VIII
September 30, 1947
If Muroe Air Force Base could be considered the most desolate place on the face of the planet, then Los Angeles was almost overcrowded in comparison.
"Excuse me…..pardon me….."
As Scott Garnet walked through the crowds of people, he could almost feel their stares hitting him as he went passed. Some, he knew, were staring at him because of his formal brown Army uniform and hat, and the fact that he was wearing it on such a hot day. Most, however, were staring at something else on his person; that something happened to be on top of his head, under his hat.
"Aah, yes, Los Angeles…" Behind him, he heard Chuck Yeager, who had driven him to the Los Angeles airport. Then came the pat on his back. "Say, you don't think you're family'll recognize you with your new hair, will they?"
Scott could only shake his head at the question. His head had been severely burnt by the transmission fluid; if one looked close enough, one could see the red, peeling scalp that he had to endure. After he had collapsed the night of the hangar fire (which, to everyone's relief, had not damaged any of the planes, as they had been transferred to Pendleton several hours before for inspection), he found himself in a doctor's office in a nearby town. The doctor was hovering over him, as was Boyd, who had his arms crossed.
"Well…" The doctor shook his head. "There's little I can do at the moment. As long as he didn't swallow any, that's good. But unfortunately his hair and scalp have already absorbed the liquid toxins, so sadly there's little I can do for it. All I can say is that he should cover his hair when its high noon - it will decrease molting - and to just wait for new hair to grow. And to be careful when he washes his hair; it will be painful if he's not gentle."
Warnings taken into consideration, it was nevertheless an incredibly painful experience to endure. Because the fluid got into his pores, it would sometimes react to the water, so it had been agony to take showers for a week and a half after the accident. It wasn't so bad anymore, but Boyd still made him wear a hat anytime he was outside in the sun. And his scalp still peeled.
If that weren't enough, to add insult to injury, his hair was now bright blue. It had been turned so from being bleached by the fluid. It was this that called attention to him by the airport civilians far more than his Air Force rank and attire. Even though he wore his cap, and it hid most of the hair, there was still plenty to see, and, considering that he was not just of the military but a ranking officer, this got reactions. He got every type of emotional look he could imagine; from quizzical to amused smirks, to confused and even shocked glares of disgust and contempt.
"You want me to wait here?" Chuck crossed his arms as the two approached the terminal. "Or will you spare me the suspense of meeting your family, Hedgehog?"
"Waiting here sounds good to me." Scott nodded. "Besides which, I'm not sure what's going to happen."
"All right, then." Chuck sat down at a seat facing a window. "I'll just wait here then. You go and get them, right?"
"Right."
Nodding, Scott walked off almost mindlessly, keeping tabs on the terminal he was in, as well as the gates. Finally, he spotted the area of gates he was supposed to go to.
….Gate 25….
He only needed to walk several yards; he almost absent-mindedly passed the desk that guarded the gate. He managed to catch himself when he saw Gate 26 in front of him, and he looked behind him towards the correct gate.
"Ah." He went to the desk, where a male receptionist stood, counting money. "Excuse me."
"Yes, sir?"
"Can you tell me when the flight from New York comes in?"
"La Guardia Airport?"
"…Yes. I think that's the right one."
"Why, its landing right now, I believe." The receptionist pointed out of the window. It just needs to come to the gate, that's all. That'll be several minutes."
"…Thank you."
Checking his watch, Scott sat down in a chair facing a set of large windows, crossing his legs. There was plenty to see outside; the planes starting to come into the airport; the Pacific Ocean in the distance on his right. The slightly more distant, sprawling city of Los Angeles lay to his left, basking in the sun. Beyond that, relatively large mountains which buffered the green city from the Mojave Desert which lay some distance beyond it; for some reason, the name of the range which the mountains were a part of escaped Scott's memory. They reminded him of a mini version of the Italian Alps, only not as jagged and without snow. And beyond it, of course, Switzerland would have been there. He had flown over both.
Hmm…..
Taking his mind back to the present, Scott began to think of the many possibilities that the next several days could bring. He just hoped they would be restful, and nothing work related would get in the way whatsoever. After two weeks of stressful preparation, he had finally flown as spotter for Chuck, who was flying the backup XS-1 for the time being. Nevertheless, Scott recorded a speed of .95 Mach for the plane, and there was another celebration in Pancho Barnes and another appearance of Glennis Yeager.
What had happened, of course, is that almost immediately after the hangar fire, Scott had been appointed the secondary pilot. Hoover had been injured during the fire, sustaining several very deep burns. Although he was initially suspected as a suspect (since it was supposed he was disgruntled with being second fiddle to Yeager), Hoover was later ruled out because he had several alibis - Boyd included - who had been with him at Pancho Barnes that night. In fact, Hoover had run out to inspect when the flames had caught everyone's attention and was the most surprised of them all, breaking into a cold run for the burning building.
As for Scott's appointment, it was suggested by Ridley. They needed a name on the paper, and given that Scott was a test pilot to begin with as well as a mechanic, everyone eventually approved his appointment. It was obvious that Scott had the most experience on the payroll next to Yeager, Anderson and Ridley. Ridley was firmly planted as the chief engineer of the project, and Anderson was the only person qualified to fly the B-29, so it left Scott to pick up where Hoover left off on top of helping the ground crew. It was not much more work - the spotter plane he flew was like any other plane he flew, so it was nothing new to him, at least.
It was also obvious to everyone at this point that, barring sabotage, the XS-1 could hopefully break the sound barrier by the end of October, perhaps in just two to three weeks. To that end, Colonel Boyd had been fully determined that no sabotage would occur again on his watch. He took many precautions, such as asking for several supervisors from other airfields to look over any and all repair work done to the remaining plane and having an all-night guard every night. Only officers were allowed to do guard duty; as such Scott, Chuck, Ridley, Redson, Swindell, Anderson and even Boyd had already had at least one night to which they had to stand guard of a new, quickly built makeshift hangar armed with a pistol and a sniper rifle. If anyone approached the hangar, they were instructed, and did not respond properly to them or started to run away, they were to shoot to injure and arrest them. And in the morning, Boyd also had another officer, separate from the person who had guarded, check to ensure that the guard had not done anything slick during the night.
"I think that it would be especially unforgivable," Boyd had said at the meeting outlining the new precautions, "if one of you officers happened to be the real culprit of any or all of these actions that have been hindering the mission. As it pains me to say it, you must be wary of one another as well as those of lower rank; the saboteur could be anyone on this project. So watch your back."
"Indeed," Redson, looking upset, had spoken up after Boyd left the room. "And speaking of backs, I can assure that whomever's responsible will be getting my Bowie knife in their back when I find them. So Hoover'd better watch himself."
"Don't be so ridiculous, Redson." Ridley had shaken his head. "We can't ascertain who did all this; there's no evidence to point to anyone, and we all know Hoover has enough to show he wasn't the guy."
"I still think it was him. He had the best motive."
"Anyone could have done it."
"Ah well." Redson had shaken his head. "Still, I wonder why the colonel mentioned us officers. You think he suspects any of us?"
"Its really all up in the air," Scott had finally said. "But….wouldn't the precautions defeat the purpose of catching the saboteur? And the rapport within the team could deteriorate."
"At best, we'll catch him, Hedgehog." Ridley had then pat Scott on the shoulder. "At worst, we'll stave off another sabotage attempt. That's the hope."
