Chapter 6

“You never really told me the whole story about these two guys.” Simon now sat with his feet up on the bulkhead, consuming the last bit of gravy with a piece of sourdough bread. The comment brought Evie out of her own thoughts. He’d changed into jeans and one of his gaming T-shirts that publicized Ghost Wars. A caricature of Amee in black leather holding some kind of sci-fi gun showed her leaning against one of the many rooms she was responsible for clearing on some far-away planet. It gave Evie a bit of a tickle. The ghost of Port Chicago would be with them forever in Simon’s hugely popular computer game, and in her heart.

“Yum. Chow was amazing.” Evie licked some butter off her bottom lip. “You have to make Zack your full-time chef.” Evie was avoiding the tale behind her Silver Star and the months she’d been a guest of the Taliban. She slumped in her seat, legs hooked over Simon’s. She’d changed as well, and now relaxed in comfortable sweats and tennis shoes. Her hair was still glued in place and her face resembled some heavily made-up Hollywood starlet, out for a stroll on the red carpet, but she knew Simon found the look charming…and just a tad exciting. He’d only said so a hundred times since Oakland. The last little swipe of cheesecake had been magnificent, and Evie now felt for the smear her fork had left on her chin.

Simon wiped the cake off with a finger, then licked it clean. “He orders in. Now what about this Conrad? And his friend Peter? I have vague memories of scars and lots of alcohol, but…”

“It’s a long story, Simon.” Evie put her legs down and sat up. “I was on a convoy mission. We were ambushed. My unit was hit hard. We had the security detail and that’s who the warlords go after first. They know the drivers won’t lift a finger to defend the load. And why would they?” She took a sip of the clear sparkling wine Zack had provided along with the sumptuous dinner. “Iraqi drivers drive. It doesn’t matter where or to whom. They get paid to drive and survive. Anyway…” She took another sip. “We got hit. We were outnumbered five to one. Two out of the six of us survived. Max and I got captured. Max was really badly wounded. We ended up in an old bombed-out castle about a hundred miles away from the original attack. Max survived a couple days, but eventually, without medical attention, he died in my lap.” Evie stretched her legs then curled them beneath her. The rest of the story was uncomfortable to verbalize, let alone revisit in the retelling. “It was okay. He was in terrible pain. I was held for several months, along with some other soldiers. I never really saw them, just heard their screams and swear words. Our captors loved learning new swear words in English, so—”

“You don’t have to tell me anymore, if you don’t want to.” Simon pulled her into his arms.

“Nah. It helps. And you need to know who you are dealing with. Conrad is a real tough cookie. Pete, on the other hand, is a? I don’t know. He’s just Pete.” Evie smiled.

How did you explain a guy who would never give up, even when he was in hideous pain, and barely able to move? Yet he’d refused her steadying arm and any water they’d scrounged, as he tried to carry Conrad in the beginning. It hadn’t been long before he had to let Evie do the heavy lifting, then he stumbled along behind her, never complaining, just stumbling.

“Anyway, after a few months, I befriended the woman who brought our food. Let me correct that statement. We ate some kind of gruel. I wouldn’t call it food by any stretch of the imagination.” She used her finger to wipe the remnants of her dinner off the plate, then licked the finger clean. “She was a prisoner as well, but she was Muslim, so they didn’t lock her up, just chained her feet.”

“I can’t imagine what you went through,” Simon commented softly as he kissed her wet finger.

“Yes, you can. You’ve seen my back.” After another sip of the bubbly wine, she continued. “The Allied forces were close. We could hear the bombing and gunfire. Asheefa came to my cell one night. She didn’t speak English, but I could tell something was up. She gave me the key to my chains and pushed me out of the cell. I wouldn’t leave without the two other American soldiers, so she helped me find them and then ran away. As I got the door unlocked, two Taliban fighters came down the passage. I realized even before they ran at me, it would be a fight to the death. I was up for it. Heck, another couple weeks with those guys and I would have been dead anyway.”

