Abigail went inside and made sure Fuzz had some fresh water. Then, she went next door and knocked on Alek’s and Torbin’s door.
“Coming.” Aleks called out. She came to the door and greeted Abigail.
“So, how did the vet’s office visit go? Did Fuzz bite anybody?”
Abigail laughed. “Thank you for the vote of confidence. Actually, I almost ‘bit’ someone.” She then told the story of the short, very short, dust up with the meth head.
“So, Emily Anders, the veterinarian, told me to keep an eye out as this Baker and his friends had a revenge complex.”
“Come on, Abigail. I have something for you I was going to give you later, but you may need it now.”
Abigail stepped in, standing by the front door after shutting it. Aleks was back in a flash with a good sized dark purse.
“Here, I have a duplicate. If you look closely, it has a hidden pocket for a pistol in the center of the bag, accessible from the side. Here, look? Now, reach inside.”
Abigail reached in and felt a pistol grip. She slowly pulled it out. It was a five shot .38 Smith and Wesson Chiefs Special, nickel plated. There were five .38 Special Caliber hollow-points in the cylinder. The pistol was used but well maintained.
“I bought the purse, Torbin found the pistol. Now you have a purse and backup for a night out with the girls.”
“But I don’t usually carry a purse. I never had a habit of carrying a purse. I usually have a rucksack or small pack.”
Aleks looked at her as a mother might look at a child who was having trouble understanding a concept.
“Young ladies carry purses. Packs are for field maneuvers and hikes.”
Abigail was still learning the ways of a “normal” young adult so anything non-military still seemed a bit foreign.
“Don’t purses just get in the way? Women always forget them, can’t find things in them? “
Aleks sighed in exasperation. “Husband. Come here please.”
Tobin came from the back of the duplex.
“Hi, Abigail. How are you and the beastie today?”
“Husband. Pay attention.” Aleks held up the dark purse. “Would you want to see me carrying this, or a pack if I were wearing my tight dark dress and we went out for the evening?”
“Well, right now, I don’t think the dark dress would be very comfortable, you being pregnant and all… ow. Don’t kick me!”
“May I remind you that this pregnant belly is the result of your efforts? That it contains two large baby Marines already fighting and kicking? Now, answer the question!”
“Okay. Yes, the purse looks better.” Torbin gave a sideways glance at Abigail. “Never marry a female Russian spy. They have no sense of humor.”
Abigail tried not to laugh, but lost the battle. Soon, all three were laughing. Torbin gently put his hands on his wife’s belly. “Fussing and feuding in there again, huh? Well, according to the docs, they will be out a bit earlier than normal, so that will help.”
“Until then, I look more like a beached whale every day. But see, when you touch my belly, they calm down. They recognize their father.”
“Yeah, and they know they’d better treat their mom right or I’ll have something unpleasant waiting for them. They are extremely healthy.”
“I think sometimes they are too healthy. Isn’t there some joke about the baby slapping the doctor at birth instead of the other way around? I think with your sons, that is a distinct possibility.” She turned back to Abigail. “Well? The purse?”
“I surrender. The purse is very nice. The pistol is very nice. You two are spoiling me.”
Aleks reached forward and hugged her. “You deserve to be spoiled, little sister. Now, are we going to go shopping for that great brute of a dog of yours? You said you would buy me lunch and I am starving.”
“You are always hungry, wife. Ow. That hurt!”
A little more than an hour later, Aleks was eating a large plate of broiled chicken as Abigail ate a bowl of spicy bean soup with black bread. Fuzz sat at her feet, being treated by the eating establishment as a service animal when they saw how well trained he was, how he watched everyone and everybody who came near Abigail and Aleks. Besides, Aleks was good friends with the owner, an expatriate Ukrainian who was visiting the U.S. when the first rock hit. His family had been with him, so somehow he made it into the Unoccupied States with no casualties. It one of the few total success stories from those days, the family surviving, and then thriving. He and his wife opened the European Café and American Eats just off Base, and it was a popular hangout for the troops, especially the increasing numbers of foreign personnel. Over a thousand Russians, several hundreds of Japanese, a couple of dozen Romanians, and some thirty Canadians now called Malmstrom home. Small numbers of non-U.S. personnel were scattered among the other military bases in the Unoccupied States.
