Chapter 9- Recommended Discharge
On the return trip to the Cave, Aidan and Jando congratulated Lydia and deemed her completely fearless and insane. “If being an agent doesn’t pan out, you could become a stuntwoman,” Aidan said.
“No, thanks,” she said. “Even I know that what we just did was crazy.”
“Part of the job,” Sylvia said, sitting up front with Heather. “You did well.”
“Very well,” Jando said. “And if that’s part of the job, I wouldn’t mind. I can take it.” His pale face and twitchy fingers disagreed. He excused himself to the restroom, walking a little too casually.
“Well, I’m just glad you’re okay,” Aidan said. “You had us worried.”
Lydia held his hand across their table and smiled. “Thanks. I’m fine.” He played with her hand, rubbing the top with his thumb. It was warm and pleasant. Lydia twisted her hand to do the same to his.
“Uh, yeah. This’ll be a story to write home about,” he said.
“Are you kidding? My mom would freak out if I told her,” she said, chuckling.
“Yeah. Although I’m sure Dariela will love to hear it.”
Lydia nodded and heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I’m sure she will.” Probably something to add to your letter.
Aidan winced and stood up, bending his arm and tugging at her grip. “Ow, ow! Lydia, you’re breaking my hand.”
She looked up and released him. “Oh, sorry. Spaced out for a moment.” He massaged his hand as Jando returned, looking better than before. Lydia turned to Sylvia and Heather, who were in a one-way conversation. Sylvia leaned in close to Heather, but the woman seemed to gaze everywhere except at her. Her eyes often fell on Lydia.
Lydia ignored Heather for the rest of the trip. She found herself incredibly drained from the mission and managed to catch a couple hours of shut-eye. When they landed at the Cave, Sylvia led the group off the plane and to the Center. A pair of armed security guards waited by the entrance. “Process her, then take her to one of the holding cells,” Sylvia said, passing Heather off to them.
Holding cells? Lydia had never seen one during her stay, but she supposed she should have expected the place to have them. The division did deal with rogue BEPs, who would need to be housed somewhere for a time.
Before they whisked Heather away, Barrett stopped them, throwing back her curly hair and glaring at the group like an upset parent. Or, with her age and the glasses dangling from her neck, an upset grandparent. Her hard, no-nonsense expression made Sylvia gulp. She sucked on a cigarette like it was sour candy and squashed it in an ash tray on the front reception desk. Already back to her usual self, Lydia noted as Barrett stuffed her hand in her white coat and produced a penlight and a stethoscope.
“Good thing I caught you before you did something rash,” she said, holding Heather’s face and twisting it back and forth in her examination. “Like run off before I could check them.” She muttered to herself as she came across the bruises and finger marks on Heather’s neck. Then she focused on the leg wound.
“I was going to bring everyone by afterward,” Sylvia said. “They’re fine. An EMT already checked them.”
“Oh, an EMT checked them,” Barrett said sarcastically. “Arthur didn’t mention that. He only told me what happened and that I should be on standby, but an EMT checked them? I guess there’s no reason for me to be here then, is there?” She allowed the guards and Heather to leave for the time being. She checked Lydia next, shining the penlight in one eye, then in the other. “Tell me, was this a genius EMT? Or someone who went to a special school where EMTs are trained for as long as doctors? Hmm? And was this before or after you jumped a hundred feet in the air onto a moving plane?”
“They’re all fine.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Arthur needs to debrief them,” Sylvia said, trying to encourage the teenagers to come along.
“Debriefing can wait.” Barrett opened Lydia’s mouth, shined the light in, then listened to her heart with the stethoscope. “She’s been gassed, and I’m not letting any of you out of my sight until I’ve checked you all.”
“But Arthur—”
Barrett gave her an evil eye. “Debriefing can wait,” she said, enunciating each word one by one. “Now stand there and wait until I get to you.” Sylvia relented and Lydia giggled. We should send Barrett out on missions. She’d scare everyone into giving up.
Barrett checked everyone’s vitals as well as any injuries Lydia and Jando might have sustained from Heather’s gas and the smoke BEP. After she concluded that the pair were well enough, she said, “If you start feeling lightheaded, come see me. Otherwise, all of you get plenty of rest and take it easy.” She turned to Sylvia. “I mean it. All of you. Doctor’s orders.”
