“Sir…if anyone had gotten hurt, you know I wouldn’t have said that.” He still stared straight ahead and chewed on his lower lip.
“You were telling me the truth weren’t you? Please tell me you weren’t just saving me from the truth last night…” All that blood. And, still, he offered no response.
“Captain, what’s going on?”
He flashed his subordinate a quick direct look, “Sergeant Carter, Jason and the truck driver are one hundred percent fine.”
Fully awake and definitely back in her own skin, mindset…and attitude, she was ready for answers.
“Captain Stass, with all due respect, I was bloody enough to have personally slaughtered a pig yesterday. You say everyone is just fine and I’m sure I didn’t cut myself shaving… Did I go on a murderous rampage, leaving a trail of bodies between the road and Green Acres? Could you please remember who you’re talking to and tell me whatever you aren’t telling me?”
Her demanding questions were met with a silence that hung in the air. Although he was her superior and she habitually respected military protocol, these two had deployed together, worked together in the field. She had spent holidays at his home with his wife and kids; they’d formed a connection not uncommon between service members. But now, the tension felt like a tangible entity filling the air between and around them. He remained silent, face forward, but appeared to search for something to say. Typically incapable of waiting for information, Johnnie was true to form as her mind, and mouth, raced.
“There was someone else in the accident, wasn’t there?” She blurted with a combination “aha” quality mixed with genuine dread. Cup and crust rolling out of her lap, she whipped her left hand into a suspended and expectant position between them, fingers spread and facing the rearview mirror. She bore a look directly into his right ear, as he refused to meet her manic stare.
Exhaling sharply and dropping his shoulders, he stated, “No one else was there. Everyone is fine. You have my word and you also have my order to drop this subject till we get to my office. Just stop.”
Accustomed to orders, but not from this man, Johnnie dropped her hand as well has her eyes. She was perplexed, a little hurt and, frankly, pretty pissed off. Better at professional relationships than personal, she’d spent a fair amount of energy over her career keeping out of trouble and staying in good graces. Now she couldn’t help but feel she’d done something wrong, although she didn’t know what, and couldn’t do anything about any of it.
“Yes, Sir,” she said in a quiet, dead pan tone. She was not openly disrespectful, but her attitude fed the beast that continued to crowd them in the small space of the old sports car.
Attempting to fill the silence, he turned up the radio and neutral voices characteristic of N.P.R. rose with the volume; it was a monotone political discussion. The tinny conversation filled the soundless void and lessened, but did not break, the spell.
“...nuclear powers. China and India are contending with rising demands for oil and gas due to their growing middle class, exacerbated by increased costs which can be blamed on the reduced supplies in the Middle East. Iran fails to be a player in the nuclear arena, stymied in their ability to compete, what with the resource and tech boycotts from the US and UN… but until new supplies of oil are accessible in Canada, not to mention our own Dakotas, they remain a major source of natural gas and oil.”
“But, Roger, don’t you still see Israel as a player here, a nuclear power and an enemy of Iran? We are both aware of their reported threats to Iran; they don’t seem to be of the mind that Iran is not necessarily nuclear capable.”
“Of course, Marvin. But, at the risk of being flippant, I estimate Iran as “small potatoes” in a field ripe with crops of concern. For instance, tension has certainly increased between our government and China since we attempted to weigh in for a lower trade deficit with them and India, with hints of favorable trade once the Dakotas open up. India hasn’t shut the door, but their willingness to talk to the U.S. has certainly raised hackles in Pakistan, a growing nuclear threat and, as you know, serious foes with India. While Pakistan is by no means the biggest ‘dog on the block,’ so to speak, they are less than legitimate in their stance on the Global War on Terrorism.”
“Roger, I couldn’t agree more… No one truly knows their actual allegiance regarding the war on terror, but rumor has it, they play both sides of the fence. It’s impossible to overlook a possible connection with Iran and….”
