Fade to Black - Proof

by Jeffrey Wilson

  The afternoon and evening had been spent putting the details together. They had first arranged for Claire to stay with her friend, Bev, and her family. He took care of the mundane—airfare, hotel, rental car. The only thing left unarranged by Sunday morning was the actual point of the trip. Jack had no idea how exactly he would go about getting them onto the Marine Corps Base, much less have the opportunity to talk to anyone. Obviously civilians were not permitted to simply drive onboard and stroll about at will, and security was even tighter since the horror of 9/11. Over breakfast, while he helped Claire get equal parts of apple and cinnamon oatmeal into her mouth and onto his lap, he told Pam that he would again try his ruse about planning his lecture for a current events class. He would be sure to pack his staff ID from school.

  “I’m sure I can get in touch with the PAO and sell it to them somehow,” Jack had said.

  “What the hell is a PAO?” Pam had asked.

  Jack explained that each base, and usually each individual unit, had a public affairs officer, or PAO. He believed his best bet was to try and gain access to Camp Pendleton through the First MEF PAO. He knew she wondered why he would know about such a thing, but neither said anything.

  As for him, he still couldn’t shake the resolute belief that Simmons, Bennet, Kindrich, and Stillman were real, and that their existence would be confirmed by his visit to Camp Pendleton. What that meant for him was still a mystery way beyond his imagination. More uncertain was just what in the hell he would do if (when) his fears were confirmed. He did know that, despite Pam’s yearning that he go back to Lewellyn (which he would do for her, more than himself), if he found the answers that his terrified mind suspected on this trip then Lewellyn would have very little to offer him. In fact, it might even mean that Hoag was right, and that Lewellyn was as much a fantasy of his disturbed mind as everything else in his now surrealistic life.

  Jack looked out the window as he felt the airliner begin to descend. He kept his arm around his wife and watched as they turned out over the water in a circling approach to the airport. Farther south down the coast, Jack could see the line of huge grey ships at the Naval base pier. In his mind he had a flash of memory (fantasy?) of standing on that pier, a seabag over his shoulder as he hugged his new wife and prepared to walk up onto the giant LHD, a tearful goodbye before he left for five months at sea. The memory was brief but intense, like a short slide show, and it felt somehow more real than his last week at home. They turned a slow circle just inside North Island, where Jack saw one of the two huge aircraft carriers berthed there, and Coronado with its beautiful bridge connecting the islands to downtown San Diego. They headed inland towards the airport, just past downtown and at the foot of the mountains beyond. It was a beautiful city and he felt he knew it well, though he was sure that, as Jack at least, he had never been there.

  “Whatcha thinking?” Pam asked and she hugged him, as if she sensed his brief departure to another reality. She wrapped her arm around his chest.

  “Just thinking how pretty it is,” he answered kissing her on top of the head.

  “And wondering what you’ll find here?” It was less of a question than her finishing his unspoken thought.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  They watched together as the city skirted below them and they headed in for landing.

  It took no time at all to get out of the airport. The traffic was heavy and as Jack maneuvered their rental car into the flow, they chatted about anything but the purpose for their trip. Neither of them mentioned how odd it was that Jack never once consulted a map. Jack had decided that maybe avoidance wasn’t all that bad, at least for what was left of the afternoon and their evening. He wanted to just enjoy being with Pam, and tomorrow would be whatever fate held for him.

  Even in afternoon traffic the trip downtown was a short drive. They found the Marriott easily; a short walk from the bay he noted. Maybe a nice walk after they checked in would help them find some peace. He wanted to take her out for a nice dinner. Maybe they could drive up to La Jolla and have dinner at George’s at the Cove, with its beautiful bay view and wonderful food. A bit upscale, but maybe that would be a nice change. He would see how she felt.