And so, for the past several weeks, many rumors had circulated as to the possible identity of the saboteur. Many on the team still secretly pointed to Hoover, for the fact that he had not been allowed to simulate. However, everyone was seen as suspicious, and several times during conversations with mechanics, Scott knew when people were wondering if he would not have been insidious enough to do it. They would give him subtle looks, or drop hints concerning nails and transmissions. After all, Scott was the one who "fixed" Glamorous Glennis, and he was bumped up to secondary after Hoover was injured in the fire; secondary gave Scott more to do, gave him more prestige on Blue Gale.
Of course, even Boyd was seen as the possible saboteur, so Scott knew he wasn't alone. And judging by many of Boyd's actions dealing with the precautions, he couldn't help but wonder if Boyd perhaps had an idea of whom the responsible party really was.
……Ah well.
Scott pushed all of this behind him as well for the moment, taking his cap off and running his fingers through his blue hair. He was in Los Angeles, about to spend some time with his family. He knew that Sherry would be excited to see him, and that Mary would be interested in perhaps going out and enjoying some time with him. He himself was looking forward to taking them both out star sighting, and touring the studios-
"Hedgehog!"
Scott's thoughts were interrupted by the shout. Almost instantly, he was on his feet, looking towards the gate door. His cap fell out of his hands.
"Mary…!!!!"
At that, Mary came out of the gate, dressed in a dark brown tweed jacket and black slacks. Giving a cry of surprise, she ran over to Scott, nearly bowling him over with a powerful hug. Almost instantly, her lips were on his, as if ready to suck his head up into lipstick oblivion.
"Oh, wow!" Scott chuckled as he finally caught his balance. His face was covered with light pink lipstick marks. "You must be glad to see me, huh?"
"Ha." Mary looked up at his face. "I suppose so, Hedg…..what in…?!?!?"
"Oh," Scott knew what Mary was looking at when her eyes widened. "I guess you noticed something different about me?"
"Oh my God, Hedgehog!" Mary started laughing as she fingered his hair. "What in Roosevelt's name have you done to your hair!"
"Heh." Scott couldn't help but smile. He gave Mary a kiss on her cheek. "A bit of an accident. No harm done."
"How strange." Mary beamed. "Now your hair looks like that of a blue hedgehog!"
"You could only wish there was such a thing."
"DADDY!"
Scott turned from Mary for a moment, catching sight of his daughter tromping off towards him in a (slightly dirtied) flowered Sunday dress and green petticoat. Laughing, Scott took a step back as Sherry hugged his leg.
"Daaaaddy!" She looked up at him and giggled. "Mommy's making me wear this ugly dress!"
"Sherry!" Mary's voice was suddenly stern. "I told you, that is a beautiful dress! Or at least it was until she started playing with the dirt in the yard. Oooh, its hot here…"
"Aww," Scott kissed Mary on the other cheek. "What's a dress, anyways?"
"Scott Johnson Garnet!" Mary's gaze instantly became stern as she looked back at Scott. "Spendthrift. I spent 10 dollars on it out in the Utica Christian store so that she'd have something nice to wear."
"You really didn't have to, Mary." Scott was still grinning.
"Well, I wanted her to be presentable in front of her father's co-workers."
"Not that my co-workers give a damn about what a woman looks like." Scott smiled. "They like their women any way they can ge-"
"SCOTT!"
Mary's voice became sharp, and Scott knew he had overstepped his boundaries. Nevertheless, he picked her up around the waist and kissed again.
"Sco-oooot!" Mary squeaked in anger.
"Now, now, Mary Amy Garnet...." Grinning from ear to ear, Scott began to hoist her onto her shoulder. "Don't make me spank you."
"Daddy?" Sherry's eyes widened. "You spank Mommy?!"
"Oooh, you jerk!" Mary's anger was abating, judging by her bursting into giggles. "Not in front of Sherry, you sick fool!"
"Better now than never……"
"What are you doing?"
The playfulness in Scott's voice slowly trailed off at the sound of the gruff, hacking voice. His eyes turned up towards the figure, and his smile vanished.
"…..Dad."
Scott's father frowned in return. He looked and sounded a lot sicker than Scott remembered him being. He was definitely thinner, thin and pale like a corpse. Looking at Mary, than at Scott, he gave another cough.
"What the hell's with this now?"
"…Nothing." Slowly, stiffly, Scott put Mary down. "Nothing at all, pops."
"Good." Scott's father wiped his brow. "The last thing you need in this God-forsaken place is another @#%$ show of hanky-panky. By my son, no less."
"….Nice to see you too." Scott turned to Mary and too k her hand, instantly changing the subject. "So, how was your flight?"
"A…" Scott could tell that Mary sensed the hostility. "A little bumpy, but nothing that we couldn't handle. We stayed the night at Jake's house."
"Jake?" Scott was pleasantly surprised. "Your brother Jake? Sounds nice, eh?"
"Ah, he's getting along well." Mary nodded. "He's pretty jealous that you're out here, he says. It's starting to get cold out there."
"Naaah, tell him he wouldn't want to be in the hottest place on Earth next to Hell." Scott shook his head as they all began to walk. "We're practically in the middle of a desert."
"Uncle Jake!" Suddenly, Scott felt something soft and stuffed slip into his hand. "Uncle Jake gave me a doll that belonged to Mommy! An' he gave me a new book!"
"Oh, he did?" Scott brought the Raggedy Ann doll up to his face. He gave a grin to Sherry. "How nice of him to do that! And what was the book called?"
"Pat the bunny." Sherry giggled. "Its really neat. You open the book an' you rub the bunny on the page an' its real fur! An' you rub Judy an' Paul's daddy's face an' its all stubbly."
"And for the past nine hours I've had to explain that her daddy's face is not as stubbly as that."
"Ho! Well!" With a laugh, Scott gave the doll back to Sherry. "That's if I shave properly."
Laughing, the three started down the terminal. Behind them was Scott's father, who simply hobbled behind, neither smiling nor laughing. All he did was cough on the way down to the main entrance, sometimes violently. Scott could hear him, but decided that that moment was not the best time to press.
"So…" Scott spotted Chuck. "There he is! My personal chauffeur."
"Oh, sure I am!" Chuck snorted. "Only until you get a car for here or my car dies. Then you'll be hauling my ass around town."
"Now, Chuck…"
"…Oh!" Chuck spotted Sherry. "Well, wash my mouth out with soap. Hello there!"
"Hi!" Sherry curtsied. "My name is Sherry Rose Garnet!"
"And such a pretty girl, too!" Chuck bent down and smiled at Sherry. "My, you are the spitting image of your mother, and that's a compliment, sweetheart."
"That's why the paternity's iffy, sir."
Chuck's eyes widened at this. He turned towards Scott's father with a smile, taking into consideration Scott's horrified expression. Scott's father did not smile back.
"Ah, well…" Chuck gave a hearty laugh, trying to dispel the obvious tension. "She definitely has her father's chin, though, no?"
"…Huh." Scott's father simply stared into Chuck. "What's your name?"
"Captain Charles Yeager, sir." Chuck held out his hand. "Friends call me 'Chuck'. You're Hedgehog's father?"
"Hiram." He did not shake Chuck's hand. "Address me as such, or as 'sir'."
"…Hiram Garnet, sir?" Chuck put his hand down. He could see Scott's face take on more mortification as the conversation continued.
"That's correct. And my son's name is Scott."
"Ah, yes…." Chuck nodded. "I know...Hiram, sir."
"Indeed." Hiram gave another violent cough. "And you're here…..why?"
