Arthur Redford
CHAPTER 2
So last month I went to my Doctor for my bi-yearly physical. ”Just a formality” he tells me. “You’re obviously is great shape, better than most of the staff in our wellness program actually. I am curious about some of the scars on your body, but I suppose that you saw your fair share of action in the Army.” The bad news comes a week later. Cancer. Rare, wide spread, virulent, and totally inoperable. It appears to be from some kind of mid-level radiation exposure. They ask me for any information I have on any exposure I might have had in my life. I give them the number to a ranking Army representative concerning Top Secret and de-classification of wartime missions. Yeah, I know when I got “exposure”. I can’t tell the Doc, because this mission was declared Top Secret and of extreme importance to National Security. The fifth mission our squad went on was on an intercept mission. We had Intel that there was a black market seller who had gotten his hands on several kilos of enriched uranium. Apparently he and several associates had purchased two Soviet ICBMs. The actual parts for the missile are now rather obsolete, and unfortunately difficult to transport in such a time of nuclear paranoia. So they had a team crack the missiles open and carefully extract the uranium. They knew that Saddam was highly interested in getting his hands on an unlisted and easily transportable supply of Uranium, so they arranged for a sale. Fortunately we got wind of it. Usually Black Ops would handle a mission like this, but there was no one else available. We got the call. Find the sale point, eliminate everyone and recover the uranium. No survivors. Information like this cannot get out. If the Nation were to find out how close Saddam was to getting his hands on that much Uranium, there would be panic. The first part went off without a hitch. Our Intel was good and set up 12 hours before either side arrived. They were sloppy. Their scouts and outlying guards were too far out to be able to help when the shooting started. As a bonus, both sides were so paranoid of the other that both assumed that the others were double-crossing the other and responded in kind. The bad news was that two of the cases were hit in the crossfire and they were not properly armored and shielded. One case virtually exploded as an AK-47 tore through it. As a result, enriched Uranium was scattered around the site and we were forced to call a Haz-Mat team to do clean-up. We all were exposed to a hefty dose of radiation before we could get clear. Once we got back we were quarantined and scanned, poked, prodded, and tested. Finally they declared that the level of exposure we had would have negligible effects on us if anything and that we were very lucky. Bullshit. Now years later I find out that I am now dying from that same low dosage. Great, just what I want to hear. The Docs say that I probably have another 5-10 years left in me if the growth stays the same. More, with the right Chemo treatments. I waive the Chemo. I’ve seen what that does to people. I don’t want my last years to be bald emaciated, frail, and always feeling sick. Nope, from what I can tell, that Chemo stuff is almost a cure that’s just as bad as the sickness. Now I face the knowledge that I’m working with a timeline here. My expiration date has been stamped. Not just got to figure out what I want to do with my time while I’m still healthy enough to be able to do it. After a week of drowning my pain and sorrows in whiskey, I realized the answer. I decided that the best thing for me to do is, continue what I was doing. I mean, I was already living my life the way I wanted to, so why change it? I upped the patrols I was making, and took a little more of my stockpiled vacation time from work, and spent more time with my Father. He told me that I was as brave as any soldier he ever knew for how I was facing my trials, and that he thought tat my decision to go on with my life was the correct one. “Only cowards and people who have been living their life as a lie change it drastically after hearing THE Bad news. I’m glad that you feel that your life has so few regrets.” His wife sitting on the couch gave me such a smug grin that I was tempted to knock it right off of her face. I could see her thoughts all over her ugly wrinkled face. “I win.” Two nights later I saved her from a mugger three blocks from home. To be honest, if I knew who the mugger was going after, I might have just stood aside until he was done. As it was, I had to be careful not to let her see or notice me. I did find out one interesting fact that night though, after the mugger fled and I faded into the shadows, Father’s wife pulled out a small pipe, filled it up with a white substance and lit up right there in the alley. Her hands were shaking and she was almost blubbering with hysterical shock and terror. Interesting. She’s a Meth addict. No wonder she was out in this neighborhood at this time of the night. I considered stepping out and confronting her right then and there, but I restrained myself. This would be useful information for later. Father is almost rabid in his stand against drugs. She must be good to hide it from him. Just another reason to hate her. But to tell Father about this right now, would probably break his heart. I’ll just sit on it for awhile. So here I am, crouched on an alleyway in the cold, looking for criminals to hunt. Looking for some good or use for these last years. I watch as my cigarette burns down to the filter and dies. A bit like me really. It smolders through its short life, flaring bright as it’s puffed upon. For those instants it glows bright and clear, but in doing so it also hastens its demise. Yeah, really quite a bit like me when you come to think about it. So this is my life? This is the path it takes, and this is the road before me. In that dark night I thought I saw where it would all end for me. I would have bet everything that I knew exactly how it would have all ended for me…I would have lost.