Abigail was having trouble keeping a straight face watching Aleks eat. The woman who had been teaching her the finer points of being a young lady, of how to act as a normal person rather than as a warrior all the time, was now eating as if she had just killed something and was eating in her cave. Especially in the last two weeks, the sped up development of the twins in her womb (thanks to the Tschaaa and their genetic/hormonal meddling) had increased Aleks’ and the twins’ metabolisms, probably exponentially. Aleks was hungry almost all the time. When she ate, she often zoned out to all other activities, eating her food with a singular purpose.
Aleks looked up, and realized she was being watched. She stared at Abigail, who was trying to hide the beginnings of a smile. “What’s so funny?” Aleks demanded, after chewing and swallowing another mouthful of food.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
Aleks then realized she had chicken grease and sauce all over her hands and mouth. Her face turned red, and she began to curse quietly in Russian. Abigail handed her a spare napkin, then began to laugh.
“Fine. Laugh all you want. Just wait until you meet Mister Right, get pregnant and become a beached whale. I’m going to video it and email it all over the known universe. See how you like it. Being famished all the time, with two hungry trolls inside you.” Tears were in her eyes, and Abigail now felt bad for having fun at her expense. Pregnancy under normal conditions was bad enough. This was not normal.
“Aleks, I’m sorry. The last thing I want is to upset you…”
Fuzz rose up in a quick and fluid motion, sticking his muzzle into Aleks’ face and giving her a large slurping dog kiss.
“Ew. That is enough. I can clean my own face, thank you.” But Fuzz would not stop until Aleks began to giggle. Then, he laid back down, his mission accomplished. The one with pups was no longer upset. “I think I will steal your dog, little sister. He is the one male, the one person who treats me with compassion.”
Abigail took Aleks’ hand. “I’m sorry. You have done so much for me and I’m laughing at you. Please don’t be angry.”
Aleks smiled at her. “I am not angry at you, just frustrated. I’m used to being an active Russian officer, not a babushka who is always hungry. But your hand looks inviting. Here, let me have a taste of it….”
Abigail snatched it back, both women laughing.
Aleks looked up at the entrance to the restaurant. “Speaking of a possible Mister Right, Ichiro just showed up. With a whole bunch of young Japanese officers about your age.”
Abigail looked up and saw Ichiro Yamamoto as he walked in, some four fresh faced and very young looking Free Japan officers in tow, like ducklings following their mother. All of the Japanese officers, including Ichiro, had fresh pressed and immaculate combat fatigues on. Abigail felt butterflies in her stomach as she watched Ichiro.
Their eyes had then met for the first time, and an odd recognition had passed between them, as male and female warrior. And also, if Abigail was not mistaken, an attraction. Ichiro became as shy as she felt, having a stumbling conversation for a few minutes, each afraid of saying something completely stupid. Finally,
Torbin had broken in. “Alright, you two. Sit down and relax.You are acting like you’re afraid of farting in church or something. What? Don’t glare at me, wife. They just need to relax. We’re all friends and comrades here.”
Aleks broke in. “Please ignore my rude and crude husband. He has the social graces of a slug. Please, have a seat.”
They had parted that day a bit more relaxed. Abigail met Ichiro once more at the BX prior to him being whisked back to Japan. Again, they had been like two school kids, trying not to admit a mutual attraction. Why they had this effect on each other, Abigail had no clue. Ichiro was also older, more experienced, so Abigail assumed he would not be inexperienced with the opposite sex.
Ichiro had been gone for some time, though Torbin had said he would be back soon. And here he was.
