a moment and then smiled. “Okay. Right before we left, you thought you weren’t going to be able to come with us to the boat. You had a final coming up, and your boss wanted you to work extra hours. As I recall, your mother said you were very stressed out.”
Sage remembered, “Yes, It was pretty hectic that day.”
Wyatt stopped walking and faced his daughter. “Now, we don’t have those stressors. There are few outside deadlines, no bills to pay and no grades to worry about. You didn’t even have to file your taxes this year.”
Sage thought about her father’s words for a bit. Frowning, she responded, “I understand what you’re trying to say, but I had a purpose then – a goal. Most of my problems before were because I was working for something; money, a degree, a relationship - something to make me better.”
“Sage, there’s plenty here to work for – lots to improve. I’m sorry our old way of life disappeared. I wish I could fix that, but I can’t. We have to make the best of what’s been handed to us.”
The two turned back down the path and continued their journey. The ocean breeze carried the sound of seabirds and the smell of saltwater. The worn path yielded into soft sand, and Sage stopped. Using her father to keep her balance, she pulled off her shoes and continued barefoot.
“The sand feels good between my toes.”
Wyatt smiled at his daughter’s ability to recover. “Before everything fell apart, if I called you and said we were taking a long vacation at the beach, you would’ve wanted to go. Even if I told you there wasn’t any cell phone or internet connection, you would’ve still wanted to go. Am I right?”
Sage nodded, “Yes, but I would’ve known we were coming back at some point in time. I wouldn’t be worried about my friends or future. Escapes are great – exiles suck.”
Wyatt laughed at his daughter’s phrasing. “Yes, I know what you’re saying. I feel it too, Sage. I think about people I’ve known…friends…family…and wonder how they’re doing. There’s no way to escape it.”
“So how do you deal with it? You seem so calm and collected, always in a good mood. How do you and mom…and all the others do that?”
It was Wyatt’s turn to stop and ponder before answering. “It’s all in here,” he said pointing to his temple. “It’s all a state of mind. You’ve met people before who always seem positive. They don’t let anything get them down. They always are looking forward and only use the past to count lessons learned. That’s what it takes, Sage – that’s what all of us are doing.”
Sage rolled her father’s words over and over in her mind. She knew he was right. “I ca
n’t seem to get there, Dad. I can’t figure it out. Maybe you’re right – maybe I’m too immature to handle this.”
“Sage, I don’t think you’re immature. I think you’re 18 years old, very bright, and one of the most rounded people I’ve ever met. Let me help you. Open your mind just a little bit and give me just a bit of space, and you’ll see I’m not completely off base here.”
“Okay, father-of-mine,” Sage said, “I am officially putting out the welcome mat to my brain. Come on in. I just have to warn you – it’s a little confused in here from time to time.”
Wyatt laughed again. “First things first, you’re 18, and people at that age need to have some fun, blow off some steam. When was the last time you sketched?”
Sage’s head tilted back, her eyes searching the sky, having to think about the answer. “Oh my goodness, it’s been over a year.”
Wyatt continued, “I remember a young lady who had talent. I remember a girl who thought about pursuing a career as a professional artist. Why don’t you release all of this isolation and frustration through art? Why not draw or paint or sculpt? I bet you’ll find relief – maybe even help some of the others here on the island.”
Sage didn’t know what to say.
Wyatt continued, “You know those survival shows we used to laugh at on TV? You remember those handsome, muscular, ex-Special Forces guys who went crazy places with camera crews?”
Sage nodded, grinning at the description.
“Well, I don’t remember very many of the tricks they taught, but they always repeated the same basic message – ‘Survival is often more mental than physical.’” Wyatt pointed at his temple, “Survival is mostly up here. Our brain is our greatest tool. Use your brain, Sage. Use it to survive…no…thrive, regardless of the circumstances.”
After briefly mulling her father’s words, she balanced on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I think I’ll give your idea a try.”
Plymouth, Ohio
July 7, 2017
There were over 30 soldiers, machinists, and government officials standing in Sugarhill’s gravel parking lot. All of their attentions were focused on the firm’s small forklift as it struggled to raise a pallet full of freshly machined parts onto the back of a semi-trailer.
Grover turned to Dan and observed, “You’d think none of us had ever seen a shipment of parts before. It’s not like these are for the space shuttle.”
Dan surveyed the gathered onlookers and nodded his agreement. After a bit, he leaned closer and said, “I think the end-use of these components is more essential than any space exploration right now. If the other projects are as successful as we’ve been, a lot of people will have electricity soon.”
Grover had come to appreciate the civil servant. Dan delivered everything as promised and rolled up his sleeves to do whatever was required. If we had more like him, we probably wouldn’t have gotten into this mess in the first place, thought Grover.
There were actually three different shipments of parts going to different locations. The army had sent additional escorts while the soldiers onsite were unhooking the huge generators that had been providing the electrical power for the shop.
Dan noticed Grover inspecting the activity. “We’re on our way to southern Indiana next. There’s a small circuit board manufacturer near Columbus that is going to produce a few thousand replacement parts for us.”
Grover nodded, wondering if it required less or more effort for electrical components than machined steel.
Before long, all three trucks were loaded and ready to roll. Grover was proud of his people and wished he could provide some sort of reward or compensation for the crew. They had worked 14-hour shifts for four days to make the deadline for shipment. Grover inspected every single part himself to ensure tolerances were met despite the harried circumstances. The men had produced some of the best quality he’d ever seen.
