Dispatches (27 page)

The soft glow of candles illuminated the great room behind the wall of windows facing the lake, turning the Marine into a dark silhouette.

“Can your medic treat them here?” she asked, walking toward the house.

“He’ll thoroughly clean the wounds and do what he can to keep Mr. Fletcher and Mr. Thornton comfortable. Their injuries are painful, but not life threatening. We’re working on a plan to deliver a medical team from Augusta to set your husband’s arm and do a real stitch job on Mr. Thornton’s hand. They might be preoccupied until the morning, or longer,” said Evans.

“All hell breaking loose tonight?” said Kate.

“We’ll be fine here,” said Evans, opening the sliding door.

“Your colonel doesn’t think so, or I wouldn’t have a squad of Marines at my house,” Kate pointed out.

“It’s just a precaution,” said Evans. “And a bit of a fig leaf.”

“I think you mean olive branch? Offering a fig leaf is what you do to cover up an embarrassment.”

“Whatever the saying is,” said the Marine. “He really needed their help.”

“He should have asked. A few pallets of field rations and MREs isn’t adequate compensation for a dead husband and son,” Kate remarked, eyeing the stack of olive drab containers stacked in the hallway leading to the front door.

Evans looked down as she stepped through the door.

“I know, ma’am. I’m really sorry,” he whispered.

The dry heat from the wood-burning stove warmed her face like a sunny day. The flickering light of several widely spaced candles illuminated the great room and eat-in kitchen. Her daughter, Emily, and the rest of the teenage girls sat on the floor in front of a wide, U-shaped sectional couch, playing cards. Samantha, Linda, and Alex’s mother sat on the leather sections behind them, looking to her for word. Tim Fletcher placed a glass on the kitchen counter and turned to face her.

“They’re on their way. I can hear the helicopters,” said Kate, catapulting the room into a frenzy.

As the extended family rushed toward the front door, Kate looked at Evans.

“Luckily for you, all this group cares about is getting their people back in one piece,” said Kate. “You might want to have your medic put something strong in my husband’s IV bag. He’s the one you need to worry about.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Evans said, looking even more contrite than before.

They waited in the wide front yard, keeping their distance from the armored vehicle parked squarely in the middle of the trampled grass. The silent mass of steel stood vigil over the house, anchoring a dozen Marines spread in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree perimeter throughout the property. An impenetrable row of evenly cut arborvitaes stretched across the front edge of the grass, creating a privacy screen from the dirt road connecting the lot to the rest of the neighborhood. The trees were somewhat pointless, since the house was located at the far northern end of the access road. You’d have to be hopelessly lost, or terminally nosy, to travel to the end of the road.

Staff Sergeant Evans stood at the edge of the compact trees, watching the road through a handheld night-vision scope. She was relieved to have the Marines guarding the house, even if their arrival had been one hell of a surprise. The house exploded in panic when the battery-powered wireless motion detectors installed a hundred feet down the road registered movement. Linda led everyone into the trees north of the backyard while Tim manned one of the protected firing positions they had constructed on the second floor of the house facing the road.

When he reported two military vehicles pulling up to the property, they assumed the worst. The mission to Bangor had failed, leading the paramilitaries to their doorstep. The sudden arrival of two Matvees less than an hour after Alex’s departure was hard to interpret any other way. They all breathed a sigh of relief when Tim reported that the “Marines had landed.”

The good vibes ended when Staff Sergeant Evans, unable to adequately explain the need for his presence in Belgrade, confessed that their husbands and her son were headed into an uncertain situation. Kate interpreted “uncertain” to mean dangerous, which turned out to be an understatement. A military coup was underway in the state, and her husband was driving into the middle of it. They waited in sheer silence for word from the helicopters sent north toward Bangor.

Evans had understood the gravity of their situation. He had a ten-year-old son and six-year-old daughter waiting with his wife in the Military Dependents Camp at Fort Devens. His family’s safety was completely dependent on the commanders calling the shots at the base. He was as helpless as Kate and the rest of them. She felt bad for heaping the blame on Evans. He’d drawn the short straw tonight. If anyone in Alex’s group had been killed, the Marines would have witnessed a hostile environment unlike any combat zone they had ever seen. The thought brought a quiver to her lip. She didn’t want to think about what could have happened. Kate was just glad they were safe.