“Ichiro. Over here,” Aleks called to him. His face lit up when he saw her, then a wide smile appeared when he saw Abigail. Quickly he turned to his charges, snapping out orders of “Do not embarrass me in front of these friends and fellow soldiers.” He approached their table with his little group, bowed in turn to Aleks and Abigail, who stood up, pregnant Aleks remaining seated. Fuzz, next to Abigail, rose to a sitting position so that these males, not to be trusted, would know they were being watched. At the sight of the huge dog, the young officers’ eyes went a bit wide. But Ichiro only had eyes for Abigail.
“Ladies. So very glad to see you. And Captain Young, Abigail, I see you have made a new friend. Is he friendly?”
She shrugged, grinning. “Sometimes. We just met yesterday. Aleks and I bought him some canine comforts—food, chew toys, and a few other items a healthy dog needs. He is living with me now. Fuzz, this is Ichiro Yamamoto, a friend.”
Fuzz’s nose worked and twitched at the word “friend” as he took in Ichiro’s scent. Now he would remember him. “May I pet him?” Ichiro asked.
“Try scratching his ears. Just move slowly. He has had some bad experiences in the near past. So far, he met Torbin and seemed to accept him. But he definitely prefers women.”
“Ah, then Fuzz, we have something in common.” Slowly, he began to scratch the large dog’s left ear. Fuzz began to make small happy noises. Abigail smiled. Good, under the right circumstances, Fuzz would at least tolerate men.
Aleks looked at the Japanese officer’s uniform. “You have different rank insignia. Is there something you are neglecting to tell your friends?”
Ichiro bowed his head a bit, slow in removing his hand from Fuzz’s ear. “My country promoted me to Major. Because you and Torbin were promoted, and they wanted to keep us equal, have equal face.”
Aleks knew that was so much bullshit. There was no reason that Free Japan would feel a need to “save face” about anything. Hell, they had provided eight jet interceptors for the U.S., something Madam President was chomping at the bit to get flying around the U.S. bases. The Unoccupied States was playing catch-up due to the heavy damage most military bases had endured.
“Tell me another tale, my friend. I see a conspicuous badge, decoration on your left chest. That is not due to your good looks.”
One of the young officers began to talk quickly in Japanese. Ichiro turned and replied sharply to him, causing all four of the young men to snap to attention. Abigail broke in. “Please, Major. There is nothing wrong about them telling us you have received a…medal I think was the word he used. Aleks and Torbin have told me how hard you have worked. And Deseret knew about your part in Key West.”
Ichiro turned toward her, a bit of surprise in his face. “You…speak Japanese now, Abigail-san?”
She smiled a bit shyly as she answered. “I already speak Russian and can act as a liaison with those forces. Since General Reed is using me as a coordinator and go-between with them, the Canadians, as well as Deseret, I also must be able to converse with the other major partner—Free Japan. I started using some education tapes, and found some Japanese speakers. But I am still just a beginner.”
Aleks interjected. “It is rude to keep secret good fortune. And unlucky.”
She looked at the officer Ichiro had berated. “I know you must speak English, or you would not have been sent here. Pardon me while I stand on my position as a pregnant lady and demand to have her curiosity assuaged. What medal is on his chest?”
The young officer looked toward Ichiro, his commander. The new Major sighed, gave him a small nod. The young man drew himself up to his full height, still about an inch shorter than Abigail. In very good English, he spoke, “Major Yamamoto is the first recipient of Order of the Golden Kite, reconstituted recently. It is an older award disallowed after the U.S. Occupation of Japan began. It was believed to have been too… militaristic following World War II. Our Constitution has been changed to allow such symbols of war again, as we are at war.” The young officer puffed his chest out even more. “It is like…your Medal of Honor.”
Ichiro blushed, bowed his head. “I am unworthy. I tried to talk them out of taking this action. It is too great of a responsibility…”
Aleks cursed in Russian and lurched to her feet, holding her large belly. “You saved my husband’s life, nuked those bastard Squids and hacked a bunch of them up, and you say you are unworthy? Are you trivializing my husband’s life? The life of the father of the two trolls in my stomach? Not to mention the others you helped bring back. Well, are you?”
