The Last Hour

by Charles Sheehan-Miles

  I took a breath, trying to gather my thoughts as we came to a stop at yet another red light. Then I said, “First, is Major Smalls serious about Ray potentially being in danger?”

  Dylan grunted. “I don’t know. A year ago I would have said no way would Colton ever shoot a civilian. That’s ... inconceivable to me. But he did. War does funny things to people’s heads.”

  I took a deep breath. “What about Ray? Is he likely to end up with charges of some kind? I mean, he reported it.”

  Dylan shrugged. “No idea. Could be. From what I understand, the shooting happened in March, and he didn’t report it until November.”

  “Damn it, why not?”

  I couldn’t see his expression because the light turned green, and I had to stomp on the gas to get ahead of a cab so I could change lanes and then get on the ramp. But his voice cracked a little, and he said, “You don’t know what it’s like out there.”

  “Tell me what it’s like out there. I can’t help Ray if I don’t have the information I need.”

  “You can’t help Ray anyway. Not with this.”

  “I refuse to accept that.”

  He sighed. Then he said, “Any moment ... any second ... your life is in the hands of the guys in your platoon. You may not like all of them. In fact, you may hate some. But you love them all the same. Take Kowalski. He was a complete fucking asshole. But he also watched out for all of us. He backed up Ray. He called us turds and fuckheads and dogshit, but then he took time out to make sure we were squared away, that we had everything we needed to eat, that we never went into the field unprepared.”

  “Ray hasn’t really talked about him.”

  “He threw himself on a grenade to save a little girl in Dega Payan,” Dylan said. “That was a fucking mess. Me and Ray had to bag up what was left of the body.”

  My throat caught, and I couldn’t breathe. I literally couldn’t breathe. I tried to imagine that. What was happening in Ray’s head, what kind of emotions must run in him? It made me feel like I didn’t know him at all. Finally I gasped, and said, “Don’t they have ... people ... for that?”

  He snorted. “Yeah. They do. They call those people the infantry.”

  “I’m so sorry you guys had to go through all that.”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “Forget it. This is now, and we’ve got to help Ray. So ask your questions.”

  “All right. What happens next? They’re doing an investigation, and it sounds like they’re arresting people.”

  He shrugged. “Not a clue. My only brush with military justice was what they call an Article 15. That’s nonjudicial punishment. Basically, the company commander assigns extra duty, or takes away a stripe or something. Investigations and court-martials? Far beyond my experience. I’ll check it out and let you know what I learn. But I’m guessing they’ve got to question people, conduct their investigation. Activating Ray wasn’t really to protect him, it was convenient, and since he still has a reserve commitment, they could do it.”

  “So what’s the worst case scenario?”

  “Absolute worst? They decide Ray was an accessory and charge him, and he goes away for a bunch of years. I guess technically they could go for the death penalty, but I don’t think the Army’s done that in decades.”

  I swallowed. That was worst case. It wasn’t likely.

  “Seriously, though,” Dylan said, “I don’t think much of that is likely. They’ve got to recognize that he did the right thing, even if belatedly. It’s not like the civilian court system. You’re operating in a completely different world here.”

  “So if we find him an attorney, it’s going to have to be someone who knows military law.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I wouldn’t know where to start,” I replied.

  “Google, I guess,” he replied.

  I snorted. “Well, Christ, Dylan. That was helpful.”

  He shook his head in response to the sarcasm. “I don’t know where to start either, Carrie. We stick with him. We let him know we’re behind him. Listen to me on this one thing. I doubt there’s anything we can do on the legal side. But I can tell you this. Ray’s gonna be as alone as he’s ever been. I’d rather go through three fucking Afghanistans than go through what he’s about to. So, we stick with him. We make sure he knows he’s got somebody backing him up all the way.”

  I kept driving, and his words ran through my mind, over and over again. He was right. I didn’t know the first thing about the military courts, though I had to assume they were politically driven and probably not nearly as fair as the civilian courts. Of course, politics I knew about. And, I might be able to get some help from my father in that area. But letting Ray know I was behind him, all the way? That I could do.

