He went from building to building, exhibit to exhibit, and outside grounds area to outside grounds area. Several contenders piqued his interest, but after a bit of study each one fell short; too young (he’d learned his lesson on that score), prematurely balding (as a hat removal proved out), surly attitude (no excuse for that as his daddy once told him), constant ogling of men (his experience with Chris brought a no-vote). The list could stretch on longer than a vein in a coal mine.
Late in the afternoon, as Nathan stood in an exhibit hall admiring the Boeing F-15 Strike Eagle, a young Air Force Captain walked up with an expression of pure awe and desire written on his face. Nathan wished he could talk to the guy.
He took a few steps away and studied the man. The light brown hair contained waves, the green eyes held a sparkle of intelligence, his stance said confidence with a well-toned physique apparent in the tailored blue uniform. He appeared to be fairly equal in height, which Nathan always found easier to slide into. He took a furtive glance around the immediate vicinity and, while the Captain appeared to be preoccupied, slid in. A tiny shiver ran through his torso.
Nathan dug around for the needed information. Captain James Morris happened to be age twenty-eight, single, and lived in General Officers Quarters of base housing. Nathan slipped out and shadowed his prospective host; even hitched a ride home with him in the man’s little Honda Accord.
The small, garden-type townhouse could only be described as old architecture with a utilitarian interior. The sparseness of furniture—couch, television, and sound system in the living room, and a double bed, dresser and one nightstand in the bedroom—left Nathan to believe this guy traveled light.
A picture on the dresser of the young captain in an embrace with a woman eased Nathan’s mind on the attraction quotient.
“Well, James, I promise you a much more elegant lifestyle. For some of the year, anyway.” He gave the captain a once over as the man stripped down to shower and then change into civilian clothing. “And from all physical appearances, you’ll handle life at the compound, and do quite well with the ladies.”
James pulled on a coat, strode out the front door, and Nathan settled in to wait.
At midnight, with the young officer emitting short, slight puffs of breath, Nathan made his move. As he’d done before, he dressed leaving all identification on a kitchen counter. Figuring to keep warm and save a bit of time, he grabbed the key to the Honda and drove to the park. He locked the door, then withdrew his arm from James and pushed his hand through the window to toss the key onto the driver’s seat. Then he walked the length of the lot to his truck, and drove off.
Marvin, Tommy, and Mike seemed like nice folks, and some of the sightseeing they suggested, and the one steakhouse they mentioned, gave him fodder for thought. Yet, at the same time, consideration to hang around Dayton caused a queasiness to churn in his gut. He needed to chew on it a bit.
He stuck a fresh toothpick in his mouth, and headed north on the 675 freeway. He passed an overhead sign that read I-70 East, Columbus 59 mi, Cleveland 200 mi. An idea popped into his head. He’d always wanted to check out the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He could be in Cleveland before his stomach started gnawing at him for breakfast. The sourness in his gut eased when he pressed down on the gas pedal and signaled to change lanes.
“Well, now, I guess that answers that.”
The going went fine despite the numerous lines of orange construction barrels narrowing the number of travel lanes. Even the truckers seemed to move at a pretty good clip. About 2:30 a.m., Nathan looked up at the clouded night sky and expected there might be a light dusting of snow before dawn. Somewhere between Columbus and Cleveland, now along I-71, for the second time on the trip, the need to empty his bladder found him slowing to ease the way between barrels, and he pulled off to the side of the freeway. After slamming the truck door closed, he stretched to ease his muscles, and took a glance along the path he’d come. With no headlights in the distance, he sauntered over to the concrete barrier. It took several minutes of abdominal pushing to get started, which was strange considering the pressure he felt. Again, an odd burning sensation accompanied the weakest stream Nathan had ever experienced.
Climbing back into the warmth of the truck, instead of looking for places he might visit and things he might like to do when he arrived at his destination, he sat and pondered. Could he have chosen a guy who’d been indiscreet in his dalliances with the ladies? It was possible, but no images he brought forth conjured anything but wholesome women. No mental film clip contained more than a chaste kiss goodnight. Nathan couldn’t even find evidence of a quick tryst in the Accord in a back alley.
