by JL Curtis
Doc nodded, “And I still have nightmares about it, Gunny. The worst part was cutting your dog tag out of the boot with part of your leg staring me in the face.”
“You talked to anybody about it, Doc?”
“Yeah, I’ve had a few conversations with the Chief about it, and he tells me to remember I saved your worthless ass, and that’s a quote.”
Aaron laughed, “Figures. The Chief has worked on me a couple of times, and he’s not all sweetness and light is he?”
Doc straightened the boot but the foot kept rotating to the side, “Nope, not in the slightest. Gunny, what the hell is going on?”
Aaron told Doc about the issues they’d previously had with Goss in Iraq, and how he figured Goss was targeting him for payback. Doc suggested Aaron go to the IG about it, but Aaron demurred as the ambulance rolled up.
***
A half hour later, Aaron limped out of the hospital on his running leg, carrying the broken prosthetic and boot in his hands. He found the truck in the parking lot and fumbled the door open, dumping the broken prosthetic in the back. Dropping the boot in the passenger’s seat, he climbed wearily into the truck. Slumping there for a minute, he thought about his options, then remembered his earlier conversation with Doc. Chief Holt at rehab might be able to help get the leg fixed, and he patted the chit in his pocket, giving him four days off, and orders for rehab. He started the truck and drove slowly over to the rehabilitation center.
Getting out slowly, he reached back, got the broken leg, limped around the side of the building, and found the side door to the weight room unlocked as usual. He stepped in and was transported back to his rehab by the miasma of sweat, steel and the clanking of weights. He spotted Chief Holt in his office and limped over to the office, “Hey, Chief. Got a minute?”
Chief Holt looked up and his face cracked into a grimace Aaron now knew was a smile, “Gunny, what can I… What the fuck did you do?”
Aaron set the leg on the desk, “Um, I kinda broke it.”
Holt reached over and pulled the prosthetic across to him, dropped his cheaters down off his forehead, and looked closely at the ankle joint. Pulling the rubber foot off, he moved the ankle joint and watched it flop to the side. Looking up at Aaron, “You want to explain this?”
Aaron shrugged, “Broke it on the obstacle course. I dropped about ten feet. I heard a pop, and the foot wouldn’t support me. Any way you can get it fixed for me?”
Holt shoved his glasses up and leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms, “Just what in the hell were you doing on the obstacle course with this prosthetic? You’re supposed to be using your running leg for any exercises! Shit, you know that!”
“Long story short, we’ve got a new company commander. He wants me to do everything with this leg,” pointing to the broken prosthetic, “Says I’m not going to have time to change legs in the field.”
Holt cocked his head, “Really? Does he not understand we’re not on the battlefield here? Does he not understand specific direction from the General about sailors and Marines with prosthetics?”
Aaron looked at him, “Hell, I didn’t know there was a separate instruction!”
Holt sighed, “Yeah, I gave it to you in your rehab package. I’m betting you didn’t even read it, did you?” Aaron hung his head and had the grace to look embarrassed as Holt continued, “I can probably get this into the shop at Balboa, but the question is, what are you going to do in the meantime?”
“I’ve got my old leg they gave me while this one was being built. I can use it for a while, but I may need to get a new sock fitted.”
Holt nodded, “Okay, drop your pants and let’s see how bad you screwed up your stump. You been to the hospital yet?”
Aaron pulled out the chit and handed it to the Chief, “They gave me four days off, bed rest, and some Tylenol for pain. Told me to ice it, and stay off it.” Aaron reluctantly dropped his pants and rolled the sleeve down, wincing as he did so.
Holt came around the side of the desk and crouched by the stump, pulling a penlight out of his pocket. Looking closely at the stump he said, “Bruising, edema, looks like some localized bleeding.” Touching the stump caused Aaron to flinch and Holt stood up, “Okay, you’re going to have to ice it big time, and I want you to watch for excessive bruising on the end of the stump and the back of your leg. The edema, well, the swelling is going to be a PITA. It’s probably going to affect you even being able to get a sock on period. You better plan on crutches for the next week or so. You get a set from the hospital?”
