She dressed quickly and stopped off at Charlie’s door on the way down. Her friend opened it immediately, stepped out, and closed it behind her. They trotted down the stairwell in silence, joining with a few dozen other people, and made their way past the Headquarters building toward the parade field. Audrey followed Charlie to the meeting area. They stood off to the side, stretching, while everyone else made their way.
As she straightened up from touching her toes, a voice sounded in her ear. Close. Too close. “You get moved—”
Audrey jumped and spun around.
Simon held his hands up, palms out, and stepped back. “Fuck. My bad. That was stupid.” His eyes were wide as he watched and waited.
She was looking through him, and as recognition dawned, her eyes cleared and she took a huge breath, letting her arms drop to her sides. Charlie stood back, eyebrows raised. Fortunately, only a few onlookers caught the exchange, but most paid little attention. It was too early in the morning.
Audrey shook her head. “I’m okay. No harm. At least you spoke first.”
Simon nodded. “At least that.” He cleared his throat. “So, yeah. I was going to ask if you’d gotten moved in.”
“Yeah, just the odds and ends now.”
“Well, hopefully your other stuff will get here soon.”
Audrey inhaled sharply. “Yeah, no. That was all of my stuff. I’m uh . . . I travel light.”
Simon shot a glance over to Charlie, who was studiously not looking at him. Curious.
The First Sergeants had moved into position, as had the Battalion Command Sergeant Major. He was a tall, thin, bald man with stern eyes and deep brown skin. The voice that came out of him belied his appearance. His booming, “Fall in!” reverberated off the buildings nearby.
Audrey grabbed Charlie’s shoulder and followed her to the right area. She stood to Charlie’s left in the first row of troops. Each unit reported and the entire Battalion expanded the formation so they could do their warm up.
The shoulder rotation!
She rolled her arms around in circles, her neck and shoulder muscles loosening slightly. When had she last completely relaxed? She fell into reactionary habit, to turn her mind off for just a few minutes as the warm-up continued.
The overhead arm pull!
Simon was a row behind Audrey, and as they stretched, he thought about the little she told him. More to the point, he thought about what she didn’t say. Most of the time, people had orders well in advance. On the off chance someone screwed up, there was usually still a couple weeks’ notice. Not with her, though. No one knew she was arriving until the Monday before she showed up, and then there was a flurry of activity to get her a place to live.
The rear lunge!
He shouldn’t have spooked her. It was a stupid move on his part. He was glad he didn’t touch her, or he’d have ended up on the ground. Of that he was certain. Hell, he’d have done the same thing. Ramos too, probably. That kind of twitch reaction didn’t come from training, it came from shit happening. He looked around. Most people in his immediate unit had similar stories. He wondered what hers was.
***
Ouch. It had been a long time since she’d been in a formation run. Three hundred Soldiers running in formation meant that the group would spread out and smash together like an accordion. Audrey hoped the clusterfuck would even out sooner rather than later, or else her shins would scream by the second mile. Around the half mile point, things settled down, thanks to a concerted effort by the troops calling cadence alongside each company. As she was singing along, the Battalion commander raced by with the Battalion guidon. The Company commander immediately grabbed the Company guidon and followed him, along with the commanders of the other three companies in the formation.
So it begins, she thought, and concentrated on the cadence. Next up would be the Senior NCOs, then whomever wanted to break out and stretch their legs. It was a comforting tradition, knowing that in every formal run, from the smallest company to the largest group, there was a set way of doing things. It was soothing to her in that moment. With so much chaos in her life, she couldn’t remember the last big run she’d taken part in. It had been so long but fell right in like she’d been doing this every week. She needed this, a steady, reassuring presence for a while.
Audrey took a turn with the flag a mile down the road. She felt good, despite the thin, high desert air, so when the Company guidon came back around, she broke ranks to meet the carrier. She turned to begin her loop and fell in line with the Battalion CSM, who’d caught up to her.
CSM Range was at least six and a half feet tall. He looked stern and unyielding at the front of the formation, but as he looked down at her, he was in his element. He sped up, challenging her. Audrey responded. The man could have smoked her in any race, at any time, and they both knew it, but she enjoyed the camaraderie, and sped up to meet his pace. By the time she made it back around to her Company, they were both grinning and she was gasping. The CSM gave her a high-five and called out, “Welcome to the unit, Linser!” as he sped away.
Simon had broken ranks and met Audrey to take the flag from her. She was wild-eyed and out of breath, and she smiled widely as he approached. Simon stumbled a little, catching himself in time to take the flag from her hands. His fingers ran over hers on the wooden bar, grasping it as she let go. Beautiful, he thought, as he turned to catch the Battalion guidon.
Audrey had a moment to watch as Simon ran down the formation to his spot in her company. Without the blacked-out wraparound shades, she could see that the scar curved around his eye and down through his eyebrow, narrowly missing his eye. Whatever had done that had flayed his face open. It wasn’t an old scar, judging from the redness. Maybe a year or so, tops. She flexed her fingers, where his had just been. The contact had been accidental but felt like a caress. Her fingertips tingled.
