by Terry Yates
“Thirteen?” Kyler asked. “I thought we could only go to the twelfth floor?
“Locklear and Sam figured out a way to get another floor out of it.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. Did you find anything important while you were outside?”
The questioned stunned Kyler. He hadn’t expected her to throw that one out at him so quickly. What should he say? Should he tell her about Nicholas Klefka after giving his word that he wouldn’t? He looked down at her and could see that she was searching his eyes.
“The town is pretty much destroyed,” he answered, averting his eyes. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw one of her eyebrows raise just a little. “You know…from the…uh…hurricanes.”
“Any sign of him?” she asked, still searching his eyes.
“Who? Corporal Dixon? Nah. No sign of…”
“I mean the man. The werewolf.”
The doctor still couldn’t get used to the word when it came from someone else’s mouth.
“Uh…no,” he lied. “I guess Potts and the others got him, huh?”
“We don’t know. They haven’t returned yet.”
Kyler looked guiltily into her eyes. She didn’t seem convinced. Oh great, she’d given him a kiss so hard that he thought she was going to suck his face inside out, and he turns around and lies to her.
“Didn’t see him,” he told her straight faced. Screw it. They would just have to start their relationship, if indeed there was a relationship, with a lie.
Kyler’s knees buckled a little as they reached floor thirteen. The doors came open and Kyler could see down a dimly lit corridor. He saw the number thirteen painted halfway down the hallway. Thirteen? Don’t most office buildings and hotels skip the unlucky number thirteen, and go from the twelfth to the fourteenth floor?
Zora took him by the hand and lead him down the hallway. As with every floor that they had explored, they passed unmarked door after unmarked door.
“What’s in those rooms?” he asked.
“The ones that are unlocked are empty offices, just like everywhere else, she answered.
They stopped about two thirds of the way down the hallway where Zora reached out, opened a door and extended her hand. As soon as Kyler stepped across the threshold, the lights automatically came on, brightly illuminating the whole room.
“Ta-da!” Zora sang.
They were in a locker room equipped with showers and toilets. There were also three long aisles with several benches running through the middle of each aisle. On both sides of the benches, there were rows and rows of open lockers, each with a single pair of fatigues in them.
“And look here,” Zora said, opening a compartment at the inside top of the locker. Inside, Kyler saw shampoo, toothbrushes, deodorants, shaving utensils, and all unopened. “The towels are over there,” she told him, pointing to a large cabinet that sat on the other side of the room. “Enjoy.”
With this, Zora walked out of the shower room, closing the door behind her. Damn. Kyler had halfway hoped that Zora might stay and want to scrub his back, but it looked like that hadn’t been her plan at all. He didn’t blame her. Very few attractive women want to get naked with a man covered in mud and sewage. Very few unattractive women want to get naked with a man covered in mud and sewage…the sewage anyway.
He stepped into the shower room. There were five nozzles on each side of the shower allowing for ten people to bathe at one time. He turned on the hot faucet and the water immediately shot into his face, causing him to jump back and almost slip on the floor, which was still wet from the previous, and he guessed long showers, that the rest of the group had already taken. They would all be nice and squeaky clean when the rescue copters showed up. He thought for a moment. It would just be his luck for the helicopters to come now and take everybody while he was in the shower, leaving him to feel like one of those characters in The Twilight Zone that wakes up in the morning to find everyone gone.
Kyler turned on the cold faucet to balance out the hot, which was already beginning to steam up the place. When the temperature was just right, he put his head under the nozzle and let the warm water pour over him. Kyler let out an involuntary sigh as he immersed himself in the joy that a hot and much needed shower brought. He kept his head down and his eyes closed, and began to hum. He wasn’t sure of the tune, but he continued to hum it, until he finally found himself singing “Girls Talk”, a song written by Elvis Costello, and recorded by both Linda Ronstadt and Dave Edmunds, at the top of his lungs as he covered himself with soap and shampoo. For the first time in three days, he felt a real sense of joy. For the moment, he was able to forget about jet crashes, hurricanes, and five hundred and fifty year old men who turned into creatures of the night when the full moon shown high. He was also able to concentrate on a certain gorgeous young lady who had pretty much told him that she was interested in him.
