Mecrats

by C J Klinger

  “Breasts,” she corrected him, but agreed with him. She didn’t want him thinking about anything except her while he was making love to her.

  She looked around at the passing scenery and asked, “Where are you we going to dinner?”

  After the ceremony at Andrews, Greg had checked out a military sedan and told Cathy he wanted to take her to dinner in DC and then show her something.

  “To the fish Market on Maine Ave along the Potomac River. I used to go there three times a week during my brief stint at the Pentagon.”

  Cathy brightened. “That will be nice. We don’t get a lot of fresh fish in Nevada.” With a twinge of regret in her voice she said, “I felt bad about leaving Randy back at the base.”

  “I know, but you can imagine the sensation he would create in downtown DC. Besides, he’s hooked up via satellite link to his buddies back at the base.”

  Cathy smiled at the thought. “I would like to have known Randy before he was wounded. He’s a special person.”

  Greg knew Cathy was especially fond of 10Rat. She had explained to him how she had been able to listen in to his thoughts during the process of transferring his brain from his body to the Mecrats receptacle that would become his new, mechanical identity. She told him that Randolph Rucker was an entirely different person on the inside than the image he must have portrayed as a combat soldier.

  Greg had been curious and looked up the former Sergeant Rucker’s service record. Whatever else he was on the inside, on the outside he had been one hell of a soldier. Greg would have felt privileged to have him in his command.

  “Here we are,” Greg said and pulled into the parking lot. Parking was always tight in DC and he felt lucky to find one in front of the cluster of restaurants that made up the popular Fish Market. Greg guided Cathy to Captain White’s, which was right on the river. The sight of so much water seemed strange to Cathy after spending almost eight years in the desert.

  “What we could do with one of these in Nevada,” she said pointing at the Potomac.

  “What? And have another Las Vegas?” Greg said in mock horror.

  Cathy laughed and said, “You’re right. One is enough.”

  Dinner was a grand mixture of Chesapeake Bay crabs and oysters. Cathy and Greg ate like it was their last meal for a while. After coffee and desert, Cathy said, “You said there was something you wanted to show me.”

  Greg nodded his head in agreement. He paid the bill and she followed him to the car. They drove north around the front of the capitol building and turned left on Constitution Ave and drove down along the Commons, America’s front yard as it was often called. Cathy never got tired of looking at the grand buildings and monuments in Washington, especially the Lincoln Memorial, which they were approaching on the left. Greg found a parking spot and pulled in. When they started walking in the direction on the Lincoln Memorial, Cathy thought that’s where they were going. He still hadn’t explained what he wanted to show her, but instead of continuing to the Lincoln Memorial he turned and started walking down the walk in front of the Vietnam War Memorial. The haunting, black, basalt- rock wall, dedicated to the bravery of soldiers and the folly of politicians never failed to move her every time she saw it. What struck her most were the first and last names on the wall. No one could have imagined that after the first soldier had been killed, almost sixty thousand more casualties would be added to the list and after the last soldier had been laid to rest, everyone questioned the value of having spent that many lives on a hopeless cause. The Nation’s wounds from that war were so deep it would take generations to heal.

  Greg stopped and pointed at the wall. Cathy followed the path of his pointing finger and sucked in her breath. The name “Capt. Gregory A. Donavan” was etched in stone.

  “My grandfather,” Greg explained. “I’m named after him.”

  Cathy was unable to speak. The shock of seeing Greg’s name etched on a memorial to the dead brought back her fears of being involved with a soldier. She had a sudden image of Greg’s grandmother getting that dreaded call when her husband had been killed.

  “My God, Cathy, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He put his arm protectively around her shoulder and led her away from the wall.

  Cathy shuddered involuntarily and tried to compose herself. She finally blurted out, “I have, yours.”

  In a flash of intuition, Greg understood what she meant. He turned her to face him and lifted her chin. He could see the unspoken fear in her eyes. “Look, Cathy, I’m the third Donavan in a row to wear this uniform. I joined the military partially because my father made it seem obligatory, a debt to my grandfather’s memory, but I will not subject my children to that kind of pressure. I want them to feel free to make their own choices in life.”

  Another fear replaced Cathy’s fear of losing him. “You have children?” She thought for a second he might be married and hadn’t told her.

  Greg got a blank expression on his face for a second and then laughed. “No, Silly, not yet, but I’m looking.”

  His initial confusion and funny answer caused her fears to subside and in spite of the seriousness of the situation she laughed with him. “Looking for kids, or what?”

  He grinned and gave her a lecherous look and said, “No, I’m looking for a lusty female I can bend over and impregnate.” He paused and then added, “Repeatedly.”

  Cathy decided to play along with his silly game. “Well I guess I’ll have to be careful how I bend over and pick up my pencil around you, won’t I?”

  Greg’s expression turned serious. “I guess that depends if you want to have children, or not.”

  The weight of his answer sunk in and Cathy got serious, “Where are we going with this conversation, Major Donavan?”

  Greg took her hand and said, “Look Cathy, I like you, more than I have liked any other woman I have ever dated. I guess I’m trying to say is I would like for us to go forward and see where it leads.”

