From Lies to Truth and Everything In Between
This one is my own.
The sequel to The Road Goes on Forever it follows the story of Low Light, Beachhead, Cover Girl, Vorona, General Hawk, Spirit and the OC Trick Shot in the aftermath of The Highwaymen.
The usual disclaimer: don't own, not making a profit
Chapter One
Fine Again
1800
No one really knew what happened the night God disappeared. The sniper known as Pete Anderson simply vanished in thin air. The official report would either list the man as missing and presumed dead or missing and presumed armed. As for the only two witnesses that could account for what happened neither one said a word. They denied any knowledge. That was as far as it went. In a system with far too many homicides, suicides, and missing persons than resources the local jurisdiction was more than happy to turn the matter over to military justice.
That was where General Hawk found himself. . Not only did he have to deal with a missing sniper and legend he had to deal with Sharon Dixon. She was Trick Shot's mother and General Hawk's former lover. There were still questions to be asked but Cooper MacBride and Michael Dixon didn't answer. The locals were frustrated. It only took a four star General appearing in the holding area of the Volusia County Sheriff's Office for them to be released. Within twenty minutes the two men were in the back of an official Army vehicle towing Cooper's Harley Davidson Road King down highway 95. They didn't speak for three days.
No one wanted to.
Cooper MacBride came back to the Pit the same way he left: as a bottom feeding worthless Greenshirt. He didn't have the obligatory Florida tan to show off his time spent in the Sunshine State though. Instead he came back with broken ribs and the same pale white skin he always had. The broken ribs were a present from Beachhead. The bottom feeding worthless Greenshirt was a gift from General Hawk. He was thankful to have both. In honesty he should have been washed out a long time ago. He disregarded orders to fulfill his own agenda. He was drunk in uniform. He was AWOL. And he was dangerously close to dereliction of duty if he wasn't already. General Rey was breathing down General Hawk's neck demanding his discharge. Hawk was the one that saved him. Being a Greenshirt was his last shot.
He didn't have the luxury of settling into his new role however. He didn't have the chance to. As soon as he hit the gates he was ordered to the infirmary. He wanted to tell Lifeline that the broken ribs weren't that serious. As an injury there wasn't much they could do except tape him up and put him on light duty. He only had to look at Doc's face to know that it wasn't broken ribs that brought him down there. Dr. Carla Greer had the same dark brown eyes as her uncle. They watched him with the same deep intensity. They were clear and intelligent. She regarded Cooper as she would any patient: clinical and professional.
She also didn't tolerate bullshit.
That in itself was an advantage. On a base full of soldiers that were more likely to lie than admit illness or injury Dr. Greer could sniff it out as good if not better than the old Doc. And this time she had Brooks by her side.
Lemar Brooks was also a Greenshirt. He was usually joined at the hip with Todd Popelka. Where one was the other wasn't far behind. Both of them hated him. They had every reason to. Cooper MacBride was the one that broke his nose. It wasn't packed with gauze anymore but barring plastic surgery the large black man would always have a lifetime reminder.
He grinned as Dr. Greer crossed her arms.
"Don't make this difficult for me Private MacBride." Dr. Greer said. She of all people reinstated that Cooper wasn't at the top of the food chain any more. He was now and would be a Private.
"I think you know why General Hawk sent you here. There were some concerns on the last mission. And not just from General Hawk. He and I feel it would be in your best interest to be observed for the next few days. It's just until I agree you're medically stabilized. Lifeline informed me that you missed several doses of medication. I don't have to explain to you the risks and side effects that can bring. I will make it easier on you and allow you the privacy of handing over your clothes and boots to Brooks. If you are armed he will place it in the Armory until I deem you are fit for duty."
She looked over. "When he's finished bring him to Exam Room 3." She said.
Brooks smiled. "Yes ma'am." He said.
He should have expected as much. In hind sight it was obvious. With his past history the medical team would be especially careful. He could be unpredictable. Lifeline told them he was off his meds. They couldn't have suspected anything less. They were prepared.
