Ham found Chris sitting on a wooden bench in the shade of one of the buildings. He was bent over with his elbows on his knees reading a month-old paper.
"Same bullshit as always?" Ham asked.
"You know it, brother. Everything is fine and dandy. Visitors are solving all the world's problems."
Ham sighed heavily as he plopped down on the bench.
"I told Julie and Donovan when we're meeting. Where's your little friend?"
"Misha? She's out at the range, training some newbies," Chris grinned. "You should see 'em."
"OK, now push the grip out away from your body and hold onto the slide just enough to get traction. Hard…like this…" Misha snapped the slide back on the .22 handgun. She had chosen the smaller caliber firearm to train the inexperienced duo. "Then when you get it back, let it go."
Her students murmured uncertain acknowledgements.
"Remember, aware but not afraid. You saw for yourself, it is unloaded, right?"
The two nodded in unison.
"But, we want to practice keeping it pointed downrange and not pointing it at others – loaded or not."
Seeing the exchange from a distance, Ham chuckled. Chris was right, the sight was priceless. Misha towered above her students. They were a tiny, near retirement aged couple who looked like they would be more at home under an umbrella in South Florida. As Ham approached, Misha looked up. He stopped several yards back, crossed his arms and smiled smugly.
Misha returned her focus to the gun in her hand. "Once you have a bullet chambered, you're ready to fire. Now, let's move over here… You want to wrap your dominant hand around the grip, and your other hand like this. Always put your trigger finger right here. Never put it inside the trigger guard until you're ready to shoot." Misha laid the handgun on the raised bench. She smiled at her students. "Could ya'll please excuse me for just a minute? I'll be right back."
"Such a nice girl, such sweet Southern manners," Misha heard the woman say to her husband.
God I hope he didn't hear that... She thought as she approached Tyler.
Ham sighed and looked thoughtfully toward the sky. "Elly May…or Scarlett, I can't decide…" He had heard.
"Screw off, Tyler. What do you want?" she said, careful to be quiet enough to protect her reputation with her students.
"We're meeting at 1600 to plan our strategy for gathering intel. Will you be finished here by then?"
"Sure."
"Alright." He reached out to stop her before she walked away. He pulled her around so that he was facing away from their audience and then leaned in close to her. "Good job." Misha cocked her head back in surprise. "I mean it," he continued. "What do you think would happen if I tried to train those two?"
Misha laughed and looked down to avoid his serious, intense eyes. "They would probably run screaming."
"Mmmm. They probably should run screaming." He laid his palm over the top of her head and squeezed with his finger tips. "Don't be late," he said, stepping around her.
Misha smoothed her hair back and returned to the couple.
"Is that your husband?" the woman asked.
Misha thought she would faint. "Oh, no, ma'am!" she cried. Misha saw the woman's sincere expression. She obviously didn't know who Ham Tyler was. "No, no. I'm not married. He's just, uh…" She felt fire under the skin of her face. "He's sort of my mentor, I guess. No love there!" She laughed in an attempt to sound casual, but it came out a squeaky, high pitched giggle.
Damn… Damn… Damn! If he heard that, I'm gonna die. Just die. I'll quit. I'll leave… I'll go…somewhere. Damn!
She took a deep breath and tried to concentrate again, willing herself not to look back to see how far away he was. "So, let's see you hold the gun."
"Captain LaReaux. Open your eyes, please."
Misha's eyes flashed open. Everything was white; white walls, white light from above, sharp white pain ripping through her head. A high pitched whine pierced her ears. She felt her torso being lifted, floating up into a sitting position.
Julie Parrish and Robert Maxwell stood by the bed. Their bright red Visitor uniforms blazed against the white background.
"Captain LaReaux, we found him. But unfortunately, he had ended his own life. We are sorry for your loss." Julie continued her cold stare for a moment before nodding to Robert. Both pivoted and walked away.
Misha felt herself being slammed back into the bed. What? They found him? It's happening again? What did I do? Her mouth opened but she couldn't scream. She couldn't move. The ringing in her ears was deafening.
Then there was darkness - cold darkness. She heard music.
"I was standing, you were there. Two worlds collided…"
She opened her eyes and tried to look around. At first, she could only see darkness. She remembered the song. Not that it was one of her favorites. In fact, it had never held any significant meaning to her until that night. It was playing on the radio that night. She remembered the blows to her head, kicks to her stomach. Through the whole attack, that song was playing. How could the world be so insane? How could someone you love try to kill you while a love song played on the radio?
"And they could never tear us apart."
Then, she saw it. On the cot beside her, she saw the outline of a body covered by a sheet. She tried to scream again. Silence.
Oh, God. This is my punishment for causing it. He killed himself. It was my fault. They put me in the morgue with him. I deserve it. It was my fault. I pushed him to it. I should have died, too.
I have to move. I have to get out. I can't stay here. I can't see him like this. I can't go through this again.