  I thought about what Dylan had said at the hotel earlier. This is only going to get ... very ugly ... from here. It’s not too late for you to walk away. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t understand why he even said it, but the more I ran them through my mind, the more I realized I was really angry about it. So, as I took the on-ramp to the Long Island Expressway, I said, “You know, I’m not the type of person to walk away from someone I love. It’s bothering me that you said that earlier. A lot.”

  Dylan didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he sat there, the fingers of his right hand twirling an unlit cigarette as he looked out the window. Finally, he said, “Look, I didn’t mean to upset you. But I owe it to him to look out for him.”

  “How is that looking out for him?”

  “You guys have known each other all of what ... ten days?”

  “About that,” I said. “Although it seems a lot longer. My phone bill says we’ve spent at least another ten days on the phone with each other.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s a really short time. Don’t get me wrong, I’m super happy for both of you. And from all Alexandra has told me about you, you’re right for him. You’re a great person. Under normal circumstances, I’d be behind you one hundred ten percent, okay? I just think ... if you’re gonna bail on him, it’s better to do it now. I’m not saying that you’re ... flighty or something. I’m saying this is going to get uglier than anything you can imagine. Ray’s probably gonna get crucified by the media. For all we know, the Army’s going to make a scapegoat of him. He might end up doing hard time. I don’t see, after just a few days knowing each other, how you can make that kind of commitment.”

  With every word he spoke, I felt like I had lead forming a ball in my stomach, and I found myself clenching the steering wheel, my shoulders and back tensing up. I opened my mouth to answer, and he said, “Hold on.”

  He took a deep breath, then said, “What I’m saying is this: if you’re in this, you’re in it for the long haul. Please don’t let Sherman lean on you, then disappear when the ugly really happens.”

  I glanced over at Dylan. His jaw was set, and he’d crushed the cigarette in his hand. He’d switched from calling him Ray to calling him Sherman. And I think I understood. He thought of him as Ray when he talked about him as his friend. But when he called him by his last name, it had deeper meaning. Sherman had been his buddy in basic training, and in the Army. Sherman had been his Sergeant, his team leader. Sherman was the guy he owed everything.

  I nodded, my eyes suddenly watering, and said, “I won’t do that. I promise. I know you think it’s a short time, but I’m going to repeat something Alexandra said about you last night. When you know, you know. What I know is that Ray is the first guy I’ve ever been with who treated me as a partner. He’s the first guy I’ve ever been with whom I could see spending my life with. And I’d risk anything for that.”

  “Even complete heartbreak? Because that may be what you’re headed for.”

  I nodded. “Yes. I’d risk that.”

  “Okay then. Enough said.”

  It was almost an hour after we dropped off Alexandra before we reached Glen Cove, and I found my way back to Ray’s parents’ apartment building. And I won’t lie. I was scared. I was scared to
walk up to that building and hit the buzzer and go upstairs and tell Ray’s parents the Army had called up their son again.

  The cold hit us both as I stopped the car and we got out. It felt as if the distance from the curb to the front door of the building had tripled in length in the few days since I’d arrived in town. But we walked up there, and I pressed the buzzer. A few seconds later we heard Kate Sherman’s voice come over the tinny speaker.

  “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Sherman?” Dylan said. “It’s Dylan Paris. And Carrie.”

  We heard a pause, and then the buzzer sounded and Dylan opened the door. We walked to the elevator, and I pressed the button and we waited. Dylan paced, his movements tightly constrained, tense, as if he were trying to keep himself from exploding. His limp was bad that morning. I stood there, my own fidgeting and nervousness purely internal, as always. We rode up the elevator, and started down the hallway together.

  Ray’s mom was outside her front door before we made it down the hall, an anxious expression on her face. She looked back and forth between us as we approached. Like her husband and son, she was a tall woman, though nowhere near my height. Every time I saw her, she wore elegant, expensive clothes, but three seasons out of date.