  Cathy had known this moment was coming ever since their first night together. Their affair had been too intense to remain just an affair of the flesh. She dreaded telling him that she was afraid to become a more involved with him out of fear of losing him. It was a vicious circle, because she probably would lose him anyway if she didn’t commit to some kind of relationship.

  His expression told her he was waiting for an answer. She sucked in her breath and said, “Greg, I feel the same way about you, but I have this fear deep inside of me of someday getting a call in the middle of the night telling me you’ve been killed in some God-forsaken part of the world.”

  He looked away from her toward the Vietnam Memorial, perhaps reflecting on the sorrow inflicted on the hundreds of thousands of people who had loved the fifty-seven thousand men and women whose names were etched in stone. An unreadable expression crossed his face and he turned back to look at her. Very softly he said, “I understand, Cathy. I will not ask you to do something you are not prepared to do.”

  Frustration boiled over in her, a product of the unspoken battle going on in her sub consciousness. She blurted out, “God damn it, Greg, that’s not what I wanted you to say.” She was shocked at her own language.

  He stepped back as if he had been struck in the face. His normally pleasant expression clouded over and he yelled loud enough for people in the area to turn and look at them, “Well, what the fuck do you want me to say? That I’m going to resign from the army so you can sleep at night?” He pointed at the wall and said, “Damn it, Cathy, every one of those men had somebody who sucked it up and did their part to support the soldier in their life.”

  He pointed his chin in the direction of the car and started walking, his back stiff with anger. Cathy, shocked at herself and shocked at Greg’s accusation followed behind.

  The drive back to their hotel near Andrews was completed in silence. She desperately wanted to say something to undo the wall that had been erected between them, but didn’t know what to say. In her mind, the only solution was to capitulate, to sa
y yes and learn to live with her fear of getting that dreaded call. Nothing in her experience had prepared her for this kind of personal crises. All of her life she had been told by her parents, her teachers and her professional contemporaries that she was special, that she had a gift very few people were granted, but here she was, paralyzed by the most fundamental decision a woman has to make in her life, selecting a mate.

  At their adjoining rooms, which had been reserved by the Pentagon, Greg said, “We have a busy day tomorrow. We had better get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Cathy closed her door in total misery. She had lost him.

  Chapter 40

  The muscular black man dressed all in black walked confidently down the pier. The dock master’s office had been dark when he punched in the numbers on the key pad to open the gate that restricted access to the pier jutting into the small inner harbor in the middle of downtown Baltimore. The thirty or so boats appeared to be unoccupied with the exception of a sixty foot yacht anchored on the harbor side of the pier. Several of the port holes streamed light, but no one appeared to be top side. He walked past the yacht with nothing more than a cursory, but thorough look. Satisfied that he had not been observed, he made his way to the slip number he was looking for. “La Bella Mary-Land” was rocking gently in the evening tide. He slipped aboard and walked past two fishing chairs, covered in white canvas that sat slightly angled toward each other as if carrying on a conversation about their many fishing conquests. Using the key he had been provided he unlocked the sliding glass door that stretched across the back of the saloon deck. After a brief look to orient himself, he used a pin light to find his way through the small galley kitchen to the short hallway that led to the main state room. Once inside he closed the door and pulled a small roll of opaque, black plastic from his back pocket. With quick, efficient motions he covered the four porthole windows. Satisfied that no light would reveal his presence, he sat on the bed and turned on the lamp mounted to the wall above the night stand. The soft light revealed a comfortable room, not luxurious, but one suited to a serious fisherman.

  The man’s face revealed no opinion as he scanned the room taking in the potentially valuable items left by the boat owner. His interest was not monetary; he was making sure he knew where everything was located so he could find his way around the room in the dark if necessary. Satisfied, he moved to the closet and took out the duffle bag he had been told would be there. It was. He emptied it on the bed and picked up the wad of hundred dollar bills and riffled through them as if estimating how much was there. He sat the stack of cash aside and unclipped the long case to look at the three parts of a Barrett M82A3, 50 cal. sniper rifle nestled inside. For the first time his face revealed an emotion; love. He touched the barrel assembly with affection. Two tours in Afghanistan had made them lovers. The idea that the kind of men he had killed with the Barrett were now his allies did not enter into his thoughts. That was the then; this was now.

  With practiced ease, he took the three parts and assembled the rifle. The completed weapon was almost five feet long and weighed more than thirty pounds. He checked the clip, inspecting each of the ten, 50 caliber rounds. Again satisfied, he inserted the loaded clip into the receiver. The gun was ready for action. In the right conditions he could hit a target almost a mile away. That kind of accuracy would hardly be necessary for this assignment. The first target was large and close; within three hundred yards. The smaller second target, the human would require a little more finesse, but would not be a great test of his skills.

