by Mel Odom
24
United States of America
Columbus, Georgia
St. Francis Hospital Intensive Care Unit
Local Time 0055 Hours
Jenny McGrath sat by her father’s bed and ate her dinner. The day at the hospital had been hectic. Even weeks after the disappearances, everything hadn’t returned to normal. People were more paranoid and vulnerable than ever. A lot of traffic accidents had come in today, and victims of gang-and drug-related violence had been steadily appearing through the evening.
She’d been cleaning the waiting rooms outside the ER when a young police officer was brought in. He’d been shot during a domestic squabble between a wife and a husband. They’d almost lost him twice before his father arrived at the ER. The father had already been upset about the unexplained disappearance of his wife. Now he had this to deal with.
Jenny had been tempted to tell him of Megan Gander’s belief that God had called up all the children and those who believed in Him during the rapture. But her own lack of faith and her hesitancy to believe that what Megan said was true had held her tongue.
All those long, lonely years of growing up in Jackson McGrath’s drunken shadow had taught her to believe in little outside her own skin. So instead of saying anything, she’d finished her job and walked away. She still didn’t know what had happened to the young police officer.
Unexpectedly the television came on.
Surprised, Jenny glanced at her father, thinking that he might have regained consciousness and switched it on. No matter how drunk he’d gotten wherever they’d lived, he’d never been too inebriated to turn on the television. Or drive. Drunk driving had finally cost her father his license.
But Jackson McGrath still slept. His sallow cheeks had already started to darken from his beard growth. A piece of toilet paper was still stuck to his chin where she’d accidentally cut him that morning. Just looking at the slight wound made her feel guilty all over again. She’d learned to shave him when she was little so he wouldn’t cut his face to pieces while shaking with the DTs. Delirium tremens had been another aspect of her home education that most of the kids her age had never had to deal with.
Jenny guessed that one of the remote controls in the other rooms had activated her father’s television as well. Sometimes they did that and changed channels, which proved disturbing to some of the patients and their families.
She watched the television out of habit, not really paying attention. Then she saw First Sergeant Samuel Adams Gander in combat gear and firing a rifle.
The first time Jenny had seen Goose on TV, she hadn’t recognized him, but it was hard to live in Megan Gander’s house even for only a few days without seeing the sergeant’s photograph. In those pictures, he was seldom alone, except in staged photos for the army. The other pictures were of Goose and Megan at their wedding and other special occasions and of Goose with Joey and Chris at various ages.
From the beginning, Jenny had seen something solid and generous in the sergeant. He wasn’t the kind of man that she’d often met, and never while with her father.
Seeing the danger First Sergeant Gander was in-or had been in; Jenny wasn’t sure from the news story-she bowed her head and prayed for him. Then, because she heard her father’s breathing, she prayed for him as well.
Footsteps entered the room.
Startled, Jenny looked up and spotted Tony Murray, her father’s midnight-to-six nurse, standing on the other side of the bed. Tony was in his early forties, a nice guy with a quiet disposition. He wore earrings in both ears and a thick, black goatee that matched his hair and bushy eyebrows behind his John Lennon glasses.
“Sorry,” he said in a soft voice.
“It’s okay.”
Tony took her dad’s vitals and made notations on the clipboard on the wall. “I see more people doing that these days.”
“What?”
“Praying.”
Jenny’s cheeks warmed, and she turned her attention back to the bowl of macaroni and cheese she’d brought up from the hospital cafeteria. She suddenly felt really uncomfortable.
“Man, my bad,” Tony said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“I’m not embarrassed.” Jenny lifted her gaze to meet Tony’s, and he rolled his eyes.
“Anybody else, you can lie to, but I’m a human lie detector. Ask any nurse or doctor on this floor. I ask a patient if they’ve taken their medication, I know immediately if that patient is lying. A lot of the doctors and nurses come to me if they can’t tell if a patient is telling the truth. I always can.”
“Oh.”
“So maybe you were a little embarrassed.”
“Yeah.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
Jenny frowned. “Look, I know you probably mean well and everything, but I’m really not ready for one of those God-loves-you speeches.”
Tony’s eyebrows rose over his glasses. “Wow. I guess you got a lot of those.”
“Growing up, sure.” Anyone who knew Jackson McGrath as he really was and who believed in God had told her that. She’d always assumed it was so she’d think at least someone loved her.
But if God really loved me, would He have given me Jackson McGrath as a father? or the mother who ran away and left me?
Those questions had plagued Jenny since she’d first started to think about God and where she was supposed to fit into the world. All these years later, she still didn’t have any answers.
“I got a lot of them too,” Tony said. “My mom was really into church. She tried to cram it down my throat every time I turned around. So I resisted, you know. The way kids will.”
Jenny just looked at him.
“Okay, so maybe I extended my childhood a couple of decades. I still like my Xbox 360 and PS3 and maybe horror movies a little more than I should. The point is, I didn’t listen to my mom. I went with her to church, but instead of listening, I was busy skulling out whatever level in the game I was currently playing that was giving me problems. I wasn’t really paying attention. I stood when she stood. I bowed my head when she bowed her head. And I pretended to pray while she prayed for me.”
