Kylen stood, half hidden behind the potted plants, watching McQueen through
the glass wall of the gym. He was taller than she had thought. Tennis shoes,
T-shirt, gym shorts. He was sweating and ragged and, to her, he looked
wonderful. Dr. Dale Steinbeck stood behind her explaining the activity and
the plan for Colonel McQueen's rehabilitation.
The therapist, a woman, tall, cool, patrician, assisted McQueen into his
wheelchair. She looked familiar, but Kylen couldn't think of how or where
she had met the woman. "A wheelchair?" she asked Steinbeck.
"About half the time. A little more, maybe. After his workouts and at the
end of the day. It will be a while yet. Maybe next week. His balance isn't
one hundred percent yet, and he pushes himself. They're done for this
afternoon. Let's go say hi to your buddy." Steinbeck punched a plate on the
wall and the doors swung wide. He escorted Kylen into the gym.
McQueen reflexively turned to see who had entered. His heart momentarily
skipped a beat. He did not like getting caught and he was definitely caught.
McQueen had, for years, schooled himself not to expect things. To not expect
things from people. Better to be occasionally surprised rather than more
usually disappointed. McQueen tried to close people out of his mind. Dale
had said that he was going to call Kylen. She would call or write ... or she
wouldn't. McQueen had closed her out of his mind. It was best to keep things
simple. Kylen had come and he wasn't prepared for how it made him feel. Warm
with butterflies in his stomach. She looked wonderful to him. *"Kylen, my
bad penny. My storyteller. Little pillar of fire. God, it is good to see
her"*
"Conquer them each day anew, Colonel McQueen," she boldly spoke
completing the quote he had given her through Steinbeck. *" Oh, but you are
a clever man."* Kylen fought the desire to throw her arms around him and held
out her hand as she crossed to him. McQueen shook her hand. He was seized
with the desire to pull her into a hug but, again, as a reflex he suddenly
stiffened his arm keeping her at arms length. His action drove Kylen's arm
back into her side. He saw disappointment flash through her face only to be
immediately replaced by a smile. McQueen felt uncomfortable that he had
somehow let her down.
"I stink," he said to cover the abruptness of his action.
It satisfied Kylen, who had actually been surprised when she felt the split
second of his small tug. But she had felt it and to her it was the equivale
nt of a kiss from the reserved man.
"Colonel, I grew up with six men in the household and over a hundred head of
cattle." She inhaled theatrically. "You smell like home, Sir," she teased.
It had always been Kylen's way of life to confront the unpleasant. She would
never be a woman to ignore the elephant in the living room. "Let me see
this Volkswagen attached to your handsome leg."
Dr. Dale Steinbeck was rightfully proud of his research, his clinic and
accomplishments. But the man had a fine sense of humor as well.
"Volkswagen????" Steinbeck said in mock indignation. "Child, that leg is a
Porsche."
"I would hope not, Doctor. A classic ride to be sure. One of the best, but
parts are expensive and hard to find. High maintenance. Hard to find a good
mechanic. Colonel McQueen is a busy man. He doesn't have time to stop and
give that puppy a tune up every thousand miles." Kylen continued the game.
Steinbeck leaned in to examine the leg in mock seriousness. "And a VW is
more dependable and lighter weight," he said with fake consideration.
"Better in the snow." Kylen added. "No, The _man_is a Porsche, sleek and
fast," she said with pride in her Colonel. "But the leg should be a VW." And
the two started to chuckle.
"A hit, a very palpable hit," Steinbeck admitted.
Kylen and McQueen looked at each other in wonderment. Steinbeck had
unknowingly fed into their code. "Hamlet," they whispered together.
"Spoken by Leartes, I believe," added Steinbeck.
"No, it's Osric. Leartes' line is: A touch, a touch, I do confess," spoke
Kylen.
Steinbeck looked at McQueen. "Is she right?"
"I wouldn't bet against her, Dale." McQueen was enjoying the fact that Kylen
was correct. Or he thought she was. He really wasn't sure himself.
Dale Steinbeck was delighted. He rarely had the opportunity for this type of
sparing. He countered: "O O O O That Shakespehearian rag."