  They checked in and received the obligate brief about the various restaurants, bars, and rooftop pool, and then rode the faux marble‐floored elevator up to the eighth floor and their bay view room. The room itself wasn’t large, but very comfortable with a king‐size bed and a little sitting area. More importantly, at least to Pam, it had a huge bathroom with a large sunken tub and separate shower. Jack had always been amused that Pam measured the adequacy of any hotel room almost exclusively by the pillows and the comfort of the bathroom. They tossed their bags on the bed and walked together onto the balcony. They held hands in silence and looked out at the late afternoon sun which reflected off the bright blue Bay. Off to the left they saw the scenic Coronado bridge stretch across the bay to North Island, the East‐bound lane full with bumper to bumper traffic as the afternoon shift at the two Naval bases let out. Sailors and Department of Defense employees rushed at a snail’s pace to get off the island and pretend that they might, this time, miss the traffic out of San Diego and into the various suburbs that surround it.

  “Pretty,” Pam said after a moment.

  Jack kissed her neck. “Beautiful,” he answered. They stood there quietly for a while, enjoying the peace and the view. Then she turned and faced him, her eyes beautiful, but sad.

  “What do you want to do, Jack?” she asked.

  Jack ignored the deeper meaning.

  “Have a nice night on the town with the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen,” he said and kissed her. She smiled up at him. “Let’s go up to Old Town and look at the shops, and then maybe have a drink,” he suggested.

  “Sounds great,” she said. He figured she felt just as happy as he did to put off thinking about all that had brought them to this place.

  They drove to Old Town, not minding the walk but knowing that they had to cross Highway Five; “the Five” as locals referred to it. It took around twenty minutes, about twice as long as it might have at another time of day. But they passed the time as they always did, chatting about everything and nothing and holding hands, listening to a litany of hits by modern country stars on the station Jack tuned in without thinking about it. They parked at the fringe of Old Town and strolled into the quiet shopping and restaurant district.

  As they walked, Jack caught sight of a sign over a restaurant called Harvey’s. He smiled, the sight filling him with some type of memory of emotion, rather than a picture of an actual event. He looked at his wife.

  “You want a margarita?” he asked, smiling at her.

  Pam looked up ahead, obviously wondering what had prompted the offer.

  “Where?” she asked.

  “Just up ahead,” Jack answered, pointing up the block past Harvey’s. “Trust me.”

  They walked another half a block and came to a lively restaurant bar called Rockin’ Baja, a local chain. The wait for dinner could be as much as an hour, but at this time, about six p.m. by Jack’s watch, there was no real wait; though the bar area was crowded with the late afternoon revelers. They waited only about five minutes and were seated at a small table near the window, just past the bar.

  “We’d like two of your special margaritas,” Jack said as the waitress placed menus in front of them. “I can’t remember what they’re called.”

  “No problem, sir. I know what you want,” the young girl said and smiled. “You want large or grande?”

  “Grande,” Pam said, before Jack could answer. “I mean, right?”

  “You bet,” Jack said. They could both use a grande drink about now.

  “Ok, two grandes and I’ll give you a minute to look at the menu,” she said and then hustled off to the bar.

  Pam opened the large menu and started to look through it. “Wow,” she said, “a lot of choices.”

  “Well,” Jack said without picking up his own m
enu, “you want to just have some chips or something and then go out to George’s in La Jolla for a nice dinner later?”

  “Too expensive,” Pam said without much thought. Then she looked around the Rockin’ Baja fondly. “Besides, there’s something special about this place.”

  Jack agreed, though he wasn’t sure why. He had the very strong feeling that this place was special to them for a reason.

  “I’m having fun,” she announced as she fished a bite of soft taco filled with chunky seafood and white sauce from his plate. “This is just like the night you asked me to marry you.”

  That was it! Jack had a sudden flash in his mind of the two of them, both younger, Pam with her hair pulled back looking tanned in her tank top and jeans. He had nervously pulled out a ring from his pocket and she had cried, and hugged him, and covered him with kisses.

  “Yes, yes, yes!” she had exclaimed full of joy.