The conversation wasn’t relaxing Jenny at all. She realized in that moment that part of the reason she hadn’t been back to see Megan Gander these days was because Megan had found God.
But Jenny just couldn’t buy into it, though she still didn’t have another explanation for all the disappearances.
“The point is,” Tony went on, “my mother disappeared during the rapture.”
There was that word again. When Jenny had heard it in church, she hadn’t thought much about it. It was just one of those terms like heaven, good, evil, apostle, and others. The Bible was filled with words that didn’t mean what she’d thought they meant while reading on her own. She’d gotten easily confused, and she hadn’t wanted to ask anyone about anything she’d read.
“After I found out what was going on,” Tony said, “I thought I knew what was happening. I called home. Got no answer. During the confusion, I slipped away and went home. When I got there, Mom was gone. Laundry was still spread out on the couch. I knew then that the rapture had happened.”
Drawn into the story, Jenny couldn’t help asking, “Why?”
Tony grinned. “Because God calling her home is the only thing that would have gotten my mom to stop in the middle of laundry. The woman was a factory when it came to washing, drying, and folding. The U.S. post office is a bunch of pikers compared to my mom.” His dark eyes glimmered with unshed tears.
“I’m sorry,” Jenny said quietly.
“Me too,” Tony admitted. “Not because she’s gone but because now I’m going to have to wait seven years to see her again. And mostly I’m sorry because I didn’t believe in God enough to go with her.”
Jenny didn’t know what to say.
“Believing is important.”
Jenny shook her head. “I don’t think I know how to believe.”
Tony smiled. “S
ure you do. There are a lot of things you believe in. Just think for a minute, and you’ll start to realize it. For me, it was my mom. Didn’t you ever believe in your…” He stopped and looked at Jackson McGrath.
“No,” Jenny said quietly. “Believing in my father ended way before believing in Santa Claus and the tooth fairy.”
Tony looked horribly embarrassed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up bad thoughts.”
Just being in this room brings up bad thoughts. Jenny decided not to mention that.
“But this can’t be all you’ve ever had,” Tony persisted. “What about friends?”
“No. None that I could talk to for long. Every time I made a friend, they ended up meeting my dad. That was kind of a deal breaker.”
“Oh.” Tony smiled at her. “Well, I’m your friend. And I know a lot of the women here at the hospital have taken to you too. A lot of people care about you, Jenny.”
For a moment Jenny thought she was going to cry. But she wouldn’t allow herself to. It was almost like being back in Mrs. Wilson’s class in the fifth grade, when she’d started getting her figure. She’d worked hard at school that year and had attended class most of the time. The teachers took up a collection to buy her some new clothes and a winter coat. Until that time she’d been stuck with boys’ hand-medowns that her father had wheedled from the women running the thrift stores.
For a while Jenny had actually felt good about going to school. She’d looked good and been warm. Then the other kids, jealous of the attention from the teachers Jenny was receiving, found out where she’d gotten the clothes. They started making fun of her, referring to her as a “ghetto” child. Wearing the clothes and the coat had never been the same. It wasn’t until she’d gotten to junior high school and learned to make her own clothes that she started taking some pride in herself. And she’d never trusted that to anyone else.
“Thank you,” Jenny said.
“You’re welcome. Praying is the best thing you can do. You may not feel like you’re getting anywhere at first. I gotta admit, I didn’t. But praying for me was like talking to my mom. I talked to her a lot at first; then somewhere in there I started talking to God. He hasn’t quite started answering back. At least, not the way you think of conversation. But I’m starting to notice things. Guideposts. A feeling of the way things are supposed to be.” Tony shook his head. “I really can’t explain it any better than that.”
Jenny nodded, tried to think of a response, then gave up.
“What I’m telling you is, don’t be afraid of prayer. I think more people should be doing it. And if you stay with it, you might be surprised at what you learn.”
“Okay.”
“And if you ever need anything, Jenny, I’m usually around. Just let me know.”
“I will.”
“Light off or on?”
“Off, please.”
Tony switched the light off.
Jenny thanked him again and watched him leave. She looked back at her father. In the blue glow given off by the television mounted on the wall, Jackson McGrath looked like a specter swaddled in the hospital bedding. A feeling came over her that she was supposed to say something, but she had no idea what. Or to whom.
She glanced up at the television again. The anchor on OneWorld NewsNet was talking now. His words, printed in block letters, appeared and scrolled on the screen.
Jenny thought about calling Megan. She couldn’t imagine what her friend was going through at the moment with her husband’s life hanging in the balance in the middle of that conflict. Then again, when she stared at her father, she thought maybe she did know part of what Megan was going through.
At least Megan knows how she’s supposed to feel, God. Why don’t I?
25
United States 75th Army Rangers Outpost
Harran
Sanliurfa Province, Turkey
Local Time 0758 Hours
The sound of the heavy war machines tearing through the town assaulted Goose’s eardrums. He concentrated on the task at hand, putting one foot in front of the other as he carried the wounded Ranger on the door even though his knee felt like it was on fire. It was an exercise of will more than strength that got him to the noisily idling van next to the wrecked APC. Flames still danced along the top of the Syrian vehicle.