Kylen and McQueen picked up the line and finished it with him. "It's so
elegant - so intelligent."
Steinbeck stopped and beamed at the two, but Kylen continued the poem solo.
"What shall I do now?" she said softly.
It was a chilling question and the answers would affect them both. The two
looked at each other and knew that the bond they had formed on the journey
remained intact.
"No, I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be." McQueen spoke softly
shutting out Steinbeck and speaking only to his own bad penny. She did not
let him down. She caught both his humor and truth.
"Sometimes, however, to be a 'ruined man' is itself a vocation," she
countered. Now, McQueen caught both her truth and humor and, perhaps, a
cautionary note. He wasn't sure.
"Good old T.S." he said. They both shyly smiled. McQueen realized at that
moment how just how different she was from "his Kids." They saw the
commanding officer. She looked at him, at the person.
"Do we dare disturb the universe?" She asked.
This last made McQueen smile. An unknowing trigger of The War? Well,
Kylen, I guess that you have disturbed the universe. I just try and clean up
the mess. "Good old T.S." he again affirmed.
Steinbeck realized that the encounter had switched and that he was no longer
included. He decided to take his leave when Amy appeared at his side. "Amy
Langston this is Kylen Celina, The Colonel's friend. She will be visiting us
regularly, I hope. I'd like for her to be involved with the rehab. "
Amy shook Kylen's hand rather coolly. "Pleasure to meet you Kylen. " Amy
then turned to McQueen. "Get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a workout.
Aerobic training."
Steinbeck took Amy by the arm and left the room which was now empty but for
Kylen and McQueen. Kylen had been racking her memory as to where she knew
Amy. It suddenly hit her - McQueen's wedding picture.
"Of all the gin joints in all the world, she had to walk into mine." Kylen
gave a fair imitation of Humphrey Bogart - for a young woman.
McQueen broke into a small smile. What a perspective.
"Lucy, Lucy." Kylen went into a pretty bad Desi Arnaz. "Lucy, 'jew got some
'splain'in' to do."
"Steinbeck is her cousin," McQueen explained.
"AND?" Kylen demanded.
"And nothing," he replied gently but firmly.
"God, how people must have hated you. Not just you, because you are an
InVitro," she quickly interjected. "But both of you. So self possessed. So
incredibly good looking. Accomplished. It must have hurt to look at you.
Fire and Ice. Never say never, McQueen. A friend of mine told me that a few
days ago." My God, was it only a few days ago? She touched the back of
his hand with one finger.
McQueen looked into her eyes. "So, how are your dreams?"
Kylen snatched her hand away. It's useless to try and hide anything from
him. He walked these halls way before I did. She gave a rueful smile.
"They've been better. And yours?"
McQueen gave a snort and looked away.
"I understand congratulations are in order. Rumor has it that you are now a
Big Bird," Kylen quipped
"What?" McQueen was incredulous.
"That you were promoted to Big Bird," she answered.
McQueen rather angrily searched her face for signs of insubordination and
decided that she really was trying to congratulate him. She had just screwed
up the terms. "The term is Full Bird, Kylen, not Big Bird."
"Oh, I'm sorry." Kylen responded. "All these new terms and ranks.....I get
them confused." The utter ridiculousness of calling McQueen Big Bird hit her
and she giggled. "Oh boy, I really am sorry."
"Apology accepted," McQueen said shaking his head at her well intentioned
mistake. "No, the term is Full Bird," he repeated. "And you never use that
term within the hearing of a Full Colonel. We don't like it. We find it
disrespectful."
"Oh, I understand," Kylen said. " When you become a Full Bird Colonel you
forget everything that you said about them before you became one. Huh?"
McQueen smiled.
"This really matters to you doesn't it?" McQueen asked becoming more serious.
He was touched that she would bother to learn such things for West.
"Yes, I guess it does." Kylen really hadn't thought about it before. She
smiled at him.
"OK, It's simple," he instructed. "Brigadier, Major, Lieutenant, and just
plain General. Just remember 'Be My Little General' and that will keep it
straight."
"Be My Little General?" Kylen was tickled and she laughed again. "Too good!
