Chapter 6
TUESDAY, 14:10
"I have a funny feeling you aren't going to put my mind at rest" Steve guessed as a worried looking Jesse entered the doctor's lounge.
"Mr Jonathon Jacob Douglas" he started opening the medical file. "You realise I'm gonna be limited in detail here?" he looked at Steve who nodded in response. In truth he shouldn't be telling Steve anything, but given the circumstances he felt he had to help his friend. "Mr Douglas had his left leg amputated just above the knee in a field hospital in Vietnam in 1972. Other injuries" he stated vaguely "incurred at the time were treated and he was flown back to the States, Texas, where he remained in a VA facility for approximately 8 months. He attended physical therapy sessions for a while afterwards, then there's no medical record for a time, shows up again living in Oregan, few minor medical problems compounded by a heavy drinking and smoking habit. Under care there until about two years ago when he moved to California, registered with a doctor on the west side of town. Then he was admitted here, first time he'd been hospitalised in a long time. Needless to say he didn't enjoy his time with us, don't blame him. I'm sorry Steve, but I saw him plenty of times myself. He lost his left leg, right leg was still there but he was paralysed from the waist down".
Steve shook his head and looked at his father "I'm not crazy" he pleaded "I know what I saw dad, I know how it happened"
"Steve, I don't know what else there is to say. I know it's difficult but I think that you should try and put this behind you" then "you are doing so well" he whispered. "Son, I know this has upset you but Jesse has the proof there, I'm afraid that's all there is to it".
"No" Steve started aggressively "No, I'll just have to.."
"What?" Mark asked.
"I'll have to go and see him"
Mark shook his head "I don't think that would be a good idea".
"Yeah Steve, Marks right" Jesse added "Anyhow, what you gonna do? Walk up to him and ask which one's the real leg. We know that already, it's here" he said waving the file.
There was no response. Steve walked to the door, turned to face them both "I'm not crazy".
TUESDAY, 17:06
Steve had been sitting looking at the apartment block for almost 20 minutes now. He hoped Dougie would come out onto the street, he'd somehow feel better confronting him out there. He didn't really want to invade the guys home, like Jesse said, how was he going to explain this whole thing?
"Just get it over with" he said to himself and walked determinedly to the main door. Inside the stairwell was dark and heavily vandalised. It stank, like so many of the places Steve was used to visiting in the course of his investigations. He didn't have to look very far for the right door, number 3, ground floor. "Obviously" he thought, it was unlikely that the elevators would ever work in a place like this. He knocked sharply on the door. He couldn't hear anything at first and was almost relieved. Then there was a noise.
"What d'ya want?" a gruff voice called from inside.
Steve was shocked, just stood there, then the voice hollered again.
"What the hell y' want? I ain't got time for messin' 'round".
"Dougie?" Steve asked.
"Who the hell is it?"
"It's Sloan, Steve Sloan"
No response.
"Dougie?"
"Do I know ya or somefin'?"
Steve had figured that his memory may not be great. Now he had to scream through the door some sort of explanation.
"Yeah Dougie, we used to know each other. Steve Sloan," he paused "we served together."
The door clicked open. "Sloan! Come on in!"
Steve was shocked. The quick recognition, the response which seemed so cheerful, the surroundings which were anything but. Dougie sat crumpled up in his wheelchair. The room around him was messy, dirty. The décor was from the 70's and the whole place stank of alcohol and stale smoke.
"Man!" exclaimed Dougie "Long time Sloan, y' lookin' good. How are y' ma friend?"
"I'm good, good. And you?" it felt like such an inappropriate question.
"I'm Ok" he laughed as he span around in his chair, motioning for Steve to take a seat on the couch. "It's been a long time huh? Course I remember you man, just had a block there for a minute y' know?"
Steve nodded. He felt so uncomfortable sitting there, trying so hard not to look at Dougies legs, as he sat in the chair. His right leg seemed limp and wasted, the left rounder and rigid. A prosthetic. All of a sudden he could see no point in being here, but Dougie began talking "Hell we had some good times didn't we? Man they were some good days. Bad ones too though" he laughed patting his legs. Steve attempted a faint smile. "So what brings you here? Some sort of re-union thing goin' on or what?"
Steve shook his head. "That's a shame", Dougie continued "we should do one of those, I mean you spend a year of your life with a bunch of guys, become like brothers, then, well look how long it's taken us to finally meet up. Good to see you again Sloan".
Steve was confused. They'd only ever known each other a few days, maybe Dougie didn't really remember him, was just being polite, presuming he was a face from his regular scouting group. It seemed so strange, the way he talked, kind of hyped up. Steve figured he could be drunk, or maybe this was just the effect the war had taken on him. He seemed so small as well, sitting in that chair, face lost in a big bushy beard.
"So how did y' find me Sloan? Coincidence or ya been lookin' for me?"
"Coincidence really" he began "My father and a colleague treated you a while back at Community General Hospital. Your name rang a bell so I did some research"
"What kind a research?" he snapped.
"Just getting your address and stuff" he answered, he didn't want him to think Mark or Jesse had broken any code of ethics or laws to help him. He decided not to mention his own visit to the hospital room.
"So your ol' man, what's he do? Doctor or somefin'?"
Steve nodded. He was looking for a way out now. This had been a really bad idea. Dougie was not the young man he remembered, and he doubted now whether Dougie really remembered him or not. There was nothing to gain here.
"The last time I saw you was in the camp, warm wet Tuesday night, remember we'd all been listening to the baseball scores comin' in". Dougies comment caught him off guard, it seemed kind of romanticised, not to mention wholly inaccurate.
Steve really didn't know if he should correct him or not. With some trepidation he said "we were together Dougie, the day you….." he motioned towards him.
