Enemy Combatant--Chapter 3
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Chapter 3
The cab dropped Gary off at the airport and the driver gave him an annoyed look when he had to break a hundred dollar bill.
“This is all you got?”
Gary nodded and his hands began sweating. He hadn’t spoken to anyone other than guards in a year and a half. “Sorry.”
Shaking his head, the driver made change and even a generous tip didn’t keep him from grumbling, “At least I don’t have to unload any luggage.”
The comment brought to mind that Gary really didn’t have anything except the clothes on his back. He stopped in a gift shop and looked at some clothes but the price was steep and his would have to make his money last awhile. After browsing some other items, he finally selected a toothbrush and toothpaste. His mouth still felt stale from his earlier session with the water and vomiting. When he went to pay, he spotted a candy bar and bought it on impulse.
The clerk raised her pierced eyebrow at the odd combination and cracked, “Your dentist must love you.”
Gary shrugged. “It’s been awhile since I had something sweet.”
She cast a glance at him then smiled as she took the ten-dollar bill he handed her, “Yeah, looks like you stay away from the good stuff.”
The truth of it was that the food, while adequate and not horrible, also wasn’t very appetizing. He supposed it met the caloric requirements, but only if he ate every bite of it.
Sweets were rare. That, and the endless hours in his cell with nothing to do but hundreds of sit-ups and push-ups had trimmed his body. He had probably lost at least fifteen pounds, but he had built up some muscle too. Gary looked at the cashier and felt his face flush as he gathered up his small bag. Her admiring gaze flustered him and he turned quickly, almost knocking down an older lady behind him. “Excuse me, ma’am.”
“Wait!”
Gary jerked to a halt as though someone had bolted his feet to the floor.
“Hey? Hello? You forgot your change.”
He turned and spotted the clerk waving some bills. “Oh. Th…thanks.” His heart hammered as he stuffed them in his pocket.
“You’re welcome. Have a good trip.”
It took him a few minutes to find his terminal, and since he didn’t have any baggage, he looked for the counter to check in. When he attempted to head towards the boarding area, a guard stopped him and pointed him back towards a security checkpoint. Gary didn’t know what to make of it. He hadn’t seen anything like that before, but it looked as though everyone was going through without difficulty, so he stepped to the end of the line.
He craned his head to see past those in front of him, and felt his body tense up as several people seemed to be randomly pulled aside for a more thorough check. His hands began to perspire. What was the hold up? It seemed to be taking a long time for people to move through the metal detectors.
That’s when he noticed people taking their shoes off. Gary’s pulse began to race. It was irrational because it was obvious that no one else was bothered by the practice but still, he hesitated. Tying the shoes on this afternoon had been his first step to freedom. To being a real person and not just a number. To being human.
“Excuse me, sir. Could you please come this way?”
Gary turned to his left to find one of the security people motioning for him to step to the side. Nodding, he swallowed hard.
“Take your shoes off, please.”
His mouth went dry, but he did as he was told.
“Do you have any carry on luggage?”
“No, sir.” Gary put his arms out to the sides when the guard indicated that was what he wanted.
With quick, efficient movements, the man patted Gary down.“ What’s your business in Chicago?”
“I…I’m going ho…home.” His voice cracked on the last word and he lowered his head.
The search was over quickly and the guard sent him through the metal detector without another word.
Gary checked in, and then sank into the nearest chair in the waiting area. His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair. He hadn’t had a haircut for a while and probably would have had one within a few days. Maybe his prison haircut wasn’t too obvious. Not that he really knew what he looked like afterwards. He had stopped looking at his face in the mirror long ago. The blank expression in his eyes scared the hell out of him. He hadn’t wanted to gaze into the mirror one day and find that he didn’t recognize the guy staring back at him.
His brief time shaving in the mornings with the prison issue razor was spent just trying to get done as quickly as possible. He only focused on the section of face that he was shaving. The rest didn’t exist. The guards hated waiting for him to shave, but it was the one choice he had in prison and so he refused to grow a beard. As soon as he was finished, the razor was confiscated.
Gary jumped when his flight was announced and then stood and approached the tunnel. He couldn’t help glancing back down the terminal, half-expecting one of the guards to come running down the corridor telling him that there was a mistake and he had to go back.
He wished he had bought something to drink. The last liquid he’d he had was the few sips in the shower. Gary shrugged it off. He’d survive.
As the plane descended in Chicago, Gary caught sight of the familiar skyline and felt a lump in his throat. He had always admired it before, but now, it was as if the lights were brighter and welcoming him home.
A flash of white on the ground startled him. It had been so warm in Charleston that it hadn’t occurred to him that it was still winter in Chicago. Snow blanketed the town, and by the looks of it was fresh and deep. Like it or not, he was going to have part with some cash to buy something to keep himself warm.
When he exited the plane, he suddenly realized that he had no idea where to go. McGintys had been part of the list of frozen assets. He headed for a phone and thought for a minute, trying to remember Marissa’s number. It was a number he had called every day for the five years before he had been arrested and after a moment, it came back to him.
