Chapter 5 – 2 PM
Major Covington took note of the westering sun, then went back to working on the plan of attack. “Might work, at least for one or two. Worth a try.” He called Corporal Marion Clemente up to review SHIELD-WALL again. The Corporal smiled, a little. There had been many plans and, in so many years, few had worked. This one, though, sounded like it had promise. Maybe he would be the next to escape? Maybe he could get help for his beloved blue brothers from the other side?
Elijah was on the Major’s right. “Sir, why did you call it SHIELD-WALL?”
“Private, before gunpowder, men still fought in groups. When the Romans advanced on the Goths, Visigoths and a hundred other nationalities, they kept a front rank of men with large shields. That protected those behind from arrows and rocks, but allowed niches from where spearmen could lance out. A shield wall is a wall of men that stands firm to protect those behind them. Understand?”
Yes, Sir. Centurion Cooper will now go back to his duties, Sir. ”
“One check, Roscoe m’lad,” said Gustav. Ryan tended to remain quiet when the group dealt with the public, leaving speech to his ‘mouthpiece’.
“Already in the works, Mr. M. Drinks and hot garlic bread are coming in five minutes, meals in twenty. Usual settings on the lights and music?”
“Roscoe, they don’t pay you enough.”
The waiter smiled, “That’s why God made big tippers like you, Mr. M. I’ll be back soon with the first course, then take your entree orders.”
Rachel approved. It had been many years since she had been to Pavelli’s. Carl liked the place and so did she. She and Carl had Carlos as their favorite waiter. He had retired a couple of years ago and moved to Florida. She still got Christmas cards from him. Roscoe was different, but just as entertaining and efficient. It would have taken a true Scrooge not to immediately like the fellow. Frank preferred pubs. Sometimes it was difficult trying not to compare Frank to Carl, and Carl kept earning top lauds. She knew this wasn’t healthy for her marriage. Frank had done much for her and he really was a caring and honorable man, a friend who stood by you in need. Yet, in a fulfilling marriage, friendship is not the only ingredient. “I used to come here, a long time ago. Allen, your father liked this place a lot.”
Gustav nodded. “We know. We had meetings here together and this is our traditional room.”
Allen looked around. His father met with these people in this room? Who knows, maybe he was sitting in his father’s favorite chair? But could he fill his father’s shoes? Didn’t someone tell him once that when you reach 21 you become a man? Well, he was 21 and felt like a kid out of his league. Feeling better that his mother was here only served to make him feel even less adult.
“You know, Allen,” said Ryan, “...your father preferred the fettuccini. Isn’t that what you ordered?” In Ryan’s thoughts, “Another young man, so much like his father. Now with my great, grand daughter to assist and guide him. Carl’s mother was unsuited to such a task, back then. She wanted her son to have nothing to do with the business. She felt that Carl should have gone on into bioscience research, or something like that. When Carl died, Abigail blamed me for it. It was irrational, but who could be less logical than a mother whose son was tragically taken away from her. Still, it hurts to remember her icy stare.”
Marianne looked at Rachel and felt a sympathy stab. She could tell, reading between the lines, that Rachel still had feelings for Carl. Marianne nodded and smiled at appropriate small talk junctions, but her mind was not there. It was with Mike Cabrini. Mike had been diagnosed with small cell carcinoma and, although there had been real progress in the treatment of this particular brand of cancer, it was still a poor prognosis. She always felt hurt regarding Mike’s going to see Ryan first. Ryan then called in Gustav, and the MEN shared, bonded, supported. She should feel happy that Mike had that kind of help, but, damn it! She was his WIFE. They shoved her away from her vowed duties to her husband of giving him all the help she could. Marianne was smart enough to know that it wouldn’t have made any difference in the outcome, but it wasn’t about that. It wasn’t so much the journey’s end as it was the journey! That is what was important. She was tossed in a yin/yang storm of appreciation and resentment. Ryan had spared no expense in procuring any treatment, mainstream or exotic, all and everything that was the best available. Mike had finally told her the whole story, when it was obvious to everyone that something was dreadfully wrong with him. He said that it had been his wish to conquer the beast without upsetting his bride, to save her the anguish, at least for a while. It was so noble of him, and so Goddam wrong! Gustav and Ryan were co-conspirators in denying her what she needed in order to be later afforded the healing and closure a spouse deserves. Today, she struck back. So why wasn’t there any feeling of justice served? Why was there only a gnawing of guilt?