  He put the gun down on the bed and turned off the light. It was time to decide where to place it for tomorrow’s event. Using the pen light he examined the galley and aft saloon area. The serving bar that separated the two areas offered an excellent platform to rest the Barrett’s tripod on while he aimed through the partially opened, sliding glass door at his target across the bay. In the dark he was unable to tell if the fishing chairs would interfere with his line of sight. At first light he would find out if this spot was satisfactory. If it wasn’t he would have to go top side to either the bridge or the flying bridge, twenty feet above the water. He knew he would have a clear shot from up there, but he would also be very exposed. He decided to risk being seen and moved to the aft deck. One look, even in the dark told him the flying bridge was out of the question. It had no concealment opportunities worth considering. The regular bridge was closed on three sides up to the three foot level with a seat across the back. That could serve as a rest for the tripod, but he would have to cover himself and the gun with a tarp. It would work, but his location would quickly become evident after he started shooting, making it difficult for him to get away cleanly.

  Being a sniper had taught him patience, so he returned to the stateroom and settled down to wait. He set his phone alarm for five thirty and stretched out next to the Barrett to get some sleep. It was not often he got to sleep in luxury next to the thing he loved.

  Chapter 41

  Cathy had not slept well. A war of wills had raged in her fitful dream, tugging her one way and then another. At three AM she got up and sat on the edge of the bed. She admonished herself to make a decision and stick with it. All her life she had practiced a form of self-debate when confronted with an unclear choice between two options. She had always relied on logic to guide her ultimate choice. That was how she had chosen neurology over general medicine. It was how she had ended her relationship with Jimmy in college. Greg was a much more serious decision. Her gut told her that if she was ever going to find the right man, he was it. He had all the qualities she expected from a man. After listing the pros and cons, she sighed and went back to bed. She had been briefly tempted to knock on Greg’s door and tell him what she had decided, but dismissed the thought as being overly impulsive. The morning would have to do.

  There was a knock on her door precisely at eight AM, just as Cathy knew it would be. She had dressed carefully and taken more time than usual to apply her makeup, the little that she wore. Before Greg had a chance to knock a second time she opened the door and said, “Good morning, Major Donavan, I have an important announcement. Come in and sit down.”

  She could tell by his expression that he had been prepared to say something, but had been surprised by her preemptive words. He came in and sat on her bed with a neutral expression.

  She stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. “I have given considerable thought to my actions last night. I want to apologize for my crude language and how I reacted to your proposal to go forward with whatever it is we have. What you said was true, you do like me a lot, I can tell, maybe more than you’re admitting. I like you too, maybe more than I’m willing to admit. I too would like to see where it leads, but I’m warning you, Major Gregory Donavan, if you get yourself killed, I will dig up your sorry ass and make a Mecrat out of you and parade naked in front of you every day for a year to show you what you’re missing. Do you understand me?”

  Greg scratched his chin thoughtfully and said, “Every day? For a whole year?”

  She lost her resolve and put her hands to her face. “Oh Greg, I am so afraid of losing you.”

  He stood up and folder her into his arms. “I understand, Cathy. I’ve had to console more than one family of the men I’ve lost. I believe the ones who were killed had it easier than the ones left behind to bury them. I can only say you have given me motive to be extra careful in the future. In eight years I will have served my twenty. Then I’m done, or sooner if the right offer comes along.”

  She didn’t say anything, just raised her lips to his. He kissed her with tenderness and commitment. When they came up for air, he said, “If I don’t get killed. Will you parade naked every day for two years?”

  She punched him in the arm and said, “Men, all you think about is sex.”

  “Don’t forget about cold beer,” he added and protected his arms from her sharp little fists.

  They laughed and hugged and kissed again. After a bit he said, “I’ll
try my best to stay in one piece, Cathy. The thought of not being able to make love to you would drive me nuts. Now let’s go get something to eat. The general will be waiting for us at Andrews.”

  “Screw the general,” she said with feeling.

  Greg laughed and said, “You’re not the first one to express that opinion.”

  True to his prediction, the general was waiting impatiently at Andrews. He made a point of looking at his watch when the pair walked out of the flight operations building and joined him at the Black Hawk helicopter that was to transport them to Baltimore. Greg saluted the general and received one in return. Randy was sitting in the open door way and gave them a distinctly nonmilitary wave. He said, “Morning Doctor W, Major Donavan.”

  Cathy went over to 10Rat and put her palm on his massive chest. He was wearing the new, camouflaged colored armor that gave slightly when she touched him, giving him an almost human feel. “How are you, Randy? Everything okay back at the base?” She knew he had been hooked up to the other 8 Rats back at Area 51via satellite link.

  “Everything’s fine, Doctor W. Angie finally beat Marty at ping pong.”

  Cathy smiled in genuine pleasure. Ping pong had been a life saver for the men and women confined to a titanium/carbon fiber, mechanical body. Sports were an exclusively human activity and having the ability to play one was more proof they were still human. She and Greg had talked about finding another sport they could play and had considered soccer, but dismissed that sport after considering the size of the field the Mecrats would require to handle their size and speed. Still, she admitted it would have been one hell of a game to watch.

  Greg and the general were occupied going over the plan for the day. Randy checked to make sure they were out of hearing range and then he asked, “The Major treating you okay, Cathy?”