“So Conrad and Pete were the two guys in that cell?” Simon kissed his way up her hand to her wrist.

“Yep. Pete was in a bad way, but he rallied. Conrad was a little better off and got into the fight with me. We subdued the fighters and took their weapons, but Conrad was wounded. One of the fighters had a knife. He sliced Conrad up pretty good. There wasn’t any time to fix his wounds. I hauled him over my shoulder, and we ran…or stumbled out of the ruins. There was an old truck we procured that took us aways, but not far, before its radiator blew. About ten clicks away, we stopped, and I ripped up what was left of my shirt and tied up Conrad’s worst wounds. Pete used his bootlaces to tie up a particularly vicious wound on Conrad’s leg, and on we went. After that, it was carry Conrad, or let him die in the desert. I wasn’t gonna leave a man behind.”

“Wow. I know’d you a badass sista, but fuckin’ aye, you be some kinda hero badass sista.” Bull lounged across the aisle from the couple, his long muscular leg draped across the arm of the seat. Despite the language, Bull’s comment registered as a compliment in Evie’s mind. Bull was pretty badass himself.

“Yeah, that’d be me. Badass to the bone, and just about dead, when we stumbled on a scout group the third day out. Not sure if I’d have made another day carrying Conrad and dragging Pete. But all’s well, that ends well, right?” Evie’s laugh was tight and raw. “The guys called in a medevac and pretty soon we were dining on MREs in a make-shift hospital, and awaiting a flight to Rhein Mein. End of that Chapter. We hung out for a while there and eventually ended up at Bethesda. Rad, Pete and I have been tight ever since. They even showed up for my separation ceremony. All the way from Texas. The media made it kind of a circus and I didn’t get to spend much time with them, but it was touching that they came. We did tie one on, huh, Simon?” She smiled, remembering the soused Simon trying to talk and walk. They’d all taken a taxi home.

“And now they have a business together, some kind of military technical stuff?” Simon needed a better picture of the here and now.

“Yeah. Turns out Pete was a hell of a businessman, and Conrad was like you, a techy-type. They started GST, Global Systems Technology. It specializes in government contracts for all kinds of goodies. Conrad’s wife, Andrea, was a combat photojournalist. That’s how they met. Talk about a badass sister, that girl has it goin’ on. She runs into a firefight, just for a picture. She and Conrad make a great pair.” Evie leaned over and pretended to take a picture of Bull.

“Hey, no photo ops here. I’m in the witness protection program.” Bull’s huge smile glowed as he waved off the invisible paparazzi.

Evie chuckled. “Right, I forgot.” It was amazing how Bull could go from an inner-city hoodlum to a sophisticated man-about-town in the blink of an eye. “Their marriage didn’t sit well with Peter, but he got used to it. And he seemed happy for his buddy, most of the time. They were like Mutt and Jeff at my separation party. ‘Course Andrea was back in Texas, and it was just the two guys again.”

“That’s got to be hard for Pete. Being so close. Surviving a near death experience. Combat buddies and all. Then wham, an interloper jumps in.” Simon mused, as he finished his wine.

Evie sat up and looked at Simon. “You think a wife is an interloper?”

“Nah, that’s not what I meant. It’s just, okay, I give…and retract every upsetting statement I’ve ever made.” He looked like a whipped puppy, on purpose.

“Oh no, mister. You’re not getting out of it as easy as that.” Evie play-punched Simon’s shoulder.

“You done it now, boss. You better be a little more careful with dat girl. She dangerous. Beat the bad guys down, all on her own.” Bull shook his head in mock horror.

Simon gave Bull a dirty look. “You’re not helping, Mr. Cheddar.”

Bull raised his hands in surrender which made Evie break out in giggles. “Bull Cheddar? That’s your name? Bull Cheddar?”

