THE PEACE KEEPERS

by Tom Tryst

  Donna relaxes again. “Well, I might just know a guy that has a cute friend.”

  “I’m good, but thanks.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind,” Donna tells her as they are leaving the mess hall. “I mean about the cute soldier.”

  Using a golf cart, Donna takes her on a tour of the compound. It looks more like a small town. There is a chapel. A small theater. A recreation hall. A cleaners and laundry. A tavern. An ice cream parlor. A commissary. A gymnasium. A park with tennis courts. Every apartment complex has a pool and playground for children, all of whom are now in school.

  “Wow!” Tabitha exclaims, impressed, “It’s like a small village!”

  “Yeah, Smallville, USA,” Donna replies with some sarcasm.

  “Don’t you like it here?”

  “Oh, it’s OK. Don’t get me wrong. I’m just not a small town girl.”

  “Neither am I,” Tabitha says. “Born and raised in Brooklyn. But this is quaint. I think I’m going to like it.”

  “Hope so. It can get to be a drag,” Dona utters softly.

  Soon they are on a perimeter road, passing small farming areas with housing units for the workers. And they pass the military camp. All the time, to their right, was the unbroken line of ten foot chainlink fencing with razor wire and electric wiring and signs at regular intervals warning of 50,000 voltage.

  They have almost made the twelve-mile circuit when Donna turns into a parking area with a full view of the lake and stops. A set of double gates, now closed and electrified, lead out to the lake and a beach area with covered picnic tables. Two lines of fencing lead down from the main fence line and into the water, enclosing that stretch of shoreline.

  “Each weekday evening for three hours, plus all day Saturday and Sunday, security opens the gates for picnics and fishing. At least half a dozen soldiers are present for security. And . . . “ she points down to a boathouse, now enclosed, “ . . . they have a patrol boat on the water, the crew armed with machine guns.” She points out to the lake. “See that ring of floats? They’re all connect by thick rope to close off this area to the public. Each float sports a sign warning that trespassers will be shot. And they mean it!”

  She turns and points up into a grove of oaks. “You can’t see them from here, but there are two lookout towers, each manned 24/7. And each have 50 caliber machine guns. They have orders to shoot anyone coming into the enclosed area, this stretch of shoreline. That’s got to be the most boring duty.”

  Back on the road, they are soon in town and parked in front of one of the apartment complexes. Donna shuts off the motor and turns to Tabitha. “This is your new home. Apartment 224.”

  It’s a two-story building, each floor having two rows of apartments with entrances off a common hall running from one end to the other. Each end has stairways leading to the second level. One row of apartments gives tenants a view of the village from their balcony; the other row has a view of the lake.

  Donna leads her to one end and up the stairs. The six-foot wide double glass doors are unlocked. The first door on the right is 224. It is also unlocked.

  “You don’t need locks here, “ Donna advises her, opening the door. “There is no crime. You can use the deadbolt from the inside, if that makes you feel more secure.” She holds the door open for Tabitha. She walks into a large living room, fully furnished with what looks like new furniture, a room dominated by large sliding glass doors leading out onto a balcony with privacy side walls. Stepping out onto the balcony, the view brings a sharp intake of breath. Before her, looking out over thick forest sloping down to the water, was Medina lake, brilliantly blue in the morning sun, over a mile across and stretching out of sight a mile in each direction.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Donna almost whispers, standing behind her.

  “Oh, God, yes!” Tabitha breathes. “I love it!”

  “You must have some clout. The lake side apartments are for the more important employees. Most are two-bedroom, for families. You have one of the few one-bedroom.”

  Tabitha shakes her head in denial. “I’m just a regular worker. Never even been a supervisor.”

  “Then they must have plans for you.”

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I still don’t know what my duties will be.”

  They stand looking out over the panorama of the lake and the rolling hill country beyond. It’s like a resort. It takes a while before she notices the patio furniture, a glass table and four chairs, two chaise lounges and a wheeled utility cart. Donna urges her to check out the rest of the apartment.

