A/N: Hopefully these section breaks are not removed when uploaded into FF. Sorry for the confusion.
This is a precursor story to Falling in Love with a Lie, where HM Murdock first meets Sydney Wilson (aka Sheila Downey). Of course, that, along with Shuai-Jan Sprouts Wings are both histories related to Fatal Recall so as you can tell this 'series' of stories is coming to me totally out of sequence.
Anyway – here is the next installment of the group of stories that I have dubbed Decent Into Darkness, though as I write that it occurs to me that it's rather melodramatic. This particular story came to me, like much of the rest of this 'series' in odd flashes over the course of a year or so. Over the last few weeks I have pulled together all of the pieces and filled in the gaps. I've tried to keep it consistent with the historical timeline that I sketched in Fatal Recall but there are some deviations – I imagine when I'm done, I will have to revisit that story to make it consistent with these 'histories.'
I've been absent from the A-Team universe for awhile, though I continue to read out here when time permits. As always, I don't own any of the canon characters, though the OC's are all mine, for better or worse. I make no money from this :(
I hope you enjoy! And in keeping with the obsessive rhyming habits of Captain Murdock: If you do - please review!
Journey to Each Other: Part 1
A tall, lanky youth with wavy brown hair framing an expressive face stared down at an old man lying in a simple oak coffin. Large, brown eyes, tight with grief, seemed unable to look away, as if by staring at the old man he could will his eyes to open again.
There were striking similarities between the features of the two men, obvious even though time had deeply lined the elder. The younger wasn't far behind – he had seen far too much death in his 16 years. His mother, his grandmother and now his grandfather. HM Murdock was officially alone in the world.
A large, work-hardened hand gripped HM's shoulder, and the wiry man attached to it physically shook him out of his stupor.
"How're ya holdin' up, HM?"
He looked up at the man and a smile tried to make an appearance on his face. Even the slight motion felt wrong. "'K. When'd ya get back, Randy?"
Randy Pratt ran a small local air field near Spur, where HM's grandparents had moved about two years ago, after his grandmother had gotten too weak to keep up the large old farm house on the ranch. His grandfather had announced that they were going to give up the rural Texas life and move 'into town.' At the time, HM had been less than thrilled, but once he met Randy his opinion changed. Always fascinated by airplane and helicopter design, Randy had been the one who introduced HM to his true love – flying.
"Just last night, kid. I'm sorry I was gone. I thought your gramps was getting better."
"He had a massive heart attack. There was nothin' they could do."
HM had been thinking a lot about what could strike down his seemingly-indestructible grandfather in the scant three months since his grandmother had succumbed to cancer. He had known his grandparents loved one another – it was obvious any time they were within sight of each other – but even he hadn't realized the depth of their bond. Tears threatened.
"Personally, I think Gramps just didn't wanna live without Gram."
Randy's arm circled HM's shoulders and for the first time in three days, the youth allowed himself to let go and cry. He was glad that there weren't any other mourners there to see him fall apart. In fact, there hadn't been many mourners period, and those that had come were mostly traveling from out of town to pay their respects.
His grandparents had never really integrated into the Spur community. When they moved to town, his grandmother was already weak with the cancer that was slowly invading all the systems in her tiny body. He remembered a time when, even at barely five foot, his grandmother could intimidate the roughest ranch hand. It was difficult to watch her go down-hill, but he admired the fact that she chose to go on her own terms. His mother had fought a three-year battle with cancer, including intensive chemotherapy and debilitating surgeries that ruined the quality of her life up until the bitter end. His grandmother chose not to go through that.
Getting a grip on the raw edges of his emotions, he drew himself up, out of Randy's awkward embrace and looked back down at the shell of his grandfather.
"I'm sorry, HM. I don't want to leave you alone. But I can't go on without your grandmother. I'm too weak."
Those words echoed through the last few desperate moments of his grandfather's life. Clutching his chest on the kitchen floor, Gramps' eyes had been full of regret and anxiety, but not for himself. HM had known, even as he reached for the phone to call the ambulance, that his grandfather's concern for his welfare wouldn't be enough to hold him on this earth.
He gripped the side of the casket and leaned down to reassure his grandfather, "I'll be alright, Gramps. You taught me good."
HM turned and headed for the doors. Calling hours were over. Tomorrow they were having a simple graveside service to bury his grandfather next to his grandmother. It was time for HM Murdock to get on with his life.
Randy caught up to him.
"Do you need a place to stay, HM? I could set you up on the couch in my bachelor pad. It ain't much, but you're welcome to it."
"I've been placed with the Millers, Randy."
"Clive and Marny?"
HM turned and looked at his friend. "Yeah. You know 'em?"
Randy nodded. "Clive's not a bad guy – a little gruff, but not a bad guy. And Marny's nice enough. I've done crop dusting for 'em in the past."
"Well, being a minor, and therefore a ward of the state, I guess I ought to go where they tell me."
"Do you need a ride out to the Miller farm?"
"Naw. I got Gramp's old beater truck running again, so I got a ride."
"HM." Randy stopped him on the porch of the funeral home with a hand on his shoulder, and looked into his eyes intently. "You know, if you need anything, and I do mean anything, you just give me a call. Ok?"
HM managed a genuine smile this time. "Thanks, Randy. I really appreciate it."
But as he got into his truck a few minutes later, HM couldn't help but think that it was time to buck up and take control of his life. For too long circumstances beyond his control had blown him through life like a tumbleweed. No more. Another favorite saying of his grandfather's played in his mind:
"Feeling sorry for yourself ain't gonna get you nowhere in life, HM. Put your head down and bull forward, son."
And if HM had inherited nothing else from his grandfather, he had definitely gotten his bull-headed stubbornness.
SSS
"Sydney Lynn Wilson, what is going on?"
Syd looked up to find her petite and pretty mother standing at the top of the flight of stairs leading to their apartment in Chicago, Illinois. The shocked look on her mother's face was enough to cool the rage that had been controlling her actions up to this point. She looked down at the instigator of the rage. Will Ramey lie on the hallway floor, blood pouring from between his fingers as he looked up at her with a mixture of anger and fear. Syd felt her lips curl in a sneer at the young man she had started seeing a scant two weeks ago.
She had thought Will was different. Soft-spoken, and among the more intelligent young men at her current high school, Will exuded a quiet confidence that Syd found herself drawn to. She had been flattered when he had started walking her home every day after school, always the complete gentleman. Today, the only difference had been that her mother wasn't home when they arrived at the apartment. Apparently, Will had taken that as an opportunity, and the last few minutes with him had confirmed her steadfast opinion that boys, and by extension men, were all the same, and after only one thing.
Her mother must have processed the scene, and spoke in a low, worried voice, "Sydney, are you ok? What did this boy do to you?"
