Mike stuck his head in the cockpit and yelled, “Thanks, Colonel. Appreciate the ride.”
Colonel Horton nodded and replied, “I’ll say a prayer.”
“Thanks!”
Mike climbed down the boarding ladder to find the navigator at the base of the ladder with his bag and briefcase in hand. He took them and yelled, “Thank you!”
The nav nodded and pointed to the follow-me truck sitting in front of the B-52, gave him a thumbs up, and started climbing back in the airplane. Mike trudged over to the truck, put his bag in the back, and got it, briefcase in his lap. The airman driving it nodded and pulled away then turned across the ramp. Hearing the B-52’s engines run up, Mike looked back to see them taxiing to the end of the runway. As they got further away, the airman said, “Sir, you’ve got folks meeting you at base ops. We’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Thank you.” Mike opened his briefcase and pulled out his cell phone, turning it on. As it booted up, he asked, “What time is it?”
The airman looked at his watch, “Twenty-three thirty, sir.”
When the phone came up, Mike immediately checked for messages, and only had one, from Jimmy Cameron. It said, AT BASE OPS. Hoping against hope, he dialed the voicemail, but there were no new messages. Killing that call, he tried first Trish’s, then Mikey’s phones; they both went to voicemail. They pulled in front of base ops, and Mike said, “Thanks for the ride.”
Getting out, he grabbed his bag out of the bed, and started up the stairs. Hearing a roar behind him, he stopped and turned, watching the B-52 rumble into the night, heading out over the Pacific. Looking up, he saw that it was a perfectly clear night, but chilly compared to Guam. Damn, I didn’t give them the flight suit back, I guess I can mail it back, or send it on the next parts run. Oh hell, stop it. Go find out what’s happening… He opened the door and stepped into base ops, seeing Jimmy Cameron leaning against a pillar, he started walking over, and stopped cold when Admiral Clayborn got up.
The admiral walked over, followed by Jimmy, “Mike, I’m sorry to break the news this way, but your wife and son are… gone.”
Mike slumped against a pillar, and asked softly, “How?”
“They were killed in the riot yesterday morning in Harborside, on Broadway. Apparently, they had gone to get your wife’s car at… Chuy’s?”
Mike nodded, “Chuy had it, trying to fix a wiring problem.”
“Well, they apparently got trapped down there, and… were killed during the riot. They… Their bodies were recovered this morning out of the remnants of the shop.”
“Remnants?”
The admiral ducked his head, “There was a fire. But the folks at Balboa said they were dead before that. There was an autopsy done on both of them… And… Well, they were cremated.”
Mike looked up in horror, “Cremated? Before I even had a chance to view the bodies?” His voice went up, “How the fuck could they do that? I don’t even get a chance to… View the bodies?”
Jimmy stepped up, “Captain, I made the IDs, and no, you didn’t want to see them. Trust me. Remember them as they were.”
Mike slumped down, head in his hands, as tears rolled down his face. He halfway heard Jimmy say, “I’ve got this, Admiral. I’ll get the Captain to quarters.”
The admiral replied, “Captain James, please take whatever time you need. Again, my apologies for having to deliver the news this way, but I thought it best to do so in person. My condolences.”
Mike nodded, and he heard the admiral walk away. Jimmy leaned over, putting his hand on Mike’s shoulder, “Come on, Mike. Let’s get you back to the base.”
Mike reached out for Jimmy’s hand and Jimmy pulled him up, Mike wiped his eyes, picked up his bag and briefcase and said, “No, I want to go home.”
Jimmy shook his head gently, “No, you don’t. Not right now. We’re in FP Delta plus. All personnel are on base, and we’re at military and dot gov employees only. I moved your stuff into the VIP quarters in the BOQ.” Picking up Mike’s bags, he motioned toward the door, “Come on, we can handle the rest of the stuff in the morning. You need some private time, and some sleep. How long have you been up?”
Mike thought for a minute, “Dunno, somewhere around… Well, I slept some, shit, I don’t know. My watch says seventeen hundred, and I started at oh four hundred.” He followed Jimmy out the door, and was surprised to see an up armored Hummer idling at the door. “What’s this?”
“Not taking any chances. Admiral Clayborn mandated any units off base be defensible vehicles.”
“What was he in?”
“The Marines had him in a convoy, with a bulletproof Tahoe for the admiral and his two guards.”
A half hour later, the Hummer pulled through the front gate at Coronado, past sandbags, and a manned machine gun. They pulled up in front of the BOQ, and Mike got slowly out, turning to take his bags, he said, “Thanks Chief Nealan, sorry to drag you out.”
Chief Nealan replied, “My pleasure, sir. And my condolences. I’ll say a prayer for their souls.”
Mike just nodded and walked slowly up to the BOQ. Slipping his key in the door, he dropped his bag and briefcase, and walked into the bathroom. After he’d finished, he flopped his bag up on the bed and started pulling his clothes out. Opening the closet, he was surprised to find his uniforms neatly lined up in the closet, and he opened the drawers, finding underwear, socks and incidentals. His boots, black and brown dress shoes were neatly lined up on the floor, and he remembered that Jimmy said he’d taken care of his clothes. He just shook his head. Stripping down, he took a long shower, and flopped on the bed, finally letting the tears come. He prayed for Trish and Mikey’s souls, and vowed revenge against those who’d killed them, if he ever found them.
Eight hours later, he woke up, still in the same position, and groaned as he rolled over and sat up. After another shower, he got dressed in multicams, and walked over to the office. Coming in, he looked in and saw Jimmy sitting at his desk, “Master Chief, if you would?” Mike continued down to his office and sat down, unloading his briefcase, and plugging the computer in.
The master chief came in, and Mike said, “Shut the door.” He did so, and turned toward Mike, who continued, “I want to go see the scene. I want to go now.”
“Mike, are you sure that’s smart? There’s still a lot of action down there right now.”
“This morning. Now. Where’s my truck?”
The master chief sighed, “No, you’re not going in a truck. You go, it will be in a Hummer.”
“Get one. Get one now.”
The master chief came to attention, “Yes, sir. I’ll have one out front in ten minutes, sir.” He opened the door, and disappeared down the hall.
Mike slumped back in his chair, I shouldn’t have done that. Jimmy didn’t deserve to have his ass chewed like that. I can’t take what happened out on him. I know he feels like shit already. But dammit, I want to see what happened! Getting up, he went to his safe and pulled his .45 and holster out of the safe. Strapping it on, he walked down the hall and out the front door. Sure enough, Chief Nealan was sitting there with a hummer, M240 in the turret, and Petty Officer Vasquez manning it. The chief nodded and pointed to the passenger’s side, and Mike walked around and climbed in. The master chief was sitting in the left passenger’s seat, headset and tac vest on, and an M-4 slung between his legs. Petty Officer Camp was sitting behind his seat, similarly attired. He looked closer at Chief Nealan, he too had a headset on, and a pistol on his hip.