Aaron grimaced, “Crutches again?”
“Yes, crutches. If Doc Fischer was here, I’d have him look at you, give your company officer a call, and chew his ass. This lieutenant we’ve got coming in won’t say boo if his life depends on it. Now get out of here and go home before that leg gives out completely!”
Aaron tried to pull the sock and prosthetic back on, but the stump was swelling too fast and he couldn’t get the leg back on. Chief Holt watched him, then stomped out of the office. Aaron pulled his pants up and finished dressing as the chief walked back in with a pair of crutches. He adjusted them for Aaron and shoved them at him. Aaron took them saying, “Thanks Chief, I owe you one.” Picking up the running leg, he limped back across the floor and out the side door back to his truck. He dumped the running leg in the back in frustration and bowed his head, letting the tears come. Taking a deep breath, he wiped his eyes, choked down a Tylenol, and put the truck in gear.
On the way to the apartment, he swung by admin and dropped off the chit, much to First Sergeant Brill’s dismay, and called Snake to tell him he had the teams until next week. Snake wished him well, and asked if there was anything he could do, but Aaron said nothing, just call if things blew up.
***
Jesse came in cooing at Jace as Boo Boo romped in the door behind her and she smiled at Aaron, “Snuck out for lunch, huh?”
Aaron shook his head, “Nope, broke the prosthetic. Either the joint or the shock absorber broke. It’s not supposed to, but it did, and I’m med down for four days. I screwed up pretty good, Jesse.”
Jesse came around the end of the couch and realized Aaron didn’t have his leg on, and was minus pants, with a towel around the stump and an ice bag sitting on it. She sat Jace in the playpen, and sat next to Aaron, giving him a hug and a quick kiss, “Oh damn. How bad is it?”
Aaron reluctantly removed the icepack, and Jesse shook her head, “That doesn’t look good at all. Did they give you anything for pain? Boo Boo, no! Sit!” Boo Boo was trying to do her usual trick of getting on the couch between them and she reluctantly sat next to Jesse.
Aaron reached over and petted her, “Sorry Boo Boo, not today.” Turning back to Jesse, he continued, “Doc wants me to keep an eye on the swelling and the bruising in case I busted a blood vessel in the stump. I’m going to have to get you to help me.”
Jesse hugged Aaron again, “Hey, in sickness and health, remember? Have you had anything to eat?”
“Nah, not really hungry. I’ll wait for din… supper.”
***
Felicia came in a little after five, and Matt wasn’t far behind. He headed to their bedroom to change, with a quick kiss for Felicia on the way through. Jesse and Felicia were in the kitchen fixing supper when she heard Aaron say “No” loudly. She stuck her head around the corner and saw Matt and Aaron in a deep discussion, and thought she’d just stay out of that one.
Felicia looked at her questioningly, and she said, “Aaron got hurt at work today. Broke the prosthetic. He’s bruised pretty badly, and the stump is swelling. The asshole captain over him now has him doing everything including running the obstacle course with his walking leg. I’m so damn mad I could spit, but there isn’t anything I can do.”
Felicia said, “Ouch. That’s not good. I thought games got played at CBP, I didn’t realize that went on in the military.”
“According to Aaron, he apparently has a history with this guy. I think Matt wants him to go to
the IG, but Aaron doesn’t want to. He thinks he can do it all himself. I really wish Captain Grazio would get back with the team, but I don’t know if that is going to happen.”
With supper served, Aaron and Matt seemed to have gotten over whatever they were arguing about, and Jesse smiled as Aaron tried to feed Jace in the high chair with Boo Boo patrolling underneath for anything that hit the floor. Aaron only got one face full of mushed peas, and when he tasted them he said, “Blech, as bad as these taste, I wouldn’t eat them either!” Jesse and Felicia laughed, and Matt just rolled his eyes.
Felicia leaned over and pinched him, “Your time is coming, Buster!” Everyone laughed at that, and Jace managed to flip the entire bowl of peas onto the floor much to Boo Boo’s joy, until she took a taste, then shook her head and quickly backed away from the spilled peas and the bowl.
