Killswitch

by Cliff Hedley

  Chase raised an eyebrow.

  “The team reached out to the Army Medical Corps looking to work with amputees with good nerve preservation on some next-generation technology. You fit the bill, and you’d be helping yourself, as well helping the team develop the tech for other soldiers. Kind of like a beneficiary of the tech but also a consultant on its development. What do you say?”

  “So no pirate-hook hands? Sign me up, Doc.”

  Renfrew gave a chuckle. “OK, I’ll get back to them. Remember, this won’t be an immediate thing. It’ll need time and work. Chances are they’ll start you out with some basic prosthetics to ease you in. There’s a high chance they might want to operate again to optimise your nerve exposure and placement.”

  Chase screwed his face up at the mention of more surgery.

  “Don’t worry, the recovery for that won’t be anything like what you’re going through now. It will be a relatively minor procedure.”

  “So what do I have to do next?”

  “Nothing. Let me make the call and once we have the flights scheduled to get you there, we’ll let you know. You could be in New York in the next few days.”

  Chase was grinning now. He knew it would be hard but this gave him hope and more important, a challenge.

  “Thank you, Doc. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

  “You are most welcome. If I don’t see you again before you leave, I wish you all the best. Go make a difference — for yourself and for those who follow in your footsteps.”

  “I will. Oh, one more thing. Could I get some help to make a call home?”

  “Of course. I’ll ask one of the nurses to help you.”

  Chase headed back to the lounge in an excited daze.

  “Well?” Freeman was waiting for him, eager to hear whether his new friend was going home as well.

  “I can fly.” Chase couldn’t suppress the grin.

  “Yes! I’d get up and shake your hand but that might, uh, represent a challenge for us both.” He affected a very formal tone for the second half of his sentence. Emphasis on represent a challenge.

  “Hah. Maybe we can actually do that one day.”

  “Won’t that be a thing.”

  “So where are you going?”

  “I’m heading home to Norfolk.”

  “You come from Norfolk and you end up in the Army? How’d that happen?”

  “Three brothers already in the Navy that I didn’t need to spend any more time with. We grew up in a small house and we always fought. We get along fine in small doses, behave ourselves for Mom at family gatherings but put us in a confined space for any duration and watch out.”

  “So you’re the black sheep of the family?”

  Freeman waved an ebony hand. “So to speak.”

  Chase flushed. His comment might have been perceived as accidentally racist by some but he could tell that Freeman knew he meant nothing by it and was laughing at his slip-up.

  Freeman peered at him. “Enough about me. Where are they sending you?”

  “New York, to go be an Army guinea pig.”

  “So you’re volunteering to get in a little cage, eat pellets and drink from one of those water bottles, with maybe a hamster wheel for exercise?”

  “That’s about the gist of it, yeah.”

  “Sounds like a dream gig.”

  Chase could tell that Freeman was mocking him as he often did, but he would still miss his friend. Freeman didn’t talk all that much but when he did, his wit was razor-sharp. He wondered if Freeman was bottling up what he was going through, or if he was just like that. In some ways, it suited Chase fine, because they were sometimes both happy to just sit and watch the crap on TV. They had each other as company, so they weren’t going through anything alone, even if they weren’t talking much about it.

  New York, Chase thought. He had been once before, spending a week there as a tourist. It hadn’t been enough time and he had loved the city. He was finally going to get a chance to go back. He hoped he would have time after playing guinea pig to get out and look around. And eat pork belly. He’d need some new hands for that.

  They sat and basked in the prospect of going home for a while. Eventually Simmons showed up and asked Chase to follow her. She held the door for Chase to enter a small room and motioned for him to take a seat. There was a headset so that Chase could talk without needing to pin the handset between his shoulder and neck.

  “You mind dialling for me?”

  “Of course.”

  Chase gave her a mobile number that hadn’t changed in almost twenty years. It started to ring and he gave her a nod as a familiar voice picked up. Simmons backed out of the room and left him to his call. The voice at the other end sounded like Chase but a little older and a little gruffer. He could imagine the setting as if he was there himself. An old but tidy house on the outskirts of Boulder, Colorado. More like a cabin, with a much larger workshop alongside that dwarfed the house. Aspen, pine and fir trees kept it private; there would be a hint of snow on the ground.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi Dad.”

  “William! Is that you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How are you?”

  “Well . . . I have good news and bad news.”

  There was a pause at the other end. “And?”

  “I’m coming home.”

  Another pause. Chase’s father had served in the Air Force. He knew an early return for Chase could only mean one thing.

  “How bad?”

  ***

  Two days later, Chase and Freeman were led out into bright sunlight on the tarmac at Bagram. Chase had spent so much time inside that he had forgotten how harsh the sun was and squinted his eyes to adjust. He took in a breath and surveyed the surrounding landscape: harsh, jagged mountains in the distance cut an imposing figure against the clear blue sky. Ahead of them, a C-17 Globemaster was in the process of fuelling, with ground crew crawling all around it to complete loading and pre-flight procedures. He breathed a small sigh of relief. The alternative would have been a C-130 Hercules, which had around a third of the range and would be noisier and less comfortable. The Globemaster meant fewer stops, so they would be home that much quicker.