Each passenger’s attention was firmly housed in their own thoughts and neither processed Roger and Marvin’s words which pushed into and hung in the crowded space around them.
___________________________________________________________________
After parking in the largely empty parking lot adjacent to their work building, the captain suggested they go into the office for the promised discussion. She silently followed his lead. Once inside she saw Jason waiting in the captain’s office, his pale face lit up the minute they came in. Regardless of their difference in rank or the norm for limited physical contact in uniform, Johnnie went straight to him and the two exchanged a silent, lasting embrace. She pulled away, looked squarely into his tear-rimmed blue eyes and promptly reached up and whacked his orange tinted head. His hair was so closely cut, the impact was audible.
“Airman Barker, if you even act like you need to take both hands off the wheel while driving again, I’ll personally kick your ass before a truck has the chance to get you first! “ He rubbed the side of his head with a sheepish look, then, while still near Johnnie, he closely inspected the linear bruise over her eyebrow.
“That must have come from the band in your helmet….but you would have had a lot worse than that if you hadn’t had that thing on.” Raising his eyebrows matter-of-factly, he planted his thumb in his own chest, saying, “You can thank me for that; I’m pretty sure you were only wearing it because of me…” It only took her a second to recall how she’d jokingly donned her headgear moments before the crash.
“Nice try, Bubba. I wouldn’t have needed it at all if you weren’t climbing into the back seat… OH, while you were supposed to be driving!...” She smiled at him and patted the spot where she’d popped his head. “You have no idea how happy I am you are OK. You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re a keeper.”
Reunion complete, the room suddenly fell silent as the two enlisted troops faced the captain. He had a look of apprehension on his face as he told them both to have a seat at the small round table near his desk. He closed his office door and drew the blinds on the window facing the outer office despite the fact that the place was deserted of other staff members.
Rather than sitting behind his desk, the officer pulled a third chair up to the table and nervously rubbed his hands together after heavily falling into his seat.
“I’m going to get right to the point.” He looked at Jason first. “Airman Barker, as I told you earlier, Sergeant Carter here does not remember anything after the accident till sometime yesterday, and she was a few miles away.” Although private, he apparently wanted to keep the meeting somewhat formal and turned to Johnnie, “Is that still the case?”
She narrowed her eyes on his, once again taken aback by his uncharacteristic behavior. She glanced at Jason before answering, only now noting he’d become visibly nervous. She really needed to break the tension so they could just talk this thing out.
“If you want to know if my story has changed – no. The last thing I remember before the accident was the truck in front of us and the first thing after is …. Well, you know that story.” She hung her head, drawing her eyebrows, eyes and mouth into a regretful, theatrical mask. She turned the comical face toward Jason saying, “In case you hadn’t heard, I may have been having relations with a three-legged dog. I guess it beats the alternative…you know, a more violent exchange with a large vehicle.”
She broke the face and smiled, thinking – as she had yesterday, that she could lighten the mood. For a split second it wo
rked, as Jason processed her comment. He looked briefly distracted with a curious expression followed by a quick smile, but then quickly looked back at the person who clearly ran the show. Now he wrung his hands.
Johnnie wasn’t thrilled with losing her very brief edge here and beat the captain to the next step with, “OK, with all due respect, Sir, can we please get to the point? I’m certain the wrongest...most wrong?...thing I did here was misplace a day or so…but I would really like to know why I had blood on me and why you guys are acting like this is a massive conspiracy. It was a cow, right? If all the humans are intact, the blood must have been from a hit animal, unless I had the nosebleed of the century on my way to Lisa’s trailer…”
Although she hadn’t said anything particularly funny, this comment riveted Jason’s attention again toward the N.C.O., with another unexpected and quizzical smile. Sergeant Johnnie Carter was one of his favorite people, partially for this reason…regardless of the situation, she “was who she was,” and though not always politically correct, she was genuine and generally liked, or at least reasonably respected by all.
The captain was not so easily distracted and took control back in a single statement.