Cooper had the experience of watching all of his bodily possessions being catalogued and accounted for. The last time he was placed in a four by eight cell to dry out while General Hawk decided what to do with him. It was the same then and it was the same now. For each article of clothing Brooks added it to a paper bag. He wrote down every description from hat to boots to keys on a clipboard containing his medical file. When he was finished he repeated word for word what he wrote down. Then and only then did Cooper sign his name at the bottom of the form where Brooks stapled it to the bag.
He tore the carbon copy from the bottom and placed it in his chart.
"You'll get these back when you're discharged." Brooks said.
He handed him the thinnest hospital gown he had ever seen. It was so large it could have swallowed Roadblock whole. The strings wrapped around his waist where he tied it in front. The neck and shoulders draped on his throat. Brooks gave him an equally universal size of white paper pants with the seam on the outside and a flimsy elastic draw tie in the front. His socks came in a plastic bag. When it came to psychiatric patients Dr. Greer couldn't take the chance that anything could or would be used as a weapon; either against themselves or against others.
Cooper only wished it wasn't Brooks that had to witness it.
He turned around. When he looked back over Brooks had purple nitrile gloves on. He must have seen his face.
"Relax MacBride it's not that kind of exam." He said. "Doc Greer wants me to get some labs to check your liver enzymes, B12, Vitamin D, CBC, and some electrolytes before she starts. That much drinking packs a punch. We're going to have to flush you out overnight with some I.V. fluids. You're not going to feel much like eating once it hits you. Make a fist but no hitting this time."
It was a lame joke.
Cooper MacBride expected Brooks to stab him in the eye let alone his arm. To his surprise the Greenshirt floated the catheter in like butter. He barely felt it. It was over before he knew it. He opened and closed his hand. The IV was taped to the back.
"Medic training in Kirkuk" Brooks explained "Follow me."
Exam Room 3 consisted of a long tiled counter full of cotton balls, Q-tips, a box of gloves and a shallow stainless steel sink. On the wall was a red biohazard sharps container, a blood pressure machine, and an otoscope. There were two black plastic chairs and a shortened gurney with paper pulled over the top. The whole room smelled like antiseptic. Dr. Greer sat in one chair and waved Cooper MacBride to the other. She had a chart in her hands. Brooks stood in the corner out of the way but still near enough in case there was trouble.
"I'm admitting you into the psychiatric unit under medical supervision until Dr. Rich can meet with you and I can manage your progress. This can be done either voluntarily or involuntarily." Dr. Greer said. She glanced over at Brooks to make her point. "I have to tell you Cooper that I don't need your permission. After reviewing the circumstances surrounding the events in Cape Canaveral, myself and Dr. Rich, and General Hawk agree. The manner is completely up to you. What will it be?"
He couldn't give a straight answer. His head was too screwed up. In the past month he was relegated to being a Greenshirt. He lost his position as head sniper, his apprentice, and his best friend. He spent four weeks in an alcohol induced haze of highway, God, and impossible choices. Like Sierra Gordo the night spent in the marshes of Cape Canaveral would haunt him for the rest of his life.
"It seems like a lot of trouble for a guy in a dress and paper pants on." He mumbled. "I'm not Snake Eyes." He said.
The room was humorless.
Dr. Greer and Brooks stared at him unblinking.
Cooper MacBride never felt so low in his life.
With nationwide outcry at the care and treatment of its veterans and patriots the public demanded change. As a result the current administration allotted millions of dollars of the Defense Department budget towards support for the troops. The result was a glut of psychiatrists, psychologists, psychotherapists, family counselors, 1-800 numbers and every long haired hippie bleeding heart and dog whisperer this side of Kumbaya. For a man with Cooper MacBride's history he was every analyst's dream. The system was practically salivating to get their hands on him.
Dr. Greer wasn't having it.
"You've given us a lot of trouble Cooper. Don't make it more." She said.
He shifted. It wasn't every day he was the one being scrutinized. Normally he was the one setting his sights on someone. It was a foreign feeling. It made him uncomfortable.
