Road Trip

by Nicole Harpe

Sam is home. Gooshie has died. In order to help deal with their loss, Sam and Al talk with their families about a Road Trip they took while waiting to see if the government was going to fund the project.

4. Day Two On the Road Again

Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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Day Two - On the Road Again

Morning came and Sam woke early, but getting into bed at ten the night before sort of made waking early a given. He wandered up to the front office to get a newspaper. The same young man was behind the desk.

"Good morning, Dr. Beckett. Sleep good?"

Sam had no experience with people with mental retardation. For some unknown reason, he spoke loudly and slowly. "Yes, I did, thank you."

Phil sort of scowled a little. "I can hear you fine and I can understand you, too."

"I'm sorry." He asked for a newspaper. Phil pointed to the kiosk and Sam went back to his room paper in hand and foot in mouth. The room came with a coffee pot, instant coffee and tea. He brewed a cup of Lipton and settled in for another few hours.

Across the hall, Al was still asleep. The night before he walked to Pittsburgh's downtown and found a nice bar. One scotch and soda was all he drank, but it tasted good and the slight buzz calmed him. Getting his drinking under control really helped him appreciate the finer points of good scotch with the benefit of remembering everything he'd said and done. This time he met a group of patrons coming in for a drink after the opera. The foursome was discussing the finer points of Mozart's Don Giovanni. Al overheard and said, "You should have heard George London," but he didn't expect anyone to hear.

One of the young men asked him, "You saw George London sing Giovanni?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop." He went back to his drink.

The man pursued him, "But you heard George London. We heard Sherrill Milnes tonight."

Al had an Italian's appreciation for the most bizarre theatrical form. "Milnes would be good, but he's a baritone. Did it work?"

Both women at the table sighed and said, "Yes."

After sharing a laugh, they shared an hour of conversation. Then his new friends went on their way as did he. Hailing a cab, he got back to the motel just past one with a mild high from the liquor and the good time. The yawns began and he crawled into bed believing the night would be calm.

For the most part it was. Around dawn he sat bolt upright out of breath. It had to have been a dream, but he didn't remember what was going on in his head. He curled back up in bed and nodded off about half an hour later. He woke up again around nine and was surprised at the hour, but he felt rested. With noise from the TV in the background, he showered, dressed and packed up. Figuring Sam had been up for hours, he crossed the hall overnight bag in hand and knocked on the door. "Room service, Dr. Beckett."

The Admiral was unique in several ways, not the least of which was his voice. Try as he might, he couldn't disguise that sound in any way shape or form. Sam opened the door and was greeted by a cheerful Al Calavicci dressed in blue jeans, a red silk shirt and a string tie. Using both hands to point at the outfit Sam said, "You expecting Hoot Gibson?"

"What are you talking about? I wear this all the time in New Mexico."

"We're going to Indiana, Al, not a hoedown in Taos."

"So, there's a dress code for Indiana. What do I need? Overalls and a flannel shirt?"

Sam kind of sort of looked a little bashful when he quietly said, "I was hoping you'd look more like an Admiral."

"You mean the uniform?" Sam's lack of response told Al the answer. He had to laugh. "I'm not wearing my uniform to a camp in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. You think this looks weird? I'd look like a real idiot." He had to stop to laugh a little more. "I tell you what, if we go into town for dinner or something, I'll put on the dress blues. But I'm not showing up on the doorstep of Lake Witcheewatchee wearing my uniform."

Now Sam was laughing and turning about fourteen shades of red. "I guess you're right. Maybe we'll go into Ft. Wayne tomorrow for dinner."

"Ft. Wayne. How nice. Tell me, what kind of wine do you serve with Big Mac?"

He shook his finger at his friend. Smiling at him he said, "You're going to be surprised."

"I damn well better be." Pointing to the suitcases in the hall he told Sam, "Pack up the car. I'll check us out. Pull around front."

Five minutes later, they were back on the road with Al driving this time and Sam was antsy. "I'm not sure I like the idea of you driving."

"I'm fine, Sam. I slept really well last night and I didn't wake up until nine."

