by Jack Castle
Not sure why, he began singing a lullaby from his childhood in the best baritone he could muster. “Look for the… bear necessities, the simple bear necessities… forget about your troubles and your strife... yeah, man.”
It worked. Maddie stopped crying almost instantly. To the nurse’s amazement, Maddie not only opened her eyes for the first time but actually focused them right on her daddy’s face.
“Oh my gawd,” the nurse said in a thick Hispanic accent, popped her gum, and then added, “She’s looking right at ‘choo. They’re not even supposed to do that yet.”
“My wife, is she okay?” he asked her again.
“George?” Tessa called over to them.
Tess had her head turned toward them and the doctors seemed a lot less frantic than before. George heard them say comforting things like, “She stabilized now,” and, “Go ahead and stitch her up,” but it was Tessa’s face he was focused on. Her voice was weak but she managed, “George, I want to hold her.”
The memory of Maddie’s birth vanished like a departing mist and was replaced with others: The day he and his neighbor built her first swing set, the time he and Maddie had gone kayaking on the lake behind the house together, the day they had gone to the fair and Maddie had fallen asleep on his shoulder walking all the way back to the car parked over a mile away. The memories were coming faster now; waiting at the bus stop with her on her first day of school in her yellow raincoat and red umbrella. The first time she had ridden a pony. That trip to Disney World where they both nearly barfed on the spinning teacup ride.
“Daddy?” her small voice whispered again, snapping him back to the present. Her feet were bare and vulnerable looking. She was wearing a hospital gown, but, after scanning the nearly identical broom closet-operating room, he saw she had not been provided with the same courtesy of a set of clean clothes.
“Daddy, I’m scared.”
Rapidly crossing over to her he kneeled down to her level and hugged her fiercely. “It’s okay, Maddie-saurus-rex, I’ve got you.”
She hugged him back and while still holding him tightly about the neck she asked, “Where’s Mommy?”
What to tell her? Maddie was clearly frightened, and he didn’t want to frighten her any more. Until now it hadn’t occurred to him that Tessa might have been captured too. The thought of his wife waking up scared and alone in this place caused him to physically feel ill. He remembered that other woman, the one with the blond hair and glasses on the hovering gurney, which was plenty of proof other civilians had also been captured. If Tessa was here, he’d find her.
Since Maddie’s tumultuous birth theirs was a special bond, and honesty was always, always the best policy. He pulled his daughter gently away from him so he could watch her face. “I don’t know, baby-girl, what do you say we go find her?”
She nodded, sniffed softly and wiped her nose on the back of her arm. “Where are we?”
George shook his head. By his best recollection, not more than twenty minutes ago, he was flying a combat mission in Afghanistan. Fighting back the tsunami waves of shock, mostly for Maddie’s sake, he answered, “I don’t know, baby-girl. I think we’re in some kind of a hospital.”
A quizzical expression crossed her face but she simply nodded and didn’t ask any more questions.
Other than the steel pipe, Maddie’s room really didn’t offer anything in the way of weapons or, now that he thought about it, communications devices. Sighing in frustration (and deciding the pipe was better than nothing) he tucked it under his arm and moved back toward the door.
He clasped the handle, was about to open it, but then froze. Turning his head back to her, he whispered, “Now Maddie, I need you to be super quiet, not a sound. Do you understand?”
“You mean like the quiet game?”
George smiled. “Yes, like the quiet game.” He was about to exit again when she tugged on his shirt and asked, “What are the stakes?”
At first he was confused by her question. The stakes? Is she talking about a weapon? Then he remembered they were playing the quiet game. Thinking quickly he said, “Uh, how about milkshakes?”
Maddie nodded enthusiastically. “Chocolate.” When he nodded in agreement she tilted her head, and thought about what her own stakes might be. “I’ll do dishes for three days.”
George cracked the door open and peeked outside. Whispering back over his shoulder he asked, “Three days of dishes for a milkshake? Yeah, I don’t think so. Try again.”
She sighed, blew an errant strand of her bangs out of her face, and answered, “Fine, make it five.”
George feigned thinking it over for a moment and then replied, “Deal. Now let’s go.”
Maddie pantomimed locking her mouth up, and throwing away the key.
George eased the door the rest of the way open, listened for anymore footfalls, and hearing none, led her quietly out of the room.
Holding the pipe like a sword out in front of him and Maddie by her tiny hand behind him, they moved briskly down the hallway.
“If you can dream it, you can do it.”
-Walt Disney
Chapter 5
“Buttercup”
“That’s it, that’s all I remember.”
As George and Maddie navigated the seemingly endless concrete tunnels he had asked her how she had gotten here or if she knew how she arrived, but Maddie didn’t know any more than he did and she seemed to be suffering from the same short term memory loss. The only real difference between them was Maddie seemed far more accepting of their circumstances.
Thankfully they hadn’t run into any more patrols. So that was something. Eventually they exited another door, one like so many of the dozens of others, but this time he was shocked by what lay on the other side.
Standing on a wide balcony made of steel grating they saw a gigantic, colossal hanger stretching as far as the eye could see.