"Oh, well…" Despite the old man's obvious disdain towards him, Chuck kept up appearances. "I'm here to drive you guys over to where you guys need to go, that's all. Also nice to meet a man's family; I've only got a wife right now." Nodding, "I hear you've got arrangements to stay at my house, right?"
"Uh….yes…." Scott managed to finally get something in. "We're staying with you, Chuck."
"Easy for you to say," Scott's father mumbled.
"Wonderful!" Chuck beamed; he gave Scott a look of sympathy as he turned. "Its only a bit to the house my wife and I are staying in. Right this way to get your luggage….."
------------------------
The twenty-minute drive to Chuck's house was completely silent. Hiram Garnet had insisted on sitting in the front of the car, leaving Scott, Mary, and Sherry in the back. No one said a single word the whole way home; the obvious, sudden hostility that Hiram brought made it impossible to speak without scrutiny. Even Sherry, normally chipper around her grandfather, seemed to sense the animosity, and resigned herself to pat the bunny in her book without uttering a single thing.
"….We're here!"
Chuck turned into the driveway of the Levittown-styled military housing. It was brown, one-story, Stucco plastered house, with a wood and stone foundation. There was a garage at the end of the driveway, the roof was comprised of overlapped ranchero-style clay tiles, and there was a small, grassy knoll which lay behind the house. The house was also shaded by giant palm trees, which hung just over the roof. All around, little kids were playing on the sidewalks.
"Well," Chuck threw on the brake. "We're he-"
"Thank God." Hiram got out of the car before Chuck had turned the car off. "I'm going over there to have a smoke, right?"
Hiram slammed the car door behind him and walked off, his cigarette carton in his hand. Scott, from the other side of the car, simply glared at him as he walked on, finally stopping several houses away to take out his lighter.
"Good riddance," he said softly to himself.
"…Come on." Mary opened the car door on her side. "Sherry, come on."
"Wow, mommy!" Scott slowly got out of the car on his side as Mary picked Sherry out of the car. "Palm trees!"
"Yup." Chuck nodded towards the front door to the house as it opened. "Hey, Sherry, would you like to meet my wife? I bet she might have candy."
"YEAH!!!" Sherry was off and running.
"Sherry!" Mary gave Chuck a look as she ran after her. "Not in the grass!"
"….Thanks, Chuck."
Scott's glaring expression did not fade as Chuck opened the trunk. Without much to say, Scott started to take the luggage out of the car.
"….Interesting man, your father." Chuck lowered his voice. "I take it you and your father don't exactly have…..a loving relationship?"
"….We're not close."
"Ah." Chuck nodded. "It's ok. I can understand when a fella has a problem. I won't press, Hedgehog."
"No. Its not you." Scott glared towards his father in the distance. "Let's just say that my father has a few outstanding hate issues with the military in general."
"……A vet?"
"First World War." Scott slammed the trunk shut. "Don't know what division, rank, anything."
"And I take it he has a problem with you in the military."
"…..Yeah…." Scott picked up the suitcases. "You can say that."
As he went up the drive, he was greeted by Mary halfway, who promptly took one of the bags from him and started walking. She wiped hair from her face as she looked at him. Her expression indicated that she knew.
"….Scott…."
"What?"
"I had no choice."
"Mmm."
"I don't think anyone but us can put up with him, Hedgehog." Her eyes were slightly pleading as they approached the door. Scott could almost see the bags under her eyes. "You really think I wanted to bring him?"
"Sometimes…." Scott opened the door. "I'm not sure, though I'm inclined to believe you right now. Did he go to the doctor again?"
"He did…" Mary look uneasy. "But he's told me nothing of what they've said."
"Ohh!!!!"
Scott and Mary were immediately greeted by Glennis as if they were family when they entered; they were escorted into the living room, where Sherry sat with a glass of milk.
"No, no!" Glennis scolded the two as they stood. "Put those cases down. You're guests here!"
"You're not even going to let us unpack?" Scott gave a grin. "You're some hostess, Glennis!"
"Well," Glennis smiled back. "I figured you guys would like something to eat before you went on your forays around the city."
"Well…." Mary turned to Sherry. "I think we'll have some food before we start. What do you think, Sherry?"
"I'm hungry!"
"Glad she agrees." Scott smiled sheepishly. "Well, we'll also need to rent a car from somewhere-"
"Don't be ridiculous." Glennis laughed, not noticing Chuck as he came in. "You can borrow our car."
"Your car…?"
"Making plans without me, Glennis?" Chuck's eyebrow raised.
"Now, Chuck…." Glennis turned to him. "Its not like you need to go anywhere, and I don't think they'll get into an accident. Not intentionally, at least."
"….Its our only car, Glennis…."
"Chuck…."
"..Baaaah…." Chuck shrugged. "It looks like she's not budging, Hedgehog. I guess you'll be using our car."
"…Well…." Mary looked at Scott, who gave a reluctant nod. "Thank you….."
"Its nothing." Glennis waved it off. "We've got nothing to do right now. We don't need the car!"
"Ok….." Scott nodded. "Well, after lunch, we'll be heading out with Sherry to see Los Angeles. It might take us some hours, if you don't mind, Chuck."
"Oh, it doesn't bother us-"
"Oh, but why are you going to take Sherry with you?"
The question took everyone by surprise. From where he stood, Hiram simply coughed again.
"Oh, hello!" Glennis looked over at Hiram with a smile. "A pleasure to meet you."
"I'm here." Ignoring Glennis, Hiram turned to Scott. "What's with leaving me out?"
"…I didn't think you'd like Los Angeles, pop."
"One thing you got right for once." Scott felt his anger rise at the fact that Hiram had embarrassingly insulted everyone and everything in less than an hour, but he kept it in check. "But why take Sherry when I'm just going to stay here?"
"Well, I....don't think it would be a good idea to just leave her here, either." Scott slowly replied.
"Huh!" Hiram gave Scott a look. "What, you scared I'll do something to her?"
"Of course not." Mary quickly interceded, giving Scott a look. "Hedgehog and I'll go out alone today, then. It may not be a good idea for Sherry to come today anyways - I have some things to talk to Scott about, you know."
"...What?"
Scott looked suspiciously at Mary, then back at his father, then back at Mary. Meanwhile, Glennis and Chuck watched the scene carefully. Sherry simply drank her milk.
"Care to tell me now?"
"It can wait," Mary quickly replied. "In the meantime, get your clothing out, right?"
"......Sure."
Scott truly wanted to protest against what was going on; more specifically, he wasn't too keen with his father staying with his daughter by himself in Chuck's house, or even for his daughter to be near his father at all for that matter. He truly despised his father for his comment about Mary at the airport, and it almost boggled his mind that Mary would even agree with his father on the matter of Sherry.
Nevertheless, he was in the minority, as he could see Sherry's eyes brighten at the words of her mother. His shoulders slumped, and he just nodded with a disgruntled bob.
"Sure, sure." he mumbled. "Just me and Mary. I'll go get changed."
Without another word, he took up his military-issue duffel bag and walked down the hallway. His eyes scanned the hallway, finding the guest room near the end. He opened the door to the room, throwing his bag onto the queen-sized bed. He grasped the zipper and pulled with an annoyed yank.
"Careful." The hacking voice made him stop. "You may bust a brain cell with the work."
Scott swerved to face his father. The two simply glared at each other for several moments. There were many years of bad blood between the two; it didn't help that Hiram Garnet had long sinse been a bitter man to begin with.
Scott had lied a bit to Chuck. His father had been a sergeant during the Meuse-Argonne offensive back in 1917. He had been a decorated soldier in a skirmish near the Kriemhilde; where that was, and what it was about, Scott was still unsure.
