Mark saw a flash of fear in the Dean’s eyes. “Dear God, no,” said Allenby, who quickly turned to face Pendleton. “James, shouldn’t we move to the dining room? I’m absolutely famished.”
“Weinie,” muttered Klinger.
“Now, stop that, Mack,” said Allenby, who stood up and began walking out of the room. “You don’t have to be so crude.”
Klinger waited until Allenby was out of the room, he then turned to Mark and smiled. Mark held his hand over his mouth and began to chuckle. “You’ll have to excuse Walter,” said Pendleton, “he’s had a rough go of it.”
“Oh, quit making excuses for him,” said Klinger. “We’ve all had a rough go of it. He doesn’t have to be such an asshole.”
Pendleton sighed and shook his head. “You’re right, Mack. I’ll talk to him. Now, Rodney should have dinner ready. Shall we eat?”
“I could eat,” said Wainwright. “Mark, you’re in for a treat. Rodney knows his way around the kitchen, doesn’t he, Mack?”
“He sure does. That boy could make C rations taste good. Come on, Pendleton. Let’s grab some chow while it’s still hot.”
Mark followed the three men back through the library, down a short hallway and into a long, formal dining room. The room had a high ceiling and the blue walls were covered in portraits, all of which looked to be at least a hundred years old. A crystal chandelier hung over the oak table. Tina was already there, sitting between a white haired woman and a man in a dinner jacket, who bore a striking resemblance to a young Clark Gable. They were the only people in the room. Mark followed Pendleton, who sat him across the table from Tina. Colonel Klinger took the seat next to him, while Allenby sat as far away from them as humanly possible. Mark tried to catch Tina’s eye, but she refused to look at him.
Pendleton introduced Mark to the others. The woman turned out to be Allenby’s sister, Martha. Mark immediately liked her; she obviously had inherited all of the family charm. The man to Tina’s right was Pendleton’s son, George. “My word,” said the younger Pendleton, looking Mark up and down, “you must have had quite a day.”
“You might say that,” said Mark.
“And how are you two acquainted?” asked George, in his stiff British accent.
“We were neighbors,” said Tina, quickly.
Mark thought about adding to that, but decided against it. “Neighbors,” said George, “smashing.”
“Smashing,” muttered Klinger, turning to Mark. “So, what part of the country do you hail from?”
“I’m from,” began Mark, “I mean, we’re from, Minnesota.”
“Minnesota,” said Klinger, “good country, good soldiers. I like the change of seasons.”
“Too cold for my blood,” said George, who hovered over Tina like a hungry wolf. He smiled, revealing the whitest teeth that Mark had ever seen. Tina, Little Red Riding-hood, stared back up at him, dreamily. “Have you ever been to London?” he asked.
“No, but I’ve always wanted to go there,” she replied.
“I’m sure we can arrange that.”
Pendleton looked at Mark, but he quickly averted his eyes. Both men could see what was happening, but neither man appeared to be able to stop it. While Tina and George continued their conversation, Pendleton turned to Wainwright. “John,” he said, “tell Mark about the Noah program. You’ll love this, Mark.”
Wainwright smiled. “Well, there isn’t much to tell. When things started falling apart, we decided to do what we could to ensure the animal kingdom would survive. For some reason, that I still have a hard time grasping, I was put in charge of the program. We began moving animals down into the caves in March. At last count, we had saved nearly ten thousand birds and animals, wild and domestic. Naturally, they’re above ground, now. The challenge is going to be in the breeding, but also in protecting them. As you can imagine, people still look at them as a food source.”
“That’s amazing,” said Mark. “Are you looking for volunteers? I would love to help out in any way I can.”
“As a matter of fact, I’m desperate for volunteers. Do you mean that?”
“I do. How soon can I start?”
“I could put you to work tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll be there,” replied Mark, looking over at Tina to see if she was interested. She looked as if she hadn’t heard a word. She and George were whispering to each other, laughing merrily, as if they were the only people in the room.