Sylvia faced the three teenagers. “I know you’re probably tired, but Arthur needs to debrief you. I’m sure he’ll make it short, okay?” she said to them as much as she did to Barrett. The doctor agreed and left them. The three yawned and stretched, following Sylvia to the elevators and to Arthur’s office. He welcomed them all inside. The chairs seemed especially comfortable to Lydia, and she nearly fell asleep then and there.
“A very big congratulations is in order,” Arthur said, sitting on the front of his desk. “I know it was a lot to ask from you, but from what Sylvia radioed to me on the plane, I couldn’t have wished for a better result. You all did an outstanding job. Especially you, Lydia.”
She raised her head, smiling briefly. “Thanks.”
“Now, we’ll be interrogating Heather later on, and you’re welcome to watch. You’ve earned it after all.” He clapped and Lydia jolted awake. “Your final exams for school have been postponed for a couple of days, so don’t worry. You’ll have more time to study. That’s about all I can think of for the time being.” He turned to Sylvia. “Is there anything you wanted to add?”
“Just that you three did well. We won’t be training for a few days, so take it easy and relax,” she said.
Aidan mumbled what they were all thinking. “Thank. You.”
“Okay, you’re dismissed,” Arthur said. “Go get some sleep.” Sylvia escorted the boys out of the office, but Lydia stayed seated. Arthur looked up from digging through some papers on his desk. “Was there something else, Lydia?”
“I’d like to talk to you privately,” she said.
“Sure.” He waved Sylvia on, and she shut the door behind her. “What is it?”
Lydia sat up straighter, blinking hard and shaking off the exhaustion on her shoulders. “I wanted to talk to you about Cooper and Nina.”
“Cooper? Oh, yes.” Arthur picked up a folder. “Yes, I was looking over his file a while ago.”
“You’re planning to let him go but keep his sister here,” Lydia said. “I wanted to ask you to let his sister go as well.”
His eyebrows knitted together, and he opened a file cabinet behind him. “Hmm, let’s see. Nina Sanders.” He took out another folder and perused it for a few moments. “I’m afraid we can’t do that. I don’t see any recommendation to be discharged.”
“Recommended by who?” Lydia asked.
“Warren Harper. He’s in charge of who leaves and who stays,” he said.
Lydia’s head drooped, the exhaustion winning, and she sucked in a deep breath through her nose. Then she opened her chest, forcing herself to stay focused. “I thought you were in charge of who leaves.”
“I have the final say and approve who goes,” Arthur said. “But Warren makes the recommendations.”
“Can’t you just go over him?” Lydia asked.
“I could, but I trust his decisions,” he said, closing the folder and setting it aside. “Look, it’s never easy breaking up families that come through here. I don’t like it any more than you do.”
Lydia clenched the arm of her chair. There had to be something she could do. “Where is Warren Harper? Maybe I could talk to him.”
“Down the hall, to the right, his office
is on the left,” Arthur said, pointing. Lydia thanked him and headed down the hall to the office stenciled with WARREN HARPER, RESOURCE AND DISCHARGE MANAGER.
Inside, a secretary sat behind a small desk, typing on her computer. Her mass of curled hair bounced up and down, and her glasses dangled askew on her nose as she switched between reading memos on her desk, answering the phone, and typing. A closed door was behind her in the opposite corner from Lydia. When Lydia entered, the secretary froze in the middle of a call. “Hang on,” she said to the phone. “May I help you?” she asked Lydia.
“I need to see Mr. Harper,” she said, approaching the desk.
“Are you here to file a complaint?”
“No, no. I just need to talk to him.”
The secretary relaxed and waved to one of the chairs against the wall. “Please have a seat. Mr. Harper will be with you as soon as possible.”
Lydia took one of the chairs and drummed her legs, trying to stay awake. She hummed, slapped her thighs, bobbed her head, any movement to keep her brain working. Meanwhile, the secretary chugged on, never pausing in her tasks. It was quite the sight, like a machine that filed papers and sent off emails all during numerous phone calls to other departments. A steady rhythm that required expert coordination and multitasking. Lydia fell into a trance watching the woman work, dial, type, and file. Her eyelids drooped heavily.
