A/N: A huge thanks to Alf (Lisa), Mud and Haleigh for editing and support. Thanks Bluzie for the great feedback and encouragement.
xx not mine, not making any money xx
. . . .
Of Mice and MASHed Potatoes
. . . .
When did my bed become an amusement park ride? I spread my hands out in a vain attempt to stop the spinning. My head was throbbing. My tongue felt like it was wearing a fuzzy sock and my eye lids refused to open. God, every part of my body was bone tired. If I didn't know better I'd have said I had one helluva hangover, but I hadn't let myself go like that in over ten years now. The rancid scent of wet wool hit me when I tried to take a deep breath. I noted with mild interest that the pillow my face was smashed into, felt more like army issue than my regular bedding that Steph loved so much. Something was very wrong here…
In the distance I could hear a tune playing on a radio that I couldn't quite place. Why did it seem so familiar? Breaking through the music was a distinctive sound that was unmistakable. Choppers. They were getting closer.
I felt strong hands yank me from the bed and push me out the door. People were scrambling. The whirling sound of the chopper blades grew louder. It was a few seconds before I could actually see them appear over the tops of the low lying mountains in the distance. Military jeeps and army medical ambulances raced by. I joined the fray as we sprinted past the make shift barracks to…the helicopter pad?
I caught a glimpse of my clothes as I ran up some stairs embedded in the grassy side of a hill. What the hell—? I was wearing a navy blue and white floral shirt and army khakis. My boots had definitely seen better days with the toes scuffed—very unmilitary and very unlike me. Why was I sleeping fully dressed? And when the hell did I start wearing Hawaiian shirts...and liking it?
I joined the army medical personnel as we raced towards the Evac helicopters that had just landed. The enormous blades whirling above, swirled the loose dirt into dust bowls. The gritty dust stung my eyes, forcing me to squint, as I approached one of the fitted stretchers attached to the landing skids just outside the cockpit. The plastic tube was shoved open as I leaned over, looking down at the face of a man…no a boy, strapped down. He couldn't have been more than seventeen. His head was haphazardly wrapped in blood-soaked gauze and it looked like he had a sucking chest wound.
"Doctor," a distant female voice said.
He was so young. What the hell was a kid doing in a place like this? What the hell was I doing in a place like this?
"Doctor!" The voice was more insistent, pushing through my thoughts and the haze that muddled my brain. Was she talking to me? Doctor?
"Doctor Manoso…Ranger, what are your orders?" What the fuck was she talking about? I'm not a Doctor, I'm a mercenary!
I looked down at the young soldier. His eyes met mine, and I could see the fear behind them. He was going to die if he didn't get help. There was no doubt in my mind about that.
Damn it, not on my watch! I shouted to be heard over the helicopter engines, "Give him 10 milligrams of morphine, a pint of blood and prep him for surgery."
Well fuck me.
. . . .
My latex covered hands were warm, buried deep into the gaping chest of the young soldier, now my patient. I could feel the soft spongy texture of his internal organs as I felt around for the sharp pieces of shrapnel. I was wearing a bloodied hospital gown, cap and mask. Damn, it was hot. I could feel the sweat gathering under my cap. One drop streaked down the side of my face.
"Gimme some retraction and suction!" I heard myself bark the order but I was still surprised. "I can't see a damn thing in here. There's too much blood. Give me a lap sponge, nurse… I don't want to close him up until I'm sure I have it all. This kid shouldn't even be here. He oughta be back home feeling up his girl in the back seat of his dad's Ford."
"What's the matter? Pressure getting to you? Is the great Manoso finally realizing he's human like the rest of us?"
I didn't have to look up to know that voice.
I pulled another piece of bloodied shrapnel out with forceps and tossed it in a metal pan. "Shut your cake hole, Joe, before I come over there and ram my .45 so far up your ass, you'll be crapping bullets for the next week."
"Ooh, big words coming from someone who won't even touch a gun." He gave a high pitched laugh that grated my last nerve but damn it, he was right…I hated guns. Huh? Okay this was officially entering Twilight Zone territory.
"Morelli, you'd better watch it or you're going to wake up tomorrow in your cot ten miles behind enemy lines." Tank. Okay, I knew that voice too. I felt a little better knowing that whatever this was, Tank would have my back. Trapper...no, Tank was my best friend, but he was also…a surgeon? Everything seemed all wrong but it was somehow all right.
Nodding to the assisting nurse I said, "Okay, I think we've got it all. Close it up for me." I removed my gloves, tossing them as they joined the others gloves and blood-soaked sponges that were strewn on the Operating Room floor. Another nurse came over to place new gloves on my hands.