Syd gave Will a swift kick as he attempted to scoot away from her so he could pull himself up from the floor.
"I suspect not nearly as much as he would have liked," she snarled, hands knotted in tight fists.
Her mother hurried forward and stopped Syd's advance on the boy.
Will gave her a wide berth as he headed for the stairs. "You little bitch. You think you can get away with this? You are in for it, Wilson. Just wait until after school on Monday."
A fresh wave of anger surged Sydney forward to lean over the rail, her words following Will as he ran down the stairs and out of the building. "Try it, Ramey! Just try it you cowardly son of a bitch!"
She felt her mother's hands on her shoulders, pulling her back into a warm, comforting embrace.
"It's alright, baby. It's over. Come on, let's go inside."
Her mother sat her down at the kitchen bar that served as a dining area in the tiny apartment. She moved purposely about the kitchen, getting Sydney and herself a glass of iced tea and a plateful of crackers and cheese. She was silent until she took a seat next to Sydney.
"Alright, Sydney. Spill. What happened with Will? I thought he was a nice young man?"
"So did I, Mom. Apparently we were both mistaken. When he realized you weren't home today, he decided the time was perfect to force himself on me – even after I told him 'no.'"
The flash of abject fear in her mother's bright blue eyes was fleeting, but unmistakable.
"What happened? Should we take you to the emergency room?"
To give herself time to come up with a response, Sydney drained her glass and stood to get a refill. It had been nearly four years since her mother had asked her such a question. Her answer at the time had been a slobbery 'yes.' Her mother had held her while the doctor tended her wounds and the responding police officer questioned her. There had been little sympathy for the young girl in the mini-skirt and tank top. In those clothes, the two men seemed to think she had been 'asking for it' – even if they didn't say it in so many words.
That had been the end of it. Her mother had immediately moved them to a new neighborhood, and Sydney had learned, at the tender age of twelve, how to cope with the trauma of being raped.
Her self-prescribed therapy had been to learn all there was to know about martial arts. Because they couldn't afford formal lessons, she had become a regular at the library, checking out every book related to self-defense, and practicing the various moves on the roof of their new building. Her mother had even joined her periodically, and encouraged her efforts. After all, the neighborhood they had moved to was only marginally safer than the one they had vacated.
"Sydney? Please, baby, answer me."
There was a slight edge of panic to the voice now, and Sydney made sure to school her features, that looked so much like her mother's, into an expression of calm assurance as she moved to rejoin her at the bar.
"I'm fine, Mom. He didn't get the chance to do anything. I pushed him out into the hall and flattened him as soon as it became apparent he didn't know the meaning of the word 'no.'"
Her mother chuckled, and Sydney joined her.
"That's my girl!" Her mother stood and wrapped her in a warm hug. "I'm so proud of the young woman you've become, Sydney."
"You tell me that all the time," Sydney replied, voice muffled in her mother's shoulder.
"Well, I wouldn't want you to forget," her mother said, holding her out at arms length and looking at her searchingly, her gaze still worried despite the levity of her words. "Should we move, baby? It sounded like Will was going to make trouble for you on Monday. I know Maddy would let us stay at her place for a bit until we find a new one of our own. And I could get the school transfer done Monday without any trouble. I'm getting pretty good at it."
Sydney shook her head. "I graduate in a month, Mom. I'm not moving to a new high school this close to the end. I'll be fine. I can handle Will Ramey."
"If you're certain, baby. I just don't want you to get hurt."
"I won't let him hurt me, Mom."
HHH
"Time for mornin' chores, boy."
HM winced as the overhead light was flipped on by Clive Miller, his new foster father. Glancing over at the clock he noted that it was before five in the morning. He figured he hadn't slept more than an hour, two tops. His mind just wouldn't shut down. Luckily, the cows didn't care.
Three hours later, he and Clive were wrapping up morning chores. HM took a quick shower to get the worst of the stink off before heading into school.
One more month to graduation, and then what? The idea of spending the next month milking cows was depressing, but couldn't be avoided. Beyond that, HM figured what he did with is life was up to him – even if he was legally a minor. That was an issue he was going to have to research.
These thoughts had rolled around in his head all night last night, all through chores, and continued to nag at the youth as he got in his truck and headed in to school. The plan he had developed while his grandfather was alive was no longer tenable. He had to come up with some way to move up his time-frame. The service was his best bet now, though there was still the possibility of a scholarship from Texas A&M.
He needed a contingency, though. College wasn't cheap, and after selling the ranch and buying a house in Spur, followed by paying for his grandmother's increasingly-expensive medical care, there was nothing left of the money his grandparents had. Even the house had been mortgaged to the hilt, and had reverted to the bank once his grandfather passed. If he didn't get a full-ride scholarship, college was likely a pipe dream.
The Air Force Academy appealed to him, but there were other problems there.
Put your head down and bull forward, son.
With a determined smile, HM headed into the school to his locker. No matter the obstacles, he was going to make a future for himself that didn't include working like a slave on the Miller's dairy farm the rest of his life.
AAA
Alicia Wilson sat outside the local public high school waiting for her daughter on Monday afternoon. She had left her secretarial job early so she could make it to pick up Sydney at the school rather than allowing her to walk home, as she usually did. Despite her daughter's assurances, Alicia was concerned about her safety. Will Ramey's threat had echoed through her nightmares all weekend, and she wasn't taking any chances on the boy getting a chance to carry them out.
She heard the bell ring and watched as teenagers started trickling out of the school. She spied Will Ramey, along with a group of half a dozen young men, walk through the front door, and slide into a nearby alley – right along the path that Sydney would be likely to take to head home. It seemed to confirm her worst fears. And while she knew Sydney was more than capable of defending herself against one fresh boy, she doubted her daughter was prepared to take on an entire gang of vengeful young thugs.
She waited. And waited. Crowds in front of the high school thinned, and finally disappeared. It had been nearly half an hour since anyone had come out of the front doors, and still Alicia had not seen her daughter. Had she missed her exit? It was possible, but not probable. Glancing back toward the alley where Ramey and his friends had disappeared, she saw that they still waited, watching the front doors of the school almost as anxiously as she was. Alicia gave a relieved sigh. If Syd had slipped past her, then she had obviously slipped past those hooligans, too.
Nearly an hour later, Alicia was relieved to see Ramey and his friends apparently abandon their vigil. She watched as they dispersed, and decided that perhaps it was safe, even if Syd was still in the school, to head home and start supper.
The tantalizing smell of garlic greeted Alicia as she walked into the apartment, where she found Sydney sitting at the coffee table in the living room doing homework.
"Did you make supper?"
"Yes."
"It smells delicious."