TO BE CONTINUED
HOMECOMING
I walk slowly up to the front door of my Father's new house. Funny, It took me only a minute or two to actually get here, but now I am looking for any way to prolong these next few moments. I'm scared. I don't know why, but I dread this reunion. I don't want to see on my Father's face the same look as I saw in some of those people at the bus crash. I don't want to see distrust. I don't want to see revulsion. I don't want the adoration and borderline worship I saw on others. I don't want to see the greed of the reporters, or the look of ownership of the Celeron employees. The one thing I CAN'T bear to see is fear in his eyes.
Enough stalling. I climb the stairs to the front door and ring the bell. I hear my Father's familiar footsteps crossing the house, approaching the door. My heart is racing and my throat dries up. The door opens, slowly. TOO slowly. I notice a bird in flight, seemingly stuck against the backdrop of the sky, it's wings moving almost impercepably. Oh, crap!! Not now, anytime but now. I need control, I NEED to get this under control! Suddenly the door swings open and there he is. The last four years have not been kind to him. His face is lined deeply and he looks more tired than I have ever seen him. For one long moment he stares at me unbelieving. Then all of a sudden, all the years fall away. I see tears in his eyes, and what looks like the first smile he has let out in years. But no fear, not a trace.
"Oh God, it's true!! You are still alive! I didn't dare hope for this." The rest is lost in almost hystarical laughter, mixed with crying. Several long minutes later he invites me in and offers me a beer. I quickly wipe a few tears away from my face. This is what I missed the most. Sitting with my Father, sharing a drink, and talking out our problems and successes. As we sit on the back porch sipping on a Guinness, we don't talk for almost twenty minutes. We just sit and enjoy each others presence. Finally he speaks up. I just want you to know that I always jnew about your 'nightly activities'. Usually I disaprove of vigilantes on general principal, but I think I know why you did it.
- cut scene to eight years ago* Arthur is confronting a pair of muggers going over their loot. Arthur moves in without even a word and starts laying into the pair. They are panicing and not making much of a show for themselves. The almost arrogant confidence is obvious on Arthur's face as he isn't even trying. Down the ally, unknown to Arthur is another man, the fence for the two muggers. Slowly, so as to not draw attention to himself, he draws a revolver from his coat and takes aim at Arthur, who is now standing over the unconcious bidoes of the muggers. There is a muffeled thump, and the Fence's eyes rollup into his head and he collapses with a slight whisper. Behind him still enveloped in shadows is Arthur's Father, clothed in his army fatigues, and carrying a metal baton. He stays hidden as Arthur, confidant that he just had an easy victory, walks out of the ally.
- back to present* My Father's next words could not have suprised me more if he told me that he also developed super-powers. "I've been keeping up your work while you were gone. The street were getting rougher by the day. I don't know if you are aware how much good you did out there, but you were a major deterrant to the common thug. Those who had no fear of the law feared you. With you gone, they got brave again. So I took it upon myself to go out on occassion just to keep the fear in them. What?! Why are you looking at me like that for?"