Gustav had known Marianne for two decades. He was happy, in a way, that she had gotten her licks in today. “My dear Roscoe, would you please freshen my tea cup? Good man.” There was no doubt in his mind that his right-hand woman was considering her actions taken earlier today and the motives behind them. Gustav Mendelssohn was an unbendingly religious man, and betrayal of someone who trusts you implicitly could not meet with the codes of behavior found in God’s rulebook. But his intentions (there was that word again) had been to follow Mike’s wishes and Ryan’s orders. Just following orders. He had in his family tree two relatives who just followed orders. One died in the Luftwaffe while flying over England, the other while in a tank in Africa under Rommel, the Desert Fox. Both died bravely and selflessly for their country and comrades, but they died under the leadership of one of history’s greatest butchers and madmen. He wondered, “Are they singing in Heaven, or gnashing their teeth in Hell?” He had asked Ryan to ask Vanessa and any entity he might come across about this. Ryan had said that any entity that remained on earth had not been to Hell or Heaven, and so could not help on that matter. All Ryan could do is his utmost to make sure that as many of those left behind as possible were sent on to the next step in their journey, not to wonder about where that journey ended.
Among the shades of men for whom pleasant dining was only a very dim memory, plans had to be made carefully lest Mad Jed catch wind of it. Being mad didn’t make him stupid.
In his silence, “They’re plotting again, Coaljack, as if anything they could do would defeat Satan’s bitch. It’s up to me, it’s always been up to me.” Private Jed Patterson threw back and let out a war whoop that would have given the Rebel Yell a run for its money. The horses started when he did that. The men didn’t like it much either. It hurt them when their horses jinked. It was odd part of the curse, that such discomforts were the only time they felt anything by their senses, other than vision and hearing...and grief.
The meal was halfway consumed and a second round of drinks was being distributed. Gustav nodded to Roscoe, who gave his respects and left. There was a button at the head of the table that would summon Roscoe, if Gustav so desired. Otherwise, no interruptions would be allowed. Rachel had used Allen’s SatCom to call home and let Frank know that there was a delay and not to wait up. She said that there was plenty of food in the kitchen, but knew Frank would take the kids out rather than cook something himself. Cat grumped, “Carl never had that problem.”
All eyes turned to Ryan. “The flagpole and bat incident, coupled with the night-watch’s description of my behavior in the lab and the thing about Dr. Morrison, conspired to have me removed from anything requiring a security clearance. Worse than that, more tests. It was finally decided that I be given a medical discharge, despite the lack of anything medical that could be found wrong, with a diagnosis of ‘battle fatigue’. It was for the best. I had begun to doubt my own sanity and that sort of mindset by people who designed the tools of war got good kids killed. It was the last night of my second base hospital visit when Dr. Morrison AND Vanessa paid a call.
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br /> “The doctor told me that I was to be released on medical discharge with full benefits. I just lay there and listened. Both assured me I wasn’t addled and that I would serve a greater purpose, if willing. They began to tell me of spirits that were stuck here, who couldn’t move on.
“I had the ability to communicate with and help them to either realize their true nature so that they could move on by themselves naturally, or to help them complete their unfinished business, with the same result. Since it was Dr. Morrison who was doing the talking, I decided to have fun with my mental aberration. “OK, Doc. Let’s start with you. What unfinished business do you have, since you already know that you’re dead?” That was the first time his professional face dropped. He looked like a regular guy who was just given the decision of a lifetime and was unsure as to which way to turn.
“The doctor turned to Vanessa, who told him that his work with Ryan was done and that we’d take it from there. I was told to get a pencil and paper and write down something. He gave me a phone number and the name of his wife: Viola. Then he had me write down the name of the First Fidelity Savings and Trust of St. Paul, and a box number. Then he said that a key was taped behind the picture of their son, Brad, which they kept on the dresser.”
“The box holds the certificates she had been looking for which will support her comfortably for the rest of her life. I had neglected to tell her that I transferred them there before I left for Hawaii.”
“Oh, and one other thing. I was to tell her that Huggy will always love her.
“That cut it. I laughed my butt off and told the two of them that I was nuts, dreaming, or both. I told them both to go away and leave me the hell alone! It was in the wee hours and the night charge nurse came in. Of course, she didn’t see my two tormentors and she chewed me out for disturbing the other patients. She didn’t see Vanessa position herself by the door. Once the nurse had her say, she did a military about face and marched that tush, in a dress a size too small, away from me. I was wondering what my imaginary lady was doing because she got her face all set like she was about to give something her all. She did. When Nurse Thundermug walked by, Vanessa gave the hemline of that already overtaxed material a yank. The skirt ripped from north to south. The nurse turned, ready for mayhem, then realized I was too far away to have done the deed. Vanessa fired a second volley with a swat to the nurse’s backside. She yipped, whipped around and looked into the hall, mooning me, then ran down the hall screaming. I remember the wicked look on Vanessa’s face. She said, “Young man, you have a most vivid imagination.”
“The doctor just crossed his arms and said, “Primitive, but effective.”