“Uncle Grady wouldn’t let anyone in the house swear. Bull’s gang name was Bull Shit, cause he was so full of it! And anyone who disagreed with him got the shit beat out of them.” Simon’s smug statement made Bull frown. “So, we called him Bull Cheddar around my uncle. I think Uncle Grady knew his real nickname all along.” Simon’s face softened as the memories seemed to wash over him. Evie’s heart did a little flip in her chest. Simon was such a sweet guy.

“Everybody done respected Mr. O’Sullivan. He be nice to everyone, no matter where you be from, or who your folks be.” Bull bowed his head and crossed himself.

“Bull, you’re Catholic?” Evie was surprised.

“Nah. One of my foster parents was. Made me go to church with ’em. I just got the habit, and it stayed with me when I got shoved onto the next family.” Simon had told Evie about Bull’s background and the many foster homes he’d been in, before he just decided to give up on adults and live on the streets. From the stories, she knew there was always a good hardy meal and a helping hand at the O’Sullivan household. Uncle Grady never judged and always listened to the kids Simon brought home, and tried to give helpful advice, no matter their circumstances. “Never thought much about God, or any of that stuff. Didn’t apply to me. I was too busy survivin’.” Bull turned his face to the window.

“Well, I’m definitely a believer. Amee did that to me.” Simon thumbed his chest. “I hope they’re happy, wherever they are.” He kissed Evie on the cheek.

“I’m sure they are, Simon. You saw.” Evie whispered to her boyfriend then kissed him soundly. “The good Lord made sure of that.”

Simon closed his eyes. Evie watched the soft smile appear then slowly fade as Simon relaxed into that space between asleep and awake.

Her tale done, Evie relaxed as well. Life was good. She had Simon, sort of. At least she’d given him an excuse to cuddle and be close for a while. They were headed to help her friend with an emergency. It was also a good enough excuse to stay away from a big stage, bright lights and a thousand people, yelling and grabbing at Simon, which he hated more than anything. Mathers would just have to understand. Simon would get his bonus either way.

She wondered if Simon had visions of her in her red satin evening gown and strappy heels, carrying a bleeding soldier over her shoulder? That would be something his strange and imaginative brain would come up with. Maybe it would be in the next version of his game.

Not more than a second later, Zack interrupted Evie’s dozing. “Landing in about thirty minutes. Bull, clean up. Boss, buckle up. Beautiful lady, make sure they comply!”

Simon yawned. “Man, I just got to sleep.”

“Really, Simon? How about three hours ago!” Evie yawned in response as she checked her watch and stretched her long limbs. “Bull, need a hand?”

“Nope. Got it, beautiful lady.” Bull whispered on his way by, “I think Zack is in love.”

Evie laughed and straightened up around their seats. “And so it begins. You ready for this, Simon? It might get messy.”

“I can do messy.” Simon flexed.

From the galley, Bull commented under his breath, but loud enough for Evie to hear. “Come on, boss. You whine if your mac and cheese isn’t warm enough.” He punctuated his statement with a slam of the garbage bin door. “Evie, you’re gonna have to keep an eye on my man. He’s not cut out for heavy lifting.”

“Roger that, Mr. Cheddar.” She giggled at the name again. “Ya know, Bull Cheddar isn’t a very intimidating name for a big guy like yourself. Maybe you should consider changing it.”

“I’m kinda used to it now. It grows on you, like a fine wine. A good strong cheddar is precious. Like me.” Bull wiggled his butt and winked.

Evie cracked up. The huge man stood in the small galley, his head cranked to one side, pressing against the top hull of the plane. His lopsided wink looked a little pained, but sweet at the same time, while he tried to see what he was doing in the tiny sink. Giving up, he locked all of the bins and bent over to scrunch-walk back to his seat.

Evie began humming the Jaws theme song. “Da dum, da dum, da dum. Boss, we need a bigger plane!” She bent over laughing as Bull’s knees cracked. “Maybe we should call you Bull Cheeto with all that crunching going on. I’ll get the dishes.”

“Thanks.” Bull collapsed into his seat. “A bigger seat would be nice, too.”