The ceiling had to be at least another sixteen stories above them, and below them was acres upon acres of miscellaneous… everything. Full-sized Army tanks to antique cars, small buildings, miles of clothes racks of every variety, and even a full sized pirate ship!
“Maddie, stay close.”
Maddie blew her bangs out of her face again, smiled and answered, “Okay, but you owe me a chocolate milkshake.” She stepped forward, gripped the railing and breathed, “Wow. They have everything here. It’s like a giant garage sale.”
That was as good a description as any.
Seeing no movement of any kind, George spied a nearby set of stairs that would take them to the hangar floor.
“C’mon, this way.” He checked behind them periodically for any kind of pursuit, keeping his head on a constant swivel.
At first glance George thought everything was laid out with no rhyme or reason. Now that they were on the main floor and he could see more details he saw that everything was actually sectioned off in massive quadrants with a purpose.
The pirate ship wasn’t amongst the western buildings and old army tanks; it was surrounded by racks of pirate clothes, swords and scabbards, realistic skeletons, a treasure chest, and even a small lighthouse on an island. Similarly, the western section had stagecoaches, acres of western wear, and a stable of very realistic-looking horses. And in the distance, one section had a small fleet of metallic boats that looked like they had been built by ole’ Captain Nemo himself.
George was suddenly reminded of his childhood. He used to have this giant wooden toy box in his room. He would dump everything out onto the floor and spill out all his building blocks, army men, spaceships, cowboys and Indians; that’s what it was kind of like seeing now, only now they weren’t the size of his toy army men.
“Dad, what is this place?”
It took him a moment to realize she had even asked a question. When he finally answered, he simply said, “Dunno.” And when she went to touch one of the fake horses he added, “Don’t touch anything.”
“Got it. No touchy.”
The main a
isle was as wide as a four-lane highway. It had taken them several minutes just to walk down the stretch located between the pirate section and western section. Finally George spied something familiar, or at least somewhat familiar.
Past the western area was a section filled with military gear--helmets, racks of weapons, and scores of military uniforms--seemingly of every branch and every nation. Deeper within the military section he saw the tank he had spied earlier; there was also a jeep, and a deuce and a half.
But as they drew closer he saw the military gear was dated, predominantly to the WW II era. And the rifles weren’t modern M-16’s but the original, much older, M-1 Garand rifles. Even the grenades weren’t modern, but the size of pineapples, and the Nazi uniforms were a dead giveaway.
Out of tactical habit, he lifted his eyes and checked the only door to the room, the one they had come out of. It was still closed. Thus far, they had remained undetected, which was pretty strange in itself. He decided to consider himself lucky that no one had discovered him missing from his hospital rooms. He reached for one of the M-1 rifles on a nearby rack. Locked. Where the rifles were dated, the racks holding them were not. No amount of pounding or prying would free these weapons from their secured racks.
He was about to curse but remembered Maddie was within earshot. Thinking he hadn’t checked on her in a while he turned around to make sure she hadn’t wandered off.
To his horror, he discovered she had done exactly that.
Completing a frantic scan of his immediate surroundings he could see she wasn’t in the WW II section anymore. For a fleeting second he began to wonder, Had she been a hallucination? Who’s to say what’s real and what isn’t in this crazy dream?
Dream or not, he knew he had to find her.
“Maddie!” he shouted, and immediately realized his mistake. Even though they hadn’t seen anyone in a while now he remembered the marching Nazis back in the massive tunnel.
He cried out again for his daughter, only this time in a harsh whisper, “Maddie.”
He was about to shout again when he heard her disembodied voice call back to him, “Over here, Dad.”
Maddie wasn’t in the military section but at least she hadn’t gone too far. She was across the main aisle in the Western section, standing next to one of the life-size horses. She had climbed up on a hay bale and was petting the faux horse’s realistic mane.
He moved over to her quickly. “Maddie, didn’t I tell you to stay close to me?”
Seeing her father was genuinely upset with her nearly brought her to tears. “Okay, Dad. I’m sorry.”
Feeling like a world class heel he said, “Sorry baby-girl.” He wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb. “I was really worried about you.”
“No. I get it. You got scared when you couldn’t find me.”
George harrumphed. “Scared? Me?” When she nodded he added, “Is that right?”
She nodded more deliberately the second time.
“When did you get so smart?”
She smirked and said, “Mommy says I get my brains from her.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, rubbing her head.
“And her looks,” she added.
“Keep it up, kiddo.”
Maddie giggled. “Oh, oh, and her patience.”
“Har, har,” he said dryly. He was happy to see she had returned to petting the horse. If they were going to get out of this weird place alive he needed to keep Maddie as calm as possible. The horse was tan in color, Maddie’s favorite, and already saddled. “Who’s your friend?”
“His name is,” she began, thought it over, and then answered, “Buttercup.”
George’s smile dropped when the fake horse blinked its eyes and suddenly moved. George lunged forward, scooped Maddie off the hay bale and jumped backward a few feet.
“It’s okay, Dad. He won’t hurt you.”
“How would you know, you only just met him.”
“I just know, Dad, okay?”