“The nursing station had a phone, so while the commotion down the hall in the ladies room was in gear, I snuck an open line and dialed the number. Time zone changes got me to Minnesota around 8AM and a woman answered. I told her my name, where I was calling from and that got her interest. Guess anything from Pearl dealing with the Navy had meaning to her. I didn’t have the nerve to tell her about my ghosts, but I did tell her about the key, the certificates and the picture of her son. She asked me to wait a minute and then came back affirming that the information was correct. She started in with questions, none of which I could answer very well. So I told her that Huggy loved her and that stopped the questions, cold. Then, for the lack of something better to say, I told her there was an emergency and that I had to go and wished her luck. I hung up. Both of my ‘guests’ were next to me. The doctor just shook his head, but smiled in understanding. Vanessa began to chant, “Oh what a sinful web we weave.”
Roscoe came in to quietly clear the plates, noting the silence that betrayed his stealth. Two guests appeared overwhelmed; three regulars looked lost in thought. Gustav noticed him first and ordered coffee (and one tea) and a dessert tray. Both arrived two minutes later.
The plan was set. There wasn’t time to rehearse, but there was no need. The soldiers knew each other as well as they knew themselves, acting like a military precision team, a ‘dream team’. Five miles left to go. Major Covington looked to the skies. “Please God, let this work.”
Annie looked to the west, reaching out with her senses. “They’re coming. I can feel it in my bones. Bastards, child killers, rapists, beasts of Satan, all! I’ll stop them, every last one of them, and make them pay.” Had anyone seen the grim look on Annie’s face, it would fulfill the requirements for the finest nightmare.
Allen didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Rachel chose the latter and had to borrow Marianne’s napkin for her eyes once her own was finished with her nose. The thought that Carl might wish to tell her something similar, and couldn’t, hit her hard. Ryan guessed her thoughts.
“I have never heard from Carl. I searched the accident scene, his gravesite and even visited your home, once.” Rachel looked at him with questioning eyes. “Termite inspection, remember? You were once thinking of selling the house and got it inspected before changing your mind. Got the key from your MLS salesperson at Morrison Realty. No, no relation to the good doctor. Never got a sniff. I figure he took one step to help someone in need and the next step on the other side of the Rubicon. There are far worse places to be and far harder paths to get there, as you will find out.” Everyone settled in for the next installment.
“I went back to the room. Things were settling down over at the women’s john. Got back onto the bed and just looked at them. Vanessa looked like she ate the canary, (‘Huh’ said Allen’s expression, ‘Later’ replied Rachel’s) while Doctor Morrison looked, different. His face showed relief, sadness and happiness. He took a couple of steps, and then began to show a soft glow. I can’t explain what it looked like anymore than I could describe green to a blind person. He looked to his left, smiled, then turned back to me one more time and thanked me. He walked, faded and was gone. I just stared at where he used to be, and then looked at Vanessa, who said, “That’s one, champ, and a whole lot more where that came from.”
That was my first assist to the other side and that has been my purpose in life since. I felt like someone gave me the quest for the Holy Grail, but this time, allowed me the tools I needed in order to find it.
“Vanessa told me that they’re not all going to be that easy, that there was one in particular that would take all both of us had and then some. It was wisest, she said, to start off with an easy one.
“I asked her how many spirits she had managed to assist in this transition. “Including this one? One.”
“She had tried to help others, but was frustrated at each turn. There were a lot of reasons. Being able to communicate was not always easy, and lost spirits have a hard time taking another spirit’s directives, for some reason. Being a woman in general had less convincing power with souls from older time periods, simply because men were more often associated with authority.
“It was going to take a couple of days for the ink to dry on the discharge papers and for me to score transport to the States. That is where Vanessa said we needed to go. Meanwhile, the second shot was a breeze and a wheeze. It was a local man who had had a heart attack while jogging along the coastal running path. I had to run along and convince the fellow he was dead. I learned to never, ever, try and out-jog a dead man. Luckily, he had begun to suspect it anyway. He just wasn’t ready to stop. Runners are real rabid about their sport. Half an hour of running later, he took pity on me, smiled, waved and blinked out.
“I was scheduled for transport the next morning, when I was called to the Base Commander’s office. An Ensign showed me in, but it wasn’t the Commander waiting. It was a lady in her late 50’s. She asked me if I was Ryan Fitzgalen. I nodded. “I am Viola Morrison. You and I are going to have a little talk, young man.” She must have had real pull to arrange that meeting, short notice and all, plus make the war-time transit to a military base. She and her husband had done a lot for a lot of people, many in the Navy, many in the government.
“To make a long story short, I told her everything and, by some miracle, she believed me. Said it sounded like something Joseph would do and that she was happy he was at rest. Then she asked me about my own plans. I told her. Viola thought for a while, then nodded and smiled. “Good,” she said to me. “Young man, you have before you a task to make Joseph and me proud. You need to eat and get around without being encumbered with distractions.” She pulled out a checkbook, wrote on it and handed it to me. I looked at it and then asked her for assistance in finding my jaw, as it had rolled under the desk somewhere. Even today, a check for a hundred thousand would get your attention. Back then, it was Holy Hannah! I protested, lost and have been losing arguments with women ever since.
“HAH!” snorted Marianne.