  Everything looks new. A sixty-inch flat screen TV is on the end wall. The three other walls have large framed oil paintings, originals, although she doesn’t recognize the artists. At the other end of the room is a door leading into the bedroom, with the rest taken up by an alcove containing a compact kitchenette with a coffee maker. Later inspection will show it is stocked with the makings for coffee, tea and soup, as well as fruit, snacks and condiments.

  The bedroom is large. The king-size bed doesn’t come close to filling it. There is a large dresser and a mirrored make-up table, as well as a study desk with a desk top computer and large flat screen monitor. Her promised replacement E-notebook and her new smart cell phone are beside the computer. Next to the phone is a very thick, black, three-ring binder; she immediately knows it is her study material. In front of the walk-in closet sits her luggage. Inside the closet are seven set of standard issue work clothes, along with sweaters, jackets, raincoat and other items, all noticeably khaki in color. Sets of shoes and boots are on the floor. She knows they will be her size.

  The full bath has a shower and a large, whirlpool tub, a counter top with two washbasins and full mirror backing. There is a sleek toilet and matching bidet.

  She has never stayed in a five-star hotel, but she imagines this is pretty much like one. Why is she getting the VIP treatment? What are they expecting from her?

  Back in the living room, Donna gives her a hug and a “Welcome home,” which almost brings tears to her eyes. “I’ll leave you to settle in. You’ll find more information in the top drawer of your desk: maps of the town and the enclosure; Menu for the dining hall; What facilities are available and the hours. There’s a switchboard manned 24/7. The operator can answer any questions you may have.” She starts out the door, then turns with an afterthought. “There is a shuttle service daily into San Antonio. It’ll take you to any part of town. Maybe we can hit the town this weekend.” With a wink and a wave, she is gone.

  With Donna gone, she has an impulse to deadbolt latch the door, but she denies it. She should unpack, but she for now she has to take another look off her balcony.

  Regardless of her duties here, she knows she is going to like it.

  Chapter Two

  Not by accident, the Davies meet Tabitha as she enters the dining hall for dinner. She immediately recognizes Daniel, presumably her new boss, but not the woman with him.

  “Good evening, Miss Sullivan,” he cheerfully greets her with a wide smile, offering his hand to be shaken. “I hope you’ve found your accommodations to your satisfaction.” Before she can respond, he looks at the woman beside him, a stunningly beautiful woman. “This is my wife, Sherry. Honey, this is Miss Tabitha Sullivan, the newest addition to our community. She prefers to be called ‘Tab.’”

  Her first thought is: how did this average-looking man manage to get such a beautiful woman to marry him? He is handsome enough, but she is movie star quality, while he’s the guy next door. The thought passes quickly as they exchanged greetings.

  “So,” Daniel says as he ushers them toward the serving line, “Do you love the place yet?”

  Tabitha nods and quickly asks, “Are you sure Donna took me to the right apartment?”

  “Don’t you like it?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

  “Oh, no! It’s great!” she hurriedly responds. “Better than I expected . . . but, then, I really didn’t know what to expect. It’s jus
t that Donna said that complex was - how did she put it - for the brass.”

  Daniel chuckles softly as he responds, “No mistake. I can understand your confusion; we’ve not been very forthcoming regarding your duties here. I apologize for that. But security required some secrecy. At the 1400 hours briefing, everything will be set straight. But as for the ‘brass’ business, you will be working directly with my office. I run the place, so I guess that makes us both brass.”

  “We live right down the hall from you,” Sherry advises, “Apartment 202. The other end. All those working with Dan live on that floor. Well, almost all.”

  “I love the place!” Tabitha almost coos. “The view is fantastic!”

  “Isn’t it!” Sherry agrees. “I just hope Dan gives you time to enjoy it. He can be a bit of a slave driver.” The last she directs at her husband.