The rest of the run was uneventful and fairly short, and Audrey was glad for it. She’d taken the guidon out two more times, and each time, Simon had met her to take it from her. Each time, their eyes met and locked. Each time, his fingers had overlapped with hers as he gazed at her. And each time, her fingers tingled for minutes afterward. She tried to blame it on the lack of oxygen, but that was a load of crap and she knew it.
After cool down stretches and dismissal, the mass of people filtered out of the area. She and Charlie walked back to the apartments. Soon, Simon and Antony caught up with them.
Antony fell in step with Charlie. “You have a class going today, Madden?”
“Yeah, morning. Open for free sparring this afternoon, though, after 1400.” She cocked her head up at him. “Why, you need your ass beat again?”
“Always talking about my ass. Starting to think you might like me or something,” he cracked back, and jumped to the side when she feinted at him.
They approached the barracks, and Antony waved and peeled off around the corner to the other side. The trio climbed the stairs. When they reached the landing, Charlie turned to head to her room. She called out over her shoulder, “Hey, call if you need anything. I’ll be in the training complex.”
Simon and Audrey walked down the landing. He cleared his throat. “Hey, I’m sorry about earlier. That was stupid.”
She looked up at him. Concern played across his features. “It’s okay. I’m just . . . new place, you know?”
He stopped. “Nah, no excuse for me. I know better than to do that shit. Anyway, I’ll see you later.” As he pulled his key from the chain around his neck, Audrey realized he lived right next door. This could be dangerous, but those were thoughts for another time. As attractive as she found him, some internal alarm warned her off. She shoved those thoughts into the back of her mind and started her day.
CHAPTER FOUR
At 0830, Simon stepped off the elevator and onto the 4th floor of the hospital. They used to make crude jokes about coming to this floor and getting stuck in the psych ward. Deployments changed all of that. Now they talked about needing the psych ward,
and bed space in the inpatient wing was at a premium. He approached the reception desk and the man sitting at the computer looked up at him.
“Uh. Simon Carwell. I have an appointment,” he said.
Tim, according to his nametag, tapped out his name in the computer log. “Yep. I see you filled out the paperwork online. That’s good. Got your card?”
Simon handed over his ID card, and Tim scanned it, verifying the information before handing it back. “Good to go, just take a seat and the doctor will call you.”
Simon automatically moved to the furthest seat, facing the door. The waiting room was almost empty. Other than the staff walking by every few minutes, it was him and another person, an older woman who was reading one of the old magazines scattered about.
At 0845, a woman called his name. He stood and followed her down the hall, past the doors to the locked, inpatient wing, to an office that was calm and bright. The walls, what little of them that could be seen between the shelves of books and knickknacks, were a dusky blue color that reminded Simon of the minutes before twilight. A large window framed a view of the foothills that led up to the mountain range. Groups of birds flying in formation zipped across the sky every so often.
“I’m Dr. Kovacevic. Call me Dr. K., or Marlina, if you wish,” she said, gesturing toward the seats. “Sit anywhere you like.”
Simon noticed that the seating arrangement gave him full visual and physical access to the door and room. She’d put some thought into the layout of her office, giving her patients the ability to maintain their awareness. He took a seat and rolled his shoulders, trying to release some of his tension.
She sat across from him and opened a folder. “I’ve looked through your file, Simon. May I call you Simon?” she asked.
He nodded.
“I’ve read your case. I am familiar with the situation—”
“Antony sees you. He told me I should talk to you, too,” Simon blurted out.
Dr. K. smiled. “Yes. That’s kind of him. And while you two may talk about your sessions, you understand I cannot and will not share anything between the two of you, right?”
“I know.”
“Okay. So, you said that you have night terrors. Is that everything?”
Simon hesitated for a moment. “I, uh. I have this feeling that I’m standing outside of everything. I can’t engage, like . . .” he scrubbed his face with his hand. “It’s like part of me never came back. I don’t really do much. I play volleyball and I visit my folks. That’s about it.” He took a breath and the words welled up and then spilled over, “I used to enjoy going out, playing pool, dancing. I used to read a lot. I used to do a lot of things. Now I sit and click on stupid websites looking at stupid pictures of cats and stupid videos of people doing stupid shit while the hours go by.” Desperation bubbled up in him, and simultaneous contradictory feelings of hysterical laughter and stony silence crashed into him. He’d never admitted to anyone how bad he’d gotten, and now, telling this stranger, threatened to undo him.
“You’re okay, Simon. Come back to me.” Dr. K. waited until Simon made eye contact with her. “Tell me more about your social life, before the deployment,” she said.
Simon sat back and was silent for a couple moments. “Ant and I would go out every weekend. Parties. Women.” He paused and looked at the doctor, who smiled and waited for him to continue. “The usual stuff. Maybe a little more than normal . . .” he drifted off for a moment and an image of one woman popped into his head. “Anyway, yeah, used to have a lot of fun.”
Dr. Kovacevic’s face was passive. “No girlfriend, then? Relationships?”
Simon shook his head. “Nah. There were a couple women I’d dated here and there for a few months at a time. Most of them were flings. Longest was over a year, but that ended poorly. But no one since we got back, no.”