“Jason. Tell her.”
The young man looked worriedly at Captain Stass, then at Johnnie, and closed his eyes. He breathed in deeply as though he were about to engage in a cliff dive. In truth, figuratively speaking, it was she who would go over the edge with the ensuing information.
“Johnnie, I’m pretty sure you had Mr. Reeder’s, the farmer’s, blood on you…” Upon Jason’s opening statement, Johnnie instantly shot the captain an accusatory look, dismissing all rank considerations, as she leaned in for attack. He tipped his head forward with an intense warning, holding one hand up, palm out, and pointing to Jason with the other. His message was clear: shut up and listen. “Jason, back up a little, and tell her.”
Jason pressed his lips together, and nervously folded his hands on the table.
“Okay. You might remember that after you yelled at me because I was going off the road, I way over-corrected and, well, we crossed the line and the truck hit the front of the car on your side, just before it rolled.” The young man closed his eyes again and swallowed. “Even with your seatbelt on, your head hit your side window. Hit the window real hard… and you were unconscious when we stopped. I was fine, just scared to death, and I thought you were…” He opened his eyes, then after a short silence said, “Anyway, I think the helmet broke the glass and you were still hit hard enough for it to knock you out.”
Unconsciously touching her bruise, she gently, but impatiently urged Jason, “Jason, I didn’t bleed. The blood?”
Jaw clenched, the young man became a boy in all appearances other than the Adam’s apple that glided up, then down, as he swallowed in lieu of speaking. He looked absolutely petrified and Johnnie couldn’t have been more baffled if her associates morphed into Batman and Robin on the spot. She was wondering if she should have stayed with Lisa and Betsy…at least to them, it all made sense.
“After I knew you were alive, I got you out of my side of the car and put you on the ground so I could check on the other guy. The truck had rolled off the other side of the road and I couldn’t see him or hear him. Anyway, I found him on the ground…he must have flown out of the truck. And he was bad.” Jason’s hands moved unconsciously in flat circles in the air in front of them, palms facing his own face and chest as he continued.
“He was all covered in blood and I couldn’t tell what was…. what was his insides coming out, or what was just a lot of blood. He had a big stick poking out of his stomach, and, like, a rock in his forehead, but bubbles were coming out of the blood on his chest, though, so I knew he was alive and I needed to get help. He was really, really bad and it looked like… ” Unable to stay with the flow of the story, Johnnie stuck out a knowing finger, exclaiming, “Did I wake up and apply first aide? I knew that must have been what happened,.” She shot a look at Captain Stass, “but you told me he was fine…that explains the….” But Jason, stronger now, raised his voice for the first time, saying, “No, Johnnie. Just wait…the captain told you the truth.” He had leveled one hand in front of her, pointing at the captain with the other. He continued more quietly, but steadily.
“Just hear me out. I did what I knew from our training for a chest and stomach wound and shock and all that. And I,” he stopped for a second, “Well, I knew we needed help and there was no cell phone reception, so I made sure you were both as okay as possible, and I walked quite a ways till I had a signal to call the police. You were both unconscious when I left…on opposite sides of the road. Listen to me, Johnnie…just listen.” He was at once, a grown man again and more serious and direct than she had ever seen him. He stared into her eyes and said, “When I got back, you were gone and Mr. Reeder was fine. I mean, he was perfect, just bloody and weak….and he was sitting in the back seat on the good side of our car with the door open and had your uniform shirt in his hands.”
Jason stopped talking and although he didn’t appear to be quite finished, he was staring at Johnnie, as though waiting for something profound to sink in. It didn’t sink in, rather, it bounced off. She looked in mock disbelief from one man to the other.
“This is the big secret? Jason mistook the guy’s injuries, obviously, and I must have been in shock and did my best to fix him before wandering off to Hooterville?”
She quickly shut up because this was either the mother of all over-reactions on their part, or she was missing something.