Rodney began to serve dinner. He began the meal with a wild rice soup, the best that Mark had ever tasted. Rodney then served a Caesar’s salad, which was followed by the main course, which was an oven-roasted turkey. Rodney served the bird with all of the trimmings, each of which was delectable. Conversations ebbed and flowed, and Mark watched Tina as she fell deeper under George’s spell. After dinner, Rodney served raspberry cheesecake.
The men, except for George, retired to Pendleton’s porch. Rodney served cognac and offered Mark a cigar. “They’re Cubans,” said Klinger. “Take one, they’re damn good.”
Mark found that Klinger was right. While he had never been much of a cigar smoker, the smooth flavor of the Cuban was enough to make him think of picking up the habit. He sipped the cognac, politely, but expensive liquor had never appealed to him. Pendleton and Allenby stood in the far corner of the screened porch, and their conversation quickly turned heated. Allenby, who Mark had come to despise, began pointing in his direction. “He doesn’t bring anything to the table,” he growled. “He might be fine for mucking out stalls, but he isn’t the type of man we’re looking for. Just look at him, James. My God, are you blind?”
“Walter, please keep your voice down,” shushed Pendleton.
“Will you excuse me?” asked Mark.
“Don’t pay any attention to that piece of butt-wipe,” said Klinger. “Do you want me to shut him up?”
“No, I’ll be back in a few minutes. Please, don’t make a scene.”
“You should stand up for yourself,” grumbled Klinger.
Mark walked to the porch door and stepped outside, onto the steps. “Mark,” said Pendleton. “You have to excuse Walter. He has a nasty habit of speaking without giving a thought to others.”
Mark ignored Pendleton and walked out into the moonlight. He walked back to the trailer and quickly found what he was looking for. He brought the items into the RV and switched on the electric lights. He then closed the blinds.
Despite the passing of time, Mark still fit into his dress blues. If anything, over the years, he had lost some muscle. Fingers shaking, filled with anger, Mark pinned his medals and corresponding ribbons to his chest. Highly decorated, he had risen to the rank of Master Sergeant, and he was very proud of the sixth rocker he wore on his arms. He was no full-bird colonel, but he would bow down to no man, especially some pencil neck civilian. Mark pulled his hair back into a tight ponytail and he donned his cap. He gave thought to chopping his hair off, but there simply wasn’t time. He was going to make a statement, and Mark thought the only man on the porch who would notice his gaffe, would be Colonel Klinger. Mark was fairly sure he would forgive him. He completed his ensemble with the white belt and sabre. He studied himself in the mirror and nodded his head in approval.
Mark shut off the lights and he stepped into the darkness. On the porch, Klinger and Allenby were arguing. Mark heard his name, several times, and thought he heard Allenby use a racial slur. Furious, he marched up the sidewalk and onto the stairs. He walked into the porch and the room became silent. He walked right up to Colonel Klinger, stood at attention. “Master Sergeant SleepingBear reporting for duty, sir,” he then snapped Klinger a white-gloved salute.
“Son of a bitch,” muttered Klinger, returning the salute. “A top sergeant, look at those medals. Hey Allenby, have you ever seen a Medal of Honor, or a Purple Heart? Master Sergeant SleepingBear has two of each. He’s also got a Silver Star and the Marine Corp Medal, not that you’d have any idea of what it takes to earn those.”
Wainwright and Pendleton lef
t Allenby standing by himself. They walked up to Mark, both men wore wide smiles. “I knew I saw something in you,” said Pendleton. “Didn’t I say that to you, John? I distinctly remember saying that to you.”
“He did,” said Wainwright, still smiling. “I don’t know what all of those medals mean, but I’d like to thank you for your service.”
“Thank you,” said Mark, who couldn’t remember feeling as proud as he did at that moment.
“I’d like to second that,” said Pendleton, offering his hand to Mark. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you showed up. We’re in a tight spot and we’re in desperate need of fighting men.”
Klinger continued to study Mark’s chest, reading his medals and awards as if they were a road map. “Well, you’ve got one here,” he growled. “Allenby, get your fat ass over here and pay your respects. Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be alive? This is one genuine badass.”