A knot had formed in my lower back, a byproduct of being hunched over in the same position for hours. It sent a throbbing pain outward, until I leaned backwards stretching it. That helped relieve the pressure but there was no help for my exhaustion, aside from twenty-four hours of shut-eye. The door to the Triage Area opened. Shit, it was packed with more wounded.
"We've been operating for twelve hours straight and the waiting line to get served doesn't seem to be getting any shorter. Soon, they're going to be dying to get in." I said.
"Stuff it, Manoso." Joe said.
"Why don't you come over here and try to make me, Morelli." Okay not my best quip but I wasn't exactly going up against Bob Hope. I was getting a little more comfortable with this now. I was in a dream, I was sure of it. What did they call it…lucid dreaming? I decided to just go with the flow and enjoy myself.
While I waited for my next patient, I surveyed the bustling room, trying to take in my surroundings with rapt interest. The surgery ward was make-shift with the most primitive equipment. It wasn't the most sterile environment but then we weren't performing surgery by the book. This was what we referred to as 'meatball surgery'. We were an army surgical unit, a M.A.S.H., stationed in South Korea, and I was the wise-assed, decidedly unmilitary draftee, chief surgeon. Cool!
I heard a door bang open and another patient was carried in on a stretcher by a corpsman and…Lester?
"Santos. What the hell are you wearing?" I said. If I wasn't elbow deep in blood I would've found this entire scenario hilarious. It was right out of a TV show.
"Yeah, so shoot me. I know it's after Labor Day but this dress is actually winter white and it goes really well with these pumps I ordered from the Sears catalogue. Look at the definition they give my legs," Lester said as he did a feminine twist of his leg to show off his calf muscle definition.
"Jeez Santos, you could've at least shaved your legs." Tank said. I heard muffled snickers and guffaws as if they were coming from a laugh track.
"Santos!" Joe used a sharp military tone. "What have I told you about dressing in a regulation uniform? I'm in charge while the Colonel's away and I gave you a direct order, Soldier. I won't stand for this insubordination, Private. Do you want to be digging a new latrine for the next three days?"
"Stuff it you blow hard," I said.
"That's Major to you, Captain Manoso," Joe said.
"Sorry. Stuff it, Major blow hard."
"Leave Santos alone, Morelli, or your wife is going to find some interesting photos in the mail. There're a couple of real nice ones where you're giving mouth to mouth to a certain head nurse that I'm sure she'd find eye-opening," Tank used a threatening tone. Wife? Morelli didn't have a wife. I suspected he was screwing around on Steph…but no wife. This was getting stranger by the minute.
"Can't you two ever be serious? Don't you have any regard for authority?" said a feminine voice from behind me. I whipped my head around. I'd know that voice anywhere. Stephanie. I watched her mop Joe's forehead with a sponge which, from their closeness, crossed the line of normal nurse, doctor interaction.
"Cupcake, why won't they listen to me? They all hate me. I'm in command here, I should get respect." Joe's voice reached a high whiny shrill as he stamped a foot on the floor.
God, she was covered in full surgery garb and even in my dream, she took my breath away. "Babe. Why don't you and I go to the Supply Tent and count tongue depressors after we're done here. We could play a little tonsil hockey. I'll be shirts, you can be skins," I quipped for the laugh track
"You cretin," Joe said.
Stephanie leaned over and lowered her voice in a staged whisper. "Now don't let them get to you, Joe. You know how they like to get under your skin. Don't show weakness. You're a bigger man than they are. Well…maybe you're not bigger, in fact, it's…rather small. Actually, I've never seen smaller—"
"Cupcake! You promised not to tell," Joe said. "Besides, when we measured it, I was cold."His voice had the tone of a petulant child.
"There, there darling. I've told you before, size doesn't matter." Then she added under her breath, "Much."
She continued speaking to Joe but she was looking directing at me. "Now, don't listen to Manoso, darling. Besides, we both know he doesn't DO relationships."
"Oh, Baaa-zzzing," Lester said.
I shot him a 'thanks for nothing' look.
This time she directed her remarks to me. "Thanks for the attractive offer Doctor…but I'll have to pass. Been there, done that. As enticing as a romp in the supply room sounds, I'm afraid I'd get whiplash watching you race out the door when we were done."
Ouch. I heard a drum off set, 'ba dum bum'.
"But you're my Babe." I couldn't let it go.