Might it be something more? He replaced a chewed-up toothpick and dug deep for information. A medical history had to be buried in memory. With his limited knowledge of medicine, he didn’t find anything more than the typical childhood illnesses, a bout of flu last season, and an allergy to Cottonwood trees, which would cause some heavy problems come Spring. Well, most folks suffered from an allergy of some sort. So long as this body wasn’t averse to a good side of beef, or rasher of bacon. That thought made Nathan’s head jerk up. Though he didn’t recall him saying so, he was pretty sure Marvin was Jewish, and he had a whole plate full of bacon, didn’t he? What if Morris is Jewish? The surname, the circumcision… It would be intolerable to suddenly have the nose curl up at something Nathan loved.
An internet search might be of use. He woke his cell phone, launched the search engine, and entered the symptoms. STD topped the list, but Nathan was about as sure as a creek ran downstream it wasn’t that. One thing struck him, though delving through the guy’s brain hadn’t recalled anything of the sort. Nathan got out of the truck, opened his pants, and groped at the testicles. “I’ll be damned.” Fake. Was there a family history? No.
Now, why would a man bury that so deep as to be irretrievable in the memory bank? Could be mental trauma; a lot of men felt less manly missing parts like those. But wouldn’t that require some kind of hormone replacement? Unless those harmless dates with the ladies indicated an inability to—Well, that right there would be a solid deal breaker. It still didn’t explain the symptoms.
Scrolling down the list he found and opened a link. Could be… According to the Cancer.org article on his cell phone the important fact remained that men who’d survived were at a higher risk for other cancers; bladder included.
Well, sir, that wouldn’t do. It just wouldn’t do. He put the goods away, crawled into the driver’s seat, and headed off. What now? didn’t become an argument. At the very next exit, he got off the highway, turned left, made another left and got right back on.
He pushed the speed limit as much as he allowed might not get him stopped by the highway patrol. After pulling into the lot at the park, he took care to lock up the truck. He slipped an arm out of James, reached into the Honda and grabbed the keys.
There was nothing left for it but to take the man home, and begin a new search. Yet, on the drive to base housing, his mama’s voice nagged at him, “Nathaniel Ray, you do the right thing, now. You get that boy to a doctor.” Returning the salute of the guard at the main entrance of the installation, Nathan made his decision.
After pocketing the wallet with all the proper identification, he strode back out and drove directly to the base hospital. Regular office hours hadn’t begun, so he approached a Staff Sergeant sitting behind a desk of the small emergency room and feigned severe pain in his abdomen and groin. “No, sir, no recent injuries,” he responded. “But it hurts like hell.”
“Fill this out. I’ll get you back to see the doc as soon as I can.”
“Thanks, Sarge. I sure do appreciate it,” Nathan said through gritted teeth.
Fifteen minutes later, when Captain James Morris sat spread eagle on the edge of the exam table and a Major poked around at the privates, asking if he’d “been out” recently, Nathan slipped free.
“No, sir,” James replied, and his cheeks flushed crimson. “Nothing
like that, sir. I swear.”
Nathan chuckled at the response. Then an expression of confusion creased the captain’s brow and he gawked around at the curtained area. “I’m not at all sure what’s going on.”
“Well, I don’t see any indication of STDs,” the doctor consulted the chart and scribbled on it. “And the symptoms you describe don’t jive with prostate infection. Bladder infection, maybe, but this would be a mighty severe one to cause this much trouble. Just to be safe, let’s ship you off to Radiology for a scan and we might find out.” James made a move to get off the table. “You stay right here, Captain. An orderly will be in, in a minute, to take you down. In the meantime,” he added, taking a specimen cup from a nearby drawer, “I need a urine sample.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nathan followed the Major out into the hallway, then looked up at the bulky, black-framed clock on the wall: 0510. “Well, I believe I’ve done all I could. I might as well find something to eat.”