However, his father was not a man to talk of his war experiences. Whatever had happened, it made Hiram hate ware completely. He saw war as an evil, and whenever he could, he preached against the war over in Europe and Japan. He hated everyone who contributed to the loss of life, including his own son. It didn't help matters that Hiram saw Scott as weak; Scott knew that his father saw him this way. A man didn't talk about his war experiences in Hiram's time, especially not bad experiences; the media agreed with him. Whereas Scott did talk to Hiram of it…once. It had certainly not been to the extent to which he told Mary, but it was enough. And all hell had broken loose when he did. Scott never forgave his father for his reaction.
"You know...." His father sat down on the bed, coughing. "I got a call before we left for here. You remember Teresa?"
"Teresa...?" The sudden change of subject took Scott by surprise.
"Little girl you used to look after."
"The...." Scott looked at his father. "Terry? Terry Butler?"
"Yup." His father rubbed his hands together. "Only she's not a little girl anymore. She turned 20 in May."
"Twenty....swell...."
"She works at a doctor's office now. She's a secretary."
"Swell...."
Scott looked down at the ground, his hand rubbing through his blue hair. He gave several stiffened nods.
"How the hell did your hair become that color, Scott?"
"....Why did you bother coming?"
"......What are you talking about?"
"Pops." Scott's tone became sharp. "Stop playing with me. I didn't expect you to come and verbally abuse my friends and my family. Is that why you came?"
"Its not them I'm angry at." His father's voice lowered. "I can't help that my son could have been a chump. You'd better feel damn lucky I like Mary."
"Which is why you made that comment about Sherry, right?" Scott took off his jacket with abrupt force. "I didn't know you were still the one I had to get approval from."
"No, I think your ability to comprehend your own approval pretty much speaks volumes, boy." Hiram's voice became dangerously low. "It's why her family still won't talk to her. It's why we had to move out of the house our family had for 200 years. It's why you had to marry her to begin with. It's why you have a daughter."
"You sound like I'm still 17." Scott felt his anger reach the boiling point. "Do you see me cozying up to any other girl out here?"
"That's not the point."
"Then what the hell is the point of bringing all of this up?" Scott's eyes slit as his voice raised slightly. "Is it because you're angry I've got a job in the military or because you're bitter that my mother's gone and you have no one left to submit? Or…" Scott could almost feel the maliciousness drip from his tongue as he spoke. "Is it because I'm proving myself to be the better man with my life after what I've been through and you're just jealous that I can take it better?"
With that, he closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the inevitable blow. It never came. Instead, all that came were a barrage of violent coughs, angry coughs.
"….I think I'll be leaving now."
Without another word, Scott left the room, leaving Hiram alone. His words to his father shocked him, clinging to him as he walked briskly down the hall. He had never been so temperamental towards his father, especially saying such things to him…..taunting him in such a situation as this, one that would have normally made his father react swiftly, almost violently. So….bold. Almost as if it wasn't really Scott speaking, but someone else, a shadow of himself, whom he let speak. For whatever reason, he acted on an impulse.
And, for some reason, he felt good.
--------------------
The feeling prevailed as he took Mary out that day. It was a very hot and humid day, so Scott ended up simply wearing a lighter pair of clothing than he had intended to wear. His formal suit and tie - for later on - was in the back of the car, along with Mary's formal dress.
"Slow down, Scott."
"….Sorry."
Scott put the brake on. They had been driving for about an hour now, driving east towards the desert. All afternoon, they had driven themselves all around Los Angeles, taking in as many sights as they could. They had driven down Rodeo Drive, getting lost on their way to the Walk of Fame, and they stopped at a shop for directions to the haunted road behind the Hollywood sign. When they found it was closed, they could only look at each other sheepishly.
For the most part, it had been an incredible afternoon. Scott and Mary's hearts had seemingly grown fonder with separation, and the absence of Scott's father resulted in a marked change in the behavior of both. They walked a lot when they didn't drive, holding hands, though it almost seemed as if they were skipping along in a musical, singing. They also talked a lot, and laughed as they experienced their misadventures at getting lost in the middle of a big city.
"You know, Hedgehog…." Mary grasped his hand. "They are renaming the Rome Air Depot. Your co-workers told me to tell you."
"Changing the name?" Scott looked at Mary. "Swell! Sounds nice. What are they calling it?"
"Griffiss Air Force Base."
"….Griffiss?" Scott looked amused. "An unusual thing to call it, isn't it?"
"They're naming after an Air Force man. He…." Mary paused.
"….Died?"
Mary gave a smile, a reluctant smile, and slowly nodded, not sure to how Scott would react. To her surprise, he gave a smile and shook his head.
"Actually," Scott's smile was almost a shrug; it had little effect on him. "I have no clue who this Griffiss fella is."
They had continued on, reaching the Chinese Mann Theatre. When they found themselves there, they decided to take in a movie. They saw Gentlemen's Agreement, recommended by the ticket booth, which starred a new actor named Gregory Peck. It had been a very deep movie, nothing like what Scott had expected; it was a postwar movie about reporter who sought to expose rampant anti-Semitism in a dangerous way. Unfortunately for Scott, as much as he liked the movie, it nevertheless evoked some memories.
"….Hedgehog?"
"….Excuse me." Scott had quietly stood up in the theatre. "I…need to go to the bathroom."
After that, he had come back from a brief round of deep breaths for the rest of the movie with hardly a care, it seemed. His mood, he realized, was connected to what he had said to his father, as if he had faced down a great enemy and won. It was his own father, but to Scott, he truly deserved it after his behavior. Either way, Scott simply decided to discard all of his thoughts of the old man, and enjoyed himself for the first time in many months.
Within his strange new feelings of impulsiveness that made all of this decision-making possible, Scott almost felt back in high school with Mary once more. Before Mary became pregnant - perhaps before he had actually met her - he and others from his track and field team used to sneak off to New York City on the weekends with the team of Mary's brother, Jake, and hang out in various bars with fake bars. It was fun to do; no one cared of their age, particularly in the seedier places, so long as they paid the tab. There would be rants about many things during their sojourns, from track meets to political policy (though their knowledge of this was very limited). And, for 16 and 17 year olds, the older women found them attractive; after several drinks, the boys tended to agree with them. Of course, Scott never gave himself to any woman other than Mary; he didn't care to get himself drunk enough to want sex with the various wives and whores that several others (including Jake) ended up laying with.
…..That was me…. Scott's thoughts trailed. All that freedom…..all that happiness. The ability to just be happy. Truly happy. I haven't felt this way in……ages…..
"Hedgehog?"
"Huh?"
Scott's head went up. They had driven down towards Muroe; there was a small restaurant that Chuck had recommended in one of the towns he had visited. The two had decided to go there, and they were now dressed in their formal attire. They had been driving for almost two hours at the rate Scott had been going.
"Stop."
"Mary?"
"I want to take a picture."
"….Ok."
The car stopped on the side of dusty desert road. Scott turned, and saw Mary get out of the car.
"This….." Scott slowly followed suit and shut his car door behind him. Mary smiled as she came from the other side. "This…..is beautiful."
Coming out of the car gave him a panoramic view. The silhouette of the desert landscape, the colors that it created, seemed to go on forever, making the desert look as if there was no end. The purples and oranges of the clouds that hung high up accented the sinking sun in the eastern sky. As Scott cocked his head towards the western horizon, the colors became darker until they had all become blackish blue, with only the dim stars to light the sky beyond that point.
"Beautiful…." He murmured.