Her eyes were filled with fire and her voice dripped with sarcasm. "You sent me back to him, don't you remember, Ranger? You didn't want to be tied down. You just wanted to be friends. Well, you've made your bed and now I'm going to lie with Joe."
My chest tightened. Someone cue a commercial.
. . . .
I could hear explosions all around me. I covered my head as protection from falling debris. The jeep, run off the dirt road, was lying on its side. The top rear wheel was still spinning. There were bodies strewn everywhere, battered, bloodied and missing appendages. There were moans and cries for help but I didn't know where they were coming from. So many bodies. I crawled across the ground using my elbows and legs to propel myself forward. I'm a Doctor… I could save them.
Boom! The ground shook from an explosion further up the road.
"How is he, Doctor?" Stephanie crawled on her belly stopping beside me.
"Steph…Babe, what're you doing here? I don't know what happened here but it's too dangerous for you."
"Don't call me Babe. You know how much Joe hates it. As for what I'm doing here, I'm doing my job. Don't you remember? We were on our way back from the front when we were attacked from all sides. It was an ambush." She reached over and placed two fingers on the neck of the fallen soldier in front of us, feeling for a pulse. She closed her eyes and dropped her head as she took a calming breath.
We heard another explosion off to the left. Using our elbows to move forward, we crawled through the dirt to reach the next body.
"And in case you haven't noticed, I get in enough danger on my own, I don't need your help to do that. You can't protect me from everything." She spit out the words just above a whisper as she watched me examine the next soldier.
Her attention was drawn back to the young man in front of us. Concern in her voice, she was all business now. "Is there anything we can do for him, Doctor?"
"No." I shook my head. I looked in his young face. I knew that face. He was a fallen soldier from a long ago mission. Frantic, I crawled to the next corpse, and the next, and the next. I recognized them. I recognized them all. They were all dead…dead because of me. I led the missions that got them killed.
The old familiar guilt, never far away, pressed down on me, blurring the edges of my vision and settling behind my ribs.
No wait, I'm a surgeon. I saved lives. I protected people. I didn't let anyone close to me because I didn't want them to get hurt if I could prevent it. I didn't want her to get hurt.
Boom!
Fuck. That was too close. My ears were still ringing.
Steph covered her ears as her eyes filled with tears. Her whole body was shaking. I could see her control slipping.
"Why can't they leave us alone?" She had to almost scream for me to hear her above the noise.
Sniper fire erupted around us puncturing the earth, sending bursts of dirt everywhere.
I threw myself over top of Steph shielding her from the spray of bullets. I'd protect her… protect her with my life. Failure was not an option. I could hear the bullets hitting the ground around us. "I can't lose you Babe. You're too important to me," I whispered in her ear.
"Then why did you send me away?" I could hear the accusation in her voice.
. . . .
A ladle of lumpy white-ish goop that was masquerading as mashed potatoes was slopped on my metal tray, splattering my fatigues.
Bobby held up a piece of mystery meat and sniffed it before offering it to me. I looked up from my tray. Hey, Bobby was Igor the cook! I gave a slight smirk as he stood there serving food wearing a chef hat and apron.
"Bobby, do I want to know what the hell that is?" I said, pointing to the rubbery piece of shoe leather he was holding up with a fork.
"Not if you want to keep it down, Sir." Laughter off set.
"I think I'll stick with vegetables," I waited for Bobby to scoop peas and carrots onto my tray. I grabbed a mug and poured some brown sludge that was supposed to be coffee into my cup.
I turn and scanned the mess tent then headed towards Tank, who'd signaled me over. I sat on the bench beside Steph. She was leaning away from me into Joe but I could still overhear their conversation.
"You know you're the only one for me, Cupcake. Me and the boys want to play 'the four star General inspects the newly enlisted female private's privates' tonight." He giggled… yes, he actually giggled. What a buffoon. I could see him place his hand on her thigh.
"What are you looking at, Manoso? Jealous?" He moved his hand further up her thigh. Joe was baiting me, but I wasn't going to let him get to me. I wasn't going to stoop to his level. I wasn't going to…Aw, fuck it.
I stuck out my hand to him. "Hey Morelli, pull my finger."
"You're so childish, Ranger," Steph said.
Hey, this was my damn dream, I could do what I wanted.
"You're right, Steph. Sorry Joe." I managed a look of contrition. "Ya know Joe you've got something right there." I pointed to his chest...he glanced down…then I cuffed his nose with my crooked finger.
Tank chuckled. "Damn, he falls for that joke every single time." I laughed and high-fived Tank.