"How can you sleep so late in the day?"

"I went to bed around one thirty. That's not so bad."

"Why so late?"

"Took a long walk. Felt good."

"You shouldn't go walking alone in a strange city."

"Listen, Pops, I know Pittsburgh. I knew where I was going. I'm a big boy now and Mom said I could go."

Sam knew he was being overprotective, but the incident at the committee hearing and the nightmare yesterday morning, well, they frightened him. Al usually had good color regardless of the season, but he was looking a little pale and a little more tired than usual. "Okay, I'll stop." He reached in the back seat for the case of music Gooshie sent along. "Let's get some tunes going here. What are you interested in listening to?"

"Read off some to me."

Looking into the case Sam saw a bizarre collection of stuff. "Let's see. Steppenwolf. The Beatles, Sgt. Pepper. Tina Turner. The King's Singers. Roy Orbison. Patsy Cline. Man of La Mancha, but we're not supposed to listen to that until the last day. Rigoletto because we're both such opera lovers."

"Speak for yourself, boy. I like opera. Used to go all the time when I was in New York. Sat up in the cheap seats."

"You like opera?"

"You don't? You have the degree in music."

"Yeah, but screaming women never was my idea of entertainment."

"Depends on why they're screaming, kid."

It took too long for Sam to catch the double meaning in Al's comment and that always embarrassed him. "Why do you say things like that?"

"All you have done today is ask me questions. Why? What? How? When? Let's just talk like people. Put on Steppenwolf. I feel like I'm born to be wild today." Sam opened the cassette and slipped it into the dash. "Now, Sam, you know how to play that cassette, don't you?"

"You kidding?"

He turned the sound system on and hit the volume to full blast and with the sun behind them they both sang as loud as possible, "Get yer motor runnin'. Head out on the highway. Looking for adventure in whatever comes our way."

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The sign at on the side of the highway indicated that Camp Amazing Grace was five miles down the side road they just turned onto. Sam was driving now and the smile on his face told Al that his young friend was excited, so he thought he'd mess with him. "Camp Amazing Grace? Is this a cult thing, Sam?"

"Cult? Of course not. My cousin Dave is a Methodist minister."

"I heard of Methodists. We didn't have many where I grew up. Are they safe?"

Sam caught on. "Okay, okay. So the camp is faith-based. They'll let a heathen in."

"Good thing." He stared out the window. It didn't look like anything good would be anywhere around here. It was flat winter farm country with nothing to see. "They live here all year round?"

"Yeah. Dave and Deb got the call for Amazing Grace about 20 years ago. They love it. Both their boys grew up here."

"Boys? You know, you never told me who's going to be at this festival."

"Well, Dave and Deb Erskine. Dave's my first cousin on my Mom's side. Deb is his wife and they have two boys, Jason and Tom. Jason is set to go into the Navy. His younger brother Tom was named after my brother."

In his head, Al sighed - another bit of Vietnam to confront. "So that's Dave and Deb - that's cute, Jason and Tom. Your mom's name is Thelma and your sister is Katie. Who's the husband?"

"Great guy. He's in the Navy, a Petty Officer, great guy. I told you that, right?"

"Often."

"Sorry. Anyhow his name is Chuck Zdenek."

"Gesundheit."

"Yeah, it's kind of hard to say. We tried to convince Katie to keep Beckett, but Chuck didn't want her too."

That rankled the Admiral. "He didn't want her to? It wasn't his decision to make."

Sam shrugged. "I guess Katie decided, too. It's her name."

"Yeah, it is her name. That's the point."

"Let it go, Al. I like him. He's got at four inches on me and all muscle. Chuck is a great guy."

Something didn't feel right. Whenever someone was called a great guy so often it usually meant he wasn't as great as he seemed. "Katie must be an old-fashioned girl, huh?"

Sam laughed. "Katie? No chance." The car was turned off the two lane bump fest they were driving on and onto a dirt road. "Mom and Katie should be there already." The grin ran clear from one ear to the other.