  “Not true!” he quickly denies with chagrin as they step in line, quickly changing the subject. “We’ve looked to the military in setting up the compound. They call this the chow line.” He handed her and his wife the standard metal, sectioned tray, and silverware. “The large menu on the wall behind the line lists the options available for this meal. As you go down the line, the servers will help you make your choices, and spoon out however much you want of whatever you want. Very efficient.”

  “Kind of like smorgasbord,” Sherry adds.

  “They’ll even have the meat cooked to your perfection.”

  “I could get used to this,” Tabitha grins. “I’m going to have to watch my weight.”

  As they sidestep down the line, each with their tray in front of them, their trays are efficiently filled with their choices. By the end of the serving line, they have their full meal, each item in a section of the tray, including desert and drink. They make their way to one of the vacant four-place tables, two chairs on each side. Dan and his wife sit on one side, Tabitha on the other.

  “Kind of reminds me of camping,” Tabitha comments as she takes her first bite, “the metal plate.”

  “Takes getting used to,” says Sherry. “The sound of a knife scrapping across the metal still gets to me.”

  “We do have to bus our table. As you leave, you take your tray and utensils and slide them through the opening to the kitchen. Unlike the military,” Dan offers, “there is no mess sergeant standing at the exit making sure you ate everything served.”

  “I certainly won’t miss cooking and washing dishes,” Tabitha advises.

  All through the meal, the conversation is sporadic, mostly with Sherry asking her about her life outside, with Tabitha politely answering - but with brief responses, still feeling a little out of place. By the end of dinner, she is more relaxed, yet she still can’t decide if she will ever be a close friend with Sherry. Even as open and friendly the woman is, her very elegance and beauty makes herself feel inferior. She hopes they can become friends; she is feeling quite alone and on her own.

  As they exit the dining hall, the sun is just starting to sink behind the surrounding forest. The day had been a bit too warm, but now it is very comfortable. Tabitha’s mind is already back in her new, luxurious apartment, and seeing herself relaxing on the balcony, but Daniel has other plans.

  “How about an after dinner cocktail?” he offers, and without allowing her time to excuse herself, he starts them off toward the one-and-only source of alcohol in the compound, simply called The Tavern. “It’s just a block down, right across from Operations. Handy. The only thing, the bartenders keep a record of what they serve. Only two drinks to a customer. We don’t want to encourage drunkenness. The best part, though, like everything else here, they’re free.”

  Tabitha is about to beg off, but changes her mind. A drink or two would relax her, for she has to sleep in a strange place tonight. It might help her get to sleep.

  “I’m not much of a drinker,” Tabitha confesses, “But when I do, I tend to drink too much. I like the two-drink limit.”

  “Neither am I,” Sherry adds. “Don’t tell anyone, but Dan usually gets my second drink.”

  “I have to deny that accusation,” Dan quickly complains with a grin. “Can’t have the Chief breaking the rules.”

  They walk slowly, talking casually. Tabitha looks around at what would be the center of town. Paved streets with raised sidewalks. The street lamps are just starting to come on in the growing dusk, globed lamps one would expect to see along a walkway in a park. Other people are on the streets, mostly coming from the dining hall. Some are going back to their jobs. Some are going home. Some are hurrying past them toward The Tavern. There is no vehicle traffic. Then she recalls, the only vehicles she had seen since she entered the compound were military jeeps and golf carts. Her rental car that she left parked in front of Operations is gone; returned by someone to the rental agency for her.

  It is like going back in time. Operations could have been the county courthouse. The lack of garish advertising signs gives the area an old world charm. A block down, she can see the park, all the lights on with several tennis matches in progress. The various buildings could have been part of an eighteenth century village, providing a place for shopkeepers to sell their wares. She wonders if this newly constructed village was designed to give just that impression. If so, it was a nice touch. She walks along with her new boss and his lovely wife, wishing they were instead going to the park.