"Why are you so late, Mom?"
"I . . . I stopped by the school to pick you up. I must have missed you."
Syd's full lips curved into a knowing smile. "Mom, I told you I would be fine."
"I know, but I was worried. I saw Will Ramey and his friends. I think they were waiting for you, baby."
"They were. Ramey isn't real subtle. I don't know what made me think he was a nice, quiet guy."
Alicia couldn't tell if her daughter's derogatory tone was self-directed, or aimed at Ramey. She sat down on the couch, and looked at Syd curiously.
"So, how did you get home?"
Syd shrugged. "I just took a different route than usual."
"Baby, I can pick you up after school."
"We can't afford for you to leave work even half an hour early to pick me up, Mom. You and I both know that. You barely make it home before me most days as it is and you're coming from the opposite direction."
Alicia chewed her lip. Knowing her daughter was right didn't make it any easier to accept.
She felt Sydney's hand on her knee, and looked down into the wide-set, clear blue eyes of her only child. Sydney was the most important thing in her life, and the thought that she couldn't always protect her nagged at Alicia almost constantly.
"I talked to Mr. Julio today, and told him what happened. He let me hang around his office after the bell rang, and then escorted me out the back of the school and made sure the coast was clear before letting me walk home. I was perfectly safe. He said he would talk to the principal tomorrow about the problem. I just need to make it through the next few weeks, anyway. I'll be fine, Mom."
Alicia watched as her baby girl bent back over her school work. The truth was that Sydney hadn't needed her to take care of things for some time. She worked part time in the evenings and on weekends, to help make household ends meet. She kept her grades high enough that she already qualified for several scholarships to college. Sydney knew how to handle herself in nearly any situation. In fact, Alicia figured she was likely more reliant on her daughter, than her daughter was on her.
She smoothed a hand over Sydney's shoulder-length honey-gold hair. "I know you'll be fine, baby. You always have been."
HHH
HM grinned at the woman behind the desk of the Spur High School office in Texas.
"I just need a copy of my transcripts, ma'am."
"Name?" She was a severe looking woman with a sharp nose, and dark hair pulled back in a tight bun. If anything, her frown deepened at the cheerful expression of the teenager in front of her.
"Murdock, ma'am, HM Murdock."
"I need your full name, young man."
"That is my full name, ma'am. HM Murdock."
"Surely the H and M stand for something."
"No, ma'am."
Eyebrows arched over stern eyes. "Harumph. Do you have identification?"
He pushed his driver's license toward her. She looked at it, looked at him, then pushed the license back to him.
"Graduation year 1966?"
"I just graduated, ma'am. 1964."
Her eyebrows flew even higher, as she snatched back his driver's license. "You're only 16."
"Yes, ma'am."
She pushed the license back at him again, and turned to the filing cabinet, her gaze conveying that she intended to prove him a liar. HM just grinned and shook his head. He picked up his license and slid it into the back pocket of his jeans, then pulled it back out and switched pockets when he remembered that one was half-ripped off.
As the woman opened the middle drawer of the far filing cabinet, HM paid careful attention to where she extracted his file. She seemed surprised to find it in with the current graduating class, and began flipping pages. HM grimaced – he didn't want her looking too closely, or remembering this particular request too plainly.
He cleared his throat. "Did ya find it, ma'am?"
"Yes, yes," she said, snapping the file shut, HM's well-timed query halting her scrutiny of the file details. She walked to the xerox machine and made a copy of the transcript. Out of a nearby drawer she took an official-looking embosser and crimped it on a corner of the copy. She replaced the embosser, then replaced the file, and finally returned to the desk. "There you are, young man. That will be twenty cents."
HM dug into his pocket and pulled out a handful of miscellany – a few coins, truck keys, a toy airplane, a bazooka wrapper with a funny joke, and his grandfather's pocket watch. He dumped it all on the desk, extracted the watch and shoved it back into his pocket, then picked a couple of coins out of the remaining junk, pushing them across the desk.
"Thank you much, ma'am."
He scooped up the remainder and shoved it back into his pocket, picked up the photocopy and strolled out of the office and down the hall toward the front door of the high school. He hoped the office lady wouldn't remember him – particularly the fact that he was only 16. It was because of his grandfather that he had graduated so young. The memory brought a smile to his face as he recalled, about two years ago, when he enrolled in the high school in Spur.
Because of his truancy record at his old rural school, they had insisted on placement testing, but it had backfired on them. Despite being the age of a freshman, he had tested into the high school as a junior. His grandfather had fought with the principal, and forced them to place him according the testing rather than his age. His grandfather had been a stubborn old codger, and 'right proud' of his 'advanced' grandson.
HM pushed through the doors of the school and out into the sunshine. He walked down the steps, and sauntered across the yard and past the corner of the building, sharp brown eyes scanning the windows that lined the offices of the school behind the tall chain link fence. He had walked through those front doors for the last time but he would have to go into the building once more – the large window at the far end of the office should afford fairly easy entry, and was out of sight of the main road, though it's proximity to the side street made him a little anxious. It would have to do.
He took a deep breath and headed toward his old pickup, parked at the front curb. He would come back tonight to take care of that little project. It should be easy enough . . . in and out . . . piece of cake.
RRR
Randy Pratt walked into the office at the air field, causing the kid sitting behind the desk to jump. Randy caught a glimpse of the official looking document the Murdock boy was working on, just before he pulled a couple flight plans over the paper to hide it. He dropped into a visitor's chair, a worried frown creasing his leathery forehead. HM had been getting more and more secretive since graduation.
As HM's mentor, Randy had a huge soft spot for the odd, intelligent young man; and he worried about him now that his family was gone. He had overheard Clive Miller grousing about how the kid had graduated at 16. Randy knew he was likely pissed because he had thought when he got the 16-year-old he would get at least couple years of work out of him before he took off on his own.
Randy mustered a smile for the lanky youth. "I figured you'd be in the air by now, HM. Did you get your errands run?"
"Yeah, yeah, I got 'em done."
"Good. Did you check with that family court judge about that thing . . . "
"Emancipation. Don't need to talk to the judge. Looked it up at the library."
"You spend almost as much time at that library as you do in the air, kid."
HM acknowledged that with a shrug. "Got my acceptance at A&M."
Randy sat forward. "I knew you would, kid! Congrats!"
But HM was shaking his head. "No scholarship, though. Can't afford it, Randy. I'm thinking the Air Force Academy is my best bet. What do you think?"
"HM, whatever you put your mind to you're gonna do it. Your Gram and Gramp would be proud." Randy sat forward and fixed his young friend with an earnest gaze. "And if there's ever anything you need, just say the word."
