The gloom seemed to shift as Mulcahy left the compound, but Radar stood there in a high state of inward agitation and outward lethargy, not moving until he was slammed into from behind by the door of the mess tent, which had been roused from ITS dormant state by the hustling bulk of a Malkavian ghoul who was currently praying to Jesus and all the disciples never, ever to let him get embraced into that clan.

"Oh, Jeez, Radar, you scared me, I didn't see you there! Whyn'cha learn not to stand in front of doorways like that?"

Radar quickly regained his balance, "Well, I didn't see anyplace else to stand..." he rambled distractedly.

Sparky shook his head, "Ha, ha..." he uttered sarcastically, and began to hustle across camp toward the hill and chopperpad. Radar shook off the odd sopor, the feeling like the earth was a thick mud clinging to his feet, and hastened after him.

"Hey, Sparky?" he called out, the traditional formulaic phone call conversation beginning to run through his head and out his mouth.

"Yeah, Radar?"

"You one of /them/?"

Sparky was quiet for a few meters of hurried walking, then he turned and looked back a second to the one who was trailing him. "Kinda." He admitted.

"Why didn't you ever tell me? I thought we told each other everything. Just, everything."

Sparky shook his head, not looking back again as he tried to cut the conversation off with a querulous, "Look, Radar, I'm really not allowed to talk about it at ALL. They'll get rid of me if I do."

Radar tried to chuckle, but was getting a little winded at the pace at which Sparky was headed up the hillside. He hardly noted the exceptional endurance of his friend, however, but panted after him, "Get rid of you? But then you'd be able to go back to the States, huh?"

Sparky snorted as he approached the helicopter, "Yeah, in a coffin, maybe."

"In a--" Radar was grateful for Sparky's slowing as they approached the vehicle, "But... so you mean, even though you're a... you can still... you know..."

Sparky leaned back into the back of the chopper. "Die? Yeah." Came his familiar voice.

"What, and can they-- the other ones, can they die, too-- or, again-- or, whatever?"

Sparky yanked free a small black suitcase from the tiny passenger's area behind the pilot's seat. "Yeah, sure. An' it's the weirdest thing, too, when they do... turn into a little pile of ashes. Look, Radar, I gotta get this back to my Reg-- to the Sen-- to the Colonel."

Sparky turned and hurried down the hill even faster than he'd hastened up it.

Radar looked down after him, still breathing heavily, and his aspect becoming more and more disturbed as he repeated, "Pile... ashes..."

His eyes widened, "Dust," he groaned, and made two steps toward the grassy edge of the hill before kneeling down and throwing up at the thought of having walked through the remains of his newfound friend.

~