As he continued to sing loudly, he began to stomp his feet in the warm water as if he were Ray Charles sitting at his piano while wailing “Baby, Please Don’t Go”. He continued to sing the same song over and over again.
“Girls talk!” he sang. “Girls talk!”
“Don’t you know any songs that we can all sing?” came a deep, husky voice.
Kyler jumped, stepped away from the water and opened his eyes to see Potts on his left side, naked and under the shower nozzle next to him.
“You know any Tom T. Hall?” came a voice from behind him.
Kyler turned around to see Sgt. Cohen showering behind him.
“How ‘bout some Usher?” came yet another voice from his right. He turned to see Pvt. Hawkins on the other side of him, enjoying a nice warm shower.
Kyler stood, mouth agape. He had not heard any of the men enter the shower. He half expected Pvt. Fulton to be under one of the showers.
“What?” was all he managed to utter.
“What’s the matter, Doc? Got mud in your ears?” Potts asked, smiling. That was twice in a day that Kyler had seen the stubborn, obstinate colonel smile. The men all laughed at the colonel’s joke.
“When did you get back?” Kyler asked.
“About five minutes after you did,” Potts answered, lathering his face with a new bar of soap.
“Yeah, that hot little number named Zora brought us down here,” Hawkins threw in, smiling at him. “And if I’m not mistaken, she took a quick peek at that white ass of yours and smiled as she walked by.”
Kyler blushed as the men began to laugh. No, there was nothing like a good, hot shower after three days to liven the spirit. The men grew quiet except for Hawkins who was humming in a high, soulful, almost church-like timber. He didn’t recognize the song, but it sounded pleasing to the ear.
“So…uh…any luck with Kle…eh…the stranger? Did you find him?” Kyler was pretty much convinced that they hadn’t seen him if they arrived from the other side of the island just five minutes after he did. He also couldn’t believe that he’d almost said the man’s name out loud.
“No,” Potts answered. “He’d been out to the base, I think.”
“What makes you say that?”
“It looked like someone had been rummaging around the place after the storm,” Potts answered, rubbing the bar of soap over his short hair. “Hawkins found a pair of his fatigue pants gone, that he’d definitely seen before the storm. I guess you didn’t see him either, huh?”
“Who me? Eh…Jeez, no…I didn’t see anyone. Not a soul. Nobody,” Kyler lied again.
“Well, if he made it through the storm without getting carried out to sea, then he’s still around somewhere, so I’ll need that revolver back.”
“I…uh…lost it,” Kyler said sheepishly.
“You lost the pistol I gave you?”
“Yes, I must’ve lost it when I fell into some mud.”
“Shit, Kyler! Those things aren’t cheap, and in case you haven’t noticed, we need all of them that we can get our hands on! We can’t be losing any of them!”
Kyler wanted to remind him that he had told Potts that he didn’t want the pistol, but Potts had insisted.
“What are we going to tell the rescue people, Colonel?” Sgt. Cohen asked, rubbing his bar of soap under his left armpit, and trying to change the subject.
“I haven’t quite figured all of that out yet,” he answered, looking at Kyler, remembering their earlier conversation. “If we could just get him and show him to someone, I wouldn’t feel so strange about it.”
Kyler had watched the man speak. He had made a hard ‘c’ sound before he had said the word “strange”. Could it possible that he wanted to say “confused”, but caught himself, as to not let anyone know that he was absolutely stumped about what to do?
“Are you going to go looking for him again?” Kyler asked him.
“I doubt it. If those rescue choppers get here soon, I’m not sure we’ll have a chance to,” Potts answered, pulling his head out from under the faucet and stepping away from the shower. “We’ll tell ‘em something, I’m not sure what yet, but hopefully, we’ll be out of here before anything can happen.”