The captain looked at her evenly, then looking at Jason, he tipped his head to a bag on the floor by the airman’s feet. Jason unconsciously reached into the bag, pulling out his camera as he sat back up and faced Johnnie.
“Look…While we were waiting for the cops, Mr. Reeder asked me if that shirt, your shirt, ‘belonged to her…the soldier angel.’”
Johnnie focused on Jason’s eyes, then his mouth as if she’d misunderstood. Then her face changed completely.
“Give me a break!” She burst. Lisa’s face and bits of her ridiculous recollection flashed through Johnnie’s mind as she shoved her chair away from the table till a hand grasped her arm, halting her momentum. This was either a very bad joke or total insanity.
“Sit still and listen. And look.” The captain was no longer acting strangely, but was dead serious. Wondering exactly when they or she had lost their minds, Johnnie exhaled, and slammed back into her chair, cocking her head impatiently toward Jason with her mouth curtly closed. For just a second, she thought she might explode with impatience considering the absurdity of the last twenty-four hours.
Jason set the camera on the table and calmly continued his story. “I didn’t know how he was up walking around, how he could be better, but he told me that at first he had been floating toward a bright light, but suddenly it changed to regular light and he realized he was on the ground. He said he hurt really bad, then he didn’t hurt at all and that you, or a “soldier angel” was getting up from leaning over him when he opened his eyes. He said she…you…. just walked away, like you were holding something, but he said he couldn’t say anything or get up right away. But by the time he could, he couldn’t see you, but he saw the car and when he went and looked, he saw your shirt over the seat. I asked him to describe the girl. Johnnie, it was you. He described you.”
Again, she opened her mouth with a half dozen explanations suspended between her frenetic brain and burning throat…all ready for immediate exit. This time, the captain put his hand over hers, applied pressure, and then gestured toward Jason, who was looking into the view window of his digital staff camera. His thumb rapidly pressing a button, he appeared to be looking for specific images. With a pained expression, he stopped, still holding the apparatus, and said slowly to Johnnie, “Before leaving the scene, I didn’t have a clear head and was thinking with my work brain instead of my life-saving brain. I’m trained to execute other photographer duties, not just public affairs…yo
u know, always on the scenes for the cops or commanders, or whoever, to take the pictures at crime scenes. And accidents. So, right or wrong, before I left to get help, I took a few shots, then realized this guy was going to die for sure if I didn’t pull my head out and go get help.”
He stared at her, once again, as if she would “get it” any minute. She just stared back, thinking this charade was getting way out of hand. She was on the verge of throwing in the towel and just getting out of there when Jason turned the camera so she could see the digital scenes he’d captured. She rolled her eyes, but they froze when he thrust the small window right in front of them.
Bile arose in her throat as she looked at a man, nearly mangled with injuries, bloody and apparently immobile on a rocky ground. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t, as Jason forwarded the images; some graphically displayed what appeared to be a board-like stick shoved through a shirt into an abdomen; another of a nearly nondescript bloody face with a stone so well lodged into the skull, it seemed to belong there.
“Enough!” she roared, shoving the camera away. Breathing heavily, she looked pale, but very angry, speaking low to both men. “Do you know how this looks? What is wrong with you? This bloody guy could be anyone and I don’t appreciate being in the middle of this insane speculation…”
Jason lifted the camera to show another image. “Johnnie, this is Mr. Reeder after I got back.”
Mainly because she didn’t know what else to say or do, she impatiently looked at the photo long enough to see it appeared to be the same man…same clothes…and a lot of blood, but he had nothing coming out of, or going into his body. While he had her attention, Jason forwarded through the subsequent frames showing bloody, but smooth skin on the man’s stomach and head. In the head shot was a soiled, crimson smeared-- but not bleeding--smiling face, as if this fellow were in a Chuck E. Cheese photo booth as opposed the scene of a terrible accident.
The Unlikely Savior (The Unlikely Savior Trilogy) Page 3