Misha sat up and put her feet on the cold tile floor. She eased herself slowly off the cot. Using her hands she found the end of the cot, then the wall, then the door. She eased the door open, concentrating on the hall way, not looking back into the room. She looked up and down the hall; she saw no one. Pushing her body through the door, she spotted double doors at the end of the hall.
Please, please, please. Let them be outside doors…please. She sobbed to herself as she shuffled stiffly along, passing other closed doors. She pushed the doors and felt the cool rush of outside air.
As she stepped outside, she looked around. She didn't know where to go. Slowly, the haze lifted.
A voice came from the darkness.
Diane Lockbar was on guard duty when she spotted Misha wandering out onto the grounds in her pajamas and bare feet. "Misha? Honey, are you OK?" She continued towards Misha. "What's wrong? Misha, what's the matter?"
Misha didn't turn around, but a slow realization of where she was crept up from the darkness. She heard another, deeper, male voice.
"Something wrong, Diane?"
"I don't know. I think she's sleepwalking."
"Give her some space."
"Misha?"
She finally turned to them.
"Do you want to go back inside?" Diane asked. She was met by a blank stare.
"You should get Julie," Elias said.
Misha sat straight down on the ground, crossing her legs in front of her.
Elias came over and crouched down in front of her. "Hey, kid. Everything is going to be OK. Julie is coming."
Misha sat staring at the empty bed across from her.
"I was dreaming. Then, I was sleepwalking. I'm OK now," she repeated for the third time.
"I'll let you talk to her. Let me know if you need anything else."
Mike and Julie mumbled "Thank you." in unison. Diane excused herself from the room.
"What were you dreaming about?" Julie asked.
Misha tucked her chin to her chest. "No…"
"I know it's hard to talk about, but it's important."
"Same old shit, different cast of characters."
"Which one, Misha?" Mike asked.
Misha knew what he meant. Which life crushing, mind numbing, hysteria inducing past experience did you dream about this time?
After a moment, she tried to say a name, but she choked on it. Mike made out enough to know.
She took a deep breath, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Can I please just lie down again? I'm so tired."
Julie and Mike exchanged anxious glances.
"OK, but I'll be just down the hall if you need me," Mike said, rubbing her shoulder.
As they left her room, Mike cocked his head toward the TV room at the end of the hall.
Julie pushed the doors shut as Mike walked to the center of the room. He put his hands on his hips and dropped his head for a moment before looking up at Julie.
"Misha was engaged to be married." He stopped, snatched a chair, and pushed it towards her. She sat down.
"But, before they were married, an officer's wife came to her with information," he continued. "She brought Misha an envelope with still shots from video footage. To make a long story short, this woman's husband, Misha's fiancée, and some other officers were taking women home from bars, taking turns with them, and filming it. Not only that, but one of the 'women' was actually a 17 year old girl. The officer's wife wanted Misha to go with her to turn them in. Misha was so disgusted, hurt, and angry. She agreed to go even though she knew that it would ruin their careers. At first, Misha's fiancée denied everything. Then when she produced the evidence, he was apologetic. When that didn't work, he began to stalk and threaten her. He broke into her apartment one night, and bum rushed her when she came in. He beat and choked her until she lost consciousness. He must have thought he had killed her because he went back to his apartment…and shot himself in the head. A neighbor heard the shot and called for help. When they found him, Misha's friends went looking for her. When they couldn't find her, they kicked in her door..." Mike stopped, walked to a window, placed his hands on the ledge, and leaned his weight against it. "That wasn't the end of her nightmare. His family blamed her for his death. Believe me, she went through pure hell."
After a moment Julie spoke. "My God, Mike. Was this before or after the attack in Lebanon?"
"It was a few years after that…and a year before the Visitors invaded. I know when she had her first break down and broke her leg, I told you she had been through a lot. I just didn't tell you how much. I thought maybe one day she could tell you herself."
"I don't know if she can handle being here." She thought for a moment before looking up at him. "Mike, if there is anything else, I need you to tell me now."
Mike sighed and shook his head. "She's been doing so well lately. Hell, Ham Tyler was even said so. Besides, she couldn't stay on her own forever." He slumped into a chair, exhausted. "I just don't know what to do about Misha…or Sean."
Julie rose, walked across the room to him and wrapped her arms around him. "We'll think of something. But for now, all we can do is protect them as much as possible."
"I'm just not sure we can."
Misha dry heaved again. Of course the dream bothered her, but this time it was different. The dreams before were just replays of the actual events. Occasionally strange things would pop up, but not like this. It was so personal. Julie, Robert, the Visitor uniforms…and the song. She hadn't dreamed about it before. She had heard it during waking hours, but she would always try to get away from the source as quick as possible. There was one other part of the dream that bothered her. Ham. She had spent the past hour lying in the dark, trying to piece together the dream. She was trying to remember if Julie had said his name. She said 'he'…she didn't say his name….no, she didn't. There was no reason for me to think they were talking about Ham. But, she couldn't escape it. Misha's mind had put him there. She didn't understand why. Maybe it was the whole 'husband' talk today. My mind links the word 'husband' with the phrase 'I'm not married' which goes back to 'but I almost was'…and that goes back to…
An uncontrollable urgency had crept into her. She needed to see him. Ridiculous. This is your problem, not his. He is fine. You are the one throwing up into a trash can. Leave it alone! Leave him alone. What are you going to say? 'I dreamed that I pushed you over the edge and you put a bullet in your head.' Yeah, that will help your reputation with him.
