Ron's Worst Nightmares
Reconnecting, 1
By Pat Squared
Major Park, US Army Medical Corps looked upon the young marine assigned to his care. It was now his mission to return this young man to some semblance of normalcy.
Jesus Christ, how the fuck am I going to tell him that everything is going to be hunky dory. Nothing is ever hunky dory after you have seen the elephant.
Landsthul Regional Medical Center had its share of head doctors, but there were not that many head doctors in military service that saw his share of combat or lost his leg and an arm to a Soviet era landmine. Thus the staff assigned him to every amputee case.
It's kind of hard to bitch to a shrink that he does not understand that missing a leg is a major bitch when the shrink is missing one too.
With the situation in France, the wounded in the Middle East and Africa were now being ship via Morocco now. Landstuhl Regional Medical Center ceased being a transshipment point for the wounded coming out of the middle east. The patients here were stuck with whatever treatment could be rendered by the staff. There was no place else they could go.
Major Park examined all the charts, but there was no information that he could use to connect to the distraught young man. All he heard were rumors that Boiarskii's wife was in town trying to see him. However, no one seems to be able to contact her.
Park rubbed the stubble on his head with his remaining hand in frustration.
It was time.
Park rolled his wheelchair into the room.
The young man looked up at Park and just stared past him through the bandages covering his eyes. The notation on the chart stated that Boiarskii was very sensitive to light.
"Private, I'm Major Park."
However the words did not connect with the young man.
Major Park rolled forward until he could touch the young man's hands. The moment they made contact, it was as if the young man was shocked. The young man grabbed the major in a bear hug and started crying.
Major Park tried talking to the young man, but the young man did not acknowledge his words. Sliding out the beg hold, but careful to maintain physical contact via the hand, Major Park closely examined the young man.
Christ, no wonder why he did not respond. His eardrums were detached.
Being in darkness and no sound would break any man. Sensory deprivation was a very effective torture. Slowly the young man relaxed enough to let exhaustion overtake him.
Major Park made a phone call. He had to wait for the ear doctors to do their thing.
Ron Stoppable woke up to the sound of a chirp and a page for Dr. Goldstein to call extension 06-4523.
He was not sure if this was another act in his version of hell or if he was still alive. However, he had to act if he was still alive. If it was hell, nothing he would do could lessen the pain. If he was alive...
You don't deserve life you son of a bitch!
The negative voices in his mind were all too right. His mother and sister did not hurt anyone, yet they were killed. Kim trusted him and he let her down. His squad mates had families that they loved and that loved them and they were killed.
All Ron had was a skill of converting life into death and the demons of guilt and duty clawing into his soul.
God had forsaken him a long time ago. He was far too effective in punishing himself for hell to ever claim him. There was nothing else to do until the doctors let him out. As long as mankind had wars, there will always be another chance for Ron Stoppable to seek his salvation in the purity of purpose of sending a 175-grain match grade round into the cranial cavity of whoever pissed on the rights of the innocent.
Killing was his purpose in life. Killing would be his penance. Killing would be his way of cutting out an infection that would otherwise kill the pure among the sinners. Killing was the only way for this sinner to atone for his inadequacies.
Heaven had no place for him. His brush with death showed him a taste of hell. There were no bright lights and sunny fields, no relatives to welcome him to the afterlife.
No, he fell too far to ever be worthy of salvation. His salvation lied in the way of the gun. The way of the gun demanded that he heal up and prepare himself for the next act in the twisted play called life.
A creek told him that someone was entering the room.
Ron looked up at an Asian man in a motorized wheelchair enter the room.
"Private, I am Major Tom Park, US Army Medical Corps. You are in Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany undergoing treatment for gunshot wounds and malnutrition. The other docs have cut you up and now you frankly look like something from Dr. Frankenstein's lab. Physically you should recover pretty fast considering that you have successfully fooled the navy into sending multiple reports of your demise to your next of kin."
Ron knew that his jaw must have dropped.
"Don't worry. You wife is okay and the baby is okay too."
Wife, baby? What the ...
"However before she can see you, I have to evaluate the grey stuff that floats inside your skill. Make sure your synapses are firing properly and that you don't bark at the moon. Unlike the other butchers that specialize in cutting and sewing, I specialize in knocking some sense into that thick skull of yours. Question one is how that fuck could you be so dumb as to take on couple hundred SIMS by yourself? Gunning for the medal."
"SIMS, sir?"
"Sudanese Islamic Militia. The guys that nearly kill you."
"The Shits," Ron was mortified that he used his politically incorrect name for the opposition in front of an officer. "Sorry, sir. The SIMS ambushed my squad. I saw them dance in joy after killing them. They killed their own women and children. The killed others because they did not pray the same way they do. They were going to kill other marines. I will be a monkey's uncle if I did not stop them."
"By stopping them, I assume that you meant killing them?"
"Sir, I am a marine. The battalion motto was, 'Make Peace, or Die!' They did not make peace..."
"Son, don't worry about being politically correct in front of me. I did not bite into the love your enemy routine also. Sometimes it felt good to pull that trigger and sent all that hated back to them."
Ron could not believe what the doctor was saying. Hate was good?
"I would not indulge in it or shoot little kids for kick, but sometimes when you are going up against that bad guy. You know that this shit head is not Mother Theresa or the pope. This guy killed your buddies, you know, you have no doubts about his guilt. You can either retreat or you can become God's avenging angel of wrath. You decide to smite the foe. You decide to become the avatar of justice.