  Simmons was pushing Freeman and Chase had insisted on walking out rather than being wheeled. At the base of the loading ramp, Simmons stopped Freeman’s wheelchair and stepped in front of them both, just as a fresh-faced twenty-something walked down the ramp towards them. His name tag said Clancy. He wore a Medical Corps insignia on the sleeve of his camouflage fatigues, with the letter N across it.

  “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure to have you stay with us,” said Simmons, “but this is where I must leave you.”

  “You don’t want to run away with me?” Chased fired back. He got a laugh out of Freeman.

  “Sadly, my work will keep me here. I wish you both the best.”

  “Thanks for everything, Simmons. I mean it. It can’t be easy doing what you do and taking care of me the way you have.” Chase pulled a face to show that he realised that some aspects of her care were not pleasant.

  “That’s OK Chase and don’t worry,” she said, picking up on his partly-feigned embarrassment, “I’ve seen it all before.”

  “Ouch. I was hoping you’d say I had something special.”

  Simmons laughed out loud and Chase realised that after all his attempts at humour it was the first time he had heard her actually laugh properly.

  “Thank you, Simmons,” Freeman cut in. “I know I was a pain in the ass when I got here but you made it bearable. I won’t forget it.”

  “You’re welcome, Freeman,” she beamed. “Bye, boys.”

  Clancy got behind Freeman’s wheelchair and began to push him up the ramp. Inside, Chase was pleased to note that they had centre seats in the front row whe
re they could stretch their legs out. Three coffins lay respectfully arranged near the back and for the first time since losing his hands he felt lucky.

  The plane had four rows of padded seats, essentially like regular airline seats. The floor had a series of grooves that let them slide in and out, to allow for different configurations. Chase had been in a Globemaster before but last time it was on the sideways-oriented nylon webbing seats against the fuselage wall of the cargo bay. They were way less comfortable and certainly would not be fun on a long trip. He pushed back into his seat, settling his head against the headrest.

  “First class, eh, Freeman?”

  “Yep. I’m glad they didn’t give us the webbing seats. Who knew, all you need to do to get VIP treatment from the Army is to lose a limb or two.”

  Chase snickered in response, as Clancy fussed over his seatbelt, making sure they were both strapped in. Freeman had clicked his own into place after swinging himself across from his wheelchair. Once he was satisfied the wheelchair was stowed securely, Clancy took a seat next to Chase and began reading up on some notes — medical notes for his two charges, Chase assumed.

  After a while of waiting for the ground crew to finish with the plane, the engines started to whine as they spun up. Chase turned to Freeman. “Did you see we have fallen comrades with us?”

  “I did.”

  “For the first time, I feel like the lucky one.”

  “Me too.”

  “Is that wrong?”

  “Either way, we get to find out what happens next. Their story is over, pure and simple. Ours won’t be easy but we get another chance.”

  Chase settled back into his seat. The roar from the big Pratt & Whitney jet engines grew and soon they were taxiing to the runway. Moments later, they powered up to full throttle and the big aircraft surged forward. There were no windows for Chase to look out of but he imagined the craggy mountain ranges growing smaller beneath them as he felt the plane’s nose lift and they powered into the sky.

  ***

  The next several hours were a blur. Partly he slept, which he was very adept at doing on aircraft after years of military service. Occasionally a pocket of turbulence or someone moving past him would wake him but he would doze off again before too long. Next to him, Freeman seemed to be trying to do the same thing.

  Eventually, Chase noticed a familiar change in pitch in the engines and the whir-clunk of landing gear locking into place beneath the belly of the big plane. They swooped down from the sky and touched down with what he thought was a very smooth landing. He wasn’t sure where they were but moments later the pilot was on the intercom.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Germany. We have just touched down at Ramstein Air Base. Please remain seated until we have come to a full stop and ensure that you have all of your luggage with you when you exit the aircraft. We know you don’t have a choice of airlines but appreciate your patronage all the same.”

  There was a round of chuckles from the mix of personnel scattered across the front few rows of seating. Clancy went about collecting his gear and notes together.

  “How are you doing, Chase?”

  “I’m good, thank you.”

  “Freeman, how are you doing?”

  “All good, thanks. The in-flight movie was a bit boring though.”

  Clancy glanced forward at the silver-grey bulkhead in front of them and laughed. “Yeah, I’ve seen better. So,” he continued, getting into a more serious tone, “we’ll be hopping on a chartered flight from here. All going to plan, we should be able to stop by the base and get you freshened up, maybe a little chow and then we can get you settled in for the next leg State-side.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Chase answered. This was the first time in a long while that he had been out of an active military zone. He was in a safe country and it was an odd buzz. He had heard the old expression about a weight being lifted from the shoulders hundreds of times. He had felt it himself every time he had successfully disarmed an IED but this was somehow different. This time, he had a real shot at moving on with his life without that threat hanging over him. He didn’t expect to face another IED tomorrow.