  “Is Ray okay? What’s going on?”

  We came to a stop in front of her, and Dylan said, “Can we talk for a few minutes, Mrs. Sherman? Is Ray’s dad here?”

  “Just tell me what’s happening.”

  He took a breath as if girding himself for a fight, and said, “The Army picked up Ray this morning. He’s been called back to active duty.”

  She blanched.

  “Maybe we should go sit down,” Dylan said.

  He took her arm, and the three of us entered the apartment. Mrs. Sherman staggered into one of the seats at the kitchen table, and I said, “Can I get you some water?”

  She nodded. “Thank you, Carrie.”

  I quickly got the water for her and sat down.

  “How could the Army call him back to active duty? Tell me what’s happening. Why hasn’t he called?”

  Dylan closed his eyes then asked, “Has Ray told you anything about why the Army and FBI have been questioning him?”

  She shook her head. “Almost nothing. He said he reported a crime in Afghanistan, but wouldn’t go into any detail.”

  Dylan frowned, met my eyes, and turned back to her. “Mrs. Sherman, Ray witnessed a war crime. It sounds like they’re pulling him on active duty to ensure he’s available to testify when and if they have a court-martial.”

  She sagged in her seat and then whispered, “Michael is at the restaurant this morning. Should I call him?”

  Dylan shook his head. “There’s nothing to be done right now. This may drag on for months.”

  I said, “I’m pretty sure the battery in his phone is dead, or he would have called.”

  She gave me a dismissive look, then turned to Dylan. I kept my mouth shut, and put my hands in my lap, where the table blocked her view of me clenching my fists. This wasn’t the first time she’d been rude to me, in at least a couple of instances inexcusably so. But right now, given the circumstances, I was going to let this go.

  Until, a few minutes later, she said, “I suppose I should call Laura and let her know.”

  Dylan blinked. “Ray’s ex? They broke up years ago.”

  The tension that ran down my spine right then almost caused a back spasm. Maybe she was just being protective of her little boy. Maybe she was playing some catty game, trying to put me in my place. But I was left with no doubt that her intention was to hurt when her eyes darted to me, then back to Dylan, and she said, “Yes, but they’ve been close friends since middle school.”

  Dylan looked confused and said, “I don’t think Ray would thank you for that.”

  I stood up. “Excuse me, I need to get some air. Dylan, I’ll meet you in the car.”

  Kate Sherman stood up, her eyes cold, and said, “Are you sure you can’t stay?”

  “I’m quite sure.”

  “Perhaps we should exchange numbers.”

  As distasteful as it was, she was right about that. So we did, and I got out of there as quickly as I could. Less than five minutes later, Dylan joined me in the car, and I pulled out of there faster than was safe or legal.

  “What was all that about?” Dylan asked.

  I shook my head. “No idea. But I wasn’t sticking around to listen to any more.”

  “I can’t imagine what she was thinking. Ray hasn’t spoken with Laura in two years or more.”

  I shook my head. “It wasn’t about her at all. Ray’s mom doesn’t like me, for whatever reason, and she was just on autopilot.”

  “Don’t let it get to you.”

  “I’ve got more important things to worry about,” I said.

  An hour later I had dropped Dylan off, and immediately headed out of town for the drive to Washington, DC. That was the last time I had seen or spoken with Ray’s parents before the hearing. I was tense now. I was worried about Sarah in the ICU, and I was terrified for Ray, still in surgery. I didn’t think I was ready to deal with a hostile mother-in-law on top of all that.

  It didn’t look like I was going to have much choice. And of course I would never do anything to keep her away from Ray. I just wished she would leave me alone. Somewhere along the line she’d missed the message that Ray and I were married, and that was a choice Ray had taken out of her hands.

  And maybe, in the end, that was her problem. Maybe it had nothing to do with me at all. Maybe it was simply that Ray, first by joining the Army, and second by marrying me, had clearly taken his life in his own hands and out of hers.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Alexandra said.