Aaron spent most of the night tossing and turning, waking up every time the stump hit the bed or Jesse. His movements woke Jesse up a couple of times, so she checked his stump, gave him another Tylenol and water, then checked on Jace before she came back to bed.
What to Do
The old man had gone back and forth mentally on what to do about the letter from Montoya. He’d called Billy and had him reach out and get some info. Billy had only confirmed that one Carlos Montoya, accountant, was also the number two in the Los Zetas cartel. The old man was of two minds, one was to just call him and set up a meet, the other was this ‘outreach’ was yet another setup to try to kill him.
He finally called Bucky, asking if he’d ever heard of anything like meetings between good guys and bad guys. Bucky said he didn’t remember any, but promised to see what he could find out. A couple of days later, he’d emailed the old man with a phone number in California and a name, saying, “Call this guy. If anybody knows, he does. He’s got some strange connections down that way. He’s expecting you to call.”
Since work was quiet, the old man headed for the ranch early, saying he needed to check on some things with Felix and Ricky. Nobody batted an eye at that, and he felt a little guilty for lying to them, but he figured this was one of those calls that needed to be made in private. Getting to the ranch, he did actually spend some time talking to Felix and Ricky about the longhorns and pasture arrangements, and checked to see how Ricky was coming with the colt. Ricky was ecstatic and he bubbling over with pride that the colt was responding to him, but sheepishly admitted he’d also been calling Eddie for advice.
Saying good night to Felix and Ricky, the old man slipped into the house and went to the office, taking off the hat and gun belt with relief, and popping the radio into the charger. As he was doing so, he remembered the burner phones Billy had brought to the house a long time ago, when the first cartel threats had occurred. He pulled one out of the desk drawer and stuffed a battery into it. Much to his surprise, it lit up and showed a fifty percent battery charge. He figured this was an omen, so he pulled the email from his pocket, reread it, and dialed the number. Hitting the speaker button, he set the phone carefully on the desk and pulled out his pen as he flipped the email over. He heard a scratchy “Hello?”
“This is John; I’d like to speak to Larry, please.”
“This is Larry, go ahead.”
“I was told by a mutual friend you might be able to answer a question for me about some meetings between good guys and bad guys that you might know about.”
He heard a chuckle on the other end, then “Yeah, I thought that was what this would be about. The answer is yes. They do meet. It’s always above board, and out in the open. No chance for guards or anyone else to take them out. Doesn’t happen often, but it has, and it will again. And it can be on either side of the border.”
The old man just looked at the phone, “Uh, okay, thanks.”
He heard the chuckle again, “Sounds like you got a request. Up to you how you play it. Anything else?”
“Ah, not that I can think of right now.” The next thing he heard was a dial tone. Shaking his head, he hung up the phone and sat back in the chair, petting Yogi on the head as he leaned against the chair. The old man reached into a pigeonhole in the desk, and pulled out the letter from Montoya, opened it and read it again. Shit. What the hell do I do? I want nothing more than to kill that sumbitch, but I can’t figure out why he wants to talk now. Well John, its shit or get off the pot.
The old man reached for the phone, pulled his hand back, then grabbed it and dialed the number. He hit speaker and laid the phone down again. It rang four, then five, then six times. He was getting ready to hang up when he heard “¿Hola?” Then he heard a rustle as if the phone had been handed to someone else.
Rather than answer in Spanish, he replied in English, “I was asked to call this number about a meeting.”
A different, much more cultured voice said, “Ah, si, yes Senor. I sent you a letter about a meeting to discuss our mutual concerns. I’m very happy to hear from you.”
The old man looked at the phone, then said, “How do you want to do this?”
The voice on the other end chuckled, “Senor, I know you can’t come here, so I will come to you. I am in Texas this week and would be happy to stop by and have a chat with you.”
“I take it this will be a private meeting, correct?”
“That would be preferable, Senor. I have no desire to advertise our meeting, and I don’t think you do either.”