"….Scott?" The camera clicked several times.
"….I never get to see desert sunsets, not even where I am."
"…It is beautiful….Scott?"
"Hmm?"
"I have to tell you something."
Scott turned to Mary. She looked away from the scene before them, her hand with the camera going down to her side.
"….I…." Mary looked at her, pleased, but also with some uncertainty in her eyes. "Do you remember the first time I told you of….when I used to talk of your war letters to Sherry?"
"…..I wish I didn't."
Scott's head went down. He had sent Mary many letters about the war, about the people he had met. He never went into depth with the more painful moments; he hadn't felt ready, as if it was a cursed subject.
Nevertheless, the first night he had found Mary tell Sherry of his exploits, all hell had broken loose. It was the end of 1945; Sherry was only two years old at the time; she couldn't understand it. Mary herself had tried to explain to Scott what she had done; she had not talked of it directly, she had cried. She explained it in a way Sherry could understand.
But that night, Scott would hear none of it; even two years after Salerno, the pain and anger was still raw. He had pulled Mary up very roughly by her hair, up to his height, to his enraged eyes. What he did next, Scott did not care to remember, and he was sure Mary didn't. After all, it had taken three months for the bruise to heal; six months before Scott could muster up the courage to apologize.
By the time Sherry's third birthday had come, the stories returned, that terrible night fading from her memory. But Scott knew that Mary had not been completely forgiving, particularly after Hiram inexplicably sided with Scott's actions and had even applauded what Scott had done. She looked frightened, even now, to speak of it.
"When you told me of….that little hedgehog."
"Yes." Mary still looked at Scott, a tinge of uncertainty clouding her eyes. "Scott, I sent it to several people, and-"
"You're going to publish the stories. Without my permission."
It had been the first thing that had come to mind. He had expected to be angry, to be enraged, that Mary would go behind his back again, to do such a thing to his memories. Yet, this time, he felt no anger, no rage. Just surprise.
"Scott…" A tinge of fear cam into Mary's voice. "Look, I understand…..you don't like that idea…..but……I just felt……well, we could use the money. And, well, the neighborhood kids like the little hedgehog…"
"…..You've been telling the neighborhood kids too?"
No rage…
Scott's almost stoic reaction took even Scott by surprise. It was as if he didn't care; as if something within him now was happy about it. He pondered if it was the same feeling that caused him to insult his father earlier, though he couldn't be sure.
And yet, that same feeling had also seemed to pervade him to be truthful. He could not understand it, but he felt suddenly compelled - obligated - to tell Mary about what had happened at Muroe, about the night with Ridley.
Hm. Scott closed his eyes.
"Scott….." Mary turned away. "Look. I know you have a problem dealing with your feelings. And I know you haven't been seeing a doctor about it, so don't lie and say you have. I know you're mad at me. But I think….I think I should publish this. I think its something I need to do. I mean…." Mary started to walk. "So many men are talking about their time over there now. I see the way I tell it as….a way to explain it, but to kids, like Sherry. I mean, I admit, I still don't understand parts of why this war happened, but…..I think….simplifying it helps. I think the hedgehog helps, because…..he's you, Scott. He helps me to put your thoughts in perspective, to see you as…something better than how you think yourself to be." Mary turned back to Scott. "And so I don't care what you say about it, either. I'm going to publish this, and you can beat me until my face turns black and blue, because it won't change my mind this time."
"….Mary…."
He took her hand and clenched it tightly. Looking down at her trembling hand, he began to speak again after several moments.
"….I don't think you understand."
"…Scott…." Mary looked down. "I just told you-"
"…No, its not that." Scott shook his head. "Its not you….its me."
"…Scott…." Mary's voice was slightly irritated. "How many times have I told you-"
"No, Mary. That's not what I have a problem with. I don't have a problem anymore." Scott shook his head. "I've gone past blaming myself, from blocking out all of what happened."
"Then why are you still dwelling on it?"
"…..Because I guess I have to." Scott turned to Mary. "Maybe it's the battle fatigue coming back, but I just have had this….feeling….to think about it. I mean," Scott quickly smiled. "I don't think about it all the time. It's not like before. I just think about it in my sleep, where no one can interrupt my thoughts. I somehow have far better control over it….because I'm not suppressing the memories this time."
"All the same." Mary shook her head. "You should see a doctor."
"….No." Scott made a turn onto another road. "Mary…..I know it sounds strange for me to say this, but I've put it behind me. I….I've had a bit of a revelation, I guess you could say." Scott nodded at his words. "It kind of came by accident, but in it, I realized something. I'm not alone in my experiences, you know?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well…." Scott kicked the dirt under his feet. "The truth is, Rome isn't exactly a place I can find peers. All I have is my commanding colonel, several lieutenants who push papers…..and other ground people who I don't know personally, but I know they were never even in the war. Right now, I'm practically the only pilot, let alone the only pilot who saw action in any theater. When I come home, there's you, and Sherry…..and my father." The last part was almost grumbled. "Whenever I meet your friends, they are all females. I hardly find myself with men, because I never really have the time to go and get out, and even if I did, I know I won't find anyone who's like me. I'm an outsider with a reputation (small as it is) in a growing city that has several hundred families that have been here for generations, who know each other like family. And how many men to begin with are going to admit to their wives, or their friends, that they were in the war, and that they did such things that led up to things like death….and destruction…..?"
There was a pause at this. Scott looked up towards the slowly darkening sky and continued.
"Then I come here, and the men I work with……many of them are….like me. They saw the war. They lived it. They did and saw the same things I saw. Some of them were even prisoners, or if they weren't someone they knew…." Scott thought of Ridley's Marine friend at this. "I never thought I'd feel able to talk to anyone without getting angry at myself, knowing all the things I managed to inflict, all the men I watched die. But these guys…..they live different than me. They live lives that have much more freedom, because they made a few better decisions than I did. Most of them come from the same station, and again I'm an outsider. And yet with all of that, they accepted me. I'm like a brother to almost all of them." Scott almost smirked at this. "To think, I thought all this time that there was something wrong with being more open. A few months out here does wonders to my foolish mind, eh?"
"It shows."
Scott turned to Mary at this. He looked at her, somewhat confused.
"Huh?"
"I mean…..not in a bad way." Mary quickly corrected herself. "I mean….you do somehow seem different. You're handling yourself around Hiram better, not going off on him."
"I'd still like to go off on him." Scott shook his head. "What he said about you was completely unacceptable."
"He's said and done worse, Scott."
"Yeah, I know." There was a hint of darkness in Scott's voice at this. "It's still unacceptable for him to say such things."
"…..I know."
By this time, the sun was completely behind the horizon, and only the moon and the blues and blacks of the night remained. They were accompanied by the white dots, the stars, that scattered themselves around the heavens. The desert did not lose its beauty either; the greys and dark brown shadows that now permeated the landscape around them took on another life, and the mountains became the shadows of giants trekking the night desert.
"You know, Mary….somehow, I feel like…..I'm supposed to be here. Of course, most people would think of that as crazy talk, especially the fellas where I work." A cold wind began to blow; Scott took Mary into his arms. "I must admit, though, sometimes I feel myself to be the last to know anything; maybe because I was the last one here, or maybe everyone really does know more then they wish to let on. I guess….the work right now's a little stressful. Morale's low for several reasons, and I'm not one who likes working in those conditions."
"I know you don't like surprises." Mary looked down. "I wasn't sure what you'd say about this whole matter of publishing."
