Authors: Everett Peacock
Janet
shook her head a little, not so much as a no, but to clear the
confusion out of her mind. “I'm good. No worries.”
“
Really?
You were barfing blood in the cafeteria. Not a good thing.”
The nurse wanted to place a call to the base commander, but knew he
was in Kona on a shopping trip. There were no other commanding
officers available until tomorrow at the earliest.
“
Yes,
yes. Just drank too much this vacation.” Janet looked up at
the nurse, an alcohol induced sadness in pitiful eyes working to her
advantage. “I'm shipping back to Afghan tomorrow morning.
Just celebrated too much.” She looked down at her hands, still
scarred but healing up. “You know what I mean?”
“
Poor
bastard,” thought the nurse. In his opinion Private Turner
could do damn well whatever he pleased by his measure. “No
problem. Look, if you like I can check you out now. Real quick
physical. See if you're up for duty, if you know what I mean?”
Janet
knew very well what that meant. He was going to give James Turner an
excuse to avoid deployment, but of course would discover that a naked
James was really a naked Janet. That wouldn't work.
“
No
thanks, but thanks!” She looked up at him and went to shake
his hand, anxious to get this over with.
The
nurse shook her hand, amazed at how non-masculine it felt, but
disregarded that thought. Most hands he shook were smaller than his
anyhow.
“
Good
luck then Private Turner.”
“
Jimmy,
you can call me Jimmy for the next 24 hours,” Janet joked.
“
Right
on Jimmy!” The nurse laughed. “Give 'em hell!”
“
I
will,” she said.
“
I
did,” I heard her say to herself, thinking about pushing me
over the side, killing me a little more.
~~~
“
Hey
Larry, are you up yet?” Alex asked over the phone about an
hour earlier than would have
elicited
a positive answer.
“
Well,
I guess I am,” Larry answered. “Why? Why are you
calling me so damn early Alex?”
“
Sorry
Larry. But, it is 10:30.”
Larry
sat up quickly, looked around his room to find Shirley and the dog
both gone. The drapes over the massive picture window view of Mauna
Loa had been drawn shut. “Geez. OK, that's cool. I should be
up already.” Larry ran his hands through his hair. “I
guess it's too late to go paragliding now.”
Alex
listened to his friend wake up with half his brain while the other
half was reviewing the reservations list. After a moment or two of
silence, he asked again. “Are you up now?”
“
Yeah,
yeah. I'm up.” Larry coughed once. “What's up?”
“
Good,
hey look. That Sergeant Johannson called me about two minutes ago,
all pissed off about this Private Turner deal.”
“
Yeah,
so?” Larry tried to find more importance in Alex's statement,
at least enough to have woken him up.
“
Well,
she's about to call the police to come pick Turner's ass up, but God
love her, she is going to give him one more chance. If we can get
the guy on the phone she said she would hold off one more day.”
Larry
sat there for another long moment trying to figure out his part in
all this drama. He couldn't. “Okay, so...?”
“
So,”
Alex made his request. “You can come with me to Cabin #94 and
tell me just who you gave the telegram to. This whole cross-dressing
thing has me confused.”
Larry
had gotten out of bed and walked out onto his west facing deck with
the cordless phone. The wind was looking too squirrely to fly
anyhow. “You want me to drive all the way over there, Alex?”
Alex
laughed. “Yeah, the whole three minute drive will earn you a
free buffalo steak lunch, on me.”
“
Well
then, since you put it that way. See you in ten.”
~~~
Sergeant
Johannson knew her troops had returned from leave from all over the
U.S. Some from Florida, some from California, and many from the
Midwest. Despite whatever weather they had enjoyed, or not, they all
knew that Afghanistan was brutally cold in the winter. The 15 or so
degrees they had enjoyed at roll call would have been a welcome
respite if they'd been already in Kunduz or even Kabul. This was a
good run up to one of the shocks they would experience back
in-country.
As
she dismissed them for breakfast and ran back to her temporary office
she hoped frigid weather would be their only shock. She didn't let
her mind debate such frivolous thinking. Right now she was pissed
off at Turner. Not only was his ass in trouble, but hers would be as
well. This would be her third AWOL, deserter or whatever they wanted
to call it, in three years. Promotion was slipping farther and
farther away.
