by Terry Yates
Martha Blum met Michael by the time he stepped on the top step.
“Michael!” she had screamed.
She bent down and pulled him to her bosom and began to sob. She smothered his face with kisses. Kyler could see tears streaming down her face. They actually appeared to be genuine, not crocodile like he expected.
At first, Arnold Blum had not seen Michael. He had been waving at the ABC camera when Martha began to run off the platform. When he saw Martha bend down, he knew that she must be hugging Michael, and joined them seconds later. He immediately buried his face in Michael’s head as the three of them locked together in one giant embrace. Kyler awkwardly walked up the steps carrying the duffel bag. Cheers and applause surrounded the Blum family, as well as every network news camera from CNN to Channel 151-B in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. Kyler felt like a seat filler at the Academy Awards…completely unimportant. Photographers, cameramen, and reporters were shoving him around like a queen in a biker bar, all in an attempt to get around him, so they could shove their cameras into the soon to be famous Blum Embrace that would be splattered across every major newspaper, minor newspaper, and farm gazette in the country.
Kyler continued to watch as Arnold Blum pulled away from the group first, and then turned to him.
“You must be Dr. Kyler,” he said, extending his hand to the doctor.
Kyler was a tad shocked. He hadn’t expected Blum to speak his name. Sure, he and the boy had talked by radio, but still, it was unexpected. He was wearing army doctor scrubs, but still…
“I…uh…yes, I am…Dr. Kyler…eh…Richard Kyler, actually…nice to meet you.”
Kyler took the man’s hand and shook it. Christ, Arnold Blum must work out. He felt like he’d just shaken hands with a jackhammer.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Dr. Kyler,” Blum continued. “Michael told us all about you.”
“He told us all about you, too, Mr. Blum,” Kyler came back.
For a moment, Arnold Blum’s smile disappeared, but he quickly regained it again.
“We appreciate all you’ve done for my son, Doctor,” he said, regaining his politician’s stance. Kyler thought he looked more like a televangelist.
“Yes we do, Doctor,” Martha Blum told him, leaving Michael and shaking his hand as vigorously as her husband. She was much shorter than she appeared on television. Even in heels, she couldn’t have been over five-four. She wasn’t THAT much taller than Michael.
“He was a hero, your son,” Kyler quipped.
“How do you mean?” she asked.
Oh yeah, Michael hadn’t discussed the werewolves.
“During the hurricanes, he was a tower of strength,” he answered. “He had this broken leg, and he uh…he…”
Kyler stopped speaking when he noticed that all cameras were focused squarely on him. Immediately his mouth went dry. He felt like he’d eaten a gin full of cotton. The moisture in his eyes had dried up, too, giving him a bug-eyed, cottonmouth expression. If he looked anything like he felt, he guessed he pretty much resembled a halibut looking into either a dark cave or the mouth of a large fish, and not too pleased about the prospect of either. He found himself sandwiched between Arnold and Martha, with Michael in front of him. He felt someone put his hand on Michael’s shoulder. With every camera, both still and moving, trained on him, all he could do was stand there, his upper body from hair to waist stiff as a board, but his lower body turning extremely rubbery.
“What was that, Dr. Kyler?” a male voice shouted out from behind the bright lights.
“Did you say that Michael Blum was a hero?” came another voice, female this time.
Kyler could feel two thousand eyes upon him and another ten million staring at him through the television. He could feel Arnold and Martha Blum looking at him, waiting for him to say something, but he was frozen stiff.
“I…uh…” he tried to start, but clammed up again, cold beads of sweat dripping down his face.
“What was that, Doctor?” came yet another voice.
“I…eh…was just saying…that he…I mean Arnold…no wait…Michael…was very…heroic…during the…um…two…eh…hurricanes.”
“How so?” Christ! How many reporters were out there?