  They had been sitting at this very table, he thought. He felt tears in his eyes and the memory floated away.

  “What’s the matter, baby?” Pam asked now, touching his face.

  “Nothing,” Jack said and meant it. “I am just happier than any man deserves.” He kissed his wife and smiled again. “I am so glad you married me,” he said.

  “You should be,” Pam answered. Her face relaxed and lit up again. Then she laughed and covered her mouth. “I love margaritas.”

  Two and a half hours later they sat outside by the poolside bar at the Marriot Hotel, stretched out in lounge chairs by the railing, looking at the city lights on the Bay and holding hands. They sipped contentedly at their complimentary drinks (they had switched to beer, knowing that the margaritas would be disappointing after Rockin’ Baja’s) and talked about Claire and what she was doing. Before coming to the bar they had stopped at the room and called Bev, who promised their little girl was doing fine, enjoyed being with her kids, had eaten well and was now asleep. Then they had torn each other’s clothes off and made love wildly, passionately, like kids on their engagement night who had just finished off two grande margaritas. They ended up on the floor somehow, and lay together in a silent and content afterglow for a half hour before deciding to go to the pool to cash in their drink vouchers.

  Jack was content and happy. He held hands with his one true love and enjoyed the cool California evening. But he also felt a quiet dread building deeper inside him, and forced the feeling away with some effort. He didn’t want to think about tomorrow, and wanted less to think about what would come next. He no longer felt anxiety about what he would find at Pendleton because the evening, as perfect as it was, had only solidified his conviction that he knew damn well what he would learn there. What he didn’t know was what the hell he would be able to do once his fears were confirmed. He knew for sure that he would never, ever give up on making this world right and real. He loved the woman beside him, and the little girl they had made together from their passion, more at this moment that he ever had. Whatever it took, he would make this right. Whatever it took, he would find a way to not leave his life with his girls.

  “You make me so happy, Casey,” Pam said dreamily from the chair beside him. Her hand was warm and soft in his. “I love you so very much.”

  “I love you too, Pam,” he answered. He took a sip of his beer and then turned and looked at her, head back against the chaise lounge, eyes closed. “I am never going to leave you,” he said.

  “I know,” she answered.

  Chapter

  23

  Jack woke up in the big bed, with its perfect pillows, wrapped tightly around the warm naked body of his sleeping wife. The alarm he had set for eight a.m. had not yet gone off, so he lay there happily, legs entwined around Pam’s, breathing her scent.

  The alarm chirped and Jack opened his eyes, set his jaw and gritted his teeth. No matter what he found at Pendleton, he would not allow it to end here in California or in the dirty streets of Fallujah. He would find a way. He would keep his life with his girls. Pam stretched beside him and woke up, opening her eyes slowly. The realization of where they were and why enveloped her, and her face darkened. Jack rolled over, face to face with his wife, and caressed her cheek.

  “Good morning, baby,” he said.

  “Morning,” she said sadly, mourning the passing of their evening together, he thought.

  “Everything is going to be ok, Pam,” he said. “I promise.”

  “I know,” she said, hugging him, but her voice did not hold much conviction.

  Then they rose slowly from bed and headed together to the shower, neither wanting to be apart, not even for a moment.

  As they dressed, Jack thought about Camp Pendleton, the sprawling Marine Corp Base and home to the First Marine Expeditionary Force. He knew it was a huge complex stretching over miles and miles. North of San Diego, not quite halfway to Los Angeles, he thought perhaps that the massive military base might be the only thing that prevented the two cities from eventually meeting as they grew outward like two cancers, seeking each other to become one giant tumorlike metropolis. From San Diego “the Five” connected the city and suburb commuters with the base, joining close to the base with Highway 805 to form a daily bottleneck of merging traffic.

  Before joining the throngs of travelers, Jack called the information number published in the phone book for Camp Pendleton and asked to be connected to the PAO at Third Battalion, First Marines. A moment later he was speaking to First Lieutenant Sheila Rawls, the PAO for First MEF. She was very polite, and explained that there was currently no PAO for Third Battalion, but could she possibly help?