HHH
HM nodded thoughtfully as his long fingers tapped on the papers covering his transcript. He didn't mention to Randy that part of his problem was that the AFA wouldn't take him if they knew he was only 16. He had been studying the transcript he just got at the school office, and working out what modifications were needed to the document. He didn't want to be screwing around with it tonight in the office. He wanted to get in, finish the modifications and get out. Fifteen minutes, tops – that was all he wanted to spend in the office – less if at all possible. That would take care of one problem.
Looking up at the wiry, balding man, HM considered the offer of help. After all, he really could use it. Randy was the closest thing to a father HM had ever known, besides his Gramps. His own biological father had been absent more often than not during most of HM's younger days, and finally one day just never returned. Like most of the people in his life, HM figured Randy would abandon him eventually. But while he was standing here and offering there was no harm in accepting a favor.
"Do you know your congressman, Randy?"
"Sure I do. We grew up together."
"Think he'd do me a favor?"
"What kinda favor, HM?"
"Well, I need a nomination to the Air Force Academy. I started my application process, but I kinda need to . . . move things up a little. I have my SAT scores and I have an updated application almost ready to send in, but I really need a nomination."
"Done. I'll give Buck a call."
"Thanks a million, Randy. That will be a huge help."
Randy smiled. "I gotta watch out for my best student. You belong at the Academy, kid. No doubt in my mind."
HM smiled at him. "That means a lot to me, Randy. It really does."
SSS
"I told you I had a surprise!" Sydney grinned at her mother. She had been working diligently with Mr. Julio, the guidance counselor to run the budgets and consider all of the options. Different local universities had different types and levels of financial assistance, and it had taken some time to weigh all the possibilities and decide, but now that she had come to a decision, she felt like she was walking on cloud nine. For the first time in her life, Sydney was able to take charge and go the direction she chose.
"You want me to sign this?"
Syd was stymied by the dismayed expression on her mother's face. Maybe she hadn't understood. She would finally be rid of her burden of a daughter, and be able to live her own life. Her mother had always talked of traveling, but being a single mother had prevented her from following her dreams. Now she could.
"It's the last thing I need to allow me to live in my own apartment and go to school. I'm already registered for summer classes and I think I've found the perfect little efficiency just off campus that will fit into my budget. I start my work-study job next week, and I'd like to get moved in before then. But since I'm underage, they want a parent's signature. Oh, and you'll need to cosign on my apartment lease, but that's not a big deal. Isn't it great, Mom? You'll be able to travel now that you don't have to worry about taking care of me."
AAA
Alicia looked at her daughter and tried to keep the surprise out of her voice. "I never worried about taking care of you, baby. I do worry about you though. You're only 16. That's far too young for you to be living on your own."
The joy in Syd's face disappeared as she looked at her mother in shock. "Mom, I am perfectly capable of living on my own."
But am I? Alicia grimaced at the unbidden thought that flitted through her mind.
Syd continued in an even, logical tone, "I have been working part time since I was old enough to push a broom, and I know how to budget – I've been paying the bills for our household for the last couple years."
Alicia winced as Sydney gripped her arms, her expression earnest. "Mom, don't you see that this is your chance to do the things you've always talked about. Go out west and find a job working in the national forests, or travel around the country picking up odd jobs and seeing the sights. You can do that now that you won't be burdened with me. I can take care of myself."
Alicia nodded, and forced her lips to curve up, though the smile felt foreign. "Of course, baby. You've always been able to take care of yourself. Just give me a minute."
Walking the short distance to the bathroom, Alicia stepped in and closed the door. The antacid bottle was still sitting out from when she had used it earlier. She opened it and dropped the last two tablets into her hand and popped them into her mouth.
Back out at the kitchen bar, she sat down and began to carefully read the document that Sydney wanted her to sign. Her stomach churned, and the smell of the supper that Syd was cooking made her feel like she was going to vomit. She signed her name at the bottom of the form, uncertain what she had just read but eager to make her daughter happy.
"There you go, baby. Now, I'm going to lie down for a bit."
"I just about have supper ready, Mom."
She shook her head as her bile rose. "I have a headache, and my stomach is a bit off, baby. I think I'll skip supper."
Syd put a hand on her shoulder, her worried face swimming in Alicia's line of sight. "Are you alright, Mom? You look kinda green."
"I'm just coming down with a flu bug or something, baby. Just let me go sleep it off."
What Alicia didn't tell her daughter was that these bouts of the flu bug had been coming with a regularity that worried her. She wondered sometimes if she wasn't pregnant again. She had been sick as a dog all through her pregnancy with Sydney, with no one around to help her out.
Sydney had been worth it though.
HHH
HM finished milking the last cow, hauled the bucket of milk to the cooled holding tank, and then proceeded to clean the milking parlor. He was just as glad that Clive had headed up to the house early. His foster father wasn't usually the best company anyway, and he'd get the cleanup done faster without the large, pokey man underfoot.
By the time he was finished the parlor was spotless, the sinks and floors washed down, and the milking buckets cleaned and sitting on the drainer. He picked up the bottles of colostrum for the calves and headed back to the calf holding pen. They only had half a dozen new heifers at the moment, so the feeding wouldn't take long.
The calves started bleating as soon as they saw him coming, crowding around the feeder holders, all anxious for their bottle. He placed five bottles into the holders, but the sixth he took to the gate. Inside the enclosure he found Daisy. She had been a sickly little calf that he had been paying special attention to, unbeknownst to Clive.
When she was born ahead of her time, Clive had told him to take Daisy out back and shoot her, but HM just couldn't bring himself to do it. She just needed a little extra attention. She was looking better already, and he had high hopes that by the time Clive realized HM hadn't done what he was told, she'd be surpassing her sisters.
"Hey there li'l Daisy May. How ya doin' today sweetheart?" He scratched the little calf's velvety ears as she hungrily slurped at the bottle he held out for her. The first few days he had been forced to drench her, but she was finally taking the bottle on her own, and he knew she was putting on weight.
As soon as Daisy was done with her bottle, he gathered all the empty bottles into the carrier. He did a quick cleanup of the pen, and then spread some fresh hay for the calves to bed down on. He took half a bale and set up an extra comfy spot for Daisy back in the corner of the pen, out of sight of the main aisle, leading the little calf back there and getting her settled before heading back up to the parlor.
It only took him a few minutes to clean the bottles, after which he made a beeline for the house. Marny, Clive's wife, always made sure to set aside a big plate of food for him for when he was done with chores, and he was starving.
The kitchen was dark when he walked in, dirty dishes stacked neatly next to the sink.
"HM, your meal is in the oven. When you're done eating, please wash the dishes," Marny called from the sitting room.