“They just made the turn,” said Evans.

The group edged forward in the darkness. Evans cracked a green chemlight and tossed it to the ground between the trees and family, casting a faint glow over them. Kate squeezed Emily’s hand, and her daughter squeezed back. The sound of heavy tires grinding against the uneven dirt road penetrated the trees, followed by the deep hum of a powerful diesel engine. The Matvee rumbled past the evergreens, squeaking to a halt several feet beyond Evans. The passenger-side doors opened, disgorging two Marines, who rushed to the back of the troop compartment. The rear hatch swung to the right, exposing the road to a dark red light.

Ryan jumped to the ground, turning to help Ed. They reached up to help Alex slide out of the back, onto his feet. Her husband’s left arm was wrapped in a compression splint that ended at his wrist. Alex grimaced when he hit the ground, sucking air between his teeth. Ryan pulled the good arm over his shoulder and backed out of Charlie’s way.

“I got this!” yelled Charlie. “Jesus Christ, I feel like I’ve been admitted to a nursing home.”

Charlie’s feet hit the ground unevenly, his sizable frame wobbling on impact. He stumbled backward, unconsciously extending his bandaged hand to catch the back of the Matvee. When his hand smacked into the armored hatch, Charlie screamed loud enough to wake the entire lake. Ed quickly grabbed him before he crashed to the ground.

“Told you I had it,” he grumbled, sparking laughter from everyone.

When the four of them finally stood upright behind the Matvee, one of the Marines inside the vehicle started clapping. They all joined in a round of applause and whistles for the returning crew, before the families rushed forward to swarm them.

Emily ran ahead of Kate, throwing her arms around Alex’s uninjured side. He winced before kissing the top of her head and squeezing her tight with his good arm.

Kate hugged Ryan tightly, ignoring the rifle magazines and combat gear fastened to his body armor. She wept silently, tears streaming down her face. Kate could barely wrap her arms around her son, but she kept him locked in place until he protested. She didn’t want to let her son go. The relief she felt holding his living, breathing form caused her to feel weak, almost fragile. She couldn’t go through this again. Not with either of them.

“You’re not going anywhere, ever again,” she said, sniffling.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Ryan said, trying to squirm out of her bear hug. “It wasn’t a big deal. Dad had it under control.”

“It sounded like a big deal,” she said, easing up on him.

“Everything was more or less fine. This is just from falling off a fence,” said Alex, nodding at his splinted arm.

“Save it. I got the full story from Staff Sergeant Evans,” said Kate.

“Yeah, he fell off the fence dodging machine-gun bullets!” yelled Charlie. “You should have seen it! And they say
I’m
the klutz. Whheeeee, he went sailing!”

“I thought we agreed to play down certain aspects of our trip,” said Alex, letting go of Emily to hold Kate.

“Fuck that, man. We just survived against all odds. I thought we were gone for sure until those helicopters showed up!”

“Maybe I didn’t get the full story,” she said. “Ryan, I expect a full report from you, since I’m obviously not going to get it from your—”

“He’s gone to find Chloe,” said Alex, nibbling her bottom lip.

She tilted her head for a more passionate kiss. Despite the fact that he smelled like a combination of gun propellant, musty pine needles, and blood, she couldn’t get enough. He responded to her not-so-subtle advance and returned the deeper kiss. She broke it off, conscious that their daughter was holding on to them.

“Later,” she whispered in his ear, opening their family cluster to bring Emily closer.

“Dad, do you think things will go back to normal now?” asked Emily.

“I think it’ll get better, sweetie,” said Alex, meeting her eyes with doubt.

A distant boom punctuated the night, causing Alex to look toward Staff Sergeant Evans. The Marine cracked a second green chemlight, holding it in front of him. Three successive explosions followed the first.

“Welcome back, gentlemen. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get everyone inside,” said Evans, motioning for them to follow him across the yard.

When the families were clear of the road, the Matvee turned around and raced away.

“How long will they be here?” Kate asked.