  ***

  After a change to a quieter commercial jet in Ramstein, the last flight touched down several long hours later in Baltimore. Chase had managed to sleep the rest of the way again, after an exhaustive debate with Freeman on Star Trek’s two Enterprise captains, which had ended in a stalemate. They had agreed that both were good, though Freeman leaned slightly towards Kirk while Chase slightly preferred Picard. They had also talked further about what they were going to do when they got home, and Freeman agreed that eating pork belly was a very good idea.

  Their stop was more or less the halfway point, with Freeman heading the four or so hours south and Chase heading the three or so north to New York. The Army had shuttle vans ready to drive them to their respective VA hospitals, complete with medical staff on board for Clancy to hand over to and he made sure they found their way to the right spot for pickup. The goodbyes were brief.

  “Take care, Freeman. I’ll think of you whenever anything crap comes on TV.” Chase got a laugh from Freeman for that.

  “You too, Chase. Thanks for letting me hog the remote.”

  Chase rolled his eyes in response. They had spent a good proportion of their time together making jokes at each other’s expense. “Stay in touch.”

  “You bet. I can’t wait to hear how those robot hands of yours turn out.” Freeman looked him in the eye and patted him on the shoulder, then hopped his way into the waiting van.

  It was only another five minutes or so before the van carrying Chase and a few other passengers was on the road and working its way through light traffic. Chase’s internal body clock had been completely screwed over by all of the time-zone changes and he tried to stifle a yawn. He had gotten used to the fact that he couldn’t cover his mouth with his hand and there was nothing he could do about it. He figured it was around mid-morning. The sun had been up as they landed but there was no sign of the hustle and bustle of rush hour in the city, so he figured they must have missed it.

  He settled back in his seat and watched as the scenery went by. It was a surreal feeling. He was back in the States and nothing had changed. Nobody here really knew much about the daily grind of the war being fought overseas and there was a tranquillity about the place. It was something that he hadn’t sensed in a long time. That lightness he had felt after leaving Afghanistan returned as he marvelled at his fellow road users carrying on about their daily routines. Back to business as usual. He looked down at his bandaged arms and wondered what business as usual meant for him.

  His mind wandered and drifted back to his father. He would be waiting for news from his son and would no doubt want to head to New York once Chase was settled in. Frank Chase was a retired Air Force colonel and had been a leading avionics expert in his time — he had taught Chase the basics of electronics as a boy. He’d been a little miffed when Chase had gone into the Army’s EOD program instead of the Air Force, though Chase was on his own path and Chase senior knew there was little to nothing he could do to sway his stubborn son — he had always liked to be right up close to the fighting.

  Frank Chase had often joked that with all his exposure to high-powered Air Force radar and electronics systems from the Seventies through to the Nineties he should almost glow in the dark. What he hadn’t expected was to lose his wife Carol to cancer almost five years ago. She had lived healthily and taught as a substitute teacher in the high schools near the bases Frank had been stationed on. They moved around a number of them when Chase and his sister Tracey were growing up. Always from one project to the next for the colonel. Losing Carol had hit them all hard — she had been their constant, the family anchor. Tracey came home for the funeral but then had to head back to her life in London where she was working her way up the pecking order as a corporate lawyer.
Chase would check in with her when he got settled.

  After the Air Force, Frank and Carol had travelled all over the US in their RV, enjoying retirement and exploring. She loved the heat and the sea, so they had eventually settled into a nice retirement pad on the So Cal coast north of San Diego. She had been adamant she wouldn’t join every other retiree in Florida, so San Diego seemed like a good alternative. When she passed, Frank rented the beach place out and moved to the Rockies. The income, combined with his pension, gave him more than enough to live on and he preferred the cool, crisp mountain air.

  Frank had stopped flying the day he got out of the Air Force. Sick of it, he said and vowed never to set foot on another aircraft. Last time Chase saw him, the once buzz-cut colonel had grown a salt-and-pepper beard and let his grey hair get a little longer. Chase could picture him, looking every part the wild mountain man. He smiled as he imagined his Dad heading out to his giant workshop to ready the RV for the trip across country to New York.

  Chapter 6

  The man with the scars was weary from weeks spent on various forms of transport, none of them comfortable. He shook off any inclination to sleep now, driven by the fire that burned inside him. His minders kept him hidden away from prying eyes: he moved at night and stayed in cramped, bare quarters by day. He’d slowly worked his way around the globe, from dirt tracks to dilapidated aircraft, to leaking rotten boats, to rusted shipping containers.

  It had been a long and difficult journey to get to where he now stood, taking in a familiar city view.

  Chapter 7

  After a couple of hours of staring out the window, Chase could start to make out the unmistakeable shape of the Manhattan skyline in the distance. The traffic became heavier as they neared the city and eventually crawled to a halt as the number of lanes merging together grew. He was in no hurry, so as they neared the city centre he spent time looking up at the imposing skyscrapers and at the fast-walking pedestrians. New York was a city best travelled on foot, he had discovered on his previous visit. You could take a car there but once you were in the city, public transport and foot-power were the best ways to move around.