All Right, I understand. I promise I'll never call you a Full Bird
again...At least not in public," she teased. " And another
thing....Nathan's parents sent along his letters with my Dad, so, I know a
lot about The Wildcards but he never wrote what your call sign is. I know
everyone else's. That's the right term isn't it? Call sign?"
McQueen nodded yes then gave her the answer: "Queen Six."
"Chess? A location on the board?" She asked and he nodded yes again. "Well,
you are out of luck there, I play, but not well at all."
They had verbally fenced and they had enjoyed the exercise. Now it was time
to move on to other things and deeper realities.
"So, 'Six,' tell me about this leg." Kylen knelt down to give the prosthetic
a closer look. It was a wonder of polymerics. There were several clear
sections and she could see wires and circuits. It gave her an uncomfortable
feeling. Frankly, it made her skin crawl. It looked like an AI had been
skinned, which was, in a sense - in fact, what it was. Several generations
advanced, but AI technology nonetheless.
"What do you want me to say, McQueen? It's wonderful? It's horrifying?
Whatever it may be, it is a means to an end." Kylen had a sudden thought and
could not suppress the smile it gave her. "How many people can step on their
enemies with every step they take?"
Luckily, McQueen was not a man who was given to gaping for he certainly would
have done so. He had challenged her reactions with his look - all but
daring her to be uncomfortable and repulsed but she had slipped around to his
flank and ambushed him with a new thought.
"It is what it is, McQueen," Kylen interjected. "It's just one more
compartment - one more door. You'll find a place for it sooner or later.
You have a body and you have a soul. You have to decide what you are going
to do," she added with a confidence she wasn't sure that she felt but that
she wanted him to have.
"I'm an InVitro. My choices are limited." He paused and spoke almost to
himself. "A body and a soul? There are people who would tell you that I
don't have a soul," he said bitterly.
"Oh, please," Kylen spoke with irritation. "And like we believe that one. If
people claim to believe that God created all things then He created you as
well. The IVA may have designed you but they can not create life. They can't
bring life where there is none. All of their building blocks were created by
God. They are the same blocks God used to create me. Those people really
piss me off. They don't want to believe that InVitros have souls but they
will use all the genetic manipulation they can to have 'perfect' children.
They breed InVitros with rare or valuable blood types so that they have a
ready blood supply. So what are you, by the way? O negative?" McQueen
nodded yes, but Kylen wasn't ready to stop.
"Oh, yes, space exploration, dangerous or toxic work and important blood
types - we won't even get into the Freeport Offshore Organ Transplant
Scandal or medical research or the military. Or the hundreds of other ways
they have lined their pockets. They say you don't have souls so that they
can look at themselves in the mirror. Sorry, but you did get me started.
Don't feed me that tired old line. Not you. Not you. Just look in the
mirror. You have a soul. And a big one at that. My God, Colonel, you are
made from the same stuff as the stars. Don't put limits on God, McQueen.
Just be still and wait."
This was tender ground for McQueen. It wasn't that he was agnostic. He
believed that there was "something." He had seen enough in foxholes to
appreciate people's beliefs and he had never been one to ridicule others'
practices. *" Hey, whatever gets you through the night."* Simply put,
McQueen believed that other people believed. Kylen seemed to. Damphousse
certainly did. And Wang. No, he hadn't been joking when he had told The
Cards that he would ask for forgiveness if the War ended. But McQueen did
not believe that God - whoever or whatever God was - That God would concern
Himself with T.C. McQueen.
"I'm not Job any more than I'm Hamlet. I rarely practice patience. I don't
just sit and wait. Not anymore. That's one thing I learned as a POW, Kylen,"
he said pointedly.
"Who told you that Job was patient? No, Job was not patient. He was in pain,
grief stricken, frustrated and had to put up with people pouring poison into
his ear. Job was able to persevere - to remained steadfast." She paused,
calming herself. "God did finally answer him, you know. Answered and blessed
him."
He thought for a moment then responded. "For us, there is only the trying.
The rest is not our business."
Kylen did not agree with him. Damn, if it isn't our business, then who's
the hell is it? She chose, however, not to make it an issue. "Lets get you
a shower and get ready for dinner. You were right the first time, McQueen.
You stink."
Next : Chapter Fourteen
Previous : Chapter Twelve
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