“But still…” Kyler started, himself stepping out from under the shower and grabbing his towel. “You can’t just pretend that it didn’t happen. People will come back to the island, and if he’s still here…”
Kyler stopped his sentence and looked at Potts as both men began to dry themselves. He had given Klefka his word that he wouldn’t turn him in, but he found himself torn between keeping his word and trying to avoid further killings. This man had after all, killed at least half a dozen people that he knew of, including his nurse…not to mention a whole jet full of men, women, and children.
“Yep. Something’s gotta be done, but I’m just not sure what,” Potts said.
“We could tell ‘em that it’s some kind of wolf that only comes out at night… something like that,” Hawkins threw in, wrapping his towel around his waist and stepping into the locker area, followed by the other three.
The men went down each aisle, until they each found a locker that wasn’t already being used by one of the others in the group. They seemed awful jovial for a couple of guys who’ve lost several of their kind in the last two days. Kyler figured that soldiers know that one or two or all will fall in combat, and that’s just part of the job. Kyler had to admire their bravado in such situations.
The locker that Kyler was using had clean socks, but the deck shoes at the bottom of the locker were too small for him, so he kept looking in other lockers until he found a pair of nine-and-a-halves, which he slipped on. Ah…perfect fit! He had just stood up when he heard a voice behind him.
“Let’s e-e-e-eat!” it cried.
The four men looked up to see a smiling Sam Fong…spatula in hand.
CHAPTER 45
The canteen was huge. Actually, it was more like a commissary made to sit several hundred people. There were at least forty tables with four to six chairs each, scattered across the room. Kyler felt great as he, Potts, Cohen, Hawkins, and Sam entered the place. The aroma of cooked meat, potatoes, rolls, and other victuals that Kyler couldn’t name, made him almost salivate. It was almost 3:00 in the afternoon and he was famished.
“My God, what is that wonderful smell?” Sgt. Cohen asked.
“That is the smell of chicken fried steak smothered in white gravy,” Pvt. Hawkins answered, smiling, his eyes closed, and his nose stuck up in the air.
“Very good, Private,” Sam Fong said, beaming. “Made by yours truly, along with round steak, hamburgers, fried chicken, filet mignon, mashed potatoes, creamed potatoes, fried potatoes, Belgian waffles…I believe Miss LeMarque made those…not to mention green beans, black eyed peas, creamed corn, hot buttered rolls, salad, and the last time I looked, Pvt. Fulton was working on her All American North Carolinian apple pie. It’ll be a while on that one since she got back when you gentlemen did.”
“God damn,” was all that Potts could utter.
The five men did everything but run to the tables. Locklear and Ariella met them just in time to hand them each an empty plate, which they more or less grabbed from their hands on the fly, not stopping till they reached the buffet line where they joined Gringo, Samantha, Sylvia, and Shelly Dixon, who had opted to stand in line rather than let the rest of them wait on her. Little Kayla was lying in what looked like a blanket-lined box that someone had made up for her to use as a baby bed.
“Hey, Doc!” Gringo greeted him loudly? “Ain’t this the shits? I just wish I had a nice Kielbasa sausage to go with all of this.”
“So do I.” Samantha giggled.
The two of them began to laugh while Sylvia just looked up and smiled at the doctor. She probably didn’t realize that she was blindly smiling at his ear. Kyler managed a weak smile as he picked up a plate.
“At least we get one good meal before we get rescued, eh Doc?” Gringo laughed.
“Yeah…” Kyler said, still trying to hold his feeble smile intact.
“Are you feeling okay, Doctor?” Samantha asked in her usual high timber.
Kyler looked at her as she smiled at him. Her eyes were becoming as strange as Opal Munn’s. Just like Opal’s, the irises and pupils seemed to grow larger, almost giving her the look of a predatory shark.
“I’m fine,” he lied as he watched her take her food from the buffet.