He couldn’t think of any place better than Epstein’s. Not that he had much familiarity with the city. Plus, by his account, anyway, it seemed he was in the clear with the Keepers. By the time he arrived, his stomach mewled at him like the runt of a litter, but the place hadn’t opened. He walked through the door, and started a pot of coffee.
Tina gave a suspicious glance at the brewer as she turned to relock the door until opening. Making her way through the diner she offered, “You’re here early,” to the empty room, and disappeared into the back.
Nathan helped himself to a cup, and sat down to wait for Mike and Tommy. This minor hiccup didn’t alter the overall plan. He’d have breakfast with his new friends, find a suitable replacement to free him from this prison of dulled senses, and head out to enjoy the rest of his winter excursion.
Chapter 24
Nathan watched Tina go through her morning routine. The line of customers stretched around the corner of the building, a few deadheads pushed through the storefront and nodded at him. He nodded in return. “Mornin’.”
“I wouldn’t sit there if I were you. When she opens that door,” the woman nodded at Tina, “you’ll have someone sitting in your lap in seconds.”
“Thank you, ma’am. It did appear a might busy the other day. I’ll keep a watch.”
Like the phantoms they were, they lined up and drained the pot. Nathan imagined what that would look like to the live folks who peered through the windows: The carafe flickering out of sight, reappearing on the warmer a bit emptier, disappearing again—longer that time—to show up with barely a hint of amber liquid in the bottom.
“That pot better fill back up as quick as it emptied,” Tina warned from her spot in the middle of the small diner. She pointed at the coffee machine as her hand, filled with napkins and silverware, poised over a table.
Tommy laughed as he burst through the wall greeting the deadheads who had made the place their regular haunt. “My, she sure is feisty today. Morning, Betty. Hey, how are you today, Dixon.”
A chorus of greetings came back to him, Nathan’s among them. “Mornin’, Tommy. I could might lend you a hand if you need it. Compared to feeding a bunch of hungry, grimy miners back in the day, this would be a pony ride at the county fair. All’s you have to do is tell me what you need and point.”
“Oh, hey, dude. I didn’t see you over there. Nah, you sit and relax. Mike will be here in a few minutes. Though, you might want to take care when Tina opens up. The customers sure move in fast.”
“So she said.” Nathan hoisted his cup in the direction of Betty. “Where’s Marvin? Isn’t he coming along?”
Tommy scurried from table to table, dipping into the pocket of the apron he’d put on to fill the jelly trays and pack holders with sweeteners. “He’s what’s holding up Mike this morning. But, I’m sure they’ll be here. As soon as Marvin finishes the rant he’s on.” Tommy shook his head. “That dude really needs to get a grip.”
“What seems to be troubling him?”
“Oh, he hasn’t seen Jenna in days. He went to the park this morning before the sun even spit to check on her. She wasn’t there, and hasn’t been home. Freaks him out, you know?”
“Well, now, when I left yesterday morning, she’d been hailed off somewhere by a woman in a might bit of a panic.”
“Oh, man, that’s going to burn his bagels.” Tommy finished his duties as Tina headed over and unlocked the doors. “Here come the hoards. Dude, I don’t mean to be rude, but we’ll have to save the chit-chat for later.”
“There’s nothin’ rude about being straight-forward. Ya’ll get on with your day. I’ll try to stop on by later, then.” Nathan passed his cup into Tommy’s outstretched hand, and gave a tip of his non-existent hat. He opted to go through the wall of windows rather than put up with the vibrations of walking through the unruly crowd of the living pushing and shoving like they’d half-starve to death having to wait one more second. The sight of it reminded him of a trip to Las Vegas. People jostled for position along the buffet lines, elbows poking and jabbing. “They’re worse than hungry workers at the mines reacting to the dinner bell.”