The terrain changed a bit. There were more trees now and the scenery more wooded and in some ways seemed more isolated. "Damn, what happens if you get sick out here?"

"Are you planning on getting sick?"

"No, it was just a question."

"Actually, it's a good one. You make sure you marry a nurse practitioner. Deb should have gone to med school. She's a natural doctor. Then, when you're building the new house, you make the attached garage space into an infirmary."

Sam pulled into the camp driveway and Al got his first view of the paradise Sam couldn't wait to see. As far as he could tell, it was a small house on one end and a meeting hall kind of thing at the other. People started coming out of the house and waving at them.

As they got out of the car, Al said, "It's the God damn Waltons. Do we call to each other before we go to sleep at night?"

The Beckett finger shook at the Admiral. "Be good. This is my family and you're a guest."

Of course he was a guest, but Sam just told him he was the outsider and it wasn't a good time for him to be feeling like one. Certainly Sam didn't mean it the way he felt it and that was his own responsibility. He ordered himself to stop feeling sorry for his lot in life and just have fun with these people who had a wonderful naïve love for each other that was at one time deep and another quite silly. They were in silly mode now and the Admiral had to smile. It was going to be an interesting visit.

Sam ran into his mother's arms and lifted the lady off the ground. "Mom, I am so glad to see you. You look great."

"Sam, put me down." She laughed. Her feet finally reached the ground again and she straightened her sweater. "What got into you?" He wasn't listening. His arms were around Katie now and she was getting the same treatment. Thelma shook her head and wandered over to Al. "You must be Admiral Calavicci." She held out her hand. "I'm Thelma Beckett."

"I sort of figured that out and please call me Al."

"I was hoping you'd say that. It's hard to think of Sammy's friends as being Admirals."

Now Al wore the grin and he was enchanted by a life that allowed a Noble prize winning physicist's mother to have a hard time thinking her Sammy had friends that were admirals. "He has a lot of friends who are senators and congressmen, too. Might be a general or three in the mix as well."

She blushed just a bit. "Oh, I know. I still think of him as my little boy. All that other stuff he does, that's some Dr. Beckett person that Time Magazine writes about occasionally."

Al watched Sam go from cousin to cousin, back to sister, to sister's husband and then back to mom. He stood to the side and started pulling cases from the car's trunk. A pair of hands showed up right next to his and pulled out a garment bag. Looking over he saw a teen-aged boy, a young man closer to the end of his teens than the beginning. "Hi, Admiral Calavicci. I'm Jason Erskine."

So this was the next Navy recruit. "Hello, Jason. Thanks for the help."

"No problem, sir. Welcome to the cage."

"The cage?"

The boy laughed at the inside joke. "Yeah, Camp Amazing Grace - C A G. Tom and I didn't like the sound of 'cag,' so we started calling the cage and it stuck." Jason closed the trunk. "I'll get the bags inside. You go meet everyone."

"Thanks, Jason." Al stood alone for a moment. Somehow he had to be away from people at night. He was having trouble enough as it was with the dreams, but now a living breathing Tom was there to remind him constantly of Sam's dead brother left behind in Vietnam and the nickname for this paradise was "the cage." He spent six years living in camps living in cages. Too many triggers were here and while he didn't go for all the psych crap thrown at him, the word trigger stuck. He knew them when he saw and heard them. This was a week of triggers.

But you never know, he tried to toss those oddball ideas out of his head. On the other side of the group he spotted the other outsider, Katie's husband Chuck something. He smiled, but Chuck didn't respond to him. Something was cold about the guy and Al knew there was one person he wasn't going to get along with well. Maybe the guy knew he was an admiral. It's hard to be on vacation and have your job follow you. Al opted to give the guy a break and not let his own insecurity get transferred onto a person he hadn't even met yet.

He was into his own head so deep that he didn't see the rush of Becketts and Erskines coming at him. Before he knew it, everyone was back in the house, a beer was in his hand and in unison at least three people invited him to sit down.