Samantha eyed the foods. She took an apple, a banana, some green beans, and a couple stalks of celery, while Gringo was acting like a condemned man who would never see another meal. She watched as he piled two chicken fried steak patties, a filet mignon, a regular steak and two chicken breasts on his plate. The combination of meats piled on top of one another would’ve resembled a scale model of the Leaning Tower of Pisa…had Samantha known what the Leaning Tower of Pisa was. She wanted to wretch. She wondered how many different cows had died for Gringo’s chicken fried steaks and his regular steaks, and how many chickens had died for his chicken breasts. She wasn’t sure what filet mignon was taken from, but she was sure that whatever animal it was, had suffered greatly.
“How are you feeling, Miss Gould?” came a voice from over her shoulder. She turned to see Kyler standing behind her, plate in hand, eyeing her suspiciously.
“I’ve never felt better,” she answered smiling. “Honestly.”
“Good…good…I still want to take a look at that bite a little later on, okay?”
“Sure,” she answered, once again sounding like one of those movie molls that pronounced the word “shoowah”.
“I’ve never seen her so energetic,” Sylvia Morrison said. Kyler noticed that the skinny little lady was hardly putting ANYTHING on her plate. He saw a green bean here, and a carrot there, and a piece of lettuce that she was probably calling a salad, and that was it.
“Oh, Sylvia,” Samantha squeaked. “You really love me don’t you?”
“I do, Doll,” the elder lady answered, putting a piece of bacon up to her eyes to see what it was.
Kyler watched Sylvia for another moment, fairly amazed that no one else seemed as perplexed as he was about her quick and speedy recovery. Jesus, her wound had been the size of a baseball.
“All clean, are we?” came a voice from his right. It was Zora, tray in hand, looking up at him and grinning widely before winking at him.
It took him a moment to realize what she was talking about…then he remembered Pvt. Hawkins telling him about Zora catching a peak at his backside while he showered. He immediately began to blush again He felt his eyes squint and his teeth protrude. He half expected to hear himself go “Duh!” She poked him in the ribs as he looked down at his plate, still beet red.
“Yep. All clean.”
Kyler and Zora shared a table together. Kyler was hoping that someone would come and join them instead of everyone constantly looking their way and smiling. It didn’t seem to bother Zora. She kept chatting, seemingly oblivious to the others. As she talked, Kyler caught himself looking back at the other tables. Gringo, Samantha, and Sylvia were at one t
able. Michael Blum and Sam Fong sat with Zack and Rob Olsen. Rob was sitting in his chair with his down, Zack putting little bits of food in his mouth as if he were a baby or a nursing home patient. The O’Hearley’s sat at a table by themselves, Lauren sitting between her parents, and kicking and swinging her legs under the table, and laughing as the three of them spoke a made up family language that no one outside of the family could understand unless someone was nerdy enough to try and decode it. Kyler was happy to see that she had an appetite. Not bad for a kid who’d been under the knife only twelve hours ago.
On the floor next to her, sat Joe, looking up at Lauren, who would intermittently reach down with a piece of gravy covered steak which the dog would almost lustfully lick the gravy off of it before taking it from her hand and gulping it down, after which, he would immediately look back up at Lauren to await another, which was usually forthcoming by the time the dog’s nose got back up in the air. Kyler was amazed that his bandage was still holding. Most dogs would have scratched it off by now.
“He sure likes that gravy, doesn’t he?” Kyler asked Zora, who looked over at the O’Hearley table just in time to watch the dog licking the gravy off of another piece of beefsteak.
“It is delicious,” Zora came back. “Sam did a wonderful job on the steaks.”
“That he did.”
As Kyler noshed on a drumstick, he continued to look around the room. He saw Potts, Sgt. Cohen, and Hawkins discussing something at their table while FranAnne sat with Shelly Dixon who was rocking the baby box that Kayla was asleep in. FranAnne looked smitten as the two ladies chatted about God knew what. Kyler was happy to see that Shelly was in good spirits, her red cheekbone barely noticeable. He looked around the room again. Someone was missing. He didn’t see Opal or Wilbur Munn.
“Where are the Munn’s?” Kyler asked Zora as he tried to get a chicken tendon out from between two of his teeth.
Zora’s smile disappeared as she scanned the room. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen them in hours. They may be asleep.”