"Man, of course y' were! How could I forget that, I never got to say thanks for what y' did that day. Pretty scary huh? I felt real bad leaving y' behind to fight without me, I would have stayed if I could have. I'm pleased y' got off OK, when did y' get home, when we pulled out?"
Steve shook his head "I was in the hospital with you Dougie, I think you may have me confused with someone else. Steve Sloan, we only met a few days before we were injured."
"I got y' now!" he screamed excitedly "Sloan, yeah I was thinkin' of, er, Stone or somethin', yeah I remember you now. How are y'?" He asked, checking him over for any apparent signs of disability.
"I'm OK" he replied, but he wasn't. This felt so wrong, his stomach knotted itself tighter. Everything felt wrong here and he was sure he'd made a big mistake. "I have to be going" he lied "good to see you again"
"Sure, here give me y' address" he demanded pushing a scrap of paper and pen into Steve's hand.
"Hey Sloan" Dougie roared as he was leaving "What d'ya do now" he asked "you still in the army man?"
Steve smiled "No, I'm with the police now".
Dougie tried to hide his shock, Steve by now had given up trying to read between the lines. "Take care Dougie".
"See y' ma friend" he hollered as Steve made his way out of the apartment and into his car.
TUESDAY, 20:00
"I'm sorry it didn't go to plan" Mark's voice was truly sympathetic.
"Shouldn't have expected so much. He's been through a hell of a lot, lot of water under the bridge. And a lot of sorrows drowned too by all accounts" Steve shrugged. "He was just so weird, and his reaction when I told him I was a cop!"
"Son, I think you are maybe reading too much into this. So it turns out your memory is a little hazy, but not as hazy as some people's."
Steve shook his head "it still doesn't feel right, now more than ever. Maybe you're right, I'm clutching at straws. And it's not like I can go back over there and start interrogating him. I'm just gonna head downstairs, I'm pretty whacked".
"OK, but you'll come back up if there's anything you want to discuss?"
"Sure dad, I'll maybe see you later", and with that Steve went down to his apartment to figure out his next step.
TUESDAY, 23:12
"Steve" Mark whispered, leaning over his bed.
"Oh god, not again" he thought as he groggily came around. Looking at his clock he realised he'd been asleep less than half an hour.
"Steve" his father whispered again "I think you should come upstairs, you've got a visitor." Steve looked puzzled "It's Dougie" Mark continued.
WEDNESDAY, 00:53
Steve had figured out now that Dougie wasn't drunk or stoned. He just seemed damn intent on harping back to a time Steve was trying his best to forget. Given the situation, there was little he could do; he'd stirred up this hornets nest, couldn't throw him out on the street. But the things Dougie talked about just didn't seem to fit with his own memories. Certain details, his injuries for example, and his childhood, they seemed genuine enough, but they were clouded in some far-fetched tales of heroism and happy days.
"Real nice place your dad's got here" he observed "my folks died in a fire when I was a kid y' know." He didn't wait for Steve to respond "I never had anybody 'til I signed up with the army, spent my life in kids homes, foster parents and crap like that" he didn't sound bitter. "Then I joined the army, became something. I became a man, respected y' know, become a goddamn hero. That's what I am y' know, I'm a hero, we all are Sloan". Steve was aware now of a viscous undertone in Dougies voice. "I gladly traded what I had then for what I've got now".
Steve was stunned, had he really just said that? As strange as Dougies attitude seemed, he couldn't mean that. Sure he'd heard of alcoholics and the like, having near death experiences which gave them the incentive to clean themselves up. But what was Dougies gain? He'd gone from being a strong, gentle and genuine human being to this.
"Do you really mean that?" he eventually asked.
"Hell yeah" he replied, astonished.
"But it must be difficult, must be things you wish you could change, things you used to do?"
"Nothing man, well 'cept maybe baseball, used to love to be out there, roundin' the bases, crowd roarin', slidin' in home…."
He continued to talk baseball but Steve was thinking back in his own mind now. Talking to Dougie, the first day they'd met. Family, they'd covered that, Dougies parents dying, Mark being a doctor, having Carol as a little sister. Dougie had remarked he'd liked to have had a sister, he'd been surrounded by other boys in the home, and only one of his foster families had children of their own. Three boys, "two on two, shooting hoops in the back yard". Most importantly in Steve's mind though was the talk of baseball, the guys were having a game that night, asked them to join in. Dougie admitted it was a game he'd never got into, didn't mind shooting hoops, but football was his love. Steve remembered it as clear as day, they'd even played the same position in high school. Dougie was a football player, but this was the second time he'd mentioned baseball. "I'm not crazy" Steve thought looking again at Dougie as he sat in the wheelchair, still talking incessantly.
There was eventually a break in the conversation and before Steve knew what he was doing he opened his mouth and began talking "so Dougie, I never asked, how's your little sister". Dougie sat silent, yet half grinning. Steve swallowed hard, what the hell did he think he was doing here? Ah well, in for a penny…."You're foster sister, Carol I mean" really pushing his luck now. Dougies expression changed and Steve recognised the tone of voice now "Carol, oh man she's OK, OK" he started enthusiastically.
Lying. Not being polite, not drunk, not confused, lying. Steve could barely hide his fury. He didn't know what the hell was going on here but he wasn't going to let up just yet. Let's see how far he could push this.
"Did she ever become a teacher, that's what she wanted right?", not too much, don't give it away, just see where he takes it.
"Yeah, yeah, still down in Texas, teaches fourth grade, loves it". He paused but Steve remained silent. As predicted the quiet didn't last long "She's married, got two kids of her own, great kids. Think their uncle Dougies a real hero too" he boasted. "But I don't see that much of them, distance and all".
Steve nodded. He'd stay here all night playing this game if he had to. He had to figure out who this guy was, and why the hell he was passing himself off as Dougie.