Ichiro knew he had made a grave mistake. He had “pissed off” Aleks, something even Torbin avoided. Hell, it was rumored General Reed worked to stay on her good side.
In a quick move, he bowed low. “I am so sorry, Aleks-san. I in no way wished to disrespect you or your family. I just…”
“Just shut up and come here.” She reached out and pulled him closer. She kissed him on both cheeks, congratulating him in Russian, then English. “If you must know, Torbin and the rest were put in for the New Medal of Honor. The process is at Madam President’s desk. He also babbled about not being worthy, of not being a hero. Do you think I would marry just anyone? Carry this grand belly around for just anyone? Accept the fact that I am right. You deserve everything you are given.”
The four young Japanese officers tried not to smile. That would have angered their Commander, who was like a God to them.
Abigail stepped closed and reached her hand out, bowing slightly. “Congratulations, Major. It is an honor to share this moment with you.” Ichiro took her hand. Their eyes met and again something passed between them. They held each other’s gaze long enough for Aleks to see that another spark had been lit. She smiled. Now she had something to tell Torbin that was new, and a bit unforeseen.
Ichiro released her hand. “I would be honored if I could help with your Japanese studies. You mentioned once before about studying my style of fighting. Please feel free to contact me and we will set up a time or two.”
“Why thank you, Major. I will do just that.”
“Please, we are not on the parade field. Please call me Ichiro.”
“Okay…Ichiro. Will you be at the Oktoberfest celebration next week end?”
“Yes. General Reed has requested all non-U.S. units and delegations set up a booth or area with representations of their culture, traditions. He said we would be in for ... the long haul—I think that is the expression he used. He said we need to get to know each other as well as possible, as we would be shedding blood together. A very Samurai concept.”
“Then I will see you there. I told Aleks I would help keep her and her soon-to-be-born offspring well fed.”
Aleks snorted at this. “Like I said, just wait. You will not think it is funny when you are pregnant.”
Abigail did not reply. She had not been in for one of the many exams she had completed in Deseret, motivated by the possible radiation contamination from the Hanford Explosion. The Elders and the Prophet in Deseret had strongly “suggested” she not consider child bearing so as to prevent any deformed children. But, no one had ever stated that she absolutely had been contaminated to such an extent to harm her abil
ity to have children. Now, she was much freer, more independent here in the U.S. She would have to research the matter.
“Aleks, as uncomfortable as you are, it is still a God given miracle. I’ll do whatever I can to help you and your babies when they are born.”
Aleks smiled, squeezed Abigail’s arm. “Thank you, little sister. You help keep me sane.”
Ichiro bowed. “I must leave you now. I need to feed my charges and show them more of the Base. Till we meet again, ladies.”
“See you later, Ichiro,” Abigail replied.
Ichiro then spoke to the four young officers, and they fell in behind him as he led them to the ordering counter.
Aleks looked slyly at Abigail. “Handsome, aren’t they?”
“They are all fine young men, Aleks. Now, shall we finish eating? I know you don’t like to let food go to waste.”
Aleks snorted. “Yes, make jokes now. Just you wait.” Abigail laughed, and the two women sat down to finish their meal, Fuzz waiting patiently at their feet.
As they rose to leave, Ichiro reappeared. “Excuse me, Abigail-san. I thought you might enjoy this.” He placed two small objects on the table in front of her. The Japanese warrior had found some colored paper to demonstrate his origami skill. A small figure that had to be Abigail stood next to a four legged one that had to be Fuzz, large even in this miniature state.
Abigail’s eyes widened and her mouth opened. “Ichiro. They are fantastic. How did you do that?
He smiled. “My father and uncle taught me. It helped me to focus in my young years, when I was always in motion. I was not an easy child.”
Abigail carefully picked them up, and placed them on her palm. She was beaming. She showed them to Fuzz, who sniffed the figures, discovered they were not edible, so ignored them. Abigail kissed Ichiro on his cheek. Then, she blushed, realizing what she had done. Ichiro grinned. “I am glad you like them. Now, I must leave. See you next weekend.”
The Tsunami Page 24