  It is dark when they drop off Tabitha at her door, bidding her goodnight, and walking down the hall toward their own apartment. She goes inside and does latch the deadbolt, just for her own peace of mind, then goes out onto the balcony. Standing at the railing, she inhales deeply of the cool evening air, imagining that she can smell the freshness of the lake, now shimmering in faint moonlight. Across the lake, she sees lights from scattered homes, probably farmhouses, for the surrounding area is sparsely populated.

  As she takes in the view, she wonders if she has made the right decision.

  In their own apartment, Dan sits on the sofa and begins to channel surf, while Sherry puts on coffee. Via satellite, they get every channel available to the world outside the compound. By cable, they get channels not available to most of the outside world. She joins him, waiting for the coffee to perk. She sits beside him and leans against his shoulder.

  “So what do you think about her?” she asks.

  He stops flipping from station to station and looks at her. “Think about who?”

  “Tabitha How she’s going to fit in, Silly.”

  He shrugs and kisses her forehead. “Won’t know until after the briefing.”

  “She knows what her duties will be, doesn’t she!” she exclaims.

  “Not really.”

  “Do you think that’s fair? She dropped everything and traveled from New York to live and work in this compound! What if she doesn’t want the assignment? She should have been told more.”

  “She knows more or less she will be doing research.”

  “For the EPA! She may not want to go along with the program.”

  “It’s all work to cut carbon emissions. To try to reverse global warming. That’s what she has been training for.”

  “Under the EPA!” Sherry insists, getting a little worked up. “You should have been up front with her from the start!”

  Dan gets up, clicks off the TV and heads for the kitchenette. “Coffee’s ready.”

  She follows. “Don’t shut me off!” she threatens. “I’m just as much a part of the team as you!”

  He turns and pulls her to him, his arms around her waist to keep her from pulling away. “Honey, you know that this is on a need to know basis. We couldn’t tell her up front what would be expected from her. If she refused, she could blow the whistle on the entire operation. Even that clown the people elected as President doesn’t know our true purpose.”

  She gently pulls away and sets two cups on the counter. As she pours coffee, she asks over her shoulder, “At some point you’re going to have to tell her. If she refuses, she can still tell.”

&nbs
p; “You know the interview has been carefully arranged to feel her out. By the time we have to tell her, we’ll already know what her answer will be. If we feel she won’t go along, her job will be some legitimate research on the climate change.”

  “Well, I like her,” Sherry states, “I hope she agrees.”

  “And, she likes you. I could tell by the way she kept sneaking glances at you. You know, sometimes I think that you’re just too beautiful.”

  “Thank you . . . I think . . . wait, what’s that supposed to mean?” What he is saying only reinforces her feeling that her beauty often gets in the way of her fitting in with the crowd.

  He takes her hand and kisses it before responding. “I mean that you are so stunningly beautiful that it is hard for some women to get close to you. At least until they get to know you. I know, when I first met you, you totally intimidated me. You turned me on from day one, but I knew you could never be interested in a plain guy like me.”

  She has to smile. “You’re not plain. You’re very handsome and totally charming. I fell in love with you for the man you are.”

  “And I just thought you married me because I’m hung like a mule!”

  “Smart ass!”

  “Admit it! That helped make up your mind.”

  She giggles, then laughs. “It didn’t hurt!” Then she sobers and moves to him. He takes her into his arms and holds her tight. “Never doubt my love for you, Baby,” she whispers.

  “I am the luckiest man in the world.”

  “And I’m the luckiest women.”

  For a long time they stand, locked in an embrace, her head resting on his shoulders, his hand caressing her backside. She is the first to break the spell of the moment, looking up at him with a questioning grin. “Coffee’s getting cold.”

  His response: “Let it.”

  They did.

  Tabitha sits anxiously waiting the 1400-hour orientation. She had arrived 20 minutes early. While she wasn’t sure it was appropriate yet, she is wearing one of the sets of worker clothing, khaki short sleeve shirt and pants with brown oxfords. The only suggestion that this is a uniform for a particular employee is her name ‘Tabitha’ stitched in script over the right shirt pocket in darker brown.