"….. Everything's a surprise, but I'll just have to take it in stride, as best as I can." Scott held his breath. "But I trust you. You're not going to humiliate me or anything; its just a little hedgehog. The truth is, most people will know him as nothing more than that, and I certainly don't mind being in its shadow."
There was another moment of silence at this. For some reason, Scott felt like he was lying, but he pushed this strange thought to the back of his mind. It was all Mary's to do with it, and in terms of his full role, he considered it small despite being the hedgehog's inspiration.
"…I…." Mary paused. "I….thank you for your trust, Hedgehog."
Scott gave a long sigh. It was one filled with relief, a sigh that almost seemed to exhale the weight of the secret that had burdened him for so many years. Then, he gave a smile, the first true smile he had done in ages.
"Come on, Mary." He rubbed her shoulders. "I'm hungry, and I want to know more about what you're writing."
------------------------
The drive home was much more lively than the drive to the restaurant. The whole time, Scott and Mary laughed. It helped that they were both slightly drunk, though the subtraction of drink would not have been a loss to their conversations.
"So!…" Scott snorted. "This evil dictator in your story….you made him the bastard child of Hitler and Mussolini. I like that."
"I figured you would."
"And the little hedgehog…?"
"I think I'll make him blue," Mary teased. "Besides, he's blue on your jacket."
"Well," Scott mocked. "That is because you had no brown yarn to work with, ma'am."
"Oh," Mary stuck her tongue out at him. "I think the fact your hair's turned the same color must be a sign. The little blue hedgehog that saves the world!"
"Well," Scott smirked back, "There goes the poor hedgehog's ability to blend into the background with those other little hedgehogs."
The conversation over dinner, which had been Monterrey crab and salt potatoes, had been the specifics of the stories Mary had been writing. Most of them, Scott learned, resembled the stories she told to Sherry.
Essentially, it was about a little hedgehog whom saved the world's seven continents from an aspiring world dictator. The evil, mad, mustached, egg-shaped dictator, armed with his charm and his evil army, turned his animal subjects into mindless slaves who were like robots; those who refused to surrender were put to work in metal-making factories, forgotten as they worked to death. Though the dictator attacked other countries with many terrible weapons, the dictator was still human, so he was trusted by the other humans until, eventually, he betrayed them as well.
Soon, all the evil dictator needed to complete his quest for world domination were seven gems - each gem representing the power of the people's souls, each kept on a continent of Earth. When all seven were collected, the person who had them could control the people of Earth forever. Since no one else seemed to know of the gems or where they were, the Eggman - as the rebels called him, as no one knew his true name, which was Robotnik - figured he could win easily.
However, just when the dictator thought he was going to win, a prophesy came: One who knew the Eggman's true name would defeat him. Sure enough, a small hedgehog, a wanderer who happened to know of Eggman's real name, suddenly appeared and vowed to stop him. With the help of his friends, he collected the gems and used the power of good to defeat the evil man, banishing evil from the world for all eternity.
"Boastful but innocent, eh?" Scott smiled mischievously. "Are you going for paradoxes?"
"Ha." Mary chuckled. "I'll have you know that you can be very boastful. Innocent is questionable, I admit."
The two laughed like they had not laughed in a very long time. The cool wind blew into the car as they drove; soon, they could see the distant lights of Los Angeles. They were not far from the military housing facilities at this point; the time had flown by too fast, and they both wished the drive could be longer.
"Ah, here we are." Scott spotted the appropriate turn. "Mary…..I'm wondering if you've thought of a name for the hedgehog?"
"Hmm…." Mary wiped their hair from her eyes. "You know…..I actually never thought of a name. I should, though, shouldn't I?"
"Heh…"
Scott blinked. There were a lot of cars on the road at this time of night, and all of them seemed to be leaving the base. He looked at this with a confused expression as he started to turn on the road the Yeagers lived on..
"What in the heck….?"
"Sir!!"
"SCOTT!!!"
Scott's eyes bolted back towards his side of the road. He managed to slam on the brakes just in time, missing the officer by mere inches.
"Damn….sorry, Mary."
"Scott!" Mary gave several gasps. "I thought for sure you were going to hit him. Pay attention!"
"Sir?"
The officer, clearly relieved, slowly moved towards Scott's side of the car. In return, both Mary and Scott looked at the officer - a lieutenant - with confusion. Behind him was a hastily set up roadblock, complete with wooden road liners, MP cars blocking the way and flashing lights.
"Look's serious." As the officer came closer, Scott slowly wound down his window. "Is something the matter, sir?"
"Excuse me, sir." After a moment of maneuvering, the officer leaned his head into the car. "I apologize for the delay. There's been a situation in this neighborhood."
"….A situation?"
"I'll need to ask for your identification, sir, and for your military issue ID for verification."
"Uh…..certainly, sir." Scott quickly went into his suit pocket. He produced his brown, leather wallet and flipped it open for the officer to see "How serious is the situation, sir?"
"Serious." The officer's eyes widened. "Sir, you are USAAF Capt. Scott Garnet?"
"…Yes, sir."
"Sir…." The officer looked nervous. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'll have to ask you and the lady to step out of the car right now."
"….No problem, lieutenant."
Scott looked over at Mary, who returned his glance with a glance of concern. Slowly, but surely, the two of them stepped out of the car. Nodding, the officer motioned for them to follow.
"I apologize for doing this, sir." Scott watched carefully as two others quickly moved the wooden road liners. "I need you to come with me."
Scott and Mary looked at each other yet again as they were walked briskly down the road. Scott, in particular, couldn't understand what was going on. He hadn't done anything wrong, at least not that he knew of. He hadn't seen anything happen; he didn't even live there. He couldn't get why they were detaining him, or letting him in, whichever one it turned out to be.
For five minutes, he went through every possible thing that could have happened. When everything concerning him was eliminated, however, a new possibility, one even more terrifying than anything he could think of when it came to him, crossed his mind.
Sherry.
His eyes looked up towards the direction of the Yeagers' house. His eyes widened in terror.
"SHERRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
He was instantly running towards the house. White cars - white ambulatory cars - surrounded it along with the brown MP cars. Scott knew what was going on, had a terrible sensation that went from his stomach down to his groin, when he was close enough to read what it said on the sides of the white automobiles.
SAN JOAQUIN SANATORIUM, the logos blared. Scott's stomach turned. Sanitoriums only came to someone's house for one reason, and one reason only.
"SIR!!! WAIT!!!!!!!"
If Scott had not slowed down, the lieutenant would not have been able to catch up to him. He had been running like crazy towards the group of cars, but the horror of realization caused him to slow down to a shocked jog. He didn't even feel the man grab his arm; he simply slowed down, his mouth open, his eyes staring in disbelief.
"…No….."
"Sir, I'm sorry…." The lieutenant quickly went into his pocket. "You'll have to put this mask on if you want to go in. Its standard procedure."
"This can't be happening…."
"Scott….."
Mary had taken her shoes off to run after him; however, she, too, had stopped when she saw the cars. Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with her hands.
"Oh……oh my god…." Scott heard her muffled voice shake. "Oh, god, Scott, he didn't do this…..he didn't……"
"I'm sorry, ma'am…." The lieutenant looked nervous as he spoke. "I'm sorry, but we got a call at about one this afternoon from the Yeager house. A man in his early fifties was collapsed on the floor, coughing up blood, and he was unable to breathe properly on his own. It was full-blown tuberculosis; from the sound of it, the medics said this man had it for years."
"Oh, God……" Mary's voice began to shake violently. She understood, began to grasp. "Oh my God…..Scott, he couldn't….he……oh, God, Scott, your father!!"