"You are afraid, yet you feel alive in a way that you will be never able to share with someone who has not been there. The world goes silent before you strike and afterward you feel that moment of glory, before that part of your mind screams at you Thou shalt not kill. Then you start feeling bad about feeling good about doing something that is both good and yet bad. It's a vicious cycle, but I am here to tell you that its okay to feel these things.
"I have been there and broken down like a baby at times. Even today, I still mourn the loss of my friends that that was five years ago. I probably will still mourn them when I'm eighty. It is when you stop feeling or deny them that I worry."
"Sir,..."
"Private, don't sir me. Before they slapped a butter bar on my collar, I wore three strips on my sleeves. I worked for a living. Call me Tom. Do you have any nicknames?"
"Fresh Meat, Dumbo, or maggot?"
The old Ron shine came back just at the worst possible time.
"God damn Corps. Okay, do you mind if I call you Vee?"
Ron smiled for the first time since his descent into the darkness.
"Si ... I mean Tom. What is gonna happen?"
"Simple, you are mine for the next three weeks while I go through the motions. Because of the problems with France, you will be stuck here for a while. Normally you would go on a flight back to the states, but we are going to bring in some local help for the physical therapy. In addition, we are going to put some meat back on your bones, Vee. Do you have anyone you want to call or email and let them know that you are alright?"
Ron considered calling the Possibles, but he did not want to confront Kim. However, he could not remember Mrs. Dr. P's personal email. The only email account that he remembered was Wade's.
Ron now had only one problem, what was he going to say.
Wade Lode hated his life now.
With the breakup of Team Possible and Kim out on maternity leave there was nothing to do. Sure he made a bunch of cash pounding out video-games, but making video games, even the cool ones that would earn the adults only rating, was not the same as hacking into some villain's networks and having to do so under tight time constrants.
Wade hated Ron for knocking up Kim and then going off to his death. He wanted to go and kick the shit out of blond boy for messing up Wade's life. However, the fact that Ron was dead and the fact that Wade has a crippling case of agoraphobia ensured that Wade could do nothing else but mutter obscenities at fate.
Tracing Ron's accounts yielded nothing. The only activities were the incoming naco royalty checks and funds being released into the charitable trust funds that Ron set up. Most of the money was just literally making interest on interest.
Wade knew that stealing the funds would be too easy, but stealing was not Wade's style. Also, the trust fund was paying for medical research. Stealing Ron's money out of spite would only harm the researchers tying to do good things.
Hacking was off limits. The FBI and Secret Service told his that if he hacked into their secure data bases one more time that they would haul him away to a island and leave him under all that open sky, unless he hacked for them.
He did a few favors for the lot, but they were not as time-critical as the work he did for Team Possible. Swiss, Russian, and Caribbean banks were old hat for Wade Load. The problem was there was so much data that it took forever to find the golden nugget.
Damn you Ron!
Wade was now thirteen, just old enough to start appreciating the differences between boys and girls. He was now appreciative enough to hack every adult website. Some of the things he saw, he rather that he did not, but never the less he enjoyed a lot of things. Too bad that he could not figure out how to materials some of the actresses off the screen into his bedroom. He calculated the odds of losing his virginity and the odds did not look good. His only hope was to locate a call girl ring, but with mom in the house and her habit of checking the credit card statements...
Wade hated being agoraphobic. He tried the therapy, but it did not work. That was the problem. Most therapy did not work when the patient knew exactly what the doctor was going to do. It looked like Wade's dating options were limited to Mistress Palm and her five sisters.
Wade having just experience the joys of self-gratification returned from taking a brief shower when to check his email. After deleting all the ads for penis enlargements, weight lost, and Viagra, Wade checked his personal email account.
There was a new email address – It had to be a joke, but the description matched Ron. Wade was tempted to delete it, but curiosity kicked in and Wade opened it, after scanning it for viruses.
From: "Wade Lode" I lost my pants, again!
Wade, it's me. I am in a military hospital in Germany. I walked into a fan blade and then stepped into a steaming mountain of shit, but the docs say I am going to live. I know that you will try to hack into the chart and order me a diet of lima beans for this, but I need to send a message to Mrs. Dr. Possible private email account and let her know that I am alive.
Please email me her email address.
If you do, I will owe you a big one, I can never repay.
If you don't, I will understand why. I am sorry that I let you down. I always let everyone down, guess that my calling card in life.
Don't tell Kim. It's better that she does not know. The breakup of the team was my fault. It's better that she move on without me. She was the one that always saved the world. All I ever did was slow her down. When she needed me the most, I messed everything up. I don't expect your forgiveness.
The Ron Stoppable you know is better off dead. When I heal up, I will be in a Marine Corps billet somewhere playing with other people's explosives. Maybe they will get lucky next time?
Thanks for getting me all those video games for the holidays and my birthdays. Even though you signed Kim's name on the card, I knew that it was you. You always rock hard corps style, Wade. You earned a big oorah from this marine.
Should you need anything, please let me know and I will move heaven and earth for you.
Private Vasilii Boiarskii, USMC formerly Ron Stoppable
"Damn you," Wade muttered as he wiped away a tear.
Ron Stoppable was hurting big time.
Wade took a deep breath as he hacked into a variety of data bases looking for more information on Ron's condition.