Sheepishly, Allenby crept over to offer his hand to Mark. “Please forgive me,” he said. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure.”
“Poppycock,” snapped Klinger, “there is no excuse for the way you acted. If I thought it would do any good, I’d order the Master Sergeant to kick your ass.”
“I said I was sorry. Look, I don’t have to take this, not in my own home. James, I’m not feeling well. I’m going up to bed, good night.”
Just as Allenby was walking into the house, Tina and George were stepping out. Tina stared at Mark and her eyes grew wide. “Oh my God,” she said. “When did you change?”
“A Marine,” said George. “I’m impressed.”
“You damn well should be,” said Klinger. “This man has been to hell and back.”
Tina continued to stare at Mark. “I guess I’m sleeping in the spare bedroom,” she said, pointing back at the house.
“I’m going to help her grab her things,” said George. “We won’t be but a minute.”
Mark narrowed his eyes at Tina, but said nothing. Whatever they had was now gone. She was on her own. He watched the pair as they floated off into the darkness, listening to their laughter, regretting every intimate minute he had shared with her.
“Mark and I are going to take a walk,” said Klinger. “I’ve got some things that we need to discuss. I’m sure you understand.”
Pendleton gave a worried glance out to the RV and returned his attention to Mark. “I’m terribly sorry about that,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of the RV. “I don’t quite know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything,” said Mark. “Tina is a big girl, she makes her own decisions.”
“Women,” grunted Klinger. “They’re nothing but trouble, which is what we need to discuss. Come on, Mark, let’s take that walk.”
They stepped out of the porch and down the sidewalk, past the RV. When they were well out of earshot, Klinger stopped and gave Mark an odd look. “I’m going to let it pass this time, soldier, just don’t ever do it, again.”
“My hair?” asked Mark.
“Damn right, it’s your hair. You ought to know better than to pull a stunt like that. You’re disrespecting that uniform, soldier. I could have you busted down to a buck private for that.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” said Mark. “I promise to never do it, again.”
“Good, because I can’t allow that sort of thing, I’m sure you understand. Look, I didn’t call you out here to talk about your hair. We’re in some serious shit. We’ve got a thousand Russian soldiers, not ten miles from here. They want our women. Of course, we’re not giving them up. We’ll die to the last man defending them. Things don’t look good. My guess is that we have three or four hundred men and women who can hold a rifle. We’re going to get our asses kicked, unless we hit them first.”
“Go ahead, sir, I’m listening.”
“Damn, I wish I was ten years younger. I’d lead the charge. Okay, we’ve done a little recon, and the Russians are bivouacked over in Independence; that pisses me off on so many different levels, but that’s another story. They don’t appear to be a disciplined outfit. Their boys are more interested in drinking vodka than they are in keeping tabs on us. That’s our advantage and we have to capitalize on it, the sooner the better. How’s your shooting, soldier?”
“I can shoot.”
“I can see that by your uniform. My question is: can you still bring it?”
“I think so. I don’t have a decent weapon.”
Klinger studied Mark in the moonlight. “You can’t just think so. You have to know it. I’m asking you to go on a suicide mission. I need to know if you’re up to the task. I’ll give you a good weapon, but only if you’re sure you can hit your targets from at least a thousand yards.”
“I’m qualified on the M40A3. I can hit an apple at a thousand yards.”
“Good man, I was hoping to hear you say that. I’ve got an A5 for you. Have you ever shot one of those?”
“No sir, but I’ve read up on them. They’re a fine weapon.”
“Damn right, they’re a fine weapon. You’re going to need it. I’m going to send you head hunting. I want you to take out as many of their commanding officers as you possibly can. My hopes are that they’ll come after you with everything they have, but we’ll be waiting for them. Do you think you can handle that?”
“Yes sir.”
“I know it isn’t much of a plan, but it’s our only hope.”
Mark studied the lines in Klinger’s weathered face. “Can I ask you something, sir?”
“Ask away, I have nothing to hide.”
“Who do you think is responsible for what happened?”