"They had to take everyone who was there at the house away - the residents, and I assume your daughter as well." Scott's mind started to not hear the man speak; his stomach, his whole body was numbed with shock. "We may have to ask you to come with us as well, if you've been exposed….."
------------------------
He finally got to the San Joaquin Sanitorium at three in the morning.
"Hiram Garnet." He slammed his hand down on the desk. "Please, I need to see him. Now."
The nurse, startled by Scott's sudden entrance, gave him a look of suspicion and amusement as she slowly scanned him. He returned her look with a glare from his glazed, bag-saddled eyes.
"He's in room 4. But…" Suddenly, she grabbed his hand as he started to walk towards the ward. "Visitor hours are not until 9 am. So I'm afraid you'll have to wait somewhere until then."
"…I'll wait here."
With that, Scott sat, twiddling his thumbs as he looked down towards the floor. The nurse went to say something; upon his looking at his glance, she fell silent and said nothing.
He said nothing for the entire six hours; he did nothing but sat with his head down towards the floor and his entire body slumped in the chair. Occasionally, he would rub his hand through his hair and give a sad sigh. The nurses and doctors would look over at him inquisitively, but would eventually not bother with him.
As for Scott, his mind was filled with drowsy thoughts of the past several hours. The drive had been five long hours of highways and confusing back roads, and the lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll on the young man.
The sun that came up during that time he waited, with its bright rays and glaring light shining into the hallway. When the sun showed the full extent of the physical results of the past day and a half of his life. His brown eyes were red and bloodshot as he rubbed them to the point where they were going to tear up from having no rest. The bags underneath his eyes, the slight stubble on his chin, the disarray of his suit and his generally pale countenance also attested to the mounting stress he was going through.
….Pops…. Though his mind was filled with questions, one question in particular kept running through his head the whole six hours, and it gnawed at him each time he came back to it. Pops, how could you…how could you do this……..
"Excuse me."
Scott's head jerked up at the voice. His eyes widened as he looked around for the origin of the voice.
"Sir?"
Scott then looked up. A grey-haired man in a white smock looked down at him, his eyes showing slight amusement even though his face was covered with a surgical mask. Slowly, Scott stood up.
"Urm…."
"May I help you?"
"Um…." Scott looked around nervously. "I'm…..um……I'm here to see someone."
"Name?"
"….Hiram Garnet." Scott fingered his shirt lapel. "He's my….father."
"Garnet, eh?" The doctor seemed to muse for a moment, then nod. "Oh, yes. The new case. Just a moment."
Scott watched as the doctor went down the hall and into the sterile, white-walled ward. He walked into several of the rooms, peering into each before coming out and going further down into the hall. Scott watched closely, though his eyes felt heavy, and his vision was starting to blur. Nevertheless, he forced himself to stay awake as the doctor began to return.
"Ahh….yes…." In the doctor's hand was a surgical mask. "I'm afraid that the severity of his case forces us to take certain precautions to ensure minimal exposure to the tuberculosis cells."
"…Sure."
Scott took the mask and put the strap on behind his head, covering his mouth and nose. Nodding, the doctor motioned for him to follow.
"I sincerely feel sorry for you and your family, Mr. Garnet." Scott felt the doctor's hand on his shoulder. "I myself have had several deaths to Mycobacterium tuberculosis. It is a devastating illness to watch."
"….You know my daughter?"
"The little girl, and your two friends." Scott sucked in his breath as the doctor spoke. "But I would not worry. I have seen your daughter and your friends, and given the accounts they have given, they have not had enough collective exposure to the disease to actually contract the active form of it.: The doctor opened a door. "Your father only visited once every couple of weeks, when you were home, yes?"
"….Yes…."
"Though that gives a 10 percent of your daughter contracting it, I would not be too worried." Scott found himself inside a thin, white-walled room with a small desk-like apparatus in the middle of it. "Sit, please."
"Sir?"
"I am going to give you a small test." The doctor opened up a cabinet. "I am going to give you a purified protein derivative - a PPD."
"Huh?"
"A skin test." Scott could only grimace suspiciously at the needle the doctor suddenly presented, followed by a small vial, which he then inserted the needle into. "This will sting a bit when I inject it into you, but there should be no problem. Hold out your arm, please."
Scott licked his lips as a swab was rubbed on his forearm. Then, he felt the needle slide in. There was no painful sensation, though he could feel a slight sting under his skin as the liquid went into his pores, creating a large, red bump just under his skin. It looked almost like a bump of puss waiting to become a whitehead, a mosquito bite, as the needle came out, but Scott knew better than to pick at it.
"There. Hmm, its already going down." The doctor nodded. "Good. Same as the others. An indication you're negative."
"My daughter?"
"Your daughter and the Yeagers are fine." Scott felt relief come to him as the doctor spoke. "They will be allowed home tomorrow at the earliest."
"…..Swell….."
Scott paused. He knew it wasn't really great. He had questions.
"….May….I see my father?"
"Of course, young man." The doctor put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Right this way."
With that, the doctor walked him across the hallway, opening a door. What Scott was quietly ushered into was a large, stone walled room with several large windows, completely white washed. Everything was white; beds, sheets, clothing, curtains, frames, and even the rugs and lamps were white. There were at least thirty beds in the room; there were ten nurses, all donning white candy stripes, caps and surgical masks, whisking around and handing out small shot glasses filled with a light red substance from metal trays. It was also very quiet, almost eerily silent, save for the occasional, uncontrollable coughing of the sick in the beds.
"He's over here." As Scott walked with the doctor, a nurse bussed past him, smacking into his shoulder. She said nothing to him. "He's badly off, I'm afraid. We are still not sure when he acquired the disease, but we assume he has had it for a long time. We called the doctor and confirmed that he at least knew of the condition he was in for several months, if not years, and the doctor had recommended confinement."
"…..Several years?"
"Yes…" The doctor sounded uneasy as he heard Scott's reply. The uneasiness disappeared an instant later. "Have you noticed symptoms of coughing and weight loss?"
"…..Well…." Scott mumbled as they turned to the right. He looked down. "I noticed that he was coughing a lot, and I had my wife goad him into going to a doctor. He may have lost some weight, but my father's always been a thin man. He also smoked…"
"Well, the smoking probably didn't help. We noticed an amount of what looked like tobacco in his lungs when we did an x-ray," the doctor replied. "Its possible the smoking worsened his condition, but right now we have too little information on what tobacco can do to a person to really make much of that. But in your father's case, it probably didn't help, and we can definitely tell."
"…Ok…"
The doctor stopped, and Scott looked up. Staring back at him was his father, sitting up in the bed, staring at him with a weak glare. He looked thinner, more sunken in, more pathetic in his white nightgown. His normally slicked back hair was greasy and unkempt, and his arm was attached to an IV bag. Next to his bed was a small side table, where the shot glass was kept.
"…..Pops."
"I'll leave…you two alone." The doctor turned away. "I'll be visiting other patients. If you have any questions, Mr. Garnet, feel free to come over to me."
With a nod, Scott turned to his father, walking to the side of the little table. As he stared into his father's eyes, he began to feel the strange impulsiveness that he has felt the day before. The same feeling of recklessness, of freedom, as if what he was about to do was right. His eyes closed, squinted at the shadow that had once been his father. With the impulsiveness, with the stare, he could feel his anger start to rise, and he tried his best not to let the rage out.
"…..Scott." His father spoke first. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"….Why else would I be here?" Scott's controlled tone was much angrier than he had thought it would be. "I'd like to ask a few questions of you, father."
