TY HAD BEEN surprised to receive the lunch request from General Parker on his first day on the new job, and he was even more surprised to realize, after spending five minutes with Parker, that he liked the man a great deal.
He’d had a love-hate relationship with military commanders ever since his experience in Iraq. On the one hand, his own sergeant had carried him back to base after he’d been shot; on the other hand, Ty felt as if the subsequent commanders had handed him a medal and then abandoned him. He’d been shoved out on to the street and forgotten by the system.
Added to Ty’s uncertainty was the fact that Ames Parker was justifiably famous. He’d commanded battles, written books, lectured around the world, been a hero to many Americans. Parker had worked his way up from an impoverished Detroit childhood, had joined the ROTC in college and had eventually found himself in the position of Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
They met in Parker’s small office, where he offered Ty a chicken breast sandwich. After they shook hands and sat, Parker said, “We got lucky and had a baker survive and join the staff down here, so the bread’s worth the whole meal. Go on, try it.”
Ty took a bite, and had to agree – the chicken breast was simply prepared, but the bread was fluffy, slightly sweet and very fresh.
Parker started on his own sandwich, and after a bite he asked, “So, may I call you Ty? How are you settling in here?”
“Yes, sir,” Ty said around swallows. “It takes some getting used to. I mean, you’re all people I’ve read about for years, and now . . .” He finished with a helpless shrug.
Ames took another bite and set his sandwich aside. “I understand. I also know something of your history. I read your file.”
Ty’s appetite abruptly vanished and he returned his sandwich to the simple tin plate. “Yes, sir?”
“You don’t have to stand on military address here, Ty. Please call me Ames.”
Ty opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Parker saw his discomfort and smiled warmly. “It’s okay, you’ll get used to it. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other down here, with you serving as Chief of Staff now, and I . . . well, I wanted to talk to you about a possible second job.”
“What would that be, si . . . I mean, Ames?”
Parker gazed for a few seconds at a photograph and then turned it around to show Ty a family portrait, taken perhaps ten years ago. In it, Parker sat next to a striking middle-aged woman while two twenty-something children, one son and one daughter, stood behind them. “My wife and children are still alive in our home in Michigan. They’ve got a military encampment in the backyard and the infected are pretty spread out up there, so they’re safe. They’ve even got a little vegetable garden going; my wife’s the one with the green thumb.”
Ty was surprised and moved to hear the man choke up once; Parker had always been the calm, rational, smoothly modulated voice of whatever administration he’d worked with. It was startling to realize that the man missed his family and was as human as anyone else.
“Why don’t you bring them here? To be with you?”
“Because they’re better off where they are. This place is a dead end.”
Ty found himself looking down at the sandwich – made with bread baked from stored flour and meat that had undoubtedly been frozen – and he knew it was the truth.
Parker continued, “It works as a temporary sanctuary, but the President understands that we can’t retake the country from here. In a few days, I’ll be leading an assault against the forces above us. It’ll be the most dangerous military operation of my life. I think we can win, but can we hold it afterwards?”
“I don’t know,” said Ty.
Leaning forward, Parker spoke with the same soft intensity he’d once used when presenting plans in the most crucial briefings. “I’ll level with you. You and I aren’t the only vets down here – a few of the Congressmen served, but none of them saw any real action. You understand what that’s like, and I think you’re a decent, thoughtful man who won’t risk any lives unnecessarily. I’ll be taking every capable soldier with me when we make our attempt on the White House, and if we aren’t successful, I want you to take over the military operations down here.”
“Me?” Ty pushed his chair back and waved his hands. “I really appreciate your confidence in me, General Parker, but I don’t share it. There have to be other choices – what about the man who runs Bolling topside . . .?”
“Colonel Marcus,” Parker answered, “is a capable soldier, but he’s got his hands full up there. I want someone who knows what’s going on here.”
“I understand, sir, but . . . that someone just isn’t me.”
Parker leaned back in his chair. “Well, please keep it in the back of your mind, Ty. Oh, and one other thing – I’ll want you to be the one to notify my wife.” Parker pushed an older model phone across the desk. “I use this to talk to them. Just punch 1 and it’ll automatically dial.”
“Got it, but . . . I’m awful on the phone.”
Parker smiled at him, then picked up his half-eaten food. “Now finish up your sandwich – it’s probably the best thing we’ve got left down here.”
Ty took another bite, but even the bread had lost its appeal.
Kevin Moon <moonykev@laex.com> |
|
To: |
Bobby Van Arndt <virginboybva@vi.rr.com> |
Sent: |
SUN, Jun 30, 8:12 AM |
Subject: |
Coming |
Back on the 40 now. Had some trouble just outside of Oklahoma City, but . . . well, I’ll tell you about it when I see you. Hopefully it won’t be long now. Love, Kevin
——-Original Message——-
From: |
Bobby Van Arndt <virginboybva@vi.rr.com> |
To: |
Kevin Moon <moonykev@laex.com> |
Sent: |
SUN, Jun 30, 9:27 AM |
Subject: |
I can relate |
Trouble, huh? Yeah, we’ve had some of our own around here. Be careful, bro – they’re every-fucking-where now. Proceed with caution . . . but please proceed. You’re what I’m living for now.
XOXO, Bobby
——-Original Message——-
From: |
Kevin Moon <moonykev@laex.com> |
To: |
Bobby Van Arndt <virginboybva@vi.rr.com> |
Sent: |
WED, Jul 3, 10:27 AM |
Subject: |
Got stuck |
Sorry, man, had more problems just outside of Memphis. Ran out of gas, went to look for some, and got separated from the Hummer. Had to hide out in an office building for the last two days. But I finally got out, found some juice, and got back to the Hummer. I don’t think I’m that far now. I’m thinking tomorrow.
Love, Kev
——-Original Message——-
From: |
Kevin Moon <moonykev@laex.com> |
To: |
Bobby Van Arndt <virginboybva@vi.rr.com> |
Sent: |
THU, Jul 4, 7:17 PM |
Subject: |
You okay? |
Didn’t hear back from you yesterday. I guess emails are probably not getting through by now . . . but let me know if you get this, okay? Please? Okay? Love,
Kev