“Oh, man,” Gary the cameraman whispered as he stepped over one of the burned corpses. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“You’re not going to be sick,” Goose said. “Not right now. Don’t you drop this, man. If you want to be sick, you be sick later. Do you hear me?”
Gary swallowed hard and nodded.
“Breathe through your mouth instead of your nose,” Goose said. “The smell’s not as bad that way.”
Gary opened his mouth and breathed. Danielle did the same.
Goose pushed the makeshift stretcher into the back of the van and turned to the others. “I’m driving. Ma’am, you and the camera jockey are going to have to hold this man as still as you can. We’re going to be in a hurry, but this man can’t be sliding around back here.”
Danielle climbed in, followed by the cameraman. They sat on the floor of the cargo area on either side of the wounded Ranger and braced themselves.
“We’ll take care of him,” Danielle promised.
Goose nodded and shut the cargo door. “Corporal, you’re with me.”
“Yes, First Sergeant.” Rainier walked up on the other side of the van. “Man, this thing looks like it’s already put in its time in the trenches.” He pushed the barrel of his rifle through the hole in the windshield.
“As long as it moves, it beats walking,” Goose said. “Guess we’re going to find out how long it beats walking.”
After he slid behind the steering wheel, Goose found the seat belt and strapped in. Rainier had trouble managing the feat with one hand and Goose had to help. The fact that the interior was shot to pieces didn’t raise any hopes.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” Goose glanced back at Danielle. “Did this van have this much damage done to it when you found it?”
“No.”
“You got lucky.”
“Maybe I was just that good.”
“Yeah. That was probably it.” Goose couldn’t believe she hadn’t been killed or wasn’t a nervous wreck at the moment. He rapped a hand against the wire mesh that separated the cargo area from the cab. It bounced a little but felt secure enough. “Hang on.” The van snorted and backfired, then got underway. The heady aroma of the fuel-rich carburetor flooded the vehicle’s interior.
“Carb’s overloading,” Rainier said.
“Yeah,” Goose said. “I’ve been meaning to fix that.”
Rainier hesitated a minute, then looked over at Goose. “That was a joke, right?”
“Yep. Probably not much of one, but I figured we needed it.”
“It’ll be funnier when I tell it later.” The corporal paused. “I’ll be telling it later, won’t I, Sarge?”
“Yeah,” Goose said with more confidence than he felt. “You’ll be telling it.” His eyes swept the streets constantly.
“Goose,” Remington said.
“I hear you, Captain.”
“We’re only going to get the one chance at this, and it’s going to be dicey.”
“Yes, sir. I understand that. I’d also understand it if you chose not to risk a helo. One of those birds is worth a lot more than a handful of men.”
“Do you believe that?”
Not for a minute, Goose thought. But I’m not you, and you haven’t been you in a long time.
“If you were me, you’d move heaven and hell to make this happen.”
Remington’s sentiment surprised Goose. For a moment there, the captain sounded the way he had back when they’d come up through boot and the noncom ranks together. The feeling of friendship touched Goose deeply, though it was extremely confusing after spending the night in a basement under house arrest.
“He’s being broadcas
t live on television,” Danielle said from the cargo area.
Goose glanced at her in the rearview mirror, which sat crookedly on the broken windshield.
“I don’t mean to burst your bubble,” Danielle said. “I just wanted you to know what’s going on.” She indicated the earpiece she wore, letting him know she was still tied into OneWorld NewsNet’s broadcast. “They’re staying with us.”
“There are the helos.” Rainer pointed with his good hand.
The Black Hawks roared over the city. Outfitted with an External Stores Support System, a stubby wing protruding from each side of the aircraft designed for carrying weapons, the choppers looked a lot like mechanical birds of prey. With the weapons the ESSS carried, the helicopters were aerial dreadnoughts. Rockets and machine-gun fire strafed the Syrian armor south of Goose’s position. He headed north as fast as the van was able.
The helos drew fire at once, but they ducked and wove as gracefully as dancers. Door gunners manned M240H machine guns and blasted the Syrian helicopters that flew spotter support for the tanks and APCs.
“Pedal to the metal, Goose,” Remington urged.
The false note in the captain’s voice rankled Goose somewhat. It wasn’t like Remington to constantly use his name or provide cheerleading.
“The Hawks are loaded up with VOLCANOs,” Remington said. “They’ll buy you some breathing room, but not much.”
“Understood, sir.” Goose hauled on the wheel and cut a corner sharply. The transmission whined more than the bald tires did.
“What are VOLCANOs?” Danielle asked.
“They’re designated the M139 Volcano mine system, ma’am.” Goose shifted again, willing the van’s engine to summon more speed. “They can be outfitted to the helos. Those Black Hawks can lay down a minefield a kilometer long-that’s almost a thousand mines-in seventeen seconds. They’re antitank mines, but they’ll slow the Syrians down.”
“They’re not all antitank mines,” Remington said. “I had them mixed special. Every sixth one is antipersonnel. Just like back in the old days.”
“That’s not normal?” Danielle asked.