Chương 140: Chapter 139 – Home Safe

"So, Combat Network Integration Program," said Patrice Colton. He chewed each word as though he doubted the legitimacy of every single one of them.

"That's what the young woman who came to collect your truck said you were doing."

"That's right," said Cole. His grandfather harrumphed.

"When my father came back from 'Nam, there was shit he couldn't tell me. When I came back from the Gulf there was shit I couldn't tell your mother. And when your dad came back from Afghanistan, well, I'm sure you know how that goes." Cole tapped the armrest of the couch.

"I was still pretty young. He never really got the chance."

"That's beside the point, Amos. We all came back from somewhere. But you came back without your unit. I called up an old buddy in the 81 st trying to figure out what happened after I got that call that you was in Virginia when you should have been in Syria. He got real quiet, sayin' he wasn't supposed to talk to anyone about what happened.

But he told me one of the soldiers with you got 86'ed for a psych breakdown, and the other flew back to the unit and couldn't say where he'd been or why, and no one was allowed to ask him. And that you three had the best of everyone present."

"More or less true," said Cole.

"But I can't give you details."

"Yeah, yeah. I know a cover story when I see one. Doubt I'll ever get the full picture." He leaned forward.

"Just answer me this. You leave any of your boys high and dry out there in the desert?"

"No sir," said Cole.

"You go AWOL from your unit?"

"Absolutely not." Cole's grandfather held his eyes as if searching in them for any spec of dishonesty. After a moment, he settled back into the chair.

"In the end that's all that matters. The man next to you. The men under you. Anything else… well, we can look past that. Even if you're into some secret squirrel shit in DC's back yard. Hell, you even still in the Army?" Cole considered.

"On paper. I can go back any time. But there's not a lot of people that can do what my team does. It's not a DOD job. It's… I've got a lot of say in what missions I do and how I do them."

"Oh, so you special now," said Patrice. Cole could tell exactly what the retired master sergeant thought of that idea.

"What, they putting chips in your brain? That what's getting networked and integrated? I ain't see a surgery scar on your cranium."

"There's not much else I can say," Cole answered honestly.

"Is it worth doin'?"

"Absolutely," said Cole without any hesitation.

"It's hard. Harder than the Airborne. Harder than the Rangers would have been. Just believe me when I say I haven't been riding a desk these past six months." Patrice raised both his hands.

"Hey, hey, son. I could tell that the minute you walked up to me. I just want to make sure you're doin' right by yourself and whoever you're with. Makin' sure it's still Amos Colton in there. The one I raised."

"You don't ever have to worry about that." His grandfather gave him another pointed look for a moment.

"No, I suppose I don't." The old man pushed himself out of his chair with much the same spectacle with which he'd sat down, with the added crackling of both knees and his lower back.

"Come on, get you some supper and make your bed. I ain't your maid." Cole followed his grandfather into the kitchen, who then demolished half of the pot pie with the pace that only soldiers and nurses could. Cole took the plates and the casserole dish to the sink and washed them, hearing the TV come on from the front room, and his grandfather's laugh along with the canned laughter of whatever sitcom he'd happened to catch. Love what you're reading?

Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. This was how it always was at the Colton house. Close as family ought to be, but little enough love lost between them. The demands and expectations placed on Cole from an early age had helped shape him. And his grandfather was a great example of what to do, and in many ways, what not to do. Patrice wasn't what you'd have ever called a warm man. How he drove the local women so feral, Cole had never been able to figure out.

Rather than joining his grandfather watching thirty-year-old reruns, Cole headed back to his old room. Despite his grandfather's claim that he wasn't a maid, there wasn't a spec of dust except for what floated in the light coming in from the west side of the house. All the surfaces had been maintained and the hardwood floor swept and Swiffered. The small TV he'd gotten for his sixteenth birthday sat on the top level of the desk opposite his bed, with a freshly cleaned screen.

His old laptop was in a cubby beneath it. Cole dropped his bag and stripped off his overshirt. His room had always baked in the evening from March until October and today was no exception. That done, he took the stack of neatly folded linens on the corner of his twin bed and made his bed as he had a thousand times before, looking up at the poster of constellations that hung on the wall next to it.

Stellar navigation hadn't turned out to be as useful as Cole thought it would be in a world with ten-digit grids and GPS, but he still held an appreciation for all things celestial. Even out in his house in the sticks behind Fredericksburg, it didn't get dark enough to really see the sky. Not like out here. After setting a quick alarm, he grabbed a shower and a change of clothes from his closet.

A quick cat-nap on the bed, and by the time Cole woke up, his grandfather was snoring with his chair back, his feet up, and his mouth wide open. Patrice Colton had always believed sleep apnea was a made-up condition to swindle the VA, but Cole had still had to listen to it every night for all the years he'd lived here.

His grandfather kept a loose-weave throw blanket beside his chair that Grandpa Pat had gotten from his parents back when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, so Cole pulled it over the old man before letting himself out of the house. Lord only knew how the thing wasn't a tattered bundle of loose yarn by now. One of the great mysteries of growing up in the Colton household. A night alone with his truck and the peace of the Georgia hills. Tomorrow he could make the rounds, see all the friends who still hadn't skipped town.

But tonight was for him. Driving up into the hills, he was soon rumbling along dirt service roads. This wasn't Virginia where the trails and parks were clearly marked. This was Georgia, where they were cut into the sticks and you'd miss 'em if you didn't already know they were there. It had been so long since Cole had paid a visit to this particular trail that he almost drove right past it, only pulling off the side of the dirt road when he spotted the if you see it rock that let him know he'd gone too far.

He grabbed his water bottle and flashlight from his passenger seat and turned the truck off. Without the noise of the engine, the night birds and bugs welcomed him home as much as his grandfather's house. He made his way back down the road, dirt crunching under his boots until he found the overgrown trailhead. Looking into it, he started to really miss his LF enhanced night vision, clicking on the flashlight with some small regret. But he pushed on.

Half an hour later, he reached the summit of the hill, which led to a cut-line area around the base of a high-tension power pylon, kept clear of grass and greenery so that the lines could be serviced. Dropping onto the gravel at the base of one of the legs of the tower, he uncapped the bottle and downed half the contents. Then he put his back to the cool metal and looked up at the stars.

Out here, even without the aid of a Lewis Field, the Milky Way was clear; a solid stripe of blue-purple painted across the sky and filled with more stars than you could ever see within a hundred miles of a city. He started spotting constellations, picking out the familiar clusters and patterns. Like his other friends, these would always be waiting for him here. He began to deepen his breathing. He wasn't sure how much time passed before he heard the crunch of gravel under boots somewhere behind him.

Someone settled down onto the opposite side of the pylon support, leaning back and saying nothing. Cole waited, not bothering to look behind him. After a few more minutes, he broke the silence.

"Not going to say anything this time?" he asked.

"Don't see much to talk about. You already know how you're gettin' down," came a voice from behind him. Cole scrunched up his face. He hated hearing his own voice out loud. Always had. Cole pushed himself back to his feet.

"True enough." He stood a minute, feeling the night air cool some of the sweat on his shoulders and back through his shirt before he started back down from the clearing. By the time he reached the service road and his truck, he'd taken the bravo evolution path, continuing his path of kinetic redirection.