She snapped to attention and looked elsewhere, counting down the minutes on the clock above the hall door. Several people walked through the hall, but the one that caught Lydia’s eye was Heather, flanked by the same two guards. She assumed they had finished processing her and were escorting her to the holding cell. As they passed the office, Heather peeked in and saw Lydia. Again, that same stare. It really irritated Lydia, and she wished Heather would stop. She nearly shouted out, “What?!” to her. The guards pushed Heather on and out of sight.
The door in the corner opened and a man came out. He appeared as frantic and as rushed as his secretary. His thin, boyish blond hair would’ve fallen off in a gentle breeze, and he didn’t raise his eyes to anyone around him. The man carried a phone in one hand and a binder in the other. “Megan,” he said to the secretary, dropping the binder on her desk, “send an email out to the cafeteria. Tell them for the final time, the schedule for the food we order is sent out every week as a reminder. If their moron of a head chef needs something different, then he needs to drag himself up here and tell us two weeks ahead of time.”
“Yes, Mr. Harper,” Megan said.
“Unbelievable,” Harper said, flicking through the binder. “Bunch of ingrates, causing more problems. No, not you, Bill,” he said to his phone. “You want to make the expansions to the Center when?” He snapped his fingers at Megan. She slapped a notepad and pen in his palm. “Yeah, sure. What time will the meeting be?” He scribbled down a date on the notepad and held it so that Megan could read it. She nodded. “Okay, that’ll work. Bye.”
Megan handed Harper a stack of notes and letters. “Missed calls and your mail. You also have a visitor,” she said, pointing at Lydia.
Harper turned to Lydia, looking through the notes. “And you are?”
“Lydia Penner,” she said, standing. Her legs wobbled, begging to rest.
“Lydia Penner,” he repeated to himself. “Came to us at the end of August. Increased strength. BEP agent in training,” he said, more to himself than to her. “What do you want?” He opened a letter, grimaced, and tossed it into a trash can.
“I came to speak to you about Cooper Sanders’s discharge,” she said. “And how you didn’t recommend his sister Nina to leave.”
“And?”
“And I wanted to know why she wasn’t recommended,” Lydia said.
“That’s confidential information that only Ms. Sanders may know,” Harper said.
“Would you change your mind and recommend her?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “She’s not ready to leave. If that’s all, Ms. Penner, I have a lot to do and no time to do it.” He stopped and swore, thrusting a letter at Megan. “Get Hank on the phone. I’m not dealing with his nonsense anymore.” Then to Lydia, “Have a good day.” Turning on his heel, he headed back to his office.
Lydia went after him. She couldn’t give up that easily. “Wait, maybe you could re-evaluate her?” Lydia tried. He still didn’t look at her, even when she stood in front of him. If he would only take a moment to talk to her.
“I already have. She’s not ready and that’s all I have to say on the subject,” he said, inching around her and into his private office. He plopped down at his desk, opening and discarding more mail.
She wiped her face, her frustration, anger, and exhaustion at their breaking points. “Please, at least reconsider—”
His nose stayed in a letter. “No, Ms. Penner. Now good-bye.”
Lydia raised her palms and slammed them on his desk, tearing off two large pieces that ended in finger shapes. Slowly, she realized what she had done and removed her hands, looking at them and the desk. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She trailed off and brushed the bits of wood from her hands.
Harper jutted his lip, a puff of air escaping, and laid down his mail. Never taking his eyes off the holes, he said, “Megan!”
“New desk?”
“New desk.” Harper folded his hands. “At least you didn’t chop it in half like the last BEP.” For the first time, he looked Lydia in the eye. “Ms. Penner, let me make myself clear: Nina Sanders will not be reevaluated at this time. I have not made the decision to keep her here lightly. It’s in her best interest.
“As for her brother, we have to move people out constantly,” he said. “We can’t afford to house BEPs here forever. Ms. Sanders will be discharged when it’s her time to leave the Cave and not before. Now, would you see yourself out? I have some calls to make.”
Numbly, she stumbled out, drained and tired. What would she tell Cooper? He had been so happy when she vowed to help. She had to face him with empty hands and a sympathetic, “I tried.” What good was that?
Lydia went to the dorms and entered her room, thankful that Wren was out taking final exams. She slumped onto her bed and buried her face in the pillow.
* * *