  I shrugged. “It feels selfish. But I’m dreading them getting here.”

  “Sometimes I think dealing with in-laws is the worst.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What’s Dylan’s mom like?” At the moment, Dylan was sitting a few seats down from us, leaning back against the wall, eyes closed, and mouth open.

  She gave me a rueful smile. “Aside from blaming me for his injury? She’s a real piece of work. I mean I admire her in some ways. She’s been through hell and back, and turned her life around. But at the same time, she let Dylan go through hell for a lot of years before she finally straightened up. His childhood was a nightmare.”

  I grimaced. “He’s come out of it pretty well.”

  “Only through sheer force of will.”

  Alexandra’s phone rang. She grabbed it out of her purse and answered it, then nodded and stood up. This was it. Ray’s parents were here. I stood too, and we walked to the door to the ICU, and she pressed the metal button on the wall to slide the doors open.

  Michael and Kate Sherman walked through the door. Michael, Ray’s dad, stood a full six-foot eight inches tall. He had a haunted look in his eyes as he and his wife walked through the doors, and he walked straight to me and pulled me into a hug.

  “I’m so relieved you’re okay, Carrie,” he said. A lump formed in my throat when I realized he smelled like Ray.

  I was flooded with relief. At least Michael wasn’t going to be difficult. But Kate gave me a cold look all the same. I broke off from the hug, and rather than even try to approach her, I led them to chairs against the wall and we sat.

  “Tell me what’s happening,” she said. “I want to speak to his doctors, too.”

  “Right now he’s in emergency surgery,” I said.

  She gasped. “Still? The accident was—how many hours ago?”

  “Eleven this morning. Mrs. Sherman, Ray was hurt very badly.” I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t want to tell her just how badly. I didn’t want to repeat what the doctors had told me about his condition or his prognosis.

  She stiffened and turned to Michael and said, “I knew we should have taken a flight. What kind of incompetence is this? He’s been in surgery for eight hours?”

  “Kate,” Michael said. “Let’s find out the situ
ation before we jump to—”

  She cut him off. “No. It’s clear she’s mismanaged this whole situation. If I’d been here my son wouldn’t still be surgery, he’d be recovering. He wouldn’t have been in the accident in the first place if it wasn’t for her.”

  I didn’t think. It was just a reaction, and it was instant, but before the words were even completely out of her mouth, I raised my hand and slapped her. Every head in the room turned toward us as I cried out, “How dare you?”

  She gasped, rage on her face. Michael grabbed her arm and said, “Kate, please stop. This isn’t helping. I know you’re upset, but Carrie’s his wife.”

  “Listen to me, you witch,” I said, my voice in a low hiss. “I know you love him, and I know he’s your son, but he’s my husband, and I won’t have you come in here and speak to me that way. Do you understand me?”

  She froze in shock, staring at me with wide eyes. I was shaking with rage I didn’t even know I had.

  Shut up. Yes I did (Ray)

  “Oh, my God, did she really just do that?” Sarah’s face reflected a mix of shock and delight.

  I was standing to Carrie’s right, in between her and my mother, and at that point I’d have done just about anything to really be there, and able to do something. I know Mom was upset. I know she was probably crazy with fear and grief. But did she somehow think Carrie wasn’t? Did she think she could come in here and just dump all that on Carrie?

  I shushed Sarah.

  My mother swallowed, staring at Carrie, then turned her back on her and walked to the opposite corner of the waiting room. Dad was left standing, facing Carrie, and looking like he wanted to sink into the floor or become invisible like me.

  He struggled for a second to say something, then shook his head and merely muttered, “Sorry, Carrie,” and walked over and stood next to my mom. He leaned close to her, whispering something, and from the fierce expression on her face, she wasn’t happy about whatever it was.

  Carrie was breathing heavily, as if an influx of adrenaline had suddenly dumped into her system. Alex and Jessica watched her, concern and shock on their faces. Dylan approached and put a hand on her shoulder and murmured, “Let it roll off, Carrie. She’ll chill eventually, okay?”