Chapter 1
April 30th 2016
Stringfellow Hawke inched his way down the stairs of his cabin. He slowly took a step, easing the foot onto the next riser ever so gently. He wasn't the young and spry man he once was. His joints were riddled with arthritis. His right hip needed to be replaced. His back would often ache. He had lost much mobility over the years due to health issues. His body had changed as his mobility became an issue. His once athletic stature had been replaced with a slow moving shell that hunched over slightly. His belly had also grown over the years dictating his baggy clothing style. He found tightening a belt too much on his hands due to arthritis and resorted to wearing suspenders to keep the baggy cargo pants up. Living alone he had no real need for style or even matching clothing and simply wore whatever was clean for he needed his sister-in-law, Jo Santini Hawke to wash his clothing once a week. Sporting a red t-shirt with brown suspenders and tan cargo pants with Velcro closing sneakers he gingerly made his way down the stairs of the cabin. He hobbled on a cane to his desktop computer and fired it up.
From the shoulders up Stringfellow Hawke looked to be in better shape than what he actually was. His thick hair was still golden brown. He sported a mustache and had hardly any wrinkles leaving the odd image of a young face on an old man's body.
He took a seat at the computer and started to edit his video for his only job he had going, volunteering his time and knowledge to his loyal followers on Youtube. Youtube channel Airwolf 8285 was a hit for it instructed young budding aviators and hobbyist on how to build large scale model planes and helicopters and to operate a remote control system. The nice part about the channel for String was no one had to see just how slowly he moved in reality. He could edit the recordings to concentrate solely on the task at hand.
In his latest project he was demonstrating how to wire a model helicopter. He paused the recording on the computer screen and cut certain scenes that weren't needed so the video was focused on the task and not his body.
As he worked his brother, Saint John "Sinjin" Hawke had come to pay a visit. Sinjin walked through the door. He was much more mobile than his brother but had more gray hair. His face showed some age but his body had not turned against him with severe arthritis and limited mobility. He sported blue jeans and a yellow t-shirt as he brought a bag of groceries.
"String," he called out entering the home.
String looked over, "Yeah!"
"I got you some things for the week." he told him. He walked by and then placed the things away in the kitchen.
Upon placing the things away he found the dirty laundry and discovered a bloody washcloth on top of the pile. He brought it out to question his brother.
"String, did you cut yourself making models again?" he wondered.
String unknowingly rubbed his elbow, "Yeah! I slipped with the razor knife."
Sinjin puckered in thought, "Then why is there a bandage on your elbow?"
"Um," he paused looking for an excuse.
He shifted his weight, "String! Did you fall down the stairs again?"
He admitted, "I tipped! It's wasn't that bad."
Sinjin shook his head, "I don't want you alone here anymore. You can't keep up the place and now you are falling a lot."
"I'm fine!" he huffed at him feeling belittled.
"No you're not!" he shook his head. "The roof needs repair. You can't do simple repairs or chores. And those stairs…."
"I tripped," he repeated. "My foot just dropped a little. It won't happen again."
"You can't live here all by yourself once you get that hip replacement." he told him.
He accused, "Eager to put me in a nursing home!"
"No!" he huffed. "Jo and I talked about it. John has gone off to college. You can have his room. You can bring your computer and you do your Youtube channel at my house. Heck, when I have extra time I can even help you with it."
"No," he flatly refused.
"String," he shook the bloody washcloth. "I'm afraid I am going to come here and find you dead at the bottom of those stairs someday."
"I am not leaving the cabin." he snorted.
"Then I'm hiring an aid to come here." he told him.
"I don't need a nurse." he rebutted.
"String," he became stern. "I'm your brother! I'm your only family. I'm not letting you live like this."
"Like what?" he asked confused.
"Look at ya!" he waved his arm. "You're dress like an old coot, you can barely walk and you can't take care of the cabin much less yourself."
"I like dressing like an old coot." he told him.
"You're going in for surgery in a week. After that you are coming to my house." He then walked back to the kitchen and gathered the dirty laundry. As he walked by his brother carrying the bag of laundry he stated, "You got one week to wrap up what you are doing on Youtube." He walked out the door frustrated and worried for his brother.
String rolled his eyes, "I can take care of myself."