A recording informed him that the number was no longer in service. Gary tried information, but the address he gave them didn’t yield any results. He hung up and dialed his parents’ number. They lived too far away to pick him up at the airport, but he wanted to talk to them. He needed to talk to them.
Gary had no trouble recalling their number. It was the same one he had grown up with. It was a part of him and remembering the sequence of numbers made him think of his mother’s smile and his father’s laugh. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he pushed the numbers. He turned his face away from the corridor.
His mom’s voice sounded in his ear and Gary started to say something then realized it was just an answering machine. He slumped against the box holding the phone. Damn it! He thought about leaving a message but changed his mind and hung up. It didn’t seem right to leave a message like that with no way for his parents go get back to him. He’d take a bus there.
The bus was freezing, but the hooded Chicaog Bears sweatshirt he had bought at an airport gift shop, kept Gary from shivering too much. Still, he couldn’t sleep from the cold. The sun was just peeking over the horizon.
His eyes felt dry and gritty as he rubbed them with his thumb and first two fingers. Even his mouth felt like old shoe leather and he was glad for the toothbrush and toothpaste, taking them to the tiny bathroom. He finished cleaning up just before the bus arrived in Hickory, Indiana.
Gary returned to his seat and leaned with his head against the icy glass as the countryside sped past. Sunlight gilded the snowy fields a pale pink and gold, outlining last year’s corn stalks as they stood dry and broken; their shriveled tan leaves reaching to kiss the tallest drifts.
The town’s church steeple stabbed the blue sky with it's white point and was the first thing he saw as the bus topped a low hill. Before him, as pretty as a postcard, lay his hometown. Gary took a deep breath at the sight and his eyes burned with more than just fatigue.
The bus depot was only a few miles from his parents’ house and he decided to walk the route. It was still so early; his folks would probably be sleeping. The ice crunched under his loafers and he raised his hood against the biting wind. He huddled into the sweatshirt and set a brisk pace in hopes of staying warm.
The way home took him past the local diner and his mouth watered at the scent of bacon and eggs wafting out of the restaurant. If he hadn’t been so anxious to see his parents, he would have stopped and even so, his steps faltered. A few early birds sat at the counter and Gary felt light-headed at the sight of a man digging into a stack of pancakes. Even from the sidewalk, he could see the syrup dripping down the sides. The candy bar he had eaten on the plane was a distant memory and his stomach felt like it was saying hello to his backbone.
The town began stirring, with lights brightening windows while doors creaked open and the occasional voice called out good-bye to a spouse or child. Dogs barked and Gary smiled when he heard a woman pleading with her pet to hurry up and do his business because she was freezing her ass off.
He turned a corner and halted, drinking in the sight of his boyhood home. It looked the same as he remembered. A bright yellow Cape Cod with white trim and a welcoming front porch. He broke into a trot the last few yards and raced up the steps.
Gary’s finger shook as he hit the doorbell and he lowered his hood, not wanting to frighten his mother. He heard her come down the steps, the tread too light to be his dad, and then he heard her grumbling as the doorknob turned.
“Isn’t it kind of early to…” She looked up from toeing a throw rug out of the way of the door. Her face drained and her hand flew to her heart. “Oh my God!” She sobbed and threw herself at him.
“Mom.” His throat seemed to swell and his voice broke as he held her tight.
“Lois? Who’s at the door?”
Gary looked up at the sound of his dad’s voice, seeing him come down the steps, stop short and then blink in confusion.
“Gar?” In an instant, the older man was down the stairs, his arms circling Gary and his mom. He could smell his dad's aftershave. Old Spice. Some things never changed.
They stood like that for what seemed like several minutes and then Gary shivered hard.
“You must be freezing, hon! Come in!” His mom stepped back but before letting him go, she raised a hand and brushed it against his cheek. “You’re real. I…I’m not dreaming am I?”
Gary shook his head and tried to smile. “Not unless I’m dreaming the same thing.” He tried not to think of all the times had dreamed this very thing.
His dad got a horrified look on his face and took a quick look up and down the street before shutting and locking the door. “You didn’t bust out, did you son? Like you did that time they thought you murdered Scanlon?”
His mom’s eyes widened in fear.
Gary shook his head. “No, Dad. They released me. I don’t know why. Just said they didn’t have enough evidence.” He moved down the hallway, instinctively heading for the kitchen. It was the heart and soul of the home. His mother walked with him, her arm around his waist.
“Don’t you have any luggage?” His mom looked at his empty hands.
Gary laughed, the sound harsh. “No, Mom. They didn’t send me home with any souvenirs.” At least, none that anyone could see. He swallowed down the bitterness. This was supposed to be a happy day. His parents didn’t need to know the details.
He pulled a chair out from beneath the oak table and sank down onto it with a sigh, exhausted down to his bones. Sunlight streamed through the window above the sink and danced and shimmered on the yellow throw rug in front of the stove.
