VISITING THE WOUNDED

LX: Well I'll be a yellow-bellied sapsucker. If it's not old 'loose bowels' Blaine? I heard you were back.

NB: You do know I outrank you, Larry?

LX: I won't salute if you don't salute. We're field officers, Nick. Field officers. In the dirtiest war these parts have seen since the 1860s. There is no rank out here. There're not even 'sides', not in Chicago. You're just as likely to be shot by your own.

NB: It's meatball stuff, to be sure.

LX: So let me wish you a blessed day, Nick. - giggle -

NB: Ha! I haven't heard a 'blessed day', since Boston. If I weren't about to inspect the forward medical tent, I'd reply, 'May the Lord open'.

LX: You never shot your guy, did you? Your old lieutenant, I mean. Back then you'd been a by-the-book sergeant. 'Saviour of Chicago', they'd called you. For most that's a get-out-of-jail-free card. You? You end up back here! What in the name of all that's holy made you come back. Last I heard you were climbing the ladder in New Gilead. Who are you running from, Nick?

NB: Larry, I came back for the field promotions. I'd wanted to make Colonel by Christmas.

LX: Right. Tell me another one. Which you did, you slimy son of a bitch! Say, but you're the Colonel now. Lots of promotion possibilities at the front! I guess that's a lot safer than back home.

NB: 'Home' is Michigan, Larry. Boston was a pitstop.

LX: Have you heard the latest from the New Gilead Chancery? They're losing Commanders like we here lose grunts.

NB: Why, what happened?

LX: I dunno, it's what you hear. A D.C. Commander gone missing in Boston. A New Gilead Commander and his wife in prison in Canada. Some plot gone bad to get their kid back.

NB: Waterfords?

LX: Yeah, I think that was them. Now they want to divert our resources. Chicago resources, to their northern border. Lord above, they have that neutral zone and the Missisquoi Indians as a buffer. We need the ordnance out here! We used to have Al, he turned out to be resistance.

NB: What about the kid? The Waterford kid? Did they get the baby? What about the handmaid, or their martha?

LX: No clue. Hell, you're the Colonel. You can find out. Say, give them a call and tell them to get their act together. I bet if you ask nicely, they'll put you in Chancery. Then you'd be out of my hair.

NB: Right. A wolverine in New Gilead.

LX: Suit yourself. Stay here. Get killed. Maybe then I'll make Colonel! - silence - Go visit your wounded.

KEEPING UP APPEARANCES

Martha Vivien: Hello Colonel Blaine. - looking back at the Guardian and holding up her handcuffed wrists - Was all this really necessary?

NB: - to the Guardian - Take those off of her and then leave us. She'll be done in 10, so don't go far.

MV: - rubbing her wrists and waiting for the Guardian to exit - So. Nick. What shall we talk about?

NB: You know damn well. What the hell is going on in Boston?

MV: You should add D.C. to that query. It was the D.C. thing which got Jezebels in Boston shut down. The upshot? Commanders not getting their booze, nor getting laid.

NB: Jezebels got shut? Mercy!

MV: Yah, it was that bad. - pause - But you want to know about the handmaid, don't you? Nick, you have to let her go!

NB: Who told you… never mind. You know I can have you shot.

MV: You know I can have you poisoned.

NB: Ok, ok. Enough. Ok, what about the handmaid?

MV: Poor, poor Nick, way out here in Chicago. - sighs - at least I have you to talk to, not a lot of marthas this far out. From what I hear, marthas pretty much run New Gilead. - silence - Ok, I'll quit. It was your friend Rita. She'd never said, not in so many words. But something's happening there. Not a martha-thing, which is why it is strange. I've been told I don't need to watch for it, it'll be evident enough.

NB: What?

MV: You tell me. Honey, I'm out here. I'm not there. Just be patient. - pause - Oh and by the way, handcuff me again, and I will poison you. Bon appétite.

THE PUTNAM CALL

Corporal O'Reilly: Colonel, I have High Commander Warren Putnam on the line. It's him himself. Shall I put it through?

NB: Yes, give me a second. - sitting - Hey, hello High Commander. We've not talked since your promotion!

WP: Leave that for later, Colonel. I need to speak to you.

NB: Pardon my language, High Commander. But it sounds like a shit show out there.

WP: Let's cut to the chase. We need you back, son. You.

NB: Why would I come back, High Commander? Things are tender out here. Here, I am in operational command in a dozen sectors.

WP: Gilead needs you here, son. Not there. I have the power to order it. But I won't. I don't know why my Naomi knows this, but you know what she said I should say to get you back?

NB: No, what did your wife say?

WP: She said to tell you that Ofjoseph is on the run.

NB: You mean the old Waterford handmaid?

WP: The very one. She was the one behind the child-trafficking. Orchestrated out of Lawrence's house. Eighty-six children, Blaine. Eighty-six. They're out for blood here in Chancery, Nick. Jezebels is closed. Naomi said that you being back here can turn it off. I'm afraid that if Lawrence is on the wall and if Ofjoseph is on the wall, there'll be no turning it off.