Remembering what Larry had just told him, the old man thought for a minute, “Well, I can offer to meet you at my place. It’s open enough and far enough out of town…”
The voice on the other end chuckled again, “I consider you an honorable man. I will be happy to meet you at your home. I have no fear of doing that.”
The old man found himself giving directions to the ranch, as his hindbrain gabbled at him that he was being completely and utterly stupid. He tamped those thoughts down, even as Yogi sensed the changed attitude and growled softly, his ruff rising in response to the old man’s mood. He reached down and petted the dog soothingly, and Yogi relaxed back to the floor. It was agreed that Montoya would arrive after noon tomorrow, and they hung up simultaneously.
After he put the burner phone back in the drawer, the old man walked into the kitchen, went to the pantry and pulled out the Macallan Scotch. Pouring himself a shot, he sat at the kitchen table swirling the dark liquor and realizing his hands were shaking. He threw the shot back with a grimace, and washed the glass, dried it and put it back in the cabinet before he could change his mind and pour another one.
He went back in the office, drug out the receipts and finished typing them into the spreadsheet Jesse wanted to get every week for the books. He glanced at his phone and realized he’d missed a call because he’d inadvertently turned off the ringer again. Thumbing the phone on, he saw a voicemail and quickly punched in his code. It was Clay, wondering if he wanted to get some dinner at Monahans’ truck stop, since he was coming back from Dallas and it was going to be too late to get dinner at home.
The old man called Clay and agreed to meet him at the truck stop in an hour. He washed up quickly, and debated whether to take Yogi or not. He went out the back door and checked on Ricky, finding him putting the last of the supplies away, “Ricky what are your plans for tonight?”
Ricky stretched, “I’m finished with the supplies Senor, and mama wants me to come to dinner. She thinks I don’t eat well out here, and she thinks I’ll get in trouble if I go to town by myself.”
The old man laughed, “Mothers. They are always like that. They always think you’re twelve, regardless of how old you really are.”
Ricky nodded, “Si, Senor. But I turn nineteen next month! I’m not skinny, I have muscles now.” Ricky flexed his biceps and the old man suddenly realized Ricky really was maturing, filling out he wasn’t a skinny kid anymore. He’d never be a big man, but he would be taller than Felix and Olivia by a good three or four inches.
Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out his money clip and handed Ricky $60. “Go have a
good time, and get yourself something you need. You’re a good worker Ricky, and I couldn’t ask for better help between you and your dad. You’ve earned this bonus and a day off, too. I’m sure you can find something to occupy your time tomorrow, right?”
Ricky’s face lit up, “Yes, sir! I’m sure I can! Thank you!”
***
Knowing Ricky would be leaving, the old man decided to take Yogi with him, so he got his leash, then loaded him in the car. He drove slowly up to Monahan’s truck stop enjoying the scenery and thinking how he seldom got up this way these days. He pulled into the parking lot and parked next to the little dog run they had. He didn’t see Clay’s car, so he let Yogi into the dog run and watched him romp playfully with what looked like a miniature Rottweiler.
Leaning against the gate, he saw a lady coming back toward the dog park, a cup of coffee in hand, “Is that your Rottie pup?”
The lady laughed, “Believe it or not, he’s not a pup, he’s three years old.”
The old man looked again, “Really? What happened?”
The laughter continued as the lady said, “Well, Butch is a cross between a Rottie and a Beagle. But he doesn’t show any Beagle does he?”
The old man shook his head, “Nope. He looks like he’s pure Rottie. I’m almost afraid to ask…”
“Male Beagle, female Rottie, and no I didn’t see it,” the lady said with a smile.
The old man laughed, “Determined kinda fits the bill doesn’t it.” Looking over, he saw Clay pull in, “Excuse me, I’ve got to go meet my friend. Yogi, come!” The lady nodded and watched as Yogi trotted over and the old man put him in the car.
***
After dinner and catching up, Clay and the old man were enjoying a piece of pie and a cup of coffee, when Trooper Wilson walked in, along with Sergeant Michaels. They took the table next to them and quickly ordered, then Wilson turned, “Captain, it’s good to see you up and about. I hear you are back on duty.”