"Ok." HM pulled the warm plate out of the oven and sat down to eat his meal of meat loaf with mashed potatoes and peas, alone. Marny and Clive, while not the most loving people in the world, did try to at least keep him comfortable. He didn't figure he had a whole lot to complain about. At least he had a roof over his head. Things could be a lot worse.
Done eating, he cleared his dishes, downed a tall glass of milk that was half cream, and then set about cleaning the kitchen. By the time everything was back in its place it was nearly ten o'clock, and HM headed up the back stairs, calling out to no one in particular, "G'night."
In the sitting room he could hear Clive and Marny snore in response.
He waited until he heard his foster parents head to bed, sometime around eleven. An hour later, they were snoring in unison, now from their back bedroom. HM slipped out of bed, fully clothed, and shimmied down the tree outside his window. He had parked the truck behind the machine shed when he came to the farm earlier, knowing that it was far enough away from the house that Clive and Marny wouldn't be awakened by the sound of it starting.
He drove into town, down a side street a couple blocks from the school. He turned the truck off and sat on the dark street contemplating what he was about to do. He wasn't thrilled about the idea of breaking the law, but it wasn't like he was doing it to hurt someone, or to steal something. Besides, he didn't really see where he had a whole lot of choice - unless he wanted to work the Miller's farm for the next two years until he was officially old enough to join the Academy. He took a deep bracing breath, and got out of the truck, closing the door quietly, just in case anyone along the sleepy Spur street was a light sleeper. He pulled a dark knit cap over his head, shrugged into a dark jacket, and loped down the street.
At the back of the school, he chose a dark corner to climb over the fence, dropping lightly on the other side. He found the window he had spied earlier, cracked open to let in the relatively-cooler evening air. He pried the window open slowly, and pushed the screen out. Once inside, he hurried to the file drawer he had watched the secretary pull his records out of.
The light from the window wasn't enough to work by, and he finally had to admit he was going to have to pull out the penlight he had brought. He kept his ears alert for any sound on the road. He would have to douse the light if anyone came along, because the office was easily visible from the road, and the penlight would be a sure give-away.
File in hand, he found white-out in a drawer under a type writer, and worked quickly to make the modifications needed to the paperwork in his official file. Back at the cabinet, he re-filed his materials where they belonged.
In short order he was slipping back out the window. He felt a moment of panic when he couldn't get the screen pulled back into place, but finally the bottom clicked in and he was able to drop to the scorched lawn – just in time to have a pair of headlights swipe across the building, showing him in stark relief against the school wall. He dropped to the ground, and lay there panting, praying that the driver of the car hadn't noticed, and apparently they hadn't. Less than twenty minutes since parking his truck, he was getting back in to return to the Miller farm.
Mission accomplished.
SSS
"Mom, you don't need to do that."
Sydney rolled her eyes as she spoke to her mother, snatching the washrag out of her hands as she began to wipe the counters for at least the third time. Sydney had been patient as her mother fussed and helped her find a spot for her meager possessions in her new apartment, but now that everything was put away, she really wanted her mother to leave. She wanted to bask in the victory of really being on her own.
Syd felt a broad smile split her face. She was on her own. She was in her own place, making her own money, and continuing her own education so she could start her career. The future was laid out in neat order in Syd's head, and she was ready to set her feet on the path.
Her mother's embrace caught her by surprise, but not as much as the tears that glistened in the sky-blue eyes. "Oh, baby, I'm just so proud of you, I feel like I could burst. And I can't tell you how lonely the apartment is going to feel tonight."
Taking a deep breath, Sydney changed her mind about her mother's company. "You helped me stock the pantry. Let me make you supper."
Her mother shook her head. "No, I'm not hungry. Besides, I should get going and let you get settled in your new place."
"What do you mean you aren't hungry? You barely touched your lunch, and I know that all you had for breakfast was a pot of coffee."
Her mother shrugged as she picked up her purse, and headed for the door. "I just haven't been very hungry, lately. I think it's probably just nerves. Too many changes for this old lady. Give me time to adjust, baby."
Sydney gave her mother a kiss goodbye and watched as she made her way down the hall to the staircase. Was it her imagination or did her already petite mother look even thinner than usual?
Shaking off the nagging worry, Syd closed the door, walked into her apartment, and sat down on her couch.
She was on her way.
HHH
HM looked at his handiwork on his driver's license and a smug smile curved his full lips. Clive and Marny had gone into town while he did morning chores, so he had rushed through so he could get his last little project done. He had just finished modifying his driver's license so that it matched his modified transcripts.
He knew somewhere there was likely a birth certificate that showed the truth, but since he'd been birthed by a midwife, he figured the records would be difficult to track down. In fact he was kind of counting on it. He had the copy of the birth record that his mother had kept, and that had been easy enough to fix. He was doubly glad he had had the foresight to make the changes to the birth certificate before sending in for his social security card. For the most part, his official records should show that HM Murdock was 18 years old.
He jumped up and returned the iron, typewriter, and ink pen to their rightful places, grabbed the file of 'official' papers, and headed to the air field. He wanted to finish up the application and get it in the mail today.
He hurried out the door and was pulling out of the drive just as Marny and Clive returned from their trip. He wanted to prod Randy about getting that nomination for him, and he hoped to get at least a couple hours of flying in before he had to return for the evening chores.
RRR
Randy looked up as HM strolled into the air field office, whistling an airy tune, and looking like he hadn't a care in the world. Randy hated the fact that he was going to have to burst the kid's bubble, but after talking to Buck earlier today, he knew he had to tell HM that the Air Force Academy wasn't a possibility – at least not for another couple years.
"HM, I'm glad you came in today –"
"Got some work for me, Randy?" HM grinned at him. Despite the kid's infectious smile, Randy grimaced.
"I got some bad news, HM." Randy felt his heart sink into his toes at the worried look that wiped the smile off HM's face.
"What's wrong?"
"I talked to Buck today about the nomination, HM. Did you know that you gotta be 18 to apply to the Air Force Academy? I'm sorry, kid, but I'm afraid you got a couple more years of life on the farm before you can do that. Maybe you could get a college loan and still go to A&M."
HM dropped into the chair across the desk from Randy, his gaze impassive. "Nobody's gonna loan me money without a cosigner."
"You know, HM, I got a little money saved. It could get you started at A&M. I know you're good for it. And I'd be willing to cosign on a loan for you –"
"I'm not takin' yer money, Randy. I'm applying to the Academy."
"But HM, you ain't 18. Weren't you listening to me?"
"What did you tell Buck Williams?"
Randy considered the resolute, almost hard look on the young face of his protégé. HM looked far older than his 16 years at that moment. The expression gave Randy a chill.
"I told him I had a student prodigy that graduated at 16 and needed a nomination to the Academy. Buck shut me down right then and there – said Academy applicants had to be 18."