You can't do it.
Thirty minutes later, she was in the darkest clothes she owned, going down the hall again. She hoped that Diane wasn't still on duty, but thought up a bullshit story just in case. She managed to slip out the double doors and across the grounds to the men's dorm without being spotted. She paused in the moonlight. She remembered going in the dorm to find Mike the week before and seeing Ham come out of one of the rooms. Whispering to herself, she mapped out in her mind which window would be his. This could be disastrous.
Just do it, moron, or you're going to get caught standing out here like a Looney Tune.
She crept up under the window and realized that she stood way below the bottom pane. She took a deep breath, jumped and smacked the pane. The sound resonated painfully. She waited for lights to blare, sirens to wail, and voices to yell. What couldn't have been a full minute later, she heard her name.
She jumped, spinning towards the sound.
"What…in the hell….are you doing?"
She smiled. "Lookin' for you. Do you sleep in your clothes?"
"I don't sleep."
"I shoulda figured that." Another brilliant smile.
"Misha? What do you want?"
Her head tingled. She blinked. There was something…she had planned on saying… she searched her mind. Empty. Nothing. Totally blank.
"Come on, let's take a walk."
Relieved, she followed him.
They walked to the top of a hill and sat on the rock where he had found her smoking and crying the day Mike announced his plans to turn himself in. The moon was only a tiny sliver, and the stars shone brilliantly in the clear night.
"They prove it to me," she said.
"What's that?"
"The stars. The same ones are there. The bayous in Louisiana, the mountains in North Carolina, the little islands of South Georgia, the deserts of the Middle East, the cities in Europe – where ever you are – just look up and they're there all the same. It proves to me that this really is the same world, no matter how much it has changed. Well, I guess the world hasn't changed, just the circumstances on the surface."
"It is different now. There's nowhere to hide."
Misha looked at him. "I try to remember that some people have to live through that all their lives: constant war, famine, government unrest. My – American – generation has no idea. At least I had the privilege of living my childhood during peace time."
Ham's face changed. It relaxed into some sort of deep thought or memory.
"Ham… I had a really bad dream tonight."
He blinked slowly several times, lost in his thoughts, before looking at her.
"You were sleepwalking?" he acknowledged. "I was there when they came to get Mike. Listen, now. You have come a long way. We've had this discussion before, and nothing has changed. I know how these things can mess you up. It's up to you not to let them. I know that's not what doctors and shrinks will tell you. But I'm telling you that you're going to have rough spots no matter how much you talk or don't talk, no matter how much someone says nice things to make it all better, no matter how much medication they can pump into you."
Misha didn't respond. He could see pain in her eyes and in the way her mouth was set.
He continued, "I know that Gooder thinks he knows what you are going through because he has seen war through a camera lens. Parrish thinks she can fix you up because she's a doctor. But you know and I know that they have no idea. Hmm?" He reached over and flicked a finger under her chin.
She looked at him with tear brimmed eyes and nodded.
"I know that Chris and I are rough around the edges; we're not going to baby you, but we do know where you're coming from."
No, you are wrong. You have no idea. She couldn't believe he was lowering the sky-high, mile-thick wall around him, so she didn't correct him.
"I'm trying to keep it together – I have to. I mean…" she gestured out into the dark with one hand. "I can't afford not to. There's too much on the line right now. Sure, they can put me up in an apartment and tell me to lie low, but they can't 'ship me back home'. Like you said, there's nowhere to go."
"Either you keep it together or you don't."
The 'which is it going to be?' was left unsaid.
He nudged her with his elbow. "Now, you better get back before Gooder comes after me with a 12 gauge shotgun."
She rolled her eyes. "Silly me, I keep forgetting that we're not adults. But we do need to get some sleep before we head out to watch for trains. Oh, that's right, you don't sleep."
"Just when I think you might have learned something – there you go with that smart ass mouth of yours."
She surprised him with an earnest reply. "I was only joking." She didn't smile as she looked at him, wide-eyed.
He was caught off guard. He had completely expected her to give that big appreciative laugh, make another wise crack, or playfully assault him again. Oh, no, anything but that look.
"Nope," he said, recovering quickly, "sad eyes won't work either. Are you keeping a list? You should be running out of options soon."
"Whatever…" She laughed as she got up to leave, but stopped a few paces away. "Thanks again, Tyler."
"Get some sleep, Kiddo."
"Kiddo? Really? I'm almost 30."
"Get some sleep, Grandma."