“He…uh…helped…a lot of people who…needed…help.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Arnold Blum said to the crowd, as well as the reporters. “If you don’t mind, Mrs. Blum and myself would like to spend a little overdue time together with our son. We’d love to talk to you all, and we will, but first, General Mueller has been so kind to invite us to his barracks for dinner, and…well…we’re famished.” Blum laughed at his own little joke and so did the crowd, making room for them as they escorted the still frozen Kyler off of the landing pad. Light bulbs flashed in Kyler’s face as the horde divided to let them through.
CHAPTER 13
The food was wonderful. Leg of lamb, potatoes, green beans, carrots, pineapple, dates…you name it…was spread out across the large picnic table that Gen. Mueller had had moved into his reception area. His daughter’s desk had been pushed across the room to make room for the large table. There were straight-back chairs instead of the usual benches for the dinner guests to be seated in. The guests included the Blum’s, Mueller, Mueller’s daughter, who had been introduced as Corporal Tara Mueller, and of course, Kyler himself. Col. Potts had been invited, but had declined, claiming fatigue, but Kyler knew better. Potts had the energy of ten men, but Kyler knew it was because of Arnold Blum and Gen. Mueller. They were politicians as far as he was concerned and would only attend a feast like theirs if he were ordered to do so under pain of death, and then maybe.
The banter was light at first, but quickly turned serious when Tara Mueller asked Arnold Blum when and how he was going to help the victims.
“Well,” he started, “first, we’re going to raise as much money as possible to find land and housing for everyone. I have over a thousand acres that I’m willing to give freely, but it won’t be nearly enough. There are over two million people, but it’ll be a start. True, I do have quite a bit of money, but even that won’t be enough. Americans need to come together and unify under one flag. We’re going to need billions of dollars. We’ve raised quite a bit of money. Hollywood and the music industry have been very good, money wise, but it’s still not enough.”
Kyler didn’t know why, but he wanted to vomit. Something about Arnold Blum just rubbed him the wrong way. There he was, actually giving his money and his time to those affected by the disasters, but somehow it just seemed phony. Kyler had been surprised that he hadn’t allowed the cameras and reporters inside. He looked over at Michael who sat across from him, between his parents, and began to feel a bit like a heel. The kid was eating his food and smiling at the same time. He was going to be with his parents again, and no matter what they were like…he still wasn’t sure about Martha Blum…he would be in a nice big home, free of hurricanes, monsters, and refugees. He only hoped that he didn’t go back to the way he had been before.
“We were sort of hoping you would stay the night,” Gen. Mueller said to Arnold Blum, breaking a temporary moment of silence.
“We’d love to,” Arnold Blum answered, after swallowing, but we really should be going. We have to be in Washington by tomorrow night.”
“May I ask why?” Mueller asked.
“I have a meeting with the President,” Blum answered.
“But that’s not until day after tomorrow,” Martha Blum interjected.
Kyler wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw Arnold shoot her a look that didn’t exactly say “Oh you’re right, Dear. What was I thinking?” He wondered if anyone else saw it.
“Well, we can’t go meeting the President without a little rest. We’ve hardly slept in the last two days and it’s going to take us a while to get there. We don’t want to be flying around tomorrow in the dark.”
“As compared to flying around tonight in the dark,” Kyler said, taking a bite of pineapple.
; He could feel Arnold Blum’s eyes on him as he took another bite.
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to stay the night,” Arnold said softly.
“That would be great, Mr. Blum. Thank you,” Mueller said smiling. “And you can talk to the crowd here tomorrow instead of tonight.”
“And you can see what this place actually looks like,” Tara Mueller interjected. “I mean this is the largest of all the refugee camps, isn’t it?”
“Well, that’s settled then,” Arnold came back. “We’ll take a look-see around the camp tomorrow, and then head for Washington.”