“I don’t know,” said Alex, pausing as several muted detonations echoed across the lake. “Probably depends on how long that lasts.”

“I hope they stay,” said Emily, speaking for all of them.

Chapter 39

Belgrade, Maine

Alex’s arm throbbed inside the plaster short-arm cast lying across his lap. He stared at the lake through the spacious windows, still slightly dazed from four days of taking pain medications. Dark, hazy thoughts dominated his mental horizon. While grateful to be alive, sharing stolen time with his family, he couldn’t stop focusing on the long-term cost of the trip. His arm would be useless for most, if not all of the summer. Charlie’s hand was out of commission for more than a month.

The combination of injuries represented a significant setback to their gardening project, which was barely a feasible endeavor with all hands participating. Alex knew logically that it wasn’t the end of the world. They’d be fine. Grady had promised him food and supplies, which he had no reason to doubt. Emotionally, his outlook dimmed at the thought of sitting around idle, reliant on outside assistance. He’d planned so carefully over the past five years to specifically avoid this situation.

Maybe he was just angry at having the rug ripped out from under him after spending so much time believing that he was ready for anything. Who was he kidding? Ninety-nine percent of the population had it far worse than the Fletchers, even now. Alex had to remember that. He hadn’t failed on any level. If anything, he’d succeeded in the face of insurmountable odds, with a little help along the way. A lot of help, but that was how it worked. No man was an island. No family was an island. However that saying went. Words to live and die by.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Kate, appearing next to the couch with a steaming mug of coffee.

“Just staring out into space. Feeling sorry for myself,” he said. “Is that for me?”

“It wasn’t, but anything to lift your spirits,” she said, walking around the leather sectional to put the mug on the glass coffee table in front of him. “Ken is going to help us plot the garden beds. He knows a few others in the neighborhood that might be able to help.”

“More mouths to feed,” he mumbled, reaching for the coffee mug.

“Alex,” she started.

“Sorry. We need all the help we can get, not to mention that the neighbors are here to stay. I’m still dusting the cobwebs off that record. It’s just hard going from our compound in Limerick to coexisting in a community of strangers.”

“We’ll make it work somehow.”

Alex wasn’t sure how, but as long as the military subsidized their food, they’d figure it out eventually.

“Alex!” yelled his dad, the front door slamming behind him.

“On the couch,” he called, shaking his head and winking at Kate.

“I know where you are. It’s where you always are,” said Tim, rushing into the room.

“I might have broken an arm, Dad,” said Alex.

“Didn’t realize you walked on your hands,” said Tim, shifting the rifle sling on his shoulder. “Someone’s here to see you.”

The house started to vibrate almost imperceptibly.

“Who?” asked Alex, pushing off the couch to stand up.

“Lieutenant Colonel Grady,” said Tim. “We’ve got a Matvee and four of those big-ass armored trucks idling in front of Charlie’s house.”

“Grady came up?” said Alex, kissing Kate on the cheek as he hurried around the couch. “This should be interesting. Three MTVRs? That’s a lot of carrying capacity.”

“I don’t know what the hell they’re called. Back in my day they were called five-tons, and they had a canvas cover over the back. Barely protected us from the rain, let alone an RPG.”

Alex patted his dad on the shoulder. “Times were tougher back then, Dad.”

“Why does that sound like you’re patronizing me?” Tim followed him down the slate-tiled hallway to the front door.

“I have no idea,” said Alex, smiling at his dad.

Sean Grady stood at the far end of the front yard, talking with Ryan. The two of them nodded and grinned like they’d known each other for years. The Marine shook his son’s hand, holding onto his shoulder. A classic man-hug. Ryan took off down the compacted dirt road, disappearing behind the row of pines.

“Are you supposed to be wearing your helmet?” asked Alex.

The fury he’d promised to rain on Grady never materialized, along with the best intentions to endlessly lecture the officer that once served as a platoon commander under him. Sean’s smile, the familiar scar, the way he genuinely embraced Ryan—he let the anger go. Just like that, it was gone, leaving Alex feeling lighter.

“Alex, I want to—”

“Apology accepted,” Alex cut in. “You don’t need to mention it again.”