She
was so mad at him she had an overwhelming desire to fly to Hawaii and
ring his redheaded neck. She should have done that last week when he
posted that inane Facebook post about being dead. Her only good last
chance was for some guy named Alex to pull off a miracle and get
Turner on the phone.
~~~
The
weather around the volcano, specifically Halema'uma'u was getting
wet. trade winds, normally steered north by the “long
mountain” Mauna Loa were coming in more from the east today.
Their moisture laden blessings were easily appreciated by the
hundreds of families depending on rain catchment for their water.
The jungle seemed to like it as well, and the lava pits grumbled with
increased hissing and crackling.
Larry
loved the rain as much as the usually perfect weather. It gave him a
chance to feel a part of the tropics again. One could soon believe
this was all a high desert what with the barren lava plains, clear
and dry weather and of course the cold nights. The jungles were
tucked into fortunate valleys and ridgelines that had both avoided
the lava flows and could catch the little rain that regularly
visited. Besides, his papaya trees doubled their production after a
couple of days of good drenching liquid sunshine.
The
drive to the National Park gate was literally four minutes and it was
another four to Alex's office in the military recreation area. Larry
pulled his F-250 into the spot next to the flagpole, grabbed his
jacket and hat and walked briskly up the ancient steps and into the
brightly lit lobby.
“
Thanks,
Larry,” Alex greeted him, already with his coat on. “I
appreciate this.”
“
Lunch?”
Larry confirmed.
“
Steak!”
Alex beamed. “It's my favorite dish up here.”
“
OK
then, let's go.”
Alex
and Larry marched down the steps and into the light rain, rounded the
corner toward the small stone and wood structures. Cabin #94 was
already in view.
“
So,
follow my lead on this Larry. I'm going to knock on the door and ask
for Private James Turner. Regardless of who answers the door, I want
you to tap me on the back if you see the same person you gave the
earlier telegram to.”
“
Got
it,” Larry confirmed.
“
Turner
rented this cabin for two people. Himself and a Janet Turner,
presumably his wife.”
“
Cool,”
Larry said. “Looks like the lights are on.”
Alex
took a deep breath and quickly climbed the three steps up to the
small covered porch with a much too large chair on the deck crowding
a garbage can.
“
Game
faces,” Alex whispered and knocked three times on the door.
~~~
Janet
seemed to be dreaming hard when the two guys came knocking on the
door. I was still on my self-imposed duty of keeping a watch over
her, not that I could do much.
She
was sprawled on the floor having rolled off the couch during the
night having never made it back to bed and having thrown up three
times. Poor thing.
Beer
cans littered the place, some twenty plus, and both laptops competed
with the overhead lights to see which could outlast the other. I
would imagine that the place reeked by this point too.
The
knocking continued, growing louder and more persistent as well.
Suddenly my phone began to ring and that frequency seem to rouse her
from her comatose slumber. About the third ring she opened her eyes,
and then she heard the pounding on the door.
“
Hold
on! Jeezus.” She mumbled it as loud as she could, picking
herself up off the floor. A couple of beer cans got mixed up under
her feet and she fell back to the floor with a thump.
“
Are
you OK in there?”
“
Yeah,
sure. What the hell do you want?” Janet still had a good
touch of belligerence in her, no doubt from the alcohol. She finally
managed to get to her feet, wipe her mouth with her sleeve and pull a
sweater over her stained t-shirt. At least the alcohol had deepened
her voice with its toxic effects on her esophagus.
“
Private
James Turner. It is very important I talk to you immediately!”
The voice from outside the door sounded serious.
“
Yeah,
yeah. Hold on a minute will ya?”
At
least the knocking had stopped. Janet looked at the phone and saw
the Ft. Bragg area code, again. “Shit!”
“
Turner!
Are you OK in there? Please open the door!”
Janet
frantically looked for my Army cap, found it under the couch, put it
on and took a quick look in the mirror. That must have been a bad
idea, since she almost started to cry. She splashed some water on
her eyes, toweled off as much hideousness as possible and went to the
door.
“
Game
face,” she whispered to herself.