Much to everyone’s surprise, the army major who had been supervising the project asked everyone to stay put. The man climbed aboard the bed of the trailer and proceeded to thank the hard-working people of Plymouth and Sugarhill.
When everyone finished clapping, the officer nodded to a group of soldiers standing nearby. These bystanders began to carry out cases of military meals and setting them on the ground in front of the Sugarhill workers. It was a lot of food – more than any of them had seen in months.
Dan pulled Grover aside, out of sight from the main body. He offered his hand, “Grover, you’ve been a pleasure to work with, sir. If I get a chance, I’ll try to stop by after things get going again. Until then, I have a surprise for you.” Grover looked down to see Dan holding out a small paper bag. With a puzzled expression on his face, he opened the bag to find a one-pound can of ground coffee and a box of dog biscuits. The old man showed one of the most genuine smiles Dan had ever seen. “Rusty will love these!”
Washington, D.C.
July 8, 2017
Everyone stood when the president entered the conference room. He moved with purpose to the head of the table, scanning each face in the room as if taking mental roll call, all the while smiling and nodding. “Please, everyone be seated.”
The collection of senators, congressmen and cabinet members took a few moments to get settled. In front of each was a clean white note pad, two sharp No. 2 pencils and a glass of water.
The purpose of the meeting was a mystery. Normally when someone called such a high-level powwow, an agenda was provided – or at least a description. This assembly had merely been described as a “matter of national security.”
The chief executive wasted no time. “Thank you, everyone for coming. As you all know, we have definitive Intel that China was directly responsible for the recent hardships experienced by our country. Over 55 million of our countrymen died as a result of their actions. I’ve read some projections that estimate it will take 30 years for our nation to heal the economic wounds inflicted by their actions.”
The president paused, scrutinizing the expressions of the men and women before him. Reed detected anger in the man’s eyes, a boiling hatred that had been brewing for months. After the visual tour of the room, the commander-in-chief continued. “We, the governing officials of the United States of America, cannot let this act of war pass by unaddressed. To do so would endanger our recovery, our future, and place the citizens of our great nation in further jeopardy. To let such an act go unanswered would embolden our enemies, both present and future. It is for this reason that I’ve asked all of you to come today. It is for this reason that I’ve called this council of war.”
Reed’s mind erupted in protest. Had he not been cowed by respect for the man’s office, he would have loudly objected to such thinking. The country wasn’t ready yet, he wanted to shout. We’re barely on our feet, and you want to start a war?
The chief executive seemed to read his thoughts. “I know many of you are sitting there…thinking I’m ‘off the reservation.’ I know we’ve just started the healing process. I’m sure Roosevelt’s staff felt the same way. The country was just recovering from the Great Depression, and suddenly a war was thrust upon them.”
The president paused to let his words sink in. “Our people pulled together then, and I trust they will now. There are some who believe a war drives economic expansion. Many historians opine that America’s growth during the 1950s was due to the engine-of-commerce developed to fight World War II. Let me be clear, that is not my motivation. That is not the purpose of this meeting. China has benefited from our suffering. China is stronger now than before they attacked us. I believe it is necessary to right this injustice and using our still-significant military power is the right tool for the job. If we don’t, I fear that China will soon establish itself as a formidable, communist-led superpower in a very short time. The world has already rushed to their doorstep to do business. Our very assailants are filling the economic vacuum left by our decline.”
Reed’s outrage was dulled by the president’s words. He had to ad
mit the man was good – very good.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t want war. I have no desire to order thousands of young Americans to their death. We’ve already lost so very, very many. On the other hand, it is a reasonable possibility that China will continue to interfere with our recovery. They are in an even stronger position now to thwart our efforts from an economic, political and military perspective. Does anyone here really believe they won’t press their advantage? Can anyone here honestly look me in the eye and argue that Beijing won’t accelerate their efforts to dominate globally?”
No one volunteered to take up for the Chinese or challenge the president’s premise.
“So, with that said,” the president continued, “I believe we must respond is a measured, calculated way. Everyone at this table has done exemplary work helping our nation recover. All of you have proven to be the core leadership of the recovery. I’m afraid I must add to your workload. With the strictest confidence, a matter of national security, I would like recommendations, suggestions and options for how we respond to China. We will reconvene in three days and begin the formation of a plan. Thank you one and all.”
The president stood, smiled around the table, and promptly exited. The room he left behind was forlorn. Reed knew the man was right about China. The congressman guessed similar meetings were being held in Beijing but for the opposite reason. Waiting his turn to exit the room, it dawned on Reed that a part of him really wanted to make the Chinese pay. He wanted revenge. He wanted to see them suffer like his fellow Americans. He wanted to test their endurance.
But war? Death, destruction and possible escalation to a nuclear exchange made Reed shudder. This couldn’t be the right answer.
As his driver maneuvered through the ever-increasing traffic reappearing on the streets of the nation’s capital, Reed focused on the scenes passing by his window. The heaps of debris reminded him of bombed cities; the ever-present lines of haggard, depressed people reminiscent of the refugee camps – foreboding images of humanity normally associated with a war-torn region. The children could have been pictured in late night television commercials asking for donations to assist starving orphans in a distant land. The patriot inside of him wanted revenge. His spirit wanted the people who did this to his neighbors and friends to feel the wrath of unchecked vengeance. Reed took a deep breath and tried to clear his thoughts.