Kyler watched Blum pushing the food around on his plate. For someone who was famished, he sure wasn’t eating much…a few carrots here…a few dates there…but he hardly touched the lamb, which was succulent. Kyler wondered where they had found the creature that had so nobly laid down its life so that they might have a feast fit for a king. Kyler laughed. King Blum…kind of had a certain ring to it.
CHAPTER 14
After dinner, the group chatted as if it was a normal dinner party. Gen. Mueller had a supply of Cuban cigars that he handed out freely. Only Arnold Blum, Kyler, and much to the General’s chagrin, Tara accepted. Michael Blum had had held out his hand, hoping to smoke his first cigar, but Martha had refused him.
Kyler had always liked a good cigar, but it had been ages since he’d smoked one. Feeling a little green, he excused himself and stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. The night almost seemed perfect. There was a beautiful breeze blowing, the stars were lit up like candles, and best of all, there were no reporters, cameramen, or Blum people hanging around. It was just a beautiful night…one of those nights that made Kyler almost believe in a God again. Like many men of science, he’d stop believing in anything but what his eyes could see, but tonight…who knew…maybe there was a great man up there watching over things.
He leaned against the support post and looked out across the compound. It was only ten o’clock, but all seemed quiet. There were very few tent lights on. He could hear the night guards, and the people who worked night shifts in the camp milling about, but everyone else seemed to be asleep.
He heard the door open behind him, but didn’t turn around.
“Getting a little green around the gills?” he heard a voice ask. It was Arnold Blum.
“It’s been a while since I’ve smoked a cigar,” Kyler answered, still looking across the compound. “I probably shouldn’t have re-started with a Cuban. Too rich for the blood.”
Blum made a sound behind him. It was sort of a grunt that was probably meant to sound like hmm…or humph, but came out sounding like neither. Kyler continued to stare straight ahead as he heard Blum move next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the man leaning against the other support post. He was still smoking his cigar as he too looked out across the compound.
“It’s beautiful out tonight, isn’t it, Doctor?”
“Yes…and it’s Richard, Mr. Blum.”
“Then, it’s Arnold, Richard.”
The two remained silent for another few minutes. Kyler knew Blum wanted to say something, but he was choosing his words carefully.
“I appreciate you looking after Michael these last few weeks,” he said, still looking straight ahead as he drew on his cigar.
“Well, there was no one else around to take care of him,” Kyler shot back.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the man looking at him.
“Mrs. Blum and I thought that he had been evacuated,” he retorted.
“You didn’t make sure? You just got out of there without making sure that he was all right?”
“I admit that it was a mistake.”
“No…a mistake is when you forget to lock the front door or leave the oven on. This was out and out negligence. Why did it take you two and a half weeks to get to your son when you knew where he was?”
“There were…”
“More important things?”
Kyler heard Blum sigh.
“Do you have any children, Richard?” Blum asked, breaking the momentary silence that had taken over the conversation.
“No.”
“Then how do you know what you would’ve done?”
“You didn’t answer my question?”
“What?”
“Why did you leave him here after you were informed that he was here?”
Now, the two men were facing each other, Arnold’s cigar smoldering in his right hand.
“I had to let the country know that everything was all right first,” he answered.
“Isn’t that the President’s job?” Kyler asked, smugly.
“The President…” Arnold Blum was smiling. “He has no idea what the people of this country need. He’s more worried about anarchy than he is about the needs of the people. While he was busy sending out the National Guard, I was helping the refugees.”
“So the needs of the many outweighed the needs of your own son.”
“I knew that Michael was fine.”
“He went through two hurricanes with a leg that was broken in two places,” Kyler remarked angrily.
“Ah…Richard…” Blum started.
“I think I like Doctor better…”
“What?”
“Doctor…I think I like Doctor better, the more that I think about it.”
“Yes. Well…Doctor,” Blum put an emphasis on the word ‘Doctor’. “If I’m not mistaken, his leg was only broken in one place when he entered No Name Hospital. Isn’t that correct?”