Later that Evening
String spent the evening on the leather sofa going through a photo album. He came across a picture of Dom and smiled. How he missed that old man dearly. He then scanned his eyes to a photo of Caitlin. She had left Santini Air for another job right before Dom died. He read her wedding announcement in the paper. He was never invited. He later read her obituary in the paper and the article about the crash that killed her and her new husband. He regretted letting her just up and leave. He never told her how he felt about her. He wouldn't admit how much he cared out of fear she would die. Yet, she died anyways. It didn't matter the he kept the secret from her. She still died young and thus he didn't save her at all.
He spent his life saving others. He spent his life worried that he was somehow cursed. Now, he looked back on his life with knowledge of an old man and realized it wasn't he that was cursed. It was way the world was presented to him. They lied to him. The government, the CIA all had lied repeatedly to him. They lied about enemies and friends. They lied about weapons of mass destruction. They lied about his benefits as a veteran. They lied about lying. The truth always presents itself in time. It's self-evident and cannot be destroyed.
He closed the photo album and grabbed his cane. He slowly started up the stairs for bed. As he gingerly made his way the bad hip caused his foot to drop once more catching the toe of the sneaker on the top riser. He nearly fell forward and he moved to catch his fall. He soon lost his balance and found himself tumbling down the stairs and hitting the landing of the staircase hard.
May 1st 1983
Stringfellow Hawke slowly began to come around. His head pounded and the light hurt his eyes. He found himself lying on the landing of the staircase with blood coming from his head. He slowly reached up with his hand and felt the cut.
The door opened and he heard a familiar voice called out, "String! I got ya some…" it was Dom's voice, "String! What happened?" he ran to his aid upon seeing his friend at the bottom of the stairs with Caitlin behind him. He reached him and knelt down.
String slowly sat up and looked about, "Dom?" He wondered if he was seeing things. But there before him was his old friend and mentor. He looked just like he recalled with the red ball cap and blue jacket.
Dom looked at the cut to his head, "Did you take a tumble down the stairs?"
"I tripped." he recalled.
"Cait, get me the first aid kit." Dom instructed.
Caitlin was already on top of it with the kit in hand as she sprinted to String's side. She knelt down beside him with a bandage in hand, "You okay?"
His eyes settled on her. She looked radiant in the blue jeans and white country embroidered blouse. A smile crept across his face as he gazed upon her. "I'm okay." He then pondered, "I might be dead but I'm okay."
Dom snorted, "You're not dead! Come on! Let's get ya to the couch." He hauled his friend up who he assumed had taken a bit too much to drink the night before.
As they settled String onto the sofa, Caitlin finished applying the bandage to his head. She looked him over for any other injuries and found none.
"It appears you hit your head pretty good there, String." she told him.
"Don't tell Sinjin." he instructed in fear.
Dom and Caitlin both cocked an eye.
He explained, "He will put me in a home."
Caitlin winced, "We don't know where Sinjin is. He's missing in action still."
He waved a hand, "They find him! The bastard wants to put me in a home."
Dom asked concerned. "String, are you okay?"
He cocked his head feeling the bandage with his fingertips. "Chances are either I'm in a coma having a heck of a dream or…" he looked at them. "What's today?"
"It's May Day!" Dom announced. "It's Sunday, May first."
"What year?" he asked suspiciously.
"Nineteen eighty-three," he balked.
String sat and puckered, "It's nineteen eighty-three?" He figured he was hallucinating but wasn't sure.
Dom nodded, "Yes!"
String asked. "You know what Youtube is, Dom?"
He gave a funny look, "No idea."
"How about the internet?" he wondered.
"The what?" he asked. "String, I think you need to see a doctor."
He waved it off, "Nah! They will just put me in a home anyways. With my bad hip and all…" he then cocked his head. "I moved from the stairs to this couch pretty easy."
Caitlin asked, "What?"
String stood up and suddenly realized his joints moved with no pain. He made a few squats, "Hey I can move again. My hips don't hurt."
Caitlin insisted. "I think we need to get that head injury looked at, String."
He waved is off, "Nah! I haven't felt this good in years."
Dom huffed. "You banged your head, String!"
"It's not that bad." he told him.
Dom gave him a cocked look.
"Okay," he held up a hand. "You can take me to see a doctor."
"Let's get him in the chopper." Dom instructed Caitlin as he grabbed String's arm.
String asked, "There isn't a road yet?"
He asked him, "What road?"
"They put in a bridge and a road." he replied.
"There is no bridge, String!" Dom told him as he hurried him out the door and towards the helicopter.
String caught a glimpse of the dog he once owned, "I remember that old dog."
Caitlin muttered, "We gotta get him to the hospital."