"What questions would you ask me?"
"Don't pull that shit, pops." Scott's voice was sharp. "Don't you dare."
"So I'm sick." Hiram shrugged. "What's the deal?"
*WHAM!*
Scott's fist dented the small table with a loud bang. The small vial flew off of the side and shattered into a hundred tiny pieces. The red substance trickled from the shards, staining the rug around one of the bedposts. Several patients in the vicinity of Hiram's bed were taken by this action, and they began to watch with curiosity.
"You ass." Scott's voice darkened. He could feel his anger rise, and was beginning to find it hard to control. "You lied to me. You lied to me, you lied to Mary-"
"What's it to you?" Hiram struggled to sit up straighter. "You think I'm the only one who's done wrong here?"
"I'm not the one who kept his illness a secret!" Several more patients and two nurses began to look on. "I'm not the one who didn't tell his family that he was dying!"
"Oh, you care now, kid? What a shock!" Hiram weakly threw his hands up. "You never seemed to care before. It's only important if it applies to your new family, huh?"
"What the hell are you talking about?!" Scott's eyes widened. "This is your daughter-in-law! Your granddaughter!!!! They're your FAMILY! They're a part of your family! How is it I suddenly and supposedly have a new family?!"
"What do you think I'm talking about, boy?!?"
"Why are you blaming this on me! I didn't get you sick! You got yourself sick! And you didn't tell us!!!" Scott's voice was almost shouting. "You have NO idea how worried I was about all of this, during the entire time I drove here!!! Have you any realization that you could have KILLED people because you hid this from us?!?"
"Well, if you hadn't had your daughter," Hiram finally snapped. "Maybe you wouldn't have to worry about anyone dying!!!!!!"
There was a sudden, terrible silence at this. Several more of the other bedmates looked on as Scott simply stared at his father, his mouth open, unable to say a word.
"…..You…….."
Scott could not believe his ears at what he had just heard. It couldn't have been possible that his father…..his father…..could have thought of such a terrible thing up, no matter what happened. It was his father.
But it made to much sense; it all came back, it all came together like a cruel truth that had always been dangling in front of Scott, just waiting, taunting him, as he stretched vainly to reach it. The secrecy, the anger, the sarcasm and insults his father hurled. All of the visits his father made. All the coughing he did. All of the time; ever since Sherry had been born, even before, Mary would write of the coughing. Even before then, when Scott would come home from elementary school, he'd see his father with a nagging cough, and his mother trying to make him comfortable.
Then his mother got sick and died, and it had started to get worse….He thought all the smoking had made it worse…..wait…..his mother had been the same way.
Oh, God, no…..
The next thought that came into his mind sickened him. Now Scott knew it wasn't just a nagging cough all those years that just got worse from the smoking…..and it was no accident that his father had never said anything.
All because of him. All because of Sherry. Because of a mistake that came out right for once.
Scott's eyes almost immediately hardened towards the man who could do such a thing to his own family. He had been right; the impulsive insult he had hurtled at his father about jealousy, right on the mark. About his mother, about the war….about everything.
He could feel himself pale; he knew that he wouldn't be pale for long, as the blood was already coming to his cheeks. His hands, his arms, his whole body began to shake violently with pure rage.
"You………"
His hands clenched to the point where his nails cut skin. He glared at his father, this bitter, pale, thin old man pretending to be a father, his open mouth in an almost animal-like snarl. The rage and anger he felt because of this man, from all of the insults, and hits, the cuts and bruises, all of the blood that had been brought up by the disease and by Hiram's own hand, and now the deaths he could have caused and did cause. It was all contained by a single, paper-thin shred of desperate restraint, a final failsafe of protest against violence, a threshold that he had only crossed once before.
Then that was lost, and Scott crossed.
"YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
The next thing Scott knew, his fist smashed into his father's face. He could feel the blood pour onto his hand, dripping down onto the bed. His father gave a gasp, a violent shudder, slamming his head back into the bed frame. Blood began to trickle down from his skull, dripping onto the bedposts. But Scott didn't care. His rage got the best of him. All he wanted to do now was to make Hiram suffer.
"MR. GARNET!" Before Scott could take another swing, the doctor was on him, pulling him back. "SIR!!"
"YOU GODDAMN FUCKING ASSHOLE!!" Scott was screaming; he didn't hear anyone, only saw the truth. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!?!?!?!? SHE'S YOUR FUCKING GRANNDAUGHTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"SIR!!!!!!"
"SHE WAS YOUR @#%$ WIFE!!!!!" Scott's rage only grew. "HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU DO THIS TO YOUR OWN FUCKING FLESH AND BLOOD?!?!?!?"
"SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Hiram could only watch in shock as his son was restrained at his bedside, first by the doctor, then by several nurses. He could almost taste the angry tears of betrayal coming from Scott's eyes, and his angry scream pulsed into his ears.
It was something Hiram had wanted to hear for so long. It was the anger, the rage of Scott being unable to stop Hiram from finally imposing his will on him that Hiram wanted to see. He wanted to show Scott that he had won. Ever since Scott, a mere eighteen years old, had come home that fateful day almost five years ago with Mary, and had sat him down to tell him that Mary was carrying Scott's child, Hiram wanted nothing more than revenge on Scott. For betraying him, for dragging down the Garnet name, for defying him and deviating from what Hiram wanted. He didn't care the cost, so long as Scott knew who the boss of Scott's destiny was. As far as Hiram had always been concerned, he was supposed to be the boss, not Scott.
Until now. As he held his bleeding nose, as he felt a cough come up to his throat, he saw something else that was totally unexpected. Gazing into Scott's enraged expression, looking deep into his eyes, Hiram saw a glimpse of something else. It was something he could not control, a power in Scott's soul that came out now, that came to show Hiram what he did, and what had happened to Scott as a result.
It was then that Hiram realized he lost the battle for control, and in essence lost the war forever. There was nothing left of the Scott Garnet that Hiram had once been able to commandeer. The son Hiram once had, the son that was obedient to him, who shared his beliefs, who was his carbon copy, and who took all of his blows with no complaint, was completely gone. The new Scott that had replaced him was seen within his eyes, brimming with an emotional, almost inhuman fire that was nothing that Hiram had ever taught him. There was a new master of Scott's destiny, one that transcended Hiram's insignificant workings.
"YOU BASTARD!!!!!" The angry new Scott, the Scott that no longer had Hiram as his father, screamed even as he was dragged off. "YOU…..YOU……WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!!!!"
"Calm down, Mr. Garnet!!!" The doctor turned to one of the nurses. "Come on, help me get him out of here, and get a sedative if he doesn't calm down after we get him out…"
"I HOPE YOU BURN IN HELL!!!!" Scott pointed a finger of damnation at his father even as he was dragged off. "I HOPE YOU FUCKING DIE! I HOPE YOU DIE A SLOW, PAINFUL DEATH! YOU FUCKING PRICK!!!!!!!! YOU FUCKING CHEAPSKATE!!!!!!! YOU CAD!!!!!!!"
Scott's insults echoed through the room even as he was taken out. By this time, every single person left in the room - all of the patients, visitors and nurses - were now looking at Hiram, their eyes and expressions filled with shock and confusion. To Hiram, they could have been stares of hate and condemnation.
"Scott……sca…..hu………..huh……..hua……"
He wanted to apologize; for the first time in his life, he wanted to say he was sorry. But it was too late for Hiram; his weak call for his only son ended in nothing more than an uncontrollable spiral of bloody, violent, disease-ridden coughs.