Out on the sidewalk, he nodded to loitering deadheads who waited for a chance to pop into the restaurant to pilfer something for breakfast, and his mind turned to where he might look for a new prospect. Yesterday’s candidates hadn’t been all bad. There’s bound to be a different lot up for bid today, as his daddy used to say when heading out to buy more property.
He ambled along, and made a stop in the park to check on his truck again. There would be no time spent peeling orange stickers from windows again. That had been one tedious task. He arrived at the Air Force Museum before it opened. A fair group of people stood near the front entrance, but he saw no men who looked to be without family. He didn’t want a man with a family. What he wanted was…
It flashed into his mind there’d be a lot of time to kill if he wanted to use his typical method of waiting to take over until his chosen new self drifted off to sleep that night. “Well, sir, patience is a man’s best friend.”
“What’s that?”
Nathan turned to his left and saw a young woman sort of leaning against a bollard. He wanted to laugh. The way she half-sat on it gave the appearance of the thing being rammed up her backside. Instead, he gave her his brightest smile. “Oh, I was just musing to myself is all.”
“With these ear pieces for cell phones, I can never tell if someone’s talking to me, having a private conversation with themselves, or talking to a friend.”
“Yeah, at first it seemed like a bunch of crazy people, right?” Nathan laughed. “But, then again, how many of those ‘crazy people’ happen to be folks like you?”
“Good point,” she said. “Makes it less conspicuous for us now.”
Nathan wondered again how it was that some live folks were clearly able to see and hear those on his side of existence. And, it dawned on him the woman might be a jumper like himself. The chance to find out stood right in front of him. What could it hurt to ask? “How do you do it? What makes you able?”
The girl shrugged. “Don’t know, really. I’ve been able to for as long as I can remember.”
They both heard the locks tumbling in the entrance doors. A man in military garb pulled on the door and issued a brief “Good morning, folks.”
“Looks like they’re about to open. Maybe I’ll see you later.”
Nathan fished a toothpick from his shirt pocket and followed her through the doors. The lights flickered on as he passed by her standing in line for a ticket. “Ya’ll have a good day,” he said, and headed for the back end of the building to check out exhibits that might be in storage. He found an old Lockheed P-34 medium-sized bomber to be interesting, and nosed around the cockpit and bomb bay a bit. The most interesting thing was an Aeronca L-3. The top-wing, single prop plane had large windows which surrounded the flight cabin. A precursor to the spy planes of the 60s and 70s, this was an unarmed observation aircraft according to the metal tag riveted to
the fuselage. Beyond that, it was shelves of items and dust-covered crates.
All morning, right through the hot dog he snatched off the grill and the bag of Nachos he pilfered from the rack for lunch, and on into the afternoon his search came up empty. Out on the tarmac, admiring a fighter jet, with his last possibility a bust, Nathan shrugged and went through the building to leave.
The same young man who unlocked that morning stood just inside the exit doors with a smile plastered on his face. “Thank you for visiting. Have a nice evening. Come back and visit us again.”
Nathan halted and studied the guy he’d passed by earlier without a thought. He came across as pleasant if not sincere. Light blond hair—almost white, really—green eyes, no wedding ring or evidence of one having been there. At least not recently. He carried a little extra weight around the midsection, as evidenced by the bulge around the waistline of his Air Force blues, but some gym time—if not doing chores at the compound—would be a quick cure. The height worked.
Nathan peered over at the name tag. “Yes, sir, Sergeant Larssen. You might could be a right nice fit.”
The ride to the barracks took less than ten minutes. Nathan followed him in to his room, and shook his head in pity at the sight. “It might be better than the cabin, but not by much.”
Plain metal lockers stood against one wall and fake pine furnishings made up the rest of the sparse accommodations. A sink and medicine cabinet were separated from the room proper by a small metal divider like one might see between urinals in a men’s restroom. The sergeant stripped, throwing his clothes onto the single metal-framed bed, grabbed a towel from inside a locker, and wrapped it around his waist. He pulled a bag of toiletries from the locker shelf, and walked out the door.
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