“I don’t have any idea. For all we know, some scientist stumbled onto something he couldn’t put a lid on. That’s my best guess. Oh, it was bound to happen. We trust those people to split atoms and God only knows what else they were up to. Then again, a lot of people are pointing to their Bibles, too. They’re calling it the end times. Who the hell am I to argue? I can tell you this much, and this is top secret: the Middle East seems to be the only place that was unaffected by this thing.”
“Holy shit, sir,” mumbled Mark.
“That’s going to leak out. I just didn’t think that now was the time. We don’t want our little army retreating to the churches. Hearing news like that, well, it might just send them scrambling in that direction.”
“How is that possible? How could a gas discriminate like that?”
“I’m not so sure it was a gas. I think it was something else, but damned if I’ve ever seen anything like it. This was some nasty shit.”
Mark nodded. “But you don’t believe that we did this, or the Russians, or the Chinese?”
“Oh, hell no, from what we can tell, the Russians and Chinese were hit harder than we were. I have no doubt that those missile launches were red flag attacks. Yeah, they had Crabby written all over them. Terrorists in submarines, are you kidding me?”
Mark smiled at that. “I thought the same thing, sir.”
“That was a load of hooey. Tomorrow, we’ll see the real thing. I hope you’re up to it.”
“When do I leave, sir?”
Klinger sighed and shook his head. He patted Mark on the shoulder. “Tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “The way I look at it, they’ll still be whooping it up. If we wait until Saturday, the CO’s will be drying out their troops. That’ll be too late.”
“I understand, sir.”
“You goddamn marines,” growled Klinger. “That’s what I love about you. I put you up against a thousand enemy troops, and you don’t even bat an eye. You’re a good man, Master Sergeant SleepingBear. I’m damn proud to serve with you.”
Mark would fall asleep with those words ringing in his ears. The men shared a couple of beers on the porch, before Mark excused himself for bed. He walked out to the Winnebago and carefully, he disrobed. He inspected his uniform and hung it back inside the garment bag. When he had finished, he crawled into the bed at the back of the RV. There was a wet spot on the comfor
ter and Mark tossed it onto the floor. Apparently, Tiffany had wet herself on the trip down.
He thought about the day, one that had begun with such promise. So much had happened; Mark had a hard time stringing it all together. He tried not to think of Tina, but she kept creeping back into his thoughts. He thought of her and Clark Gable and hoped that the two were happy. Tina had broken his heart, and not for the first time. George must have known what he was doing. Whatever happened between them, Mark knew that he had nothing more to say to Tina. She had nuked that bridge. If he survived his mission, which he seriously doubted would happen; he would stay single until the end of his days. At least, that’s what he told himself.
Chapter 32
Mark didn’t wake up until after 6:00 the following morning. Overnight, the temperature had risen and a thick blanket of fog hung in the air. Mark showered and brushed his teeth. He tied his hair into a ponytail, pulled a pocket t-shirt over a pair of blue jeans, and stepped out into the muggy morning air. Mark could barely see his own feet. Slowly, he walked up to the porch and he let himself in. “I thought you were going to sleep all day,” growled Klinger.
Mark followed the sound of the voice and found Colonel Klinger sitting on a bench. On a table next to him sat a carafe of coffee. He wore a bathrobe over pajama bottoms and slippers; out of uniform, Mark thought he looked old and frail. Mark poured himself a cup and sat down. “Nice weather we’re having,” he said.
“You’re damn right, it is. This is perfect. I’ve sent Rodney out to rally the troops. The way I see it, this fog is an answer to our prayers. I want to move out as soon as possible. I want our people in place before this fog lifts. After you finish your coffee, we’ll go inside and I’ll go over our plan of attack.”
“Yes sir,” said Mark, his mind reeling. The plan had sounded haphazard from the beginning, rushing it didn’t make him feel any better about it.
Klinger stood up and began to pace in and out of the fog. If anything, the fog seemed to be steadily building. Pendleton and Allenby stepped out of the house. Pendleton nodded to Mark. “Good morning,” he said, holding up his cup of coffee. “This fog reminds me of London.”
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