Kyler was stunned. He didn’t think that Michael would’ve told his parents that it was he, the doctor, who knocked the boy off of the gurney as he ran to the window after the jet crash.
“Yes,” he answered.
“So, that means it got broken again inside your hospital, while you were setting the break. Am I right in assuming this?”
Arnold Blum had a self-serving smirk on his face that really irritated Kyler.
“A jet had just crashed into the ocean.”
“And the jet crash broke his leg a second time?”
“Not as such…no. He fell off the gurney as I was running to look out the window.”
“So you broke his leg.”
“I suppose.”
Arnold Blum looked at Kyler as if he’d won some great battle that the two of them had been fighting.
“You know, Doctor…I could have your AMA card for this.”
“Go ahead, Mr. Blum,” Kyler said indignantly, folding his arms. “Do you honestly think I care? Have you noticed what’s going on around us lately?”
“Yes,” Blum answered, his eyes wide as if his point had finally been taken. “I have noticed what’s going on around us, and that’s what I’ve been trying to do. The people of this country need hope and all I’m trying to do is give it to them.”
“And a boy needs his father,” Kyler shot back. “Especially when he’s hurt and he’s frightened, but more afraid of showing fear and pain, because someone has taught him that those traits aren’t the mark of a real man.”
Arnold Blum finally sighed, lowered his head, and began to chuckle. “Dr. Kyler, you are a force of nature, my friend.”
“You haven’t met Col. Potts yet, my friend.”
At that moment, the door opened and Martha Blum walked out onto the porch. Kyler couldn’t see her face very well in the dark, but she did look a tad concerned.
“Is everything okay out here?” she asked, looking from one man to the other.
“Fine, Dear…” Blum started, putting his arm around his wife and pulling her to him. “Dr. Kyler and I were just chatting. How’s Michael?”
“He’s fine,” she answered. “Don’t you think that the three of us should get some sleep? We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” he answered. “I really wish that we could’ve taken off tonight.”
“But then you wouldn’t have been able to talk to all of these people who need hope,” Kyler said sardon
ically, staring at Blum.
“You’re absolutely right, Doctor Kyler,” Arnold Blum replied, smiling. For his part, Blum stared right back at Kyler. His smile told him that he was sincere, but his eyes told Kyler that he would love nothing more than to cut his heart out. What do you know, Kyler thought to himself. Arnold Blum, government lawyer, stockbroker, oilman, and all around entrepreneur had buttons that could be pushed.
“Well then, let’s get Michael and go to our quarters, all right?” Martha said, silently declaring a draw in the game of stare-down that the two of them were playing. She looked warily at the pair of them. She wondered what they must have been talking about to cause such looks of disdain.
After a moment, Arnold Blum relaxed and began to smile at Kyler.
“Well, that was an interesting conversation, Dr. Kyler,” Blum said.
“I enjoyed it thoroughly, Mr. Blum,” Kyler threw back.
“Then we’ll have to do it again sometime, won’t we?”
Arnold slid his arm down his wife’s back, and the two stepped off of the porch.
“Goodnight, Doctor Kyler,” Martha Blum said looking over her shoulder.
“Goodnight, Dr. Kyler,” Blum threw in, not looking over his shoulder as he walked.
“Goodnight,” Kyler bade them as they walked into the darkness.
Kyler somehow felt satisfied with his debate with Arnold Blum, but he might’ve screwed things up between him and Michael. He doubted very seriously that the Blum’s were going to let Michael have anything to do with him after this. That would be sad, because Michael didn’t have any more friends except the refugees. He only hoped that the kid didn’t go back to being a brat again. That would be a real shame. With this, Kyler decided that he should probably get some rest. He always had a big day to look forward to. He wondered if Blum would actually try to take his medical license…if not that, sue him for malpractice. He had told Blum the truth. He really didn’t care if they yanked his license or sued him. Go ahead, sue me…see what you can get. Blood from a stone, Blummy. That’s what you’ll get.
