by Eric Hodges
CHAPTER 1
LEAVING
Wheeler drove through the pristine vacation villas on Park Boulevard, adjacent to the up-scale shopping district heading to Naval Air Station Coronado Island. The proud warriors of the Seahawk Support Wing would be short one mechanic after today. Today will be the last time the brakes of his old VW bus would squeal pulling up to a stop at the guard gate, the last time his identification badge would be used and the last time he would go to work in fatigues. No more would he be reminded of that night in Asadabad that continues to keep him up at night. He may never be fully free of the nightmares but at least, after today, the reminders would be gone.
He made short work of the checkout process, filling in most of the blanks on the retirement and separation forms that wanted to know about his future plans, with ‘Unknown,’ but he did list his next address as Emil’s Small Engine Repair in the town of Temecula, a few hours north of San Diego. Wheeler’s very short term plan was to bunk in the loft of his friend Emil’s shop while he figured out what to do with the rest of his life. He had already emptied the apartment into the back of the VW, so when the base cleared him, he could just drive.
Nagging thoughts of his navy career, his future life and everything in between fought for attention in his head while he drove. Wheeler had spent years being a soldier that provided him with a generous helping of useless skills except for the mechanical ones. He liked to repair machines, from the helicopters he patched to the VW that he had rebuilt to the small stuff that Emil repaired to make his living, Wheeler liked all of it.
As he thought of all the machines he had repaired and adjusted, the turmoil in his head subsided. Wheeler needed the solitude of mechanical things right now, to clear his head and hopefully release some of his internal pressures. Suddenly he felt optimistic, rumbling along in the slow lane on his way to the simplicity of repairs. The slight break in his mental turmoil allowed him to notice he was running low on coffee and needed a cup, even though he was barely out of San Diego. The next off ramp advertised ‘Meg’s Diner’ so he took it to go meet Meg.
Wheeler took a seat at the nearly full counter next to a woman that was about his age, 38, and not retired. Smudges of gray decorated her plaid work shirt and worn jeans, her early onset wrinkles were tanned and her calloused hands were not decorated with painted nails. Wheeler noticed that the distinctive muscle tone on her tanned forearms matched the rest of the ensemble as he sat down and ignored the menu. She was definitely a woman that worked with her hands.
“Mind if I sit here?” he asked.
“Sure, help yourself” she said, over the bustle of the pre-lunch crowd.
“Looks like you've brought a bit of your pottery to lunch with you” he said, nodding at a smear on her arm.
She chewed through a bite of sandwich and said “I bring it with me everywhere so I don't forget where to go after lunch.”
Wheeler ordered coffee to go and replied after the waitress had gone “I use post it notes. Then I don't have to wash.” They both chuckled then he remembered his manners “Call me Wheeler.”
She chewed the end of her sandwich and said “Call me Peg, and no, my twin sister does not own this place.” She smiled at her own joke.
“I was not going to resort to such juvenile humor” Wheeler said with mock indigence. He could only hold back the laugh for a heartbeat, and then they both chuckled together. Wheeler felt the normalcy of civilian life returning after its long hiatus and it felt good. He could become normal again.
Peg interrupted his musing “I don't see any post it notes on you so some of us must get back to work.” She smiled pleasantly while dealing with the check.
Wheeler's alarm bells went off when Peg got up to leave. He had to get up too, something was terribly wrong, and he could tell it was her vehicle. He covered his spinning emotions and said “Yea, me too. I can't keep up with the big boys in my clunker van” he waved at his VW, “so I have to put in more time to get anywhere.” He had to get her over to the VW, he just knew it. He dropped his money on the counter, grabbed his coffee and got up to leave with her.
They walked out of the diner together and she eyed his VW dubiously, but she was interested. “I've been thinking about getting something enclosed. Could I look inside?” Great waves of relief washed over him. She did it but he had to hurry her over to the VW to delay her moving on.
“Sure, come on over here and I'll show you” he said enthusiastically as he hurried her to the van. He was fiddling nervously with the keys to the side doors when a big rig truck whisked through the parking lot barely missing the rear of the VW and smashed into a Japanese pickup truck, pushing it out into the street and firmly squashing it into a power pole on the far side of the street.
They were stunned into immobility for a few fast heartbeats, processing the scenario that had just unfolded and trying to make sense out of it. Wheeler shook himself out of it first and ran over to the cab of the now steaming truck, jerking the driver's door open in one smooth movement.
The driver was slumped over the steering wheel and hanging by the seat belts but he was moving and mumbling incoherently. Wheeler gently propped him back upright and asked “Are you okay buddy? Anything broken?” The driver blinked himself back into the present moment as he pushed on the steering wheel to hold himself up.
“I think I'm okay” he said weakly. “Help me out of here.” Wheeler released the seat belt latch and helped him over to the curb as Peg joined them away from the hissing, smoking truck.
“Are you okay” Peg asked him, and then turned to Wheeler “Is he okay? What happened?”
“I’m just banged up a bit” the driver said. “It was the darnedest thing, both the over and under brakes went away. I was coasting on the off ramp and then just, well, nothing. I pulled on the engine brake, but the truck only slowed. I guess I panicked.” He held his head in his shaking hands.
Peg looked over to her smashed truck in front of the big rig and sighed. “I guess it's time for that van now” she said.
Wheeler stood beside her speechless, staring at the smashed truck as the reality of what just happened hit him. He had just gone into zombie mode using all of his senses automatically and the result had been to save somebody, not hurt them. All of those years honing his skills for a military purpose were not wasted. He did have a future that was not isolation and withdrawal but contribution to a society that would benefit. His mind was spinning off wild directions that were optimistic and not foreboding.
He had a flash of his life being that of a police dog, trained to apprehend criminals with force and inflict vicious harm if necessary. Now it was time for him to go home to the family, play Frisbee with the kids and pull skateboards. It was time to walk with the grandparents and sniff to make friends. He laughed out loud at his new life.
“What?” Peg said sharply. “Are you laughing at my truck? It was a good one, I beat it up some, but we were friends.”
“Sorry, it was something else” he said, hiding the truth from her. The police and paramedics had arrived with sirens blaring by then and Wheeler led Peg back to the parking lot of the diner. They stood for a moment in silence, wondering at the possibilities but coming up empty. “Can I take you somewhere?” Wheeler finally asked.
“No thanks. I have to get my stuff out of the truck after they pry it out of the mess. I'll just call my daughter later.”
“I'll just be going then” Wheeler said lightly and started to walk away.
Peg grabbed him into a hug and pulled him close, looked him straight in the eye and said seriously “I know what you did back there. I don't know how you did it but you saved my life.” She stared into his eyes waiting for a response that he couldn't get out. She continued, not really expecting one and said “Thank you,” kissing him on the cheek and redoubling her hug energy.
She released him and with a cheeky grin added “If you come back through town, look me up, I'm the only pottery chick in town.”
“I'll see you later” w
as all the breathless Wheeler could get out as he watched her head back to the trucks, swaying her hips provocatively. Hmm, Wheeler thought. Maybe.