"Did ya tell him the prodigy's name?"
Randy's brows furrowed. "No, I don't believe I mentioned it."
HM tapped the folder in his hand on his leg, then leaned across the desk and slapped it open in front of Randy. "Call him back and tell him you have another student, 18 years of age that needs a nomination."
Randy scanned the documents in front of him and shook his head in disbelief. "You don't honestly think you're gonna get away with this, do you, HM?"
The kid gave an unamused snort. "Like anybody really cares. They need flyboys over in 'Nam. Do you really think anybody is going to dig into my past that closely to make sure I'm really 18 when I have documents that show I am? Do you think anybody really gives a damn about what happens to me?"
Randy felt his jaw tighten involuntarily. It just wasn't right that a good kid like HM should feel that way, but it was understandable.
He gave HM a probing stare. "I give a damn about what happens to you, HM. Are you sure this is what you want to do? Vietnam is getting uglier by the day. Do you have any idea what you'll be walking into out there?"
Sitting back, Randy considered his young friend seriously. HM was tall and gangly, and he could probably pass for 18. Randy figured he was as mature as any 18-year-old boy he had ever met.
HM shrugged. "Three squares and a bed to sleep in. It can't be all that bad. And I'll get to fly. That's all I really want anyway, Randy."
Randy considered the determination evident in the intelligent brown eyes that shown at him out of a face far too young to be so burdened. He leaned forward, and nodded. "I'll call Buck and get the nomination, kid. I just hope to hell you know what you're doin'."
HHH
Life fell into a mind-numbing routine. Each day, HM woke early, did morning chores, helped with other work until lunch, ate and hurried out to spend a couple hours at the airfield. He lived for the time he got to spend in the air. Then it was back to the farm for more work, and then evening chores.
On this particular day, HM got back from the airfield in time to see Clive leading the vet back to the calf pen. Hurrying to catch up to the two men, HM nearly collided with Marny.
"Where have you been? You rushed out of here after lunch before Clive could catch you. He's had to run the ditcher alone this afternoon, and he's in a foul mood. You better eat, and then get out to the barn to help catch the calves for their exams."
"Exams?" HM knew it was too late. Clive was sure to notice there were six calves to examine instead of five. Usually he barely gave the pen a glance, and HM had been careful to keep Daisy tucked into the back.
"Yes. You have been in a daze for the last couple weeks, HM. Don't you remember Clive telling you about Dr. Callahan comin' in today? He told you he was going to need you all day."
"I'm sorry, Marny. I'll get out there now and help Clive and the Doc."
"That boy is gonna get his ass beat!"
Clive came storming out of the barn a moment later, and HM stood stock still near Marny, hoping she might temper Clive's temper – HM smirked as the play on words flashed through his head, even as the large farmer walked up to him and grabbed the front of his stained white t-shirt.
"You wipe that smile off your face, boy. I told you to take that little runt out and shoot her. What the hell is she doin' in my pen, spreadin' disease? Huh?"
HM felt his brow furrow. "Daisy ain't sick. She's been eatin' just fine. She's nearly as big as those other calves, now."
"Well now two of them calves have scours. I thought you been watching them." Clive punctuated each word with a shake, his face getting redder by the moment.
"I have. They all ate fine last night . . . and this morning." HM racked his brain, trying to remember. He'd been preoccupied when he went to the pen, and admittedly he paid the most attention to Daisy. But the other calves had been lapping at their bottles. At least he thought they had.
Doc Callahan showed up and put a hand on Clive's shoulder. "That little heifer isn't sick, Clive, but we better quarantine those two others before they infect the rest. Why don't ya let the boy come back and help me?"
Clive gave HM a shove toward the barn as he released his grip. "You heard Doc, boy. And you better be mindin' your p's and q's, understand? We'll talk about your ability to follow instructions later."
HM followed the Doc meekly. In the pen, he picked up one sick calf, while the older man picked up the other. They walked them to a free pen at the other end of the barn.
"Go get a couple bottles, HM."
Returning in minutes with the requested bottles, HM helped Doc Callahan give the two calves water with electrolytes, then held them still while he administered a high dose of antibiotics.
"I think we caught 'em early enough. That should knock it out. I want you to do me a favor, HM, you keep a close eye on these two, and keep 'em hydrated. You did a fine job with that little runt in there. She's looking real good. I'll tell Clive that, too."
"But I wasn't watchin' the others as close as I shoulda." HM felt terrible about the two sick little calves. They looked miserable. How could he have missed it this morning?
"Listen, son, I seen calves turn in the course of an hour from a healthy little heifer, to a sickly pile o' bones. There just ain't much to 'em. This ain't your fault."
HM nodded. "Thanks, Doc. Unfortunately, I don't think Clive agrees with ya."
"You make sure them calves drink another bottle of water with the electrolytes, alright? I also want you to move the other four calves to a clean pen, and clean that pen where they been real good. I'll deal with Clive."
HHH
HM did as instructed. Clive came out and checked on them, nodding at HM mutely. They completed the evening chores in silence, and HM felt a building sense of doom waiting for Clive to lay into him about Daisy Mae, but the blow up never came. Clive and Marny went to bed without a word to their young charge. HM figured being screamed at would have been better. Morning chores the next day followed suit, with Clive offering nothing more then the barest instruction to HM.
HM kept his promise to Doc, and checked regularly on the two sick little calves, keeping them hydrated as instructed. One appeared to be getting better, but the other refused the bottle in the morning. Doc showed up after morning chores and shook his head.
"I don't think she's gonna make it, Clive."
Clive grunted in agreement and turned away without a word.
"Should I drench her, Doc?"
"You can try but I doubt it'll do much good. Buck up, HM – you done what you could. Some calves just can't fight whatever infection is causin' the scours." Doc turned to follow Clive.
HM spent the rest of the morning trying to get liquids into the little heifer, who seemed to go downhill before his eyes. The other heifer was much better, and HM took it upon himself to move her to another pen, close by but away from the sick little cow, just in case.
Marny came out a couple hours later and found HM sitting in the pen, cradling the little heifer in his lap, stroking her silky head. She was dead.
HM looked up at Marny sadly. "I couldn't get her to drink, Marny. I'm sorry."
Marny nodded curtly. "Come on up to the house and get something to eat. Then you can take her out back and bury her. At least the other calf seems to be getting better."
HHH
The mind-numbing routine resumed, only now Clive didn't speak to HM, except in mono-syllables. He also seemed to come up with all kinds of additional work, severely curtailing HM's afternoon fly time. It had been weeks since he sent in his application, and he was slowly losing hope. He had finally resigned himself to spending the next two years slogging through life on the farm, when Marny came out to where HM was working on mucking out the yearling stalls.