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They sat in the comfortable living room holding a minimum of four conversations at once in which each person was involved in at least two. Sam was trying to find out all the gossip about everyone he was ever related to. Katie and Thelma were huge founts of information for him. The Erskine sons, Jason and Tom were less interested in their cousin's stories than they were in the Admiral's They didn't get a real astronaut at their home often - make that never. Needless to say, Al's uncanny ability to spin tales enthralled them with the account of the shuttle mission that went berserk. Chuck sat in the circle, but again, his posture seemed off.

Al couldn't help it. Chuck bothered him. The man said maybe two words since they arrived and those were, "Welcome, sir," and Al would swear he heard Chuck mumbling right after that, "Fucking admirals think they own us."

Had they been in another place, Al would have called the Petty Officer on it, but this was Sam's family and his feelings weren't all that hurt. His concern was for the mental health of a guy who had two such obvious opposite sides of his personality. He wasn't going to push it at all. The tactic he chose was to avoid Chuck when he could and when he couldn't, avoid him anyhow.

It came time for dinner and this home was used to big parties. All nine people sat around a table that could easily seat half a dozen more. Food started being placed on the table and it kept coming. It was a farm banquet - fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn pudding, green beans, carrots, a big salad and homemade buttermilk biscuits. The big surprise for Al was a bowl filled with sautéed escarole fragrant with garlic and olive oil. "Okay, I can buy everything on the table being farm food, but greens with garlic? That doesn't sound like the Midwest to me."

Thelma placed the bowl near Al. "I wanted to make something in your honor. Sam said, unlike him, you like your veggies and I found this recipe in an Italian cookbook." With a mom's smile she teased, "Do you know how hard it is to find prosciutto in Indiana?"

"You got prosciutto in there? Excellent!" He helped himself to a plateful. Sam's lip began to curl in disgust. "Beckett, you don't know what you're missing."

"I'm missing garlic breath and green gunk in my teeth."

"Try a toothbrush. That'll take care of both problems."

Dave laughed and held his hands out. Al looked on wondering what was happening. Everyone took the hand of the person next to him. He was Italian, so when in Rome . . . Dave began, "For food in a world where many walk in hunger; For faith in a world where many walk in fear;
For friends in a world where many walk alone; We give you thanks, O Lord. Amen."

The prayer was another surprise for Al. "I liked that, Dave."

"Thanks. I found it when I was looking for a prayer for this meal. I thought it might strike a chord with you."

Al wasn't sure what that meant, but he was heartened by Sam's family's care in preparing for his arrival. Thelma searching out prosciutto, Dave choosing a prayer that would mean something to him, he started to think Sam was wrong. He wasn't a guest at this gathering. It was graduation day from friend to family. And a bigger surprise, he liked it.

The meal ended with Katie's infamous apple pie with a choice of toppings - vanilla ice cream or a wedge of nice sharp cheddar cheese. Everyone wanted ice cream except for Al and Katie. "You know, Admiral, they just don't understand that apples and cheddar are perfect."

"Your brother is a food wimp. Took me months to get him to try a taco."

Chuck spoke up. "I'm with the doc. I hate Mexican food."

Sam wiped a dribble of melting ice cream from his chin. "Oh, I like it now, Chuck. Eat it all the time in New Mexico. It's good. What's that stuff you got me eating, Al? The chocolate stuff on chicken."

Fourteen year old Tom almost gagged. "Chocolate on chicken. That's gross."

"Not chocolate like in a Hershey bar. In Mexico, they use chocolate a lot more than we do. When you don't sweeten it, it's used in savory foods too. Sam's talking about chicken molé. It's very good. And you haven't ever tasted hot chocolate until you have it in Mexico. They put cinnamon in it and it's great."

Jason was intrigued by the Admiral. Everything he said was fascinating even when it wasn't. "Admiral Calavicci, have you been everywhere?"

"No, I don't think so. It just seems like it."

Sighing, the young man said, "Sometimes I don't think I'll ever get out of Indiana."

A lifetime of unique encounters had its trade-off and had Al the opportunity, he might just exchange his extensive array of experiences for the stability of a family, for a place where he knew he was always welcome and loved. "Don't underestimate Indiana. There are things in the world not worth seeing. That's the problem with going too many places too many times."