Dr. K. made a note in the book on her lap and flipped up the page to look at his folder, “Tell me about your night terrors.”
An hour later, Simon left Dr. Kovacevic’s office feeling both heavier and lighter. He was on her regular schedule now, every Tuesday morning. His work for the next week was to read the documents she’d given him, and to spend an hour each day writing in a journal. She wanted some more information from him, a daily log, before she prescribed any medication. Simon was glad she didn’t press. He looked at his watch. He had time to go to the PX and pick up a notebook on his way in to the office.
As he was pulling up in front of the office, he saw Audrey and Charlie across the parking lot. Audrey had what looked like a map and Charlie was pointing at it and making exaggerated hand movements, with her arms waving in a wide circle. Neither of them saw him.
He stopped just inside the door. There was an In/Out bulletin board with a column of names down the left side. He grabbed the magnet from the “Other” block on his row and moved it to “In” before going down the hall to his desk.
Antony looked up from his monitor. “How’d it go?” he asked.
Simon shrugged. “Okay, I think. I like her. She gave me homework.”
“Yeah, that’s standard, I think. It’ll help if you’re honest,” Antony said.
“Honest? What do you mean?”
“Just . . . don’t lie to yourself, man. Don’t hold back. Write it all. No sugar coating, no leaving shit out,” he stared Simon in the eye, “And no half-assing this. All in or not.”
Simon looked at his friend. Thoughts of their antics before flashed through his mind, having been floating there since his session. While he didn’t want to go back to being that kind of person, he wanted to feel good about being around Ant again, to lay his guilt to rest. Other relationships would be nice, too.
Simon sighed. “I’m in. Can’t keep doing this.”
First Sergeant Randall came out of his office holding his coffee cup. As he was walking by Simon’s desk, he stopped. “All good, Carwell?”
Simon nodded, “Sure, Top. All good.”
“Good,” Randall said, continuing on to the coffeepot in the corner. “It’s been a bit since you’ve done some hand to hand. Go get some work in after lunch.” He turned and took a sip out of the ancient puke-green melamine mug he’d stolen from some chow hall years ago. He grimaced and snapped, “Who made this shit?”
Antony glanced over. “I did, Top.”
“Goddamn, this shit’ll grow hair on that prosthetic, Ramos.”
Antony cackled. Randall walked by and paused at Simon’s desk. His mouth opened as though he was going to say something, but he nodded and rapped his knuckles on the desktop and kept going.
The morning passed quickly. The two men made quick work of clearing backlogged paperwork from a big case that had been completed the previous week. Just before lunch, the door opened. Charlie and Audrey walked into the bullpen area where the men were seated. Charlie waved and pointed at an empty desk. “Aud, that’ll be yours, so you can dump your stuff there. I’ll be right back.” Charlie disappeared down the hall.
Audrey nodded toward the men and walked over to her desk, setting a box on top of it. She sat down and offloaded some things. Pen holder, nameplate, coaster, coffee cup. She dumped a box of pencils and pens in the pen drawer and placed a handful of legal pads in one drawer. Finally, she pulled a frame out of the box and set it up near her monitor, running her finger lightly over the glass.
A voice yelled out from the back. “Linser!”
Audrey tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes for a second before placing her palms on the desk and standing. She walked between the men and down the hall and looked for a name on the door. She rapped twice on the frame.
“Get in here, Linser,” Randall said, standing. “Close the door.”
She did and turned to find him with his hand out. She grasped it.
“Good to see you again, despite the circumstances,” he said. “I was worried.”
He gestured, and she sat down on one of the chairs in front of his desk. She swallowed down the little lump that had formed in h
er throat. Randall had been one of the few people she’d looked up to during her career, and his guidance had gotten her through some tough times.
“You wanna fill in the gaps in the report we got?” he asked.
Audrey bit her lips together and breathed in sharply through her nose. “I don’t know what they told you. I haven’t seen the report.”
Randall slid a folder across the desk toward her. She leaned forward and picked it up. She flipped it open and found three sheets of paper, each printed only on one side. Half of those sheets were heavily marked with black lines. As she scanned, she marveled at just how much they left out. She closed the folder and placed it back on his desk.
“Started off normal enough. I was on an embassy rotation. Heard about a Soldier supposedly running a black-market ring. I started poking around and busted the kid within a couple days. No big deal.” She paused. “Everything was business as usual until about two months in, I came in to do some paperwork and found some guy pulling a thumb drive out of a computer in the SCIF on site.”
Randall’s eyebrows raised, but he remained silent.
“Luckily, he didn’t see me. I snooped around after he left to track what he’d been downloading. Made a mirror copy of his logs, secured them, and left. One of the janitorial crew apparently noticed me leaving the room. Sold me out for a couple hundred bucks. Someone on staff had heard him talking on the phone and raised the alarm. Things went to shit from there, and the rest follows what you’ve read.”
“They get the bastards?” Randall asked.
Audrey nodded. “They did. Arrested the person—a civilian, I think he was. He should be back for trial soon. At least that’s what I was told.”
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