"Come into the house, HM. Clive wants to talk to you."
Well, that at least was something new. Clive had barely strung two words together directed at HM in weeks – ever since that calf had died of scours. In the house, HM cleaned up in the bathroom, and then came down to the kitchen. Clive sat at the kitchen table, and nodded to the seat across from him. HM sat down and waited.
Clive pushed an envelope across the table to him. "Why you gettin' something from the Air Force, boy?"
HM picked up the envelope with shaking hands. "I applied."
"Well, open it."
Slipping a finger under the flap, HM ripped the envelope open and unfolded the letter inside. He skimmed the letter, and felt his heart soar.
Re-reading the letter more slowly, he murmured, "I've been accepted."
The screech of Clive's chair being pushed back forced HM's attention back to the farmer. "Ungrateful."
He turned and walked out of the kitchen.
"Marny?" HM turned to the woman, who shook her head.
"You better go pack your things, HM. You can stay at the hotel in town."
HM felt like he had been slapped. "Did I do somethin' wrong?"
"Why didn't you even tell us, HM?"
Was Marny crying?
"I figured you wouldn't care, and . . . I guess I was worried Clive would be sore. What else am I gonna do, Marny?"
"What about farming?"
HM stood and slapped his hands on the table. "I'd go crazy if I had to stay working on this farm for the rest of my life!"
Marny's shoulders shook. "Just go, HM. Get your things, and leave."
HM looked at the woman who, the entire time he had known her, had seemed unwilling to fill any sort of nurturing role in his life, despite allowing him into her home. Did he really owe Clive or Marny anything? He had done more than enough work on their farm to earn his room and board. His heart hardened as he realized that that was really all they had ever wanted out of him in the first place.
"Fine. I'll go to the airfield and stay until time to go."
SSS
Sydney finished going through her check book, and the accompanying bills. She set down the pen and laid her head down on the table, allowing herself to wallow in a moment of self-pity, but just a moment. There just wasn't enough money for Sydney to continue to live near campus and pay for school, even with the student loans and work.
The phone rang and she picked it up with a distracted greeting.
"Hello, this is Syd."
"Hey, Syd baby. It's Mom."
Sydney sat up, remembering the other nagging worry that had been preoccupying her for the last couple weeks. "How did things go at the doctor's today, Mom?"
Her mother cleared her throat, and Sydney felt her stomach twist with anxiety.
"Well, sweety, the biopsy came back positive. I have cancer."
"Oh my God, Mom." Sydney couldn't think of anything else to say. Her mother had cancer. Her vivacious, beautiful mother really had cancer.
"It's alright, baby. The doc wants me to start treatment right away. Everything will be fine."
"I'm going to move back in with you, Mom."
"I don't want you to have to take care of me, Sydney."
"Mom, the scholarship isn't enough to cover room and board, so I wouldn't be doing it just to take care of you. It would save me money, too. It's a no-brainer."
Her mother was silent for several seconds, and Sydney spent the time coming up with more reasons why they should move back in together. She needn't have worried.
"Actually, Sydney, I should probably . . . move in with you. Your apartment is less expensive, and closer to the university hospitals, which is where I'll need to go for my treatments."
"That makes sense, Mom."
Sydney hung up several minutes later after laying out the bare bones of a plan to consolidate households, once again, with her mother. As the import of what had just happened finally sunk in, Syd allowed her head to sink back onto the table. Tears fell silently as the clear path that she had seen ahead of her was quickly swallowed up by the fog of uncertainty about her, and her mother's, futures.
SSS
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Wilson, but it appears that the cancer has spread. We are going to have to intensify the chemo, and I really think it would be best if we scheduled you for surgery."
"It's spread? How far?"
Sydney looked at her mother, the rainbow kerchief on her head a bright and cheerful contrast to the gray countenance underneath. Syd found herself sinking into depression at times already, with her mother's effervescent personality doused by the chemo treatments she had been undergoing. And they wanted to intensify it?
"It appears to have moved into the intestinal tract, but the intrusion is minimal. We want to remove the affected section of the digestive tract, and follow that up with intense chemo. We firmly believe we can beat it."
An hour, and a hundred questions later Sydney was bundling the wisp of a woman that was her mother into the car they had borrowed from their neighbor. Sydney had come to one certain decision over the last hour. After all, she had barely been able to keep up in her classes while nursing her mother through the previous treatments, and she wasn't even going to school full-time now.
"I'm quitting school, Mom."
"I forbid it, Sydney. This is your future we're talking about."
"It's just . . . temporary. Until you're better. Then I can go back."
Her mother's brilliant blue eyes fluttered open, reflecting an uncharacteristic weariness that tore at Syd's heart. Her mother heaved a deep sigh, and gave a sad, but accepting nod.
"If you promise you'll go back when I'm better."
"I promise."
HHH
HM half-heartedly joined his classmates in cheering as they were released after graduation. Two days ago he had thought everything was going his way. That was the day that Colonel Greene had made the offer to him – assignment to the Thunderbirds.
Second Lieutenant HM Murdock, Thunderbird. The idea had made his head swim with excitement, which was the excuse he gave himself for not thinking things through before saying 'yes.' Now, even with his diploma in his hand, he knew he was in trouble.
Greene had introduced him to the brass at the Academy earlier today, including the man in charge of the Thunderbirds. That was when he realized that saying yes to the assignment had been a huge mistake.
The intense commander had pumped his hand, and put a fatherly arm around his shoulders. "We have big plans for you, son."
HM remembered how his heart had swelled at the idea of being a special part of something like the Thunderbirds. "Yes, sir. I'm really looking forward to it, sir."
"We want to do a big retrospective on your life, trace your beginnings out in the great state of Texas to show what a young man can do when he's determined to serve his country."
"Re-retrospective, sir?"
"Yes indeed. Your story will encourage hundreds, thousands of young men to join the armed forces. We need more men like you, Murdock."
HM had felt his insides freeze as he realized that the assignment wasn't about flying, at all. It was about recruiting. When the commander started talking about a trip to Spur to interview his foster family, he knew he was in over his head. No way was he going to be able to keep his true age under wraps if that happened. No way in hell.
As he walked through the throng of people in front of the hall where graduation had been held, he was jostled by parents greeting graduating sons enthusiastically. Expressions of congratulations, pride and love surrounded him – like being awash in an ocean of emotion. But just like the real ocean, he couldn't drink it in. None of it was meant for him anyway.
"Well there he is!" HM felt a hand grip his shoulder, and turned at the familiar voice in surprise.
"Randy? I can't believe you came!" He engulfed the man in a bear hug, overcome by gratitude at not being alone.
"Holy shit, kid, you've grown at least six inches since ya left Spur."