It felt good to be home, but at the same time, he felt a deep sadness that he hadn’t counted on feeling. Like every emotion he had repressed for more than a year was battling to escape and he was too weary to fight it back. His knees began shaking and he tried to hold them down with his hands.
“Are you hungry?” His mom opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of eggs.
“Yes, ma’am,” he managed before his teeth started chattering.
His mom laughed. “Since when do you call me ‘ma’am’, sweetheart?”
Gary couldn’t answer. His body was trembling too hard. The suddenness of it and his inability to control it scared the hell out him. He thought he had managed to remain fairly sane throughout his imprisonment but maybe he was wrong.
Pulling a chair out, his dad bent down and looked right in Gary’s eyes. “Son? Are you okay?”
Gary nodded and closed his eyes as he tried to quell the rising panic. He attempted to take slow deep breaths but his efforts were futile and he breathed as though he had sprinted from the bus station. His heartbeat sounded deafeningly loud in his ears, almost drowning out his mom’s panicked voice.
“Honey? What’s wrong?”
He felt a hand on his forehead smoothing back his hair. At the touch, Gary flinched and his eyes flew open, meeting his mother’s startled blue eyes only a foot away. “I…I’m okay. J-just really t-tired.”
Gary hunched his shoulders and wrapped his arms around himself, his eyes lowered to the honey colored tabletop. Yellow checked napkins and placemats decorated the surface and he vaguely recalled buying them for his mom on her birthday when he was just a kid.
“You must be freezing. Did you walk from the bus station in just that sweatshirt?”
“Yes, s-sir.”
“Sons a bitches! What kind of people send a guy home to Chicago in early March without a winter coat?” His dad’s voice held a note of anger that Gary had never heard before.
“It…was…warm in Charleston,” he said in their defense.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” His mother’s hand tentatively went to his hair. He tried his hardest not to pull away.
His dad cursed again and Gary hung his head. He didn’t notice his dad leaving the room but a moment later, he felt a quilt drape around his shoulders. It smelled of lavender. His mom always believed that the scent helped relax a person and he almost smiled as he felt his body relax the tiniest bit.
“Hon? Do you want to eat or lie down first?”
His stomach growled and as tired as he was, he didn’t think he’d sleep much with his it so empty. “I’ll eat. Just whatever you have. Don’t go to any trouble.”
“I’ll make you some fried eggs and toast. That’s nice and quick.” His mother bustled around the kitchen, pulling out a frying pan and he could see that her hands shook a little.
“Sound great.” Gary wanted to lay his head down on his folded hands but knew that he’d fall asleep instantly if he did.
His dad sat down beside him and tried to make conversation with him. “So, the Cubbies look like they could be good this year.”
Gary looked at him in confusion, taking a moment to process the statement. “Yeah?”
“Yep. Sosa’s gonna get his five hundredth homer this season. That’ll be something. Hey, maybe we can catch a game soon.”
The thought of sitting in Wrigley Field under the blazing sun watching the game appealed to him, but somehow, the idea that he might find himself there this year seemed about as remote as going to the moon. “Sure, Dad.”
They fell into an uneasy silence. “Did you have a good flight home?”
Gary shrugged. “Yeah. I guess. I tried to get some sleep but couldn’t really relax.”
“Did it take a long time to board? I hear that the new security checkpoints since nine-eleven are a hass--” His dad’s face turned a deep red.
He knew that his dad was embarrassed and he should say something; tell him that it was okay, but his mind was moving in slow motion and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He reached for a napkin and folded it and then unfolded it, repeating the process a few times. “They call it nine-eleven?”
“Yeah, or September eleventh. It kind of became the shorthand for it. Sorry, Gar.”
“It’s okay. I just feel a bit out of touch with stuff.”
“Yeah.” His dad cleared his throat then said, “Hey, hon, you making me some eggs and toast too?”
“Of course. But Gary gets his first. He’s about to nod off at the table.”
With that, his mom set the plate in front of him. Instantly, his mouth flooded at the scent. Gary ate quickly, glad for something to do. When he finished, he put his plate in the sink.
“Uh, do you guys mind if I go lie down for a bit?”
His mom set her toast down and jumped up. “Here, let me get you some fresh sheets on the bed in the spare room.”
“No, Mom. It’s okay. I can just sleep in my old room.”
“Are you sure, Gary? It’s no trouble.”
His mom looked so anxious to do something for him that he felt his eyes sting. He rubbed them under the guise of fatigue. “I’m so tired now, it doesn’t matter where I sleep.”
“Okay, sweetie. You go on, and when you wake up, I’ll make a nice meal.” She approached him with her arms open and Gary allowed her to hug him. He saw the hurt in her eyes when he didn’t hug her back like she wanted. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
She shook her head. “It’s okay. It must have been a crazy day for you.”
Gary thought back to twenty-four hours ago and where he was at that time. “Yeah. It has been.”
“Night, son.”