Chuck offered an opinion. "There's a lot to see and do. He can't do it all from Indiana."

Al understood the unsaid words behind the comment. It was an invitation for the Admiral to shut up. No one seemed to notice except for Chuck, Al and Katie. The evening was going too well to make trouble and Chuck wasn't worth it. "True enough, but unless you're careful, you never really know what you got until you don't have it anymore." His dessert plate was empty. "Sort of like pie except this time I'm hoping seconds are okay."

Sam held out his plate. "And I get whatever's left."

Everyone returned to the living room for more conversation and laughing. It was approaching midnight when Thelma brought things to an end. "It's time for me to go to bed. Morning comes early here."

Sam yawned. "Yeah, it's been a long day. How are we doing sleeping arrangements, Dave?"

The camp director stood with his hands on his hips. "Okay, Aunt Thelma is already settled into the guest room. Jason will throw a sleeping bag in Tom's room and that way the Admiral can take Jason's bed. Sam, I thought you could take the first floor room in the lodge. Katie and Chuck are already set up on the second floor."

Sam nodded. "Sounds good."

Al held up his hands. "I'm not throwing a kid out of his room. I can go to the lodge. Sam, you take Jason's room. You'll have more time to spend with your mom."

The look on the Admiral's face told Sam the true story. It was less likely that others would know about his nightmares if he was away from them, but Sam was hesitant to leave Al alone if the dreams returned. "What if we both use the lodge? Then Jason can stay in his room."

Older brother teased Jason just like Sam remembered his brother Tom teasing him. "What? And take away the joy of throwing things at the kid all night?"

Al was insisting. "Really, Sam, you stay here. You know I like a little space on occasion."

That was true, but Sam still hesitated in letting Al be alone without someone nearby, but he was going to lose the argument eventually. Might as well give in now. "Well, okay. I'll help you get your stuff over there." He walked out to gather Al's suitcase and garment bag.

Thelma touched Al's shoulder and smiled as she planted a mom's kiss on his cheek. "See you in the morning, Al."

In his head he told himself, "They are the God damn Waltons," but he simply said, "Goodnight, ma'am. Sleep well."

Sam looked at his friend as if he'd grown two heads. This was a different Al, one who actually seemed like someone who could use a mom on occasion, even at his age. "Let's go, Al. Grab a flashlight."

Al stared Sam down, his eyes tightening into slits. "Why do we need a flashlight?"

"For the bears, Al. You shine the light in their eyes and they run into the woods." His friend didn't really believe him, but Sam could see a little uncertainty. "The path is dark, Al. That's all. There are no bears around here. Right, Dave?"

Playing along Dave said, "Not too many. Mostly moose now. They're mean this time of year. Better bring the moose deterrent whistle."

Everyone laughed at the greenhorn. "Okay. I've been had. See if I believe any of you again." He snapped the flashlight from Jason's hand and winked at the boy. "You want to get anywhere in the Navy, kid, you got to learn not to scam an Admiral." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chuck whisper into Katie's ear and she looked away from him, her eyes to the floor. Boy, he really didn't like Chuck, but then not everyone liked him either. He said his goodnights to all and walked down the dark path to the lodge, Sam at his side.

Even in the dark Sam's smile was visible. He took a deep breath. "Doesn't the air smell good out here? I'm so glad we came, Al. Gooshie was right. We needed to do this."

There wasn't anything to say. This trip was for Sam. He was along for the ride and that was okay. All he wanted now was a place to listen to some music and read before going to sleep. "Your family's terrific, Sam. Jason's going to be a great Navy officer. The kid's sharp."

"Tom's thinking about the Navy, too."

"Your family prepared to see them go off to war?"

"It's peacetime, Al."

But the world's military tenuousness was something Sam didn't pay a lot of attention to. The Middle East was a powder keg waiting to explode. "It won't be peacetime for long. Trust me."

"You've been wrong before."

Paraphrasing Sam's comment from the day before Al said, "Hey, I'm the Admiral. If I want an opinion on appendicitis, I'll ask you."