HM shifted uncomfortably at the vague reminder of his age. "Yeah, I guess I'm just a late bloomer. What are you doing here?" There had to be some reason Randy had come all the way from Spur to Colorado.
"I'm here to see you graduate, HM. You sent me an invitation. Remember?"
HM felt himself tense at another unpleasant reminder of his past. "I sent Clive and Marny one, too. Didn't expect anyone to come, though."
Randy's smile seemed almost apologetic. "Yeah, well, Clive and Marny are awful busy on the farm – you know how consuming that life is. As for me, what else is an old flyboy bachelor gonna do? I had to come see my best student graduate – with honors no less." He slapped HM on the back, then wrapped an arm around his shoulders and added,"Your grandparents would be so proud of ya, HM."
HM had his own doubts about that. How would his straight-laced grandparents have felt about the lies he told to get where he was? And now the whole house of cards was threatening to topple. He shrugged, but couldn't muster a smile. He was too worried about the future, and he couldn't come up with any idea about how to get out of the mess he had landed in when he accepted the T-Bird assignment.
Randy squeezed his shoulders, and shook him out of his spiraling thoughts.
"C'mon, HM. Where can old man take his protégé for a celebratory dinner 'round here, huh?"
Half an hour later they were sitting down in a booth at the back of a quaint little Italian restaurant in Gleneagle. HM made small talk asking how things were going at the airfield, and Randy gave him all the latest local Spur gossip as they ordered and got their meals. As the waitress left another round of refills for the sodas, Randy set down his silverware and leaned forward, fixing his young friend with a questioning look.
"What's up, kid? You've hardly cracked a smile since we got here. I woulda thought you'd be bursting with all that's going on. I can't believe it myself. The goddam Thunderbirds, HM. That's gotta be a dream come true!"
HM nodded, but his expression remained sullen as he muttered, "Yeah, a freaking nightmare come true."
"What's the problem?"
When the kid looked up at him with those big brown eyes, Randy was reminded just how young he really was. Something near despair stared out of those eyes, and Randy reached across the table to squeeze HM's hand comfortingly.
"C'mon, kid. Talk to me."
HM pulled his hand out of Randy's grip and into his lap to join his other, playing with his napkin absently. Randy let the silence stretch. He couldn't force the kid to open up, he just had to hope that the trust he had managed to build with him back in Spur wasn't undone by the long absence.
"I'm in trouble, Randy."
"What kind of trouble."
HM met his gaze, shaking his head. "I never should have accepted the T-Bird assignment. They want to go back to Spur to do a 'retrospective' on my life. They only want me as a large-as-life poster child to recruit for the Airforce."
Randy couldn't understand why that upset the kid. "Of course. It's because you're young, handsome, and a damn fine pilot. What better poster child could they ask for?"
Leaning forward, HM's gaze turned hard. "The problem is that if they go back to Spur and start askin' questions they are going to find out that I lied on my application, Randy. Don't you see – it's a fucking disaster."
Randy sat back. He hadn't considered that. Actually, he had practically forgotten about it. "Tell them you don't want to do it."
"I did. They said I don't have any choice. 'This is the service that my country needs of me right now.' It's bullshit, Randy. When they find out the truth . . ."
"They'll ignore it, trust me, kid. The Airforce brass aren't going to want a black eye outta this either."
"I'm not so sure." HM sat back with a resigned sigh. "Maybe I should just go AWOL. Head up to Canada and become a bush pilot."
"That's not what you want to do, HM."
"No, it's not. But what choice do I have, Randy?"
"Ride it out, see what happens," Randy suggested.
"If I end up with a dishonorable discharge, where am I gonna go?"
"I doubt that would happen."
HM considered that silently for several seconds before continuing thoughtfully.
"All the T-Birds do is demonstration flying, anyway, Randy. Most o' those guys are combat trained, and have seen action. I'm just gonna be a wet-behind-the-ears token poster child. That isn't what I want, either. I want to see some action. I wanna make a difference."
"So tell them you changed your mind – you want to go to 'Nam."
"I have been informed that it's too late for that." HM's voice held a sour note.
Randy considered the kid in front of him. Obviously, the Airforce brass had decided what they wanted to do with him, and even more obviously, HM wasn't happy about it.
"So, you wanna see some action, huh kid?" Randy asked, arms crossed.
"Yeah."
"If you can hang in there for a week or two, I'll make some calls. See what I can do."
HM's eyes narrowed. "What are you going to be able to do about my problems?"
"I got connections, kid. Before I was a back-country crop duster, I worked for the government, and there are some guys that owe me – big time. Just give me a couple weeks. I'll call in a couple markers."
The kids expression still looked wary. "Why would you help me?"
Randy shook his head and chuckled. "You know, HM, not every man is like your father. We aren't all deadbeats. I'm gonna help you because I like you."
HM seemed to accept that, though his brown eyes still held a certain guardedness that Randy didn't remember being there before. Maybe the kid had grown up more than he realized.
And if he hadn't, he was going to. He wouldn't have much choice once he reached Southeast Asia. Randy wasn't sure whether he was doing the kid a favor or signing his death warrant, but if it was what he wanted, then Randy could get him into the thick of the action.
HHH
"Randy sent you?" Murdock looked at the recruiter curiously.
"Yep. Said you were looking for something in the thick of the action. I can do that for you, kid. You must be one hell of a pilot to be in the T-Birds at your age."
Murdock had to squelch the automatic snort that threatened to escape. If the recruiter only knew at what age. However, Murdock had absolutely no doubts about his flying abilities.
"If it has wings or rotors, I can fly it. And I have to admit, while it's exciting to fly those tight formations in the jets, the T-Birds are just doing demonstration flying, and I was really hoping to see some action."
"Then the CIA is where it's at, kid, I'm telling you right now. And we need pilots for this Air America project in Laos. What do you say? I could have you on a combat mission within the week."
Murdock nodded slowly. Southeast Asia was where the excitement was. Laos should put him in the thick of the action, and that was what he wanted. Air Force, CIA – it didn't really matter to him, as long as he got to fly.
SSS
"Yes, I said remission. Your mother is officially in remission. We'll be continuing testing, starting once per month, but her treatments are over. Hopefully, for good."
Sydney looked at her mother, and met her warm smile with one of her own. The nightmare of the last year or so was over.
"That means it's time for you to go back to school, young lady. You'll have to tell that boss of yours that you quit."
Syd took a deep breath. "I'm keeping the job, Mom. Ross will let me work off-hours so I can head back to school full time, but with the scholarship gone I'm going to need the money."
"Fine, but you're still going back to school."
"Yes, Mother, I'm going back to school."
"As long as we're clear on that."
"Clear as crystal."
End Part 1