  Jack rattled off the same story about a current events lesson about the Marines in Iraq. This time he added how he and his wife had spent a long weekend in San Diego, and since they were so close he thought he might be able to arrange a visit and get more information for his class. He explained that one of his students had a relative with Third Battalion and thought it might be nice to focus on that unit in particular. He also apologized for the short notice. Pam sat nervously beside him on the bed throughout the call and held his hand in silence.

  Lt. Rawls proved very accommodating. She said she would arrange for someone to meet him at the gate and escort him to First MEF headquarters, where she would be happy to meet with him and answer any questions that their operational security rules would allow. Jack thanked her, gave her a rough guess of their arrival time, and then hung up.

  “Well, that’s it,” he said to Pam with a forced smile after he got off the phone. Pam gave him a tight smile back and said nothing.

  Now they sat in the slowly moving rental car, flowing with the tide of traffic. Finally north of the 805 merge they picked up speed again. They were both quiet during the drive, sipping coffee from the hotel coffee shop and munching halfheartedly on croissants, lost in their own thoughts. Neither wanted to upset the other by bringing up the obvious and myriad questions. It was enough that they were together.

  After a while, Jack saw the blue sign that quietly announced that Camp Pendleton was the next exit. He felt his heart flutter and his stomach flip. This was it. Finally, he would put the biggest question to rest. What he would do next was still a frightening mystery.

  Only a few minutes off the exit they approached the main gate to Camp Pendleton Marine Corps Base, and Jack felt his hands tighten on the steering wheel. He couldn’t shake the sudden and overwhelming sense that he was home. He felt Pam’s hand reach for his leg and squeeze it just above the knee. The feel of her was soothing. As Jack approached the gate, he snapped off the daytime running headlights, an expected courtesy to the gate guards. Then he pulled up beside the guard house, stopped, and rolled down his window. A young Marine in crisp woodland digital cammies approached the window, his rifle slung off his shoulder low, a combat configuration that allowed him to bring the weapon to bear without unslinging it.

  “Hoorah, sir,” he said.

  “Hoorah, Corporal,” Jack replied, noting the rank by his two chevrons over crossed rifles on
his collar. He fumbled in his wallet for his driver’s license and school staff ID, and then asked Pam for her ID, as well. He presented them to the guard. “Lt. Rawls is expecting me. She said she would send an escort to the gate.”

  The young Marine consulted a clipboard, searching for his name. Satisfied he pointed to a short pull-off to their right.

  “Very well, sir,” he said. “Just pull over into the circle there and the pick-up private will be along in just a second to escort you to MEF HQ.” He handed the IDs back to Jack through the window. “Sir, you understand that access to the base implies consent to involuntary search of yourselves and the vehicle?”

  “Yes, I do, Corporal,” Jack replied, putting his IDs back in his wallet. He handed Pam her driver’s license.

  “Very well, sir,” the corporal said again then motioned them to pull forward.

  Jack pulled into the circle and put the vehicle in park.

  “You gonna be ok, Baby?” Pam asked, the tension now clear on her face and in her eyes.

  “I’m fine, sweetheart,” Jack answered sounding more confident than he felt. “Thank you so much for being here with me. I don’t know if I could make it without you.”

  “You’ll never have to, Jack. I love you,” she added simply as if it explained everything. For Jack it did.

  Only a minute or two passed before a desert-tan painted Humvee, a Mark-19 machine gun mounted but unmanned on the roof, pulled up beside them. A very young Marine got out and walked over to them. Jack rolled down the window again.

  “Morning, sir,” the Marine said. “May I see some ID, please?”

  Jack presented their IDs again. The Marine studied them briefly and then handed them back.

  “Lt. Rawls is expecting you, sir. Just follow me and I’ll take you there. I’ll stop beside the spot you can park in,” he said.