Cooper shrugged but couldn't meet her eye.
"It's not like I have anything better to do." He said.
The truth was he had nowhere else to go. The Pit was the only home he knew. Being a sniper was the only thing he knew how to do. Except for a sister he rarely saw and knew even less about G.I. Joe was the only family he had. Una hadn't talked to him in years. The Pit was the only place he could turn to. General Hawk was giving him one last chance. If he lost it now he risked losing his position, his rank, his military pension, and his medical benefits.
It wasn't just financial though.
He could count on one hand his closest friends and they were all in the Pit together: the Drill Sergeant Beachhead, his girlfriend Cover Girl, Cooper's apprentice Trick Shot, Daina Janack the female night sniper and winner of the competition American Sniper, and Charlie Iron-Knife aka Spirit. He owed each of them for their loyalty and trust. But most of all he owed Beachhead. He was the last to give up. Through the fights, the drunkenness, the nightmares and disappointments, and finally the betrayal, he still stood by him. Cooper had a long way to go before he could earn that kind of friendship back.
So when Dr. Greer handed him a paper cup full of meds he tipped his head back and swallowed. She didn't leave until she was confident Cooper took them.
"Dr. Rich will see you in the morning in order to evaluate your treatment." She said. "Until then I am placing you in lock down for your safety. It's standard protocol for any psychiatric patients within the first twelve hours. Afterwards you will be given freedom of movement based upon your response to your care. Do you have any questions?"
He took a deep breath and shook his head.
It was the first time Cooper saw Dr. Greer's eyes soften. She seemed to genuinely sympathize. When she did she looked exactly like her uncle. He had no choice but to follow. She didn't need Brooks to show him the way. He went willingly behind her. They passed a station that held multiple security screens. The door she showed was ten inches thick with metal bars locked into the wall. On the left was a single toilet minus a seat. Beyond that was a blank room with a grey cushioned mattress laying on the floor. It was the only furniture. In the corner was a camera for observation.
He thought the last sound he would hear was the clanging of the metal door. He turned around. Brooks came with a two liter IV of normal saline and a syringe.
"Alright let's get this party started." He said. "Here comes the Vitamin A."
Vitamin A was just another word for Ativan and it would knock out an elephant.
He looked at Brooks.
"I have nightmares." He said.
"Yeah I know. I'm Rat-Face remember?" Brooks said. "Say goodnight Gracie."
Cooper MacBride held out his hand. At this point he wanted nothing more than to fall into a dreamless chemical induced oblivion where he didn't have to deal with nightmares or memories or the outside world. Here there would be no more addictions. There would be no more night sweats. There would be no more guilt to wake up to. When the plunger hit the medicine sting came as a relief.
He welcomed it willingly.
End Chapter One
Fine Again
It seems like every day's the same
and I'm left to discover on my own
It seems like everything is gray
and there's no color to behold
They say it's over and I'm fine again, yeah
Try to stay sober feels like I'm dying here
And I am aware now of how
everything's gonna be fine one day
Too late, I'm in hell I am prepared now,
seems everyone's gonna be fine
One day too late, just as well
I feel the dream in me expire
and there's no one left to blame it on
I hear you label me a liar
'cause I can't seem to get this through
You say it's over, I can sigh again, yeah
Why try to stay sober when I'm dying here
And I am aware now of how
everything's gonna be fine one day
Too late, I'm in hell
I am prepared now,
seems everyone's gonna be fine
One day too late; just as well
And I'm not scared now.
I must assure you,
you're never gonna get away
And I'm not scared now.
And I'm not scared now. No…
I am aware now of how
everything's gonna be fine one day
Too late, I'm in hell
I am prepared now
seems everyone's gonna be fine
One day too late, just as well
I am prepared now,
seems everything's gonna be fine for me
For me; for myself.
For me, for me, for myself
For me, for me, for myself
I am prepared now for myself
I am prepared now and I am fine... again
Seether