They walked into the lodge. Al expected something like a hunting lodge with overstuffed chairs, a bar in the corner and a huge fireplace. What he saw was basically a big barn with stacks of tables and chairs stacked to one side. Basketball hoops were across from each other at the near end. It was a barracks where at least fifty kids at one time could be found sleeping during the summer months. At the back was a massive kitchen equipped to handle dinner for all of those kids, chaperones and camp counselors. "I thought you said this was a lodge."

"It is." Al walked a little away from Sam. "This is a camp, Al, not a resort in Lake Tahoe."

"No kidding." His head scanned the cavernous space. "I've had worse digs. Okay, is this the room Dave was talking about?"

Sam was going to have fun at the Admiral's expense. "Yes. Dave figured your ego would just about fill this room."

But the Admiral was ready. "Really? You were supposed to be here, buddy. Not me."

He laughed. "True. While this would be a lovely space for you, I think that the chaperone's private room might be better." Pointing toward a door next to the kitchen he said, "It's this way." They entered a room no more that ten by ten, but it had a small private bathroom with a shower. "I realize it's not the Hotel Monaco, but it's clean."

"I told you, I've had worse digs." There was a nightstand with a lamp and a clock. The double bed took up most of the space and in the corner was a big old comfortable chair. "I think I like this." Plopping down in the chair, the soft cushions practically devoured him. "Hell, I might just fall asleep here."

Sam sat on the bed facing his friend. "Speaking of sleep, I'm nervous about you being out here. If you start having dreams again, no one will be able to help."

"And your point is?"

Stubborn, recalcitrant, bull-headed, obstinate - Sam had a full array of choices to describe his friend. "I know you don't want help, but someday you're going to need it and maybe by then no one will be around who'll want to."

Al stared at the ceiling, the well-being socked right out of him. "Yeah, well, I've been there. I survived it before. I can survive it again."

Deflating the Admiral wasn't his intention and Sam felt a twinge of guilt. "Listen, I'm sorry. I want to help you."

"Right, it's what you want." He faced Sam. "But it's not what I want. I don't need you to help me. If and when I do, I'll ask."

"But you won't ask."

"So why do you keep offering? Sam, let it go. Every so often I get into this nightmare shit and then it all goes away. Hell, it's happened at least. . ." he counted on his hand, "At least three times during Starbright and you never knew and I got through it."

"Was it going on when I found you smashing the vending machine with a hammer?"

Sam had to leave or Al was going to say something that could make the next few days very uncomfortable. "Let it go, Sam. I need to do this alone."

"Gooshie thought we needed to get beyond ordinary friendship, but you're not ready for that. I'm not sure when you will be, but I'll be here, okay?"

Now he had to tell himself to let it go. He was as close to blowing up at the kid as he had been in a long time. He sure as hell didn't need fixing and if he did, he could do it himself. "I'll see you in the morning."

The invitation to leave was evident. Sam patted his friend on the shoulder as he made his way out of the room. "Goodnight, Al."

Al wanted to knock the hand off his shoulder, but pulled in all his instincts and just let it pass. The kid was his friend, his best friend - no doubt. There were times though when Sam let his press dictate his opinion of himself. He was the century's smartest human being, an intellect DaVinci would have coveted. Trouble was he still didn't seem to realize there were a lot of kinds of intelligence. He lacked a basic understanding of the world. But Al was at fault too. He was tight and closed-up and even Sam wouldn't break through his protective front, that's if he had anything to say about it.

Dragging himself out of the chair, he got ready to crawl into bed and read. Somewhere in his bag was a book about something completely irrelevant. Irrelevance appealed to him at that moment. He dug a little deeper in his bag for that book. Short stories, good nighttime reading. None of it went on too long. A little Raymond Carver out here in the back woods also seemed terribly appropriate.

His military training never rested though and he heard a noise. It was quickly recognized. Chuck and Katie were on their way up the stairs. Sounded like their room was directly above his and every floorboard in the place creaked. With a small smile he said to himself, "I hope they're not planning on making babies tonight. That's all I need to be listening to."