NB: I'm a soldier, High Commander. I don't turn things off.

WP: Ok, Naomi said that you could. We need clear heads here, son. We don't have that right now. We're six Commanders down. We need you here.

NB: As a Commander?

WP: If you want it.

NB: Let me think about it.

WP: Ok, while you're thinking about it, we need you out looking for Ofjoseph. Get to her before some of my more angry colleagues do. Will you do that?

NB: I'll be on the next train out.

WP: Tell me what you need.

NB: Once I get there, I need to be mobile. I need command authority over a dozen independent Guardians. Not locals. I need to be acting in your name. You cannot hang me out to dry, do you hear me. On anything.

WP: - muffled discussion off mike - Ok, agreed. Get back here. My assistant will meet you at the train station. With what you need. You'll have men under your command. I won't interfere. Agreed?

NB: Agreed.

THE ENDGAME

Jesus, Lord, what's the endgame to all this? I'm serious. That's no swear. I sincerely hope that Jesus-God shows me the way.

Watching the midwest landscape race by, receding to the west, gathering to the east. (I guess we still call it the midwest, even in Gilead.)

Jesus, Lord, what would Pryce do? I'd never once doubted the man, not from the first time we met in that unemployment office. He was better than my own father had been. Not difficult. My father, someone who I have not thought about for a long, long while. When I heard he'd died fighting against Gilead, I barely made note of it. Good riddance. That's what I'd thought. I'm thinking that if you'd known the man, you'd agree.

This train trek, this is the third one I'm making to Boston. Ok, ok, the first one had been by car, but I'd had to sell that crate in Boston to pay for rent for those first two weeks. Then Andrew Pryce got me into the the Sons of Jacob security forces. Then I'd gone out to Chicago as a sergeant in Gilead's forces. I'd returned from that a hero. Someone still under Pryce's wing.

Then no Pryce. Then The Waterfords. Then June. Then my flight back to serve in Chicago, now a full Colonel. My reward for going on the run. But no Pryce to lead me through these lofty positions, all I have is my own stuff.

So, what's the endgame - assuming I can even find June Osborne and her renegade handmaids. How to keep her alive? Will she even trust me? I mean, I'd abandoned her when she offered me to the Swiss - during that awful battle The Waterfords put up about Nichole - my Nichole.

Neither my own father, nor me deserved 'father of the year'. I wouldn't blame June for slitting my throat, assuming I can find her. Assuming that they have not captured her all ready and have ripped her apart with dogs. That would be a 'Gilead' thing to do.

My mind is wandering. I'm afraid. My fantasy? Being with June in that western-Canadian town that the American Tuello had offered. Raising Nichole. Just the two of us.

Unlike Pryce, I've given up on cleaning up Gilead. Gilead is what it is. Brutal. Hypocrites. All of them. Me, I believe in God, truly I do. But this cannot be God's country. Maybe there'll be a day when June and I can raise Nichole in Boston. Or in Michigan.

I wish I had more than this for you - as the midwest landscape races by. Lord Jesus, it would be nice to have a sign. I don't want to be like that, I'm not religious. But there are no atheists back in Chicago, are there?

JOSEPH LAWRENCE

JL: Colonel Blaine, welcome to Boston! I'm sorry, I don't have much here to offer you. Otherwise we'd have a scotch together.

NB: Commander Lawrence. You're my first stop. But I can't be long.

JL: You've come to look at someone with nothing to do but read his own - somewhat dated - books?

NB: No, I've come to ask a favour.

JL: - laughs - Man, you need to read the news. I have my books here, I have a cot. They've taken my belt and my shoelaces. So you can ask, but be forewarned. If you're asking to borrow anything, I'm not exactly well stocked here.

NB: I need to be off, I'm off to as far as probably northwest Pennsylvania. I need you to do something for me when I get back.

JL: Ok, but there'll be a cost, Colonel Blaine. Just ask, I'll look around this room and see if I can comply.

NB: Help me keep June Osborne alive.

JL: Oh. That. Are you sure you're a Colonel?

NB: I'm serious. She needs to live.

JL: So do I, Nick, so do I. As do well all.

NB: I have one last stop before hitting the road. Hoping I can find her before some other trigger happy parent does - a parent who'd lost a kid to Canada.

JL: I'll let you in on a secret, Nick. They don't care. Didn't Pryce teach you anything? None of my brothers in Chancery - the Commanders - none of them give a shit, not about kids. -silence- Not even Pryce could clean that up. -silence- Tell you what, Nick old boy. I'll help you with June. But get me out of here. And let me purge Andrew Pryce from your mind. If you washed the grime off of Gilead, Nick, there'd be nothing left.

NB: Good Lord, Joseph, you're a cynic.

JL: June thought she was gut-punching Gilead by rescuing 86 kids. What a dipshit. Blinded by her daughter - and by that I mean Hannah. She wanted revenge. She didn't get it. Can't get revenge on morons. -silence- Ok, Nick, we have a deal. Just keep me alive.