"Mail call."
I twisted in my seat towards the voice and saw Lester come in. He was dressed in a floor length gown from what looked like, the Gone with the Wind, Khaki Curtain Collection.
"Lester, how very daring of you to don evening wear before five o'clock," I said in a mock British accent.
"Lay off, Ranger. My bra is pinching and my gams are killing me." He tugged on his bra before handing me a letter.
I glimpsed down and saw Joe's hand inching further up Steph's leg, getting closer to the 'Promised Land'.
I placed my fork on the table, fighting the urge to stab him in the arm with it.
"Joe, have you heard from your wife lately?" I couldn't resist the jab.
Steph straightened at my words. With a forced smile on her face, she inched closer to me brushing her breasts against my arm.
"I'm the only woman in Joe's life. He would never cheat on me. He respects me and he's not afraid to share his life with me. Unlike someone I know." She pressed closer so I could feel her breath on my neck. "And Ranger, don't wait up for him tonight. He won't be making it back to the Swamp. He'll be busy all—night—long. You remember what that was like, don't you?"
I shifted in my seat trying to find a less painful position. I'm not sure which hurt more right now, my groin or my heart.
Damn, I could go for a martini right now. Extra dry.
. . . .
"Hello?" I looked around the empty camp.
"HELLO?" I cupped my hands up to my mouth. "Steph?...Tank?...Lester?" Nothing.
I walked through the deserted Mess Hall, O.R., Officer's Club, barracks…there was no one here. I was alone.
I'm not sure how long I stood there in the middle of the camp…minutes, hours…when I saw some movement. I watched as a small white mouse headed towards me, scurrying across the gravel and dirt road. It stopped two feet in front me and sat up on its hind legs looking at me. I stared in bemusement.
"Whatcha lookin' at sucka? Ain't ya ever seen a talking mouse before?"
The mouse had miniature gold chains around its neck and sported the tiniest faux hawk. Oo-kay, this dream was heading into the land of Bizarre-o.
"You know, you sound just like Mr. T.," I said as if it was the most normal thing in the world to have a conversation with a mouse.
"Shut up, fool and pay attention. I got no time for jibba jabba. Da-amn, someone gotta teach this sucka a lesson. You got a choice, Jack. You either listen up or I'm gonna squash you like a bug."
I raised an eyebrow. "You realize you're four inches tall and that's standing on your hind legs right?" I couldn't resist.
"I still got two back feet so kickin' you ain't gonna be no problem. Now listen up, fool. You gonna get your head outta your sorry ass and go after that girl or am I gonna have to whoop that ass into next week? Think about it sucka, I gotta go see a rat about some cheese." He twitched his whiskers before scurrying away.
That same damn music from earlier in my dream started playing over the compound loud speakers. What the hell was that song?
Shit, that pissy little mouse was right. I was a damn fool.
"Babe…BABE!." I stood in the centre of the compound and kept calling her name over and over again.
I thought I could hear something. I strained to listen. There…I heard it again, but it was so faint. I was sure it was Steph. She was calling me but she sounded so far away. If only that damn music would stop playing…
"Ranger."
. . . .
"Ranger!"
My eyes flew open. I jumped up from my chair, quickly taking in my surroundings. I was in my office on the seventh floor…I must've fallen asleep at my desk. Steph was looking at me with obvious concern in her eyes. She picked up the TV remote and muted the sound as the closing credits of MASH scrolled across the LCD screen, mounted on the wall.
"I came up to give you this report Ranger." She put a file on the desk and hesitated before continuing. "You…you were dreaming. You kept calling my name."
"Babe." I took her in my arms and brought her tight to my chest. I could feel my heart racing as I tried to calm myself.
"Are you sure you're okay Ranger?"
"Can you get me a bottle of water, Babe? I just want to make a quick call to Tank." She leaned up and kissed my cheek before walking out of the office, closing the door behind her.
I picked up the phone and dialed Tank's office.
"Yo Rangeman. Sup?"
"Do it. Rotating teams to follow that prick. I'm going after what I want and Morelli's wandering dick is going to help me get it."
There was a pause. "'Bout time Ranger."
"Pity the fool when I'm done with him."
"RangeMan...you been watching the A-Team again?" I could hear the smile in his voice.
"Nevermind, Just set up a meeting at 0900 hours tomorrow with all major principals. This is a Priority One op."
I hung up the phone and pulled off the leather tie, leaving my hair loose before I went into the livingroom to see my Babe…I was playing hard ball. And I always played to win.
The End
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