After hanging up his shirt, he padded into the bathroom and turned the water on to wash up and brush his teeth. The bathroom turned out to be a megaphone into the Zdenek's rooms above and Al felt uncomfortably voyeuristic. He heard them as if they were in the room next to him rather than above. However, it wasn't eavesdropping when you couldn't help but hear.

"Why did your brother have to bring that prick?"

"Chuck, he's nice. He's not acting like an officer at all."

"You like him." There was a silence that hung in the air. "You like the bastard?"

"I didn't say that, honey." Her voice sounded thin and a little frightened. "I don't like him at all. He's just a stupid officer and they don't know anything."

Chuck's voice got louder. "You think I don't see what you're doing. You're not going to play me, bitch. You stay away from that prick. You understand?"

"But Sam wants us to get to know him. It's important to Sam." She squealed in pain. "Honey, please let me go. You promised not to do anything here. Please."

"Then you don't go anywhere near Calavicci. You don't say anything to him. He comes in the room, you go out. He says hello and you don't say a word."

"Someone's bound to wonder why I'm doing that. It will be easier if I pretend I like him and just don't spend time near him. Don't you think?" She squealed again.

That was all Al could put up with. His instincts about Chuck were right on the money. The guy was abusive. There were no second thoughts. Al found himself on the stairs going up to the Zdenek's room. The door was closed so he knocked. "Katie, open up, okay? I got to talk to you." His sharp ears heard them whispering to each other. "I want to see you." He knocked again.

Katie opened the door just a crack. "Admiral, we're on our way to bed."

"You okay?"

Smiling she said, "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Where's Chuck?"

Her smile couldn't get the fear out of her eyes. "Getting ready for bed."

"I want to talk to him."

"Can't it wait until morning?"

Then he finally knew where Chuck really was. The bully hid behind the door. Al turned in the Admiral, "Tell the Petty Officer standing behind the door that I will see him now. It's an order."

Chuck snapped the door open. "Why?"

"At attention, Petty Officer. I don't care if we're in uniform or not. I am an Admiral and you will abide by all Navy protocol until I give you permission not to." Chuck took a slovenly stance at attention. "I want to know what was going on up here."

Katie held her left forearm in her right hand. She knew things were only going to get worse. "Please, Admiral. We're fine."

Gently he took her left hand and pushed back her sleeve. Fresh bruises dotted her pale skin. "How did this happen?"

She hid the marks, "Oh, I don't even remember. I get bruises all the time."

He looked at Chuck. "You know anything about this?"

With true derision he answered, "No, sir, Admiral. I do not."

"You know, Katie, I bet your mom would love to have pillow talks with her little girl. Why don't you spend the night in the house? Chuck and I can stay out here. Two Navy guys, roughing it just like boot camp, right Petty Officer?"

The scowl in his voice hadn't changed. "I didn't think officers went to boot camp like real Navy men did, sir."

Katie had to stop the conversation or something bad would happen. She talked to Al. He would be the one to act sanely, not Chuck. "Admiral, we're fine. Sometimes we bicker a little, but we don't let it get to us."

"My room is right below yours. You need me just call. I can hear everything from down there." He stared at Chuck, his best commanding officer look plastered on his face, "This conversation is over, sailor. You need to recognize that with a salute."

Chuck stared right back. Reluctantly, his hand went to his temple and he said, "Goodnight, sir."

Al didn't want to leave Katie with Chuck, but at least the monster knew someone was in earshot of anything he might do. With true Navy professionalism, Al recognized Chuck's salute and left the couple hoping that he hadn't made things worse for Katie. The next day, he was going to have a long talk with Sam. Someone from inside the family had to intervene or Katie was going to be badly hurt.

Fifteen minutes later, he was in bed reading his book, but he couldn't concentrate. He kept trying to hear what was happening on the floor above, not sure if hearing nothing was a good thing or bad. After another hour of silence, he put his book away, turned off the light and fell sleep hoping he wouldn't end up waking the bastard upstairs with his own screams of terror.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you.