George looked at Maddie’s face and saw she was serious. The horse, seeming to agree with her, nodded its massive head up and down and stamped its front hoof for emphasis.
George slowly released Maddie back down to the floor. When Maddie started to approach the animatronic horse again George absentmindedly slowed her approach with one hand on her shoulder and they both moved back over to the horse in unison.
The horse lowered its head and seemed to delight in Maddie petting his muzzle. “See? He’s friendly.” And then switching her voice to baby-talk she added, “He’s just looking for someone to love on him a little bit. Isn’t that right, Buttercup?”
George could just make out the slight whirring noises beneath the horse’s exterior skin, and the robotic movements were barely noticeable. The creature was so sophisticated that at a passing glance you’d never know the thing was a robot. The contrast was interesting to George because the military equipment in the WW II section was outdated but this mechanical horse was extremely advanced.
As Maddie hugged the horse’s muzzle to her chest he said, “Maddie, it’s a robot. Robots don’t feel love.”
A quizzical expression crossed her face as Maddie thought about this. Finally she asked, “Why not?”
“Because it’s a machine, sweetheart, machines don’t feel anything.”
Maddie tried to speak, couldn’t, and only nodded instead. George realized she was still wearing only a hospital gown.
“You must be cold.” Spying a clothes rack back in the military section he said, “C’mon, let’s get you something else to wear.”
As they navigated through the various containers and made their way back to the main aisle George heard the horse clip-clopping behind them. He turned around, part of him ready for a fight, but the horse stopped his advance the moment they stopped walking.
“Awww,” Maddie said. “I think he wants to come with us.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” George immediately shot back.
“Why not? He’s lonely.” Maddie crossed over to the faux horse again and began petting it. Talking to it in the baby voice again she cooed, “Isn’t that right, Buttercup, you are just lonely.” The animatronic horse nuzzled Maddie back, mimicking a real horse perfectly.
“No way,” George explained matter-of-factly, pulling her gently away from the horse.
“But Dad, whyyyyy?”
“For one thing, he’ll make too much damn noise.”
Maddie’s face turned serious at once. “You said damn.”
George apologized and then said, “We still can’t bring it with us.”
“It’s not an it, dad. It’s a him. And his name’s Buttercup.”
“Doesn’t matter, he, is staying here.” Turning to the horse he commanded, “Uh, horse, thingy, stay,” and immediately mumbled, “now I’m talking to a wind up horse.”
Buttercup whinnied in complaint and took another step forward.
“Buttercup, stay!” Maddie commanded, thrusting her pointer finger to show she was serious.
The horse reared its head, seemingly in understanding, and returned to standing stock still, the light already beginning to fade from its eyes.
George shook his head in amazement. He had never even heard of this level of sophistication before.
As he led Maddie away, and across the main aisle he heard Maddie whisper softly back over her shoulder, “Bye Buttercup.”
George was about to say, ‘Honey, it’s just a stupid robot,’ but thought better of it and moved over to the nearest clothes rack instead. “Here, try this on,” he selected a long, drab-green overcoat in the smallest size he could find. He draped it over her shoulders and she pulled it in tighter for warmth. He selected a similar extra-large coat for himself. In addition to keeping him warm, it had deep pockets.
As he slipped it on he noticed all the old army clothes were torn in places, stained with blood, dirt, and oil. The weapons in the racks also appeared heavily used. Yet everything was laid out as though it had just rolled off an
assembly line, and smelled fairly clean.
None of this makes a lick of sense.
These mysteries would have to wait until he figured out who kidnapped them, if they were friendly, and most importantly, did they have Tessa?
Still at the clothes rack, he selected a drab-green weave belt and, after a few minutes of rummaging through the piles and piles of gear, he fitted the belt with a leather holster, canteen, spare mag pouches, bayonet, and small trauma kit. He selected a second smaller belt for Maddie and, after attaching a canteen and trauma kit, draped the loaded-down belt over Maddie’s head and shoulder like a bandolier.
When she lifted her eyes up at him as if to say, ‘It’s too big’, he explained, “I’ll adjust it later.”
Spying the locked gun racks again he realized he now had the perfect tool. He unsheathed the long bayonet on his recently acquired belt and after several minutes of tugging he was rewarded with a pop of the lock. First he grabbed a .45 pistol. The thing was a real classic too; a 1911. He had fired a similar relic on the range once and found the pistol to be a real work of art. Certainly a lot heavier than the Glock he had carried during his own military career, but he appreciated the hearty stopping power, nonetheless. A quick inspection revealed the weapon was fairly clean, especially on the inside. He slammed home a full magazine and chambered the first round. The familiar sound was instantly reassuring.
Holstering the pistol on his belt, George repeated the scenario with the M-1 rifle, and slung it over his head and onto his back. He then grabbed one of the many gunny sacks out of a bin and began stuffing it with spare ammunition, clothes, blankets, and anything else they could use.
Now that they had clothes, gear, and weapons they were ready to go.
But where? From the upper balcony he had seen the hangar had gone on as far as the eye could see. They didn’t have any food, and even